Absurd Customer of the Week #6

Sometimes, you have a customer you just know you're going to blog about the minute you encounter them.

Three older people (two very nice ladies and one PILL of guy) give me their orders like I'm an idiot, as if they require special explanation. One of them had also been asking me, what's the difference between *this* dish (pointing) and the Linguine di Mare. Well, I explain that the two are essentially the same... same pasta, same sauce. One just has an assortment of seafood while the other is only shrimp.

"Clams," she says.
"I'm sorry?"
"Clams. Not shrimp."
"OH! I'm sorry, I thought you were pointing at the dish above that. Well, the only difference between the Linguine with Clams and the other dish is that with other one you get a variety of seafood, and in this one you only get clams. And a choice of white or red sauce. The two red sauces are the same."

I don't know if she couldn't read the menu descriptions without glasses or if she was just too lazy to read. But I eventually get their order, making sure to repeat it back to them. Apparently, though, when the food came out to the table, the old man barked at the server who ran it.

PILL: What is this??
SERVER: Veal Picatta?
PILL: Why is there sauce on this?! I don't want sauce! Take it off!

So the server takes it back. I didn't witness this exchange, but saw that the food was on the table. Realizing the veal picatta was missing, I told the old Pill I'd check on it for him.

Tyler Florence Veal Picatta

PILL: There was SAUCE on it. I didn't want sauce! Just tell them to dump it off and put it on another plate and bring it back out.
ME: Oh... so just, dry? Or easy sauce?
PILL: JUST PUT IT ON ANOTHER PLATE!
ME: I'll go check on it in the kitchen.

So I scurry off to the kitchen. The new veal picatta is already ready. They left the lemon zest and capers on it, but the veal is dry and the spinach isn't cooked all the way. I bring it out  and try my luck. I drop it off on the table and hesitate to see what he says. Which turns out to be nothing, but the ladies at the table ooh and ahh and say it looks great. So I leave to attend to my other tables. Minutes later, another server tells me that this table wants to speak with me. I return.

ME: Yes, sir?
PILL: WHAT DID YOU TO THIS?
ME: Um....  you said you didn't want sauce, so they made it without sauce.
PILL: Well, it's RUINED. It's DESTROYED.
ME: Um... would you like us to make you a new one with just a little bit of sauce?
PILL: Where's the lemon??
ME: Well, they did leave some lemon zest and capers on there for you...
PILL: It's terrible!
ME: We can get you something else or make you a new dish.
NICE LADIES: No, no. Just bring some sauce on the side for him.
PILL: AND SOME LEMON!

So I go back to the kitchen and request some sauce and grab a plate of lemons. I bring it out promptly and let him know that they're heating up some sauce for him right now and will bring it out in a jiffy, but here's some fresh lemon.

PILL: ACH. Just take it. I don't want it. It's terrible.

So I take it back and tell the kitchen not to bother with the sauce. I let my manager know and ask him to take off the veal for me. Ironically, when a different manager stopped by at the end of the meal (not knowing the story), the group told him that everything was great.

Meanwhile, while this whole thing was going on, I was trying to accommodate a lady who was allergic to wheat, corn, soy, dairy, and who was also avoiding hormones. Luckily, our restaurant offers gluten-free pasta made out of rice that fit all her specifications. She asked me to make it with oil, garlic, and basil with a side of spinach and salmon. I repeated her order MULTIPLE times to make sure I had it right... and when I brought it out, she said, "Oh! I wanted tomatoes!" Never, ever, did she say tomato. Was that supposed to be implied? Perhaps she could have just saved us both the trouble and asked for pomodoro.

On a completely different note. Tonight, I had a table leave me the most ridiculously large tip I have ever received. I don't know if they misread the bill, or someone gave me more money than they thought they did, or their math was bad, or if they just felt generous. Even when the tip was already absurd, another person came up to me later and gave me even MORE money. I guess they felt bad for coming in so late and staying there so long. I mean, they didn't leave until TWO HOURS after closing. But, with the money they gave me, I wasn't going to complain one teensy tiny bit.

Unexpected Generosity

The holiday season brings some of the oddest situations and guests, and the cheapest and the most generous tippers to the restaurant. Last year, on Christmas Eve, I had a woman tell me she was ready to kill herself or her entire family because they were driving her crazy. She said this in front of her family. It was awkward, to say the least. Then, we served raw chicken fingers to her kids. *sigh*

That's the other thing about the holiday season. The restaurant undergoes such a huge influx of customers, usually all at the same time in big waves, that it definitely puts strain on the kitchen. I would say that they do a great job 99% of the time during the entirety of the year, but during the holidays, things start to fall through the cracks. Trust me, they still to a great job, but you start to see about 4% more issues.

The other day these two poor ladies got steak that was rare when they asked for medium and a meatball that was cold. The first time, they were upset, the second time they were just about livid.

ACTUALLY, A VERY NICE LADY: Look, I know you're busy and have all of these big groups come in, but to have a raw steak and a cold meatball is just ridiculous!
ME: You're right, that's unacceptable.
LADY: Now, I can take this meatball home and re-heat it, but...
ME: No, ma'am, please, can I take it back to the kitchen so the chef can see it? He really should know when something isn't right, and I'll have them bring you something better.

The very nice lady continues to huff and puff, and in about two minutes I bring her two piping hot meatballs. Luckily, these are much better and she's pleased that she gets an extra one to take home. Our executive chef brought out the steak himself and apologized profusely. The ladies were charmed. We took off the meatballs and the steak and the very nice lady who had done all that huffing and puffing actually left me $30. On a bill that was only about $30.

On Friday, I was stuck in a shit section for lunch. Four tables (no booths) in an area nobody wants to sit in. Every other server had 5+ tables.... for some reason, I got screwed. Normally, I get great sections, but... c'est la vie. On top of this, I had three of my tables reserved for a party that was due to come in at 12:30 PM. So I spent the first hour of my shift twiddling my thumbs, folding napkins, and helping other servers. For my entire seven and a half hour shift, I only had one party of 13 and a 3 top. That's it. Once the party was done at 3:30 PM, management would not let me leave! Even though the entire restaurant completely died, I was held prisoner until the dinner crew came on. Here's what I accomplished:

• folded 250 napkins
• swept the entire restaurant
• refilled all of the oil and vinegar containers
• lit all the candles
• restocked/zoned just about every area of the place. 

Why they complain about labor costs and then do things like that is beyond me.

On the bright side, for having only two tables, I did leave the restaurant with $85, some chocolate, and a hand-blown glass sea turtle ornament. One of the guys at my party was showing his co-worker a gorgeous glass sea turtle ornament he had made. I commented on how pretty it was, how impressed I was that he had made it, and that I sort of had a "thing" for turtles. At the end of their meal, our maitre^d came up to me and said "Merry Christmas." The guy gave me the ornament! Luckily, he was still there, so I was able to thank him profusely, and he told me about the gallery he represents. The group also left me a little wrapped chocolate because "I probably don't get 'treated' very often."

*sniffle*

Excuse me while I wipe away a couple tears, alright?

Back to Work, Absurd Customers and Sunday Funday

Sometimes time flies and sometimes it crawls. It's hard to believe that I only went back to Iowa for 6 days, two of those being travel days. Then, when I was back in LA, I had two more days off of work. So I went one solid week without waiting on a single damn table. It felt like I'd been gone for a month.


The first day back is always the hardest. Of course, I desperately need the money, but having had the time off made me incredibly lazy. But now Thanksgiving is approaching and with it, the holiday shopping season. The restaurant will be packed. It's hard to believe that I've been working at this place for a year now. Last year on Thanksgiving I was shadowing another server, so I didn't make any money and the entire holiday was ruined. Blech. I made sure to get it off this year. Epic cooking will ensue, just you wait.

I'm looking forward to the busy season because the money will be most appreciated. But last year I ended up working 6 shifts a week, doubles almost every day.   

I lost 15 lbs in a month and a half.  

And I was already pretty thin to start. By January last year, I was completely emaciated and weak and every shift wore me out. I felt sick all of the time. I honestly believed I had cancer or something. I'm not allowing that to happen this year. It took me several months to gain back five very necessary pounds. Clif bars are coming with me to every shift. 


The holiday season makes some people more joyous and generous, while others turn NASTY. Last year on Christmas Eve, a lady told me she was ready to kill herself or her family, she was so annoyed with them. They spent the entire dinner bickering and getting drunk. I thought someone was going to throw a punch. And then, because she asked me to hurry the kids' food, they ended up with RAW chicken fingers. The restaurant poisoned her children. It was bad. 

Yesterday, on Sunday Funday, I had to make 10 trips to box up all the leftover food this family had because they got unnecessary refills on all of their Family Style items. Then they had the audacity to ask if we could hold it for them while they went shopping. No. We can't. Sanitation laws forbid it. And while I'm in the middle of trying to clear this epic feast of theirs, one of the guys asks me if we have toothpicks. You haven't even had dessert yet, can this wait? "We have toothpicks, they are right up at the host stand!" I say brightly. Two minutes later after I box up MORE of their food, he asks if I had gotten him a toothpick yet. Is it really so damn important? Sure, I'll just run up to the very front of this gigantic restaurant and get toothpicks for you. Everyone else can wait for me to take care of their needs. I'll just leave these dirty plates in front of your family while I get you some toothpicks. OK. Great. 

So I did.

It begins.

Absurd Customer of the Week #5 (aka Dr. Pepper Bath)

Last night I gave a customer a Dr. Pepper bath. I haven't spilled a drink on a customer since I first started waiting tables in college. Luckily, the guy was shockingly nice about it. To make it worse, though, it was his birthday. 

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 was supposed to get this party of 20 at 9:30 PM, but they didn't actually get sat until 10:00 PM and spent THIRTY MINUTES wandering in, milling about, and getting settled. I didn't even get their order in until 10:45 PM because 10 extra people showed up and we created a horrible fire hazard by dragging over an extra table. Keep in mind, we close at 11 PM on Saturday.

I hate you.

The group was totally cramped and never paid attention to anything I said, so I had to repeat things a million times. It was chaos. And for being a cheap group, they were SO NEEDY! We fill water glasses using pitchers, so we don't bring straws unless asked, but these bitches acted like it was the end of the fucking world if they didn't get a straw. They also gave me serious attitude about their place settings.

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.

Absurd Customer of the Week #4

This woman and her husband came in tonight and she was so ridiculous that I knew right away that she was getting this top honor.

ME: Hello--
BITCH: Yeah, can we get two waters, just regular tap water, and we don't want the oil and vinegar, just butter for the bread.
ME: Okaaaay, right away--
BITCH: Mine without ice.

I come back shortly with her water sans ice and the bread/butter.

BITCH: Okay we know what we want, we come in all the time and we get pretty much the same thing every time. We both want the side salad with romaine only--
ME: I'm sorry, do you want the italian tossed or the caesar or...
BITCH: What? It's just the side salad... it's called the side salad
(Note: almost all of our salads come as side salads so this is not as obvious as she would think)
BITCH: Anyway, we want ALL romaine lettuce with white beans, extra white beans on the side, with the pink dressing, with extra dressing on the side...
HUSBAND: I'd like mine with tomatoes and onion, as well...
BITCH: And we want it topped with SHREDDED MOZZARELLA....not crumbled or sliced. We want SHREDDED mozzarella, so be sure to tell them that because they usually get it wrong.
HUSBAND: And for my entree I'll have a side of two meatballs with marinara sauce.

To be honest, I had to repeat their order back to them a couple of times because the way they ordered it was actually MUCH more confusing than this... but there's no way I could replicate it here. They rattled it off faster than I could write it.

So, I hand write all of the special instruction for the kitchen and spell it out for the guy making the salads and I tell him that this lady is crazy, so to make sure to get it right. When they're ready, I take them out personally to make sure it's okay.

The second I go to set it down, I'm not shocked at all that this is not to the woman's specifications.

BITCH: What is this cheese? It looks like it's SHAVED, not shredded. What did you tell them?!
ME: I'm so sorry, I told them shredded mozzarella, so I'm not sure...
BITCH: This is NOT right, have them re-make this and make sure you get the SHREDDED MOZZARELLA.
HUSBAND: This is fine. I'll take mine, I don't care.
ME: I'm so sorry, let me take yours back and ask the chef. Maybe he got the wrong one by mistake.

Congrats. You earned it.

Now here's where I actually get mad at someone besides the customer, because I show the salad to my chef and it turns out that this is actually shaved Parmesan, not mozzarella at all. So, the bitch was totally right. AND, the guy who made the salad actually knew the difference, but was too lazy to go back to the refrigerator to get the right kind. So, I really let him have it... if it was an honest mistake, that's one thing, but to just be straight up lazy? It's like lying. What if she had an allergy or something? But he was setting me up to get yelled at, basically, and he KNEW it, because I had already told him that this lady was crazy. She gets that salad all the time, of course she'd know the difference.

So I brought the corrected salad out to her.

ME: I'm so sorry about that. The guy making the salads is sort of new, so I think maybe he didn't know the difference (lie, lie, lie).
BITCH: This is right, you see how the--
ME: Yes, absolutely. I definitely see the difference now. Again, so sorry about that.

To make the story even better and this bitch even crazier, my buddy tells me that he heard her tearing apart her husband for "throwing her under the bus" by accepting his salad and for making her look bad for only demanding what she ordered and continued to berate him for letting people walk all over him.

Then, after they had paid, the bitch flags down Thomas, who happens to be an absurdly attractive young man. He asks if he can help her with anything and she says, "Never mind, you're too young" and the husband says, "Yes, do you know a good psychotherapist?"

Wow. Thank goodness the husband paid. Their meal cost a whopping $14.67, but he did leave me four bucks. I'm sure that's 20% plus a dollar to cover the crazy. I'm also quite certain that I overheard her asking if I took the salad off or if he asked me to take it off because I heard him say, "Well, I'm sure it's too late now" as I swiped the credit card. I wasn't about to take off that salad, not in a million years, because I don't believe in rewarding crazy bitches. If she had been a sweetheart and nice about being particular, I would have taken off the salad AND gotten her some free lemon cookies.

You go A LOT farther in life being nice than being a jerk. To contrast that bitch, I had another table at the same time that was sooooooo sweet. They were sort of particular about some things, but they were very, very, very nice. They guessed that I was from the Midwest because I was so genuine and sweet. So, I brought THEM some lemon cookies. HA. I hope the mozzarella bitch overheard it all!

Write Up #4

Fuck my life and fuck that guy.

Tonight I received Write Up #4. Written Documentation of an Incident. Luckily, "written documentation" at my restaurant has become somewhat of a joke.

WRITE UP #1: I overslept for a shift. I called the minute I woke up and vehemently apologized. I was told that they weren't that busy and would be fine without me. Don't worry about it. The next day I received a write up because it was "so busy." I was informed later that it was "so busy" that all the servers were put to work filling out sign-ups for our company e-mail newsletter.

WRITE UP #2: I received a negative score for an online survey. Apparently, a table complained that my service was slow even though we weren't busy. There weren't any details given to me about this table and I have no idea of the circumstances surrounding this table. Curiously, there were a lot of problems with the computers crashing/acting funny at this time...no idea if that was the case on this day. I didn't even know how to defend myself.

WRITE UP #3: This one was completely ridiculous. They did a write up for almost EVERY SINGLE SERVER because we had all stopped filling out the tip out report sheet. Why? It had long ago been moved from the area where we dropped our check out/money for the house to a random location where we always forgot. The management hadn't been bringing up that this was important or warned that write ups would follow. It came out of nowhere. I began to realize that write ups didn't have much significance.

WRITE UP #4: TONIGHT.

I was a closer. When I already had a party of 11 and a party of 8 and two other tables...we just got sat with two more tables and I was told that a specific table had requested me. I went over, did my thing...people got wine and drinks...got their salads/soup out quickly, cleared it, entrees went down perfectly. They commented specifically that everything was perfect (which NEVER happens for them!). I had my manager run out some A1 sauce/dressing for them. Everything still seemed great. They got another bottle of wine (for which I even got a decanter the first time) and round 2 drinks. Somewhere after this, I guess they lacked some water at some point and one of the guys decided to get a drink for himself at the bar. Later on he got another drink for himself while I was standing there AT THE TABLE. I assumed he had a reason for doing this. Like...he's an alcoholic (drink 4 btw). Boxed up food, brought them their free pastas (it's a special/promotion thing), cleared the table.... Check had been dropped earlier.

Now keep in mind that all this time I've got 5 bajillion other things to do and am freaking busy as hell. But I think they're cool. They joke around. They're having a great time. Swell!

Turns out the guy who is a regular and requested me complained to the manager that I provided them with THE WORST SERVICE EVER. Because they ran out of water and his buddy had to get his third and fourth drink from the bar. I couldn't believe this. Everything had seemed fine. I thought he must have been joking. I checked the money they left. Twenty bucks on $239.00 and he told the host stand specifically that his "tip reflected the service."

I was so completely aghast that I said, fine, I'm saying something since a few of them were still hanging out in the bar:

ME: I'm sorry folks. I heard that you were unhappy with my service tonight. I apologize.
NICE LADY: Oh, no! Everything was GREAT! It's just that we stepped away from the table and someone cleared away our wine and we still had two full glasses left.
ME: I heard about that. I'm sorry. Sal got you some more wine, right? He took care of you?
NICE LADY: He did. Thank you. Yes, everything else was great.
ASSHOLE: Actually, no. You know, we never had enough water. We were thirsty. And "Brian" had to get his own drinks from the bar.
ME: Yes, I'm sorry about that. I understand. I was very busy, end of the evening and all, and I tried to bring water as often as a I could. I'm sorry that it wasn't up to par...but I was very busy and did the best that I could. I understand that you said that your "tip reflected the service?"
ASSHOLE: Yes.
ME: Okay. great. Once again, sorry about that. Have a great night. See you soon!

Apparently, he made a "Wow, that was awkward" face after I walked away.

And my manager witnessed all of this.

And that's why I got a write up. Because you NEVER confront a guest.

Meh. 

I hope now that he'll NEVER request me again. I remember that guy. He didn't tip well even when the service was "great." Even the hostess told my manager that this guy is a regular weirdo and douchebag. Oh, well. All I can hope is that this doesn't come back around to bite me.

So much for Write Up #4.

Awkward Conversations

The most recent Hyperbole and a Half post definitely had me thinking about awkward conversations as a server.

Please visit Hyperbole and a Half!

I adore her comics and the most recent one was just a reminder of how socially awkward I am.

I notice that other servers at work have loooooooooooong enthusiastic conversations with their tables. They LOVE talking to their tables and find a connection with every single one that walks through the door. They remember names and develop regulars. I can barely remember the person who came in the week before.

The only regulars I have are the annoying ones because those are the only ones I remember. And I must be the only person who's nice to them because why the hell else would they always request me??

There's one table that I don't mind as much. They always tip decently and don't require conversation. They like each other well enough and that's something I can appreciate. When they sit down, I know that they want:

1. Ice tea with light ice
2. Coke with extra ice
3. Burnt bread (no seriously, we burn the bread for them)
4. Butter
5. Well done salmon in a lemon butter sauce with capers. 

And that's it! Once you know what it is that they like, it's the easiest eight bucks ever.  And I like them because they don't try to make conversation. That's when I get into trouble.

ME: Hey folks, how's everything taste so far?
TABLE: It's really delicious.
ME: Fantastic! Enjoy your meal!
(I start to walk away)
TABLE: Seriously though, this is really nice. The sauce is incredible.
ME: Oh, good. I'm really glad you like it. That's a really great dish.
(I start to walk away)
TABLE: And her food is really good, too. Thanks for the recommendations.
ME: Yeeeeaaah. I'm really, really glad you're enjoying it. Um... do you want another glass of wine or anything?
TABLE: No, I'm fine... But speaking of wineries...

And then I'm trapped. I don't know how to extricate myself from this conversation. Usually, I'll pretend that a different table has motioned for me and leave to get them unnecessary refills.

At least when we're talking about food, then we're dealing with something job related and it doesn't get too uncomfortable. What I hate is when the conversation turns personal.

AWKWARD DUDE: It's really funny that you mentioned how young she looks. Can I tell her why we thought that was so funny? It's so funny.
AWKWARD GAL: Yeah, go ahead...tell her.
ME: Ummmmmm...
AWKWARD DUDE: Yeah. It's so funny! She has a STEP-DAUGHTER who is OLDER than she is!!!
ME: Um....Wow. Your step-daughter is OLDER than you? That's....pretty funny.
(Meanwhile, I'm thinking how extremely f'd up that is)
AWKWARD GAL: Yeah! And I have a son who is 22 years younger than his half-sister!
ME: Wow. Um... do you all get along?
AWKWARD GAL: Oh, yeah! She likes me. Loves her little brother.
ME: Huh. So when you go out, people must think you're sisters and that your son is actually her son.
AWKWARD GAL: Yeah! That happens!
AWKWARD GUY: Isn't that hilarious?!
ME: Yeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaah.

And then I turned around and walked away while forcing canned laughter. I really didn't understand how that could be funny.

I've also had people try to talk me into their pyramid schemes and convince me that I should host their Dove Chocolate Party at my house. Of course, the most awkward conversations are the ones that end up focused on my non-existent acting career. Yes. PLEASE remind me why I fail at life. THANK YOU for reminding me that I don't have an agent. NO, you haven't seen me in anything.

So, thank you, Hyperbole and a Half for reminding me that I am not alone in my dread of awkward conversations!

Not that this has anything to do with this post... It's just how every day of my life goes.

I Hate Sundays

Lots of assholes come in on Sundays. And screaming children and big families. Picky people. People who eat A LOT.

Why is this?


I don't know. But what I do know is that Sundays are often my least favorite and most frustrating day of the week. That's why we, at my restaurant, sarcastically refer to this blessed sacred day as "Sunday Funday." Blech, blech, blech.

We have "Family Style" where I work. In this set-up, it is literally all you can eat. People can get more food. However much they want. They start off with a TON of food, by the way. If they get a certain number of "refires," the computer will start asking for a manager's swipe card. This is to prevent employees from refiring food for themselves.

Today, I had to start asking for my manager's card after the first course. They ordered two additional rounds of appetizers and salads alone. I never imagined they would eat so much.

At least those people were nice and tipped very well. I didn't mind that so much.

But one of the last tables to get sat in my section was so irritating that I just gave it away to a PM person. I'm still mad about them so I don't feel much like typing it all out, but I'll give the highlights...

Is this enough butter for you?

• Eating all the bread and butter before I'm back with their drinks
• Asking for LOTS of extra sardines with their Caesar salad
• Demanding "Can we get that butter?" right after I put in their order. I never went farther than four feet from their table from the first time they asked.
• Sucking down all their beverages in five minutes. Over and over and over.
• Informing me that the kitchen better get, "Like, 40 gallons of caramel sauce ready for their dessert because I, like, drink it straight." I laughed and she said, "No. Seriously." 
• When I went to get them more marinara sauce ("like, two more bowls?") for their calamari, another server heard them ask, "where is that girl?" and look around for me. 

I gave them away at that point. I did not want to deal with it.

Sunday Funday!

Absurd Customer of the Week #3

TABLE #2

Imagine this conversation featuring a thick Russian accent.
ME: Hi folks, how are--
CHIEF JERK OFF: What do you have to drink? Let me see wine list!

Gee. Thanks, host, for failing, for the one millionth time to bring this standard item to a table.
I bring the wine list and cocktail/bar list. I list off some of my favorites.

JERK OFF #2: (to quiet wife) What you want?
QUIET WIFE: mumble askldjfovv mumble

Clearly Russian drink of choice.

JERK OFF #2: Grey Goose?
ME: You'd like Grey Goose?
CHIEF JERK OFF: No! I'll have Stolichivakinoffvivana!
ME: I'm sorry? We have Stoli...?
CHIEF JERK OFF: YES! THAT IS WHAT I SAID!
ME: Oh, sorry... Stolichnaya. Sorry. I don't hear it by its full name often.
JERK OFF #2: Do you have Ketel 1?
ME: Yes, absolutely. So... One Stoli, one Ketel 1, one Grey Goose... on the rocks?
CHIEF JERK OFF: NO! No Grey Goose! We are Russian. We don't drink Grey Goose!
ME: Of course, I understand. So the lady will be having....
CJO: STOLI!
ME: OK. So. Three vodka on the rocks, two Stoli, one Ketel 1? (so vodka from the Netherlands is OK but from France is bad?)

Silence.

Whatever. So I bring them.

CJO: Is this just vodka or is this vodka red bull?
ME: I'm sorry? I never heard red bull. This is just vodka on the rocks.
JO #2: (to quiet wife) Didn't you order vodka red bull?

She nods.

ME: I'm sorry, we don't have red bull.
CJO: No red bull?
ME: Or any other energy drink. Would you like soda or tonic or Coke or maybe cranberry juice?

What follows is a very painful discussion that results in me bringing three glasses of cranberry juice and larger glasses to mix them together.

The food order is nearly as difficult. The wife seems intent on ordering the most expensive item possible, but I try to talk her out of it because she doesn't seem to understand what she'd be getting. She asks me to compare Chicken Marsala versus the Veal Porterhouse which she wants to get "contadina" style...which means adding sausage and potatoes and peppers. On top of a 16 oz. veal slab. Yuck. The Jerk Offs are getting MUCH lighter meals. She doesn't share. Or eat much of it. But they say it's all fine.

They drink more. Some expensive Chianti and Long Islands with double shots. Wow.

Now for my favorite parts...

CHIEF JERK OFF: Tell me. Why can't you smoke out here?
ME: It's California law. Sorry.
CHIEF JERK OFF: No it's not. I own two restaurants. No. It's not.
ME: Well, you can if it's an open air patio. But this one is enclosed. It has a ceiling. It's just non-smoking. If you want to smoke you can step outside.

I get waved away dismissively.

We close at ten, but we still have lots of tables eating at 11:15 PM.

ME: Sorry folks, but my bartender is asking for last call.
CHIEF JERK OFF: Is it 1:30 already?
ME: No. We closed over an hour ago. It's time for him to go home. It's last call for us.
(I receive a derisive snort.)
JERK OFF #2: We'll be fine.

The shocking part is that they actually tipped OK. I guess he really did own two restaurants.

P.S.> In a year, there won't be smoking allowed on outdoor patios in Los Angeles either. SO EAT THAT!

Absurd Customer of the Week #2

I have TWO nominations and I really can't decide which to go with... so I won't. One story today and one tomorrow.

TABLE #1
Group of 6 people, Asian folks, about half of whom speak absolutely no English whatsoever. This table was really a test of patience, even at the start. Time for drink orders.

Don't have this.

ME: Can I get everyone started with something to drink? We have a full bar, beer on tap, specialty cocktails, wine... or maybe some ice tea or lemonade?
IDIOT #1: What do you have to drink?

ME: Um...alcohol-wise or non-alcoholic?
IDIOT #1: Non...
ME: Coke products (I list them off), raspberry lemonade, regular lemonade, ice tea, juice...
IDIOT #1: Do you have fruit punch?
ME: Ummm... No. Perhaps you'd like raspberry lemonade or cranberry, orange, or pineapple juice?
IDIOT #1: I'll have grape juice.
ME: Um.... NO. We only have... (and again I list the three juices we have).
IDIOT #1: Do you have coconut juice?

At this point I laugh openly at her. Seriously, we're an Italian restaurant. NO, we don't have any of that shit. I think she changed her order a few times before settling on a cranberry juice. They also tried to order their Dad a Bud Light in A CAN. No. We don't have Bud Light IN A CAN. We have it on draft AND by the bottle. Why would you want it in a can? They didn't seem to believe me when I told them no.

Don't have this either.

Even once everyone ordered, I still had more drinks written down than people, so it took me another 5 minutes to figure out what they actually wanted. Two hot teas (surprise!), a cranberry juice, a diet coke, a raspberry lemonade, and one Moretti (I don't know why they started with that. His second beer was Bud Light in a bottle, the seemingly obvious choice).

Then there was the issue of the vegetarian mother. They wanted to do Family Style, but Mom was veggie. I gave numerous suggestions about items they could choose, or the option that Mom could NOT to participate in FS and order a la carte. They ended up picking numerous vegetarian items, but still ordered one pasta a la carte for Mom.

When I brought out the first course, I told the host that if Mom wanted to eat some of this food, but didn't eat much of it, I could charge her for a children's FS at half price. Host insisted that Mom couldn't eat ANY of this food. However, as Mom started serving herself salad, the host told me to bring her mom a plate and charge her half price. Fine.

 Why the fuck would we have this?

Just before the second course was about to come out, host asked if I could "undo" the order for the vegetarian pasta. I told her I would check, did, and the food was all prepared and 5 seconds away from coming to the table. I reported back that, sorry, but the pasta was already made. FINE.

When the pasta was out there were many stupid questions about what was IN the food they ordered. Items I had already described when they made their selections. Questions like, "is there blue cheese in this dish?" in a dish that clearly would have no blue cheese. That's a VERY distinct flavor. I don't think you know what blue cheese tastes like.

To end on a perfect note. They left me $20 on a bill that was $243. *sigh* And by the way, I did them a FAVOR by charging their mom half price. She ate LOTS of that shit.

Seriously?

Thanks.


[EDITOR'S NOTE: I don't have a problem with people who have sub-par English skills. They can just take A LOT more time and are consequently more difficult to deal with as a server. Unless they're the point and smile kind. I like those people. They don't ask for anything.]

Absurd Customer of the Week

Keep in mind that I work at an Italian restaurant.

TABLE: Do you have anything that ISN'T pasta?
ME: Yes, of--
TABLE: Or soup or salad?
ME: Yes, of course. If you just flip the page, you'll see we have all kinds of seafood, chicken, pork, veal, and steak dishes. What are you in the mood for?

At this point the guest languidly flips the menu pages and wrinkles her nose in disdain. I guess she doesn't care for reading.

TABLE: *SIGH* Do you have lasagna?
ME: Yes, of course.
TABLE: Where is it? I don't see it!
ME: You'll find that on the previous page under Baked Specialties...at the bottom there. The first one on the list?
TABLE: Is the large size really $15.52?
ME: Is that the price listed? (she shows me the menu) Yes. That's the price.
TABLE: That's a weird price.
ME: *shrugs*

The young woman and her mother then converse in a language I don't recognize. Probably Lithuanian or something and they come to a decision.

TABLE: We'll share the large lasagna. We really just came in for dessert anyway.

*HEAD SMACK*

What I don't understand is why they got the lasagna when they didn't want pasta in the first place. Maybe they meant long skinny noodles?

Anyway, those two ladies are officially ABSURD CUSTOMERS OF THE WEEK!