I hate to do it, but I'm going to have to launch into a server rant about a hot new trend. And I know that it might not go over very well because my best friend (I love you!) falls into this heading, and I know some of these people are legit, maybe even her, but not most people, so here I go...
"Gluten Allergies". How is it that over the past 3 months every other table I wait on has at least one "gluten allergy"? I mean, I get it, a working knowledge of food science vocabulary is exciting. Its like loving sauce! It's broad, vague and yet specific! It implies a certain amount of self awareness and knowledge about the fact that what you put into your body has an impact on how your body feels. And that's cool. But, really? Really really? Celiac disease exists, I would be mean and crazy to try to deny it, but I just wonder when it became contagious! I hope I don't catch it by sharing used tattoo needles or a drinking out of someone else's water glass!
It drives me insane because there are so many faces of "gluten allergies"- there are the dieters who don't want to say they are just on a diet and so they medicalize it to make it sound more legitimate, there are the new age-y types who follow every food fear trend, the self important self diagnosers who like to show off, and then there are a few people who really are celiac's and they carry around a card that explains their medical condition AND, what's more important, is they call ahead and leave information with their reservation explaining that they might need a few special allowances.
Seriously, I don't think having a little gas and or a stomach ache is that big of a deal. I get those things too, but I would rather have them than either a. find out I have an actual allergy and have to change my eating habits or b. make a big deal about it and make other people treat me differently. Is it the gluten or is it the 4 cocktails you just drank that will make you feel like shit in the morning?
These gluten people are almost worse than vegans. They don't plan ahead but expect restaurants to bend over backwards to make adjustments to the menu for them at 8 pm on a Saturday. And then wonder why it takes a long time. This has become such a problem at my restaurant that we are having a meeting this week to specifically address it! And, there are dishes on our menu that don't have gluten in them- but these people don't want those ones. They want the ones with the gluten but special for them, without the gluten. My favorite part is when they make this special request, we run around like crazy to accommodate them, they remind me of their importance every time I get to their table "now, this is gluten free, riiiight?", but then when dessert gets to the table they "indulge!!!" and have some fucking cake! NOT ON MY WATCH! GLUTEN! I never want to speak of you again!
Everything in moderation, as my grandmother always says. If you have an imaginary or real allergy, please call ahead and we would be happy to "indulge!!!" you.
Showing posts with label weirdos. Show all posts
Showing posts with label weirdos. Show all posts
08 September 2009
07 April 2009
I have to do it
I know I am not supposed to talk trash no mo', but you know what? Waiting tables is hard sometimes. And sometimes servers need to have a little fun, feel a little solidarity, and know that everything is going to be OK. So, though I shall not give the specifics of these customers, like full name and address or eye color and blood type, I will give a few broad examples of how last week went at the old restaurant.
First and foremost, I was sexually harassed by an old lady. Every time I approached her table, she patted my bum. As I opened a bottle of wine...pat pat pat. As I got their orders... pat pat pat. I had to position myself very awkwardly to avoid her advances, and even then I could feel her grandmotherly love reaching for my hindquarters from across the table. Her son left me a very large tip. Which made it feel even more wrong.
On Saturday night I wore a dress to work that I felt skeptical about. It had a big, floppy ruffle around the neckline and was generally not my style. I was in a rush when I left for work and I wanted to believe that it would be ok, but it was not. One of my tables asked me if I was Amish. Actually what they said was "My friend wants to know if you're amish!" (woman pointing to man next to her, man blushing and slapping her pointing finger out of his face.) Holly promised that I looked a little to slutty to really pass for Amish, but still I will never wear that dress again.
Another group that came in on Saturday night spent the evening socializing with their iphones. When they left, I realized that one of the fine gentlemen had left his little buddy behind! I ran out the door, seeing that they were all the way on the other side of the park. I yelled "Sir! You forgot your phone!" I was trotting towards him with the phone raised up in the air. He turned, looked, and waited for me to bring the phone to him. On the other side of the park. I was in my fucking apron! And this guy wants me to deliver his fucking iphone to him! GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! One of my friends asked me why I didn't get his attention and then leave the phone for him on a park bench or something. That's a good question. I also wonder why I didn't a. keep it, b. throw it at his face, or c. throw it in the street.
That's it! Otherwise all of my customers have had insanely nice hair, been polite and positive, and been amazed at how dining out is both affordable and fun!
First and foremost, I was sexually harassed by an old lady. Every time I approached her table, she patted my bum. As I opened a bottle of wine...pat pat pat. As I got their orders... pat pat pat. I had to position myself very awkwardly to avoid her advances, and even then I could feel her grandmotherly love reaching for my hindquarters from across the table. Her son left me a very large tip. Which made it feel even more wrong.
On Saturday night I wore a dress to work that I felt skeptical about. It had a big, floppy ruffle around the neckline and was generally not my style. I was in a rush when I left for work and I wanted to believe that it would be ok, but it was not. One of my tables asked me if I was Amish. Actually what they said was "My friend wants to know if you're amish!" (woman pointing to man next to her, man blushing and slapping her pointing finger out of his face.) Holly promised that I looked a little to slutty to really pass for Amish, but still I will never wear that dress again.
Another group that came in on Saturday night spent the evening socializing with their iphones. When they left, I realized that one of the fine gentlemen had left his little buddy behind! I ran out the door, seeing that they were all the way on the other side of the park. I yelled "Sir! You forgot your phone!" I was trotting towards him with the phone raised up in the air. He turned, looked, and waited for me to bring the phone to him. On the other side of the park. I was in my fucking apron! And this guy wants me to deliver his fucking iphone to him! GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! One of my friends asked me why I didn't get his attention and then leave the phone for him on a park bench or something. That's a good question. I also wonder why I didn't a. keep it, b. throw it at his face, or c. throw it in the street.
That's it! Otherwise all of my customers have had insanely nice hair, been polite and positive, and been amazed at how dining out is both affordable and fun!
19 January 2009
The Weirdest Customer Yet
Saturday night was WEIRD. I expect Saturdays to be full of people who go out to dinner once a month, fear the menu and despise the staff. This one wasn't much different, except there were way more weirdo's prowling. Where did you come from, Saturday night Aliens? Let me explain. Five diners enter the restaurant. Older couple, younger lesbian couple, and then... this other person. We could not comprehend this wild card. She was really tall for a little kid, or really short for an adult. But which was she? She was indeed a Benjamin Button character but not hot like Brad Pitt (she was not even not-not hot*). She had crazy black curly hair with a creepy old person porkpie hat resting on the top, tiny little black eyes a-scowling, and a pink trench coat. She was spindly like an old person, but with the face of a horrible little child.
Holly was thrown by her as well, it wasn't just me being judgemental and mean as usual.
HOLLY: Would you like to wait at the bar while we get your table together... Wait a second, are you a weird old person or are you not even of age?
LITTLE WEIRDO: What do you mean, "of age" *picks nose*
HOLLY: Never mind... We'll hide you in a corner shortly...
LITTLE WEIRDO: Can I see the dessert menu please?
So, they sat down and I immediately regretted choosing the back section of the restaurant as my territory for the night. The only drink ordered: an amaretto sour. Who the hell, (besides Shane and I as of that moment,) orders an amaretto sour? Some day, I'm sure that little individual will. She drank nothing though. She did however order all of the biggest things on the menu. She might have weighed sixty five pounds and was probably 5' tall. I wondered where she planned on putting all that food, and it turned out she planned on cutting it all into tiny bits and scrabbling it up on the plate until it looked like puke and then not eating it. She didn't speak, and when her mother's birthday cheese plate arrived, her little claw darted out and she stole one of the three pieces of cheese on the plate. It was like watching a frog catch a fly with its tongue. She ate the cheese with blank beady eyes and chewed like a cow eating grass. It was horrible. I asked the mom how she felt about that little person stealing one third of her dessert in one foul swoop, and she laughed nervously. I'm glad its over now, but I don't think I'll ever get that blank stare out of my mind. What if she ruined manchego for me forever? BITCH!
Restaurants. Full of people having awkward social interactions. That's usually where I come in, filling hateful silences with mindless chatter about sweetbreads, interrupting passionate public make-out's with bad news about desserts. I do my best! I just couldn't bring myself to bail out that table.
*not hot/not-not hot is a game we invented in New Orleans. It basically asks the questions, would you sleep with them but never tell anyone (not-not hot) or would you not even let them buy you dinner (not hot)? (Another example of shallow, nasty behavior on my part. I blame Kevin.)
Holly was thrown by her as well, it wasn't just me being judgemental and mean as usual.
HOLLY: Would you like to wait at the bar while we get your table together... Wait a second, are you a weird old person or are you not even of age?
LITTLE WEIRDO: What do you mean, "of age" *picks nose*
HOLLY: Never mind... We'll hide you in a corner shortly...
LITTLE WEIRDO: Can I see the dessert menu please?
So, they sat down and I immediately regretted choosing the back section of the restaurant as my territory for the night. The only drink ordered: an amaretto sour. Who the hell, (besides Shane and I as of that moment,) orders an amaretto sour? Some day, I'm sure that little individual will. She drank nothing though. She did however order all of the biggest things on the menu. She might have weighed sixty five pounds and was probably 5' tall. I wondered where she planned on putting all that food, and it turned out she planned on cutting it all into tiny bits and scrabbling it up on the plate until it looked like puke and then not eating it. She didn't speak, and when her mother's birthday cheese plate arrived, her little claw darted out and she stole one of the three pieces of cheese on the plate. It was like watching a frog catch a fly with its tongue. She ate the cheese with blank beady eyes and chewed like a cow eating grass. It was horrible. I asked the mom how she felt about that little person stealing one third of her dessert in one foul swoop, and she laughed nervously. I'm glad its over now, but I don't think I'll ever get that blank stare out of my mind. What if she ruined manchego for me forever? BITCH!
Restaurants. Full of people having awkward social interactions. That's usually where I come in, filling hateful silences with mindless chatter about sweetbreads, interrupting passionate public make-out's with bad news about desserts. I do my best! I just couldn't bring myself to bail out that table.
*not hot/not-not hot is a game we invented in New Orleans. It basically asks the questions, would you sleep with them but never tell anyone (not-not hot) or would you not even let them buy you dinner (not hot)? (Another example of shallow, nasty behavior on my part. I blame Kevin.)
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