I know it's been a while since I last posted, but frankly I'm so burnt out with the whole service industry, any time I get away from it I haven't wanted to think about it or acknowlege it as a part of my basic survival. But a bitch has gots to pay the bills and you gotta do what you gotta do. So off I go to make the motherfucking donuts. But sometimes just pulling up in that parking lot, brings out the worst in me like some kind of bitch magic. I have my good days, really I do, but this job would be a whole lot better if our "guests" were not such complete pains in my ass.
The other night I lost my shit because some dickwad sat at the bar with his dickwad friends, started a tab with us, then said dickwad friends proceeded to move to like three different tables. Of course they wanted to transfer their shit. (And by the way fuck you for transfering your check. Where I work the bar doesn't get tipped out by the wait staff. Crazy I know, but what the fuck can I do about it? Also double fuck you assholes that just move to the bar, sit at any goddam table to your liking, and not bother telling anybody about it. We all know you do it because you don't want to tip twice, you cheap fuck. You. Fucking. Suck).
Anywho, everybody wanted their shit seperate, and couples were sitting at different tables, so a needless mindfuck ensued. The other bartender was the floor manager and spent God knows how long trying to figure that shit out, leaving me behind the bar by myself dealing fucktards complaining because their fucking wine tasted funny and that I needed to open a whole new bottle just for their fucking asses (the wine was from a new bottle and tasted fine, by the way).
Then asshole #1 plopped his ass at the bar and when I asked him if I could get him anything, he replied "How about a winning lottery ticket? HaHa.". Oh. Fuck. No. Not that "aren't I so goddam funny" line. Not today, buddy. I then proceeded to lose my shit and told him, NOT in a funny, joking, cute way that if I had a winning lotto ticket I would not be here dealing with his dumbass and his checkspliting bullshit. I think he got the point.
Everyday I see myself losing it more and more. I start taking my Chantix this weekend. I've been informed that it can cause sucidial thoughts. I'm more worried that it will cause homicidal thoughts. Because God knows some of these fuckers are prime targets for a cap in the ass for some of the shit they pull.
One of the servers, who is a really sweet girl (I once was too, I remind her) had a table that instead of writing the actual tip down, put 10% on the tip line. But he had such horrible handwriting that it looked like $10.90. I told her she would be a dumbass not to put that in as the tip. And she did. That dick may call and complain but it did look like $10.90 to everyone that saw it, although we all knew he only meant to leave ten percent (the check was only for like 30 bucks). And if he can't do simple fucking math, and has the handwriting of a three year old, he deserves to have to go the the trouble to get it changed.
That makes me remember a couple months ago when some cheap fucking bitch took it upon herself to scratch out the 20% grat we give for parties over 8 and just write in whatever the fuck she felt like writing, added that shit up and got the fuck out of there as fast as her cheap fugly heels could take her before anyone could call her out on her utter and total asshatness. It wasn't my table but management said the server just had to deal because we can only go by the total she signed on. Well fuck that noise!! So what if the the next person just decides scratch out the check total and sign to only a buck for his whole fucking meal. Would management eat that shit with a fork and knive? What the fuck do you think? But its just her money that got fucked with so fuck it (and fuck her), right? She was pretty calm about the whole thing but I'm pretty sure (who am I kidding, I know) I'd flipped the fuck out and hunted that cunt down. This server is obviously a bigger person than me, but, I mean, WTF?
Then Tuesday night, I waited on the cast of the goddam Jersey Shore. I decided to make a game out of it and see if they would leave me what I expected them too (a shitty tip) or if maybe I misjudge people and they would surprise me. So if I lose, I still win and vice versa. Well they left me a shitty tip as expected. So at least my instincts are still intact. But they sucked to wait on and Pauly D kept slamming down drinks like he was a goddam camel going through menopause. And the whole fucking table smelled like they had douched with a mixture of BO and Dakkar Noir. Then finished themsevles off with a whole bottle of White Rain hairspray. So I guess I really lost anyway. *sigh*
Look, I know I'm coming off as a whiney twat. Even I can see that. But this is my blog, so I need to vent a little sometimes (that's why I started it in the first place). I know I like what I do. Really I do. Deep deep down. I need to stop bitching or get another job, right? But I'm in grad school right now, I like my coworkers (everyone knows people in the biz are the funniest motherfuckers on earth. If it wasn't for our #1 staff homosexual and his ongoing commentary on assholes we deal with, I wouldn't make it though a lot of shifts.) and, well fuck it, I'll admit it. I fucking LOVE sleeping to noon everyday. I just wish, no, I fucking PRAY, people would act like they have some fucking home training when they eat at a place that doesn't have a drive thru window and a dollar menu. I just pray this Chantix shit doesn't fuck with my head too much and you see me on the news with the headline "Restuarant Worker Takes Out Unsuspecting Dipshit Diners". But if my jury was made up of servers, bartenders and other biz peeps, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't serve a day.