That was all just the icing on the cake of what was a very long and irritating Saturday night. There's a reason I usually work lunch shifts on the weekends. I make just about as much money and deal with a lot less stress. Fewer people to get in the way and run into, fewer things being dropped and broken, and fewer things getting 86'd (that's restaurant talk for fucking out of it). Last night I broke a bunch of dishes, ruined a work shirt, got stiffed on a $90 check (I'm talking ZERO tip, for no reason), and finished my night up with this miserable party where I dumped a Dr. Pepper all over the birthday guy and soaked myself in the process.
|I hate you.|
TOTAL BITCH: Um, like, I don't have a plate or a napkin or anything. Could I just, like, get a water. And like a straw, that's all I need.
ME: I'm so sorry. We were only expecting 20, so we only had it set for that many. I'll get right on that.
I had to get this prima donna a new water THREE TIMES because, NO, she didn't want ICE. NO, she wanted it ROOM TEMPERATURE. Since all of our drinking water is chilled, I had to mix in hot water for this big baby. Now, if she had been sweet about it, "Oh, I'm sorry, I have really sensitive teeth. Could you mix this with some hot water, please?" But no, she acted like I was an evil human being, trying to torture her just for the fucking hell of it.
Because we had random tables pushed together and because they were so cramped and because no one acted like I existed... I spilled Dr. Pepper all over the place. I had two on a tray while I tried to hand off a third to a guest across the table (they were up against a wall, so I had to reach). My "excuse me's" were ignored, so I tried to set it on the table. Unfortunately, I picked an uneven spot and the drink started to tip over. Like an idiot, I tried to grab it. I saved the drink on the table, but made it worse by knocking over the ones on my tray... all over the birthday boy. Again, he was incredibly sweet about it. My manager gave him his business card, promised to pay for dry cleaning if necessary, and we bought them a bunch of dessert for the whole table. FIFTY DOLLARS worth of dessert.
Can I just say how glad I am that they actually paid the gratuity? I was afraid they would totally refuse... which, considering that I spilled a bunch of drinks on the guest of honor, wouldn't have been out of line. I would have been pissed, but I would have understood. They would have had a legitimate reason. But they paid it. So, thank you. But you know what? You were late for your reservation, had 10 additional people show up, were extremely rude and demanding, and treated me like less than human.
OH, and you kept me at the restaurant past midnight and had me run FIFTEEN CREDIT CARDS with different totals. One was declined, so I had to go through additional rigmarole to fix the situation. So, yeah... you win ABSURD CUSTOMER(S) OF THE WEEK! Assholes. Except for the birthday boy. You were nice. I'm glad I didn't get any soda on your gorgeous wool coat.
You deserve better friends.