Okay, so I stopped taking the Chantix. I tried. I promise you, I really tried. But that shit just wasn't for me. It turned me in to some kind of Stepford resturant worker, who was prone to emotional outbursts, cried if someone was uppitty with me and sobbed at ASPCA commericals (Sarah Mclachlan, as much as I love her music, will from now on, will only remind me of sad puppies). Actually, that probally had nothing to do with the Chantix. I sob like a little bitch at those commericals anyway. But people that think they are better than servers/bartenders just piss me off and can go fuck themselves, so I was damned if I was going to take any type of drug that let assholes like that get to me. The real dealbreaker for me was when my parents straight up told me to flush that shit, I knew I had too. Also when the #1 staff homosexual tells you that you need to quit it, you listen. Because who knows better that you are just not acting like your fabulous bitchy self than the staff homosexual? So Chantix didn't work for me. I really do want to quit, if anyone out there knows of some voodoo cure for nicotine addiction that doesn't change your entire personality and turn you into a batshit crazy wingnut, I'm all fucking ears. Seriously.
But on to other things. Now that I can think for myself and have restored some sense of mental clarity, I gotta something to bitch about (It's so good to be back to myself). Tonight I was on the floor and I was first in, so early on, I got kinda slammed. No biggie there. I can handle my shit and I was on my game. In the middle of said slam, a two top (older businessmen, who explained they traveled alot and had been in town only a week) sat at table 33 and I started talking to them. Usually (okay, never) I'm not a big bullshitter with my tables, polite and professional, yes but not a whole lot of blahfuckingblah. Here's your food, eat it, pay your fucking check, tip me, come back again, get the fuck out. Everybodys happy.
But one of these guys looked just like Joe Kennedy (JFK's fucked-up dad) and had the accent to match. I've kinda obsessed with the who Camelot image of the Kennedys and how under it all they are all kinds of fucked up. That and the whole Kennedy curse shit too, I just find it interesting. I also love the fact that Jackie O was a chain smoker and not many people know that. And she was a pretty classy bitch, so it makes me feel like less of a lepper for my own one vice. So I mention how this guy looked and talked like Joe Kennedy and somehow the ball started rolling in me actually taking time out of refilling iced tea and fetching "nakkins", to get into an actual conversation. What the fuck was I thinking? I should have known better. Wasn't it Julia Roberts who said that she never kisses clients on the lips because it is just too personal. I get it now, Pretty Woman. I really do.
I had a ton of other tables, but I spent a good deal of time talking to this particular table and we got into some pretty neat discussions that led to other deeper discussions. And, no, I wasn't annoying them by running my fucking mouth while they were eating (as some people do). They kept calling me back over every chance they got. And not to get them shit, either. But to continue our discussion. They were from up north and kept going on about how much they loved my accent and when I left they made it a point to tell me how great it had been talking to me. And I had actually enjoyed the conversation too because it's always good to let people know that servers aren't dumbasses who can't get a "real job" and can hold our own in intelligent convo with the motherfucking best of them.
Now, while I had an assload of other tables, everybody got great service, although I probally could had paid more attention had I not been so chatty with my new friends at 33. But whatever. Everyone took care of me come tip time even though I didn't find out were they were from or what the fuck they thought about anything.
Now me, who, as I mentioned, usually doesn't bullshit alot, was under the impression that this table enjoyed their experience and was greatful for someone besides each other to talk too. (They were in town on business, just the two of them and had been stuck together for a week). So imagine my surprise when every single one of my other tables left more (% wise) than these two chatty fuckfaces. What the fucking fuck?!?
Maybe I'm wrong but if it seems like you want to be my goddam Facebook Friend after I waited on your ass, I would think you would throw down a little extra since we are now all chummy and shit. Maybe I'm wrong. Wait, no "maybe", obviously I was completly fucking deadass wrong.
I've read some other biz bloggers who have said they did their own little experiments on this and that tables they weren't really friendly with, tipped better than those you got all human with (unless you fail to mention their adorable newborn, then you get a passive agressive little note along with your cc receipt).
So, this is why I'm not talking to anymore of my fucking tables beyond the duties that are expected of me. Fuck it. I can't win. And I'm personallu pissed off at those two fuckers.
I discussed my graduate studies with them-hint, hint motherfuckers, I'm a struggling student (they asked). Don't you remember, table 33, when we talked about the creepy Kennedy-Lincoln similarities? Did it mean nothing to you when I suggested all of those great antique stores my town is famous for? What about when we made fun of each others accents? We had some good laughs. I just don't understand. I thought we had something special. But, *sigh*, I see now, I meant nothing to you, table 33. I was just another waitress to you, wasn't I, table 33? Probally just one of hundreds you talk to as traveling business dickheads. Oh, table 33, how you broke my heart.
So, fuck you table 33. How dare you make me think that being interested in our conversation would be appreicated. I should have known better. My bad. Lesson learned. And I'm totally decining your Facebook request.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Cheesedick, Party of One
I had probally one of the biggest cheesedicks sit at my bar I've ever met tonight, and I just had to share. I'm sure my female barmaids can relate to the bullshit that was coming out of this douchebag's mouth.
First off, he has his hat on backwards and orders an iced tea. Already, you have annoyed me. Then he starts spewing some bullshit about how he is new in town and he owns his own roofing company or some shit. I don't know, I wasn't really paying attention because I could sense he was hitting on me and I just wasn't in the goddam mood. Then he says how it was sooooo fucking hard for him to find an apartment because he just had to have a place with a garage. And me, like a dumbass, took the bait.
So, pray tell, why do you need a fucking garage? Cheesedick: "Well, when you have a car like mine, you just don't leave it out". I figured he was talking about a stupid revved up pickup that told everybody just how small his penis is but he corrected me by putting it out there that his car cost $170,000. Thats not a typo. He told me he owned a car that cost $170,000. Oh, for fucks sake! But he was one step ahead of me and had his phone out with a picture of it. No sign of him anywhere near the alleged pussymagnet. Just the car.
Look, I don't know shit about cars but I do know what a picture downloaded from the fucking internet looks like.
Okay, douche, I'll play. I asked him why anyone would spend that kind of money on a car. To which he replied, "Well, when you have as much money as I do, you just have to find better toys to spend it on. I just have so goddam much money I just buy what ever I want when I want it, blahfuckingblahblahblah"
Oh, just shut the fuck up already. We both know you are completly full of shit.You are not Scrooge Mcduck swimming around in you gold coins.You're not even convincing at patholgically lying about it. And I have found that people that actually do have that kind of money, never talk or brag about. Also, and most importantly, I'm not going to fuck you, so just shut the fuck up about how hard it is having so goddam much cash, pay for your shit and get out of my goddam face because I'm not some 19 year-old college freshman that is impressed or can't see through your dumbassed, hole-filled ramblings.
I mentioned to him that I had just went outside to the parking lot for a smokebreak (yep, back on the sauce) and didn't see any car that remotely looked like the stockphoto he probally shows ten girls a night in hope that it might get him some hot naive poon. But, you don't just don't drive a car like that around according to him. You have to actually go to his apartment (by the way, if your so fucking loaded, why the hell are you living in an apartment anyway, you lying sack of shit?) to see it, hehehe, wink,wink. Are you fucking kidding me? Do I look like I have some kind of mental disability to you that would actually make me agree to go to your fucking place to "see" you fucking imaginary car? If some bitch is dumb enough to do that, she gets what she deserves, because I'm sure she would be disappointed in more ways than not seeing a car he doesn't actually own.
Dude, just shut the fuck up already.Actually you should have shut up about twenty minutes ago, because now I have told the entire staff the line of bullshit you've been slinging and we are all laughing at your dumbass and will laugh at you everytime you step foot in this place.
And, most important, I don't care what you (at least say) you drive or how much money (you say) you have. Even if it was true, I don't give a flying fuck. I'll rather give up the goodies to a guy with a good heart and struggling just like I am before I would let some self centered rich guy asshole so much as cop a feel any fucking day of the week.
I just want you to go home, so I can go home. In my Ford Escort. Which I love. And look, I even have a photo of it on my phone, with me in front of it!! Because I actually own it, you lying, fake car downloading dick.
And what did this supreme dickhead, who according to him, has money practically falling out of his asshole leave me? Three bucks. But I guess he must have a huge car payment or something. What a fucking douchebag.
First off, he has his hat on backwards and orders an iced tea. Already, you have annoyed me. Then he starts spewing some bullshit about how he is new in town and he owns his own roofing company or some shit. I don't know, I wasn't really paying attention because I could sense he was hitting on me and I just wasn't in the goddam mood. Then he says how it was sooooo fucking hard for him to find an apartment because he just had to have a place with a garage. And me, like a dumbass, took the bait.
So, pray tell, why do you need a fucking garage? Cheesedick: "Well, when you have a car like mine, you just don't leave it out". I figured he was talking about a stupid revved up pickup that told everybody just how small his penis is but he corrected me by putting it out there that his car cost $170,000. Thats not a typo. He told me he owned a car that cost $170,000. Oh, for fucks sake! But he was one step ahead of me and had his phone out with a picture of it. No sign of him anywhere near the alleged pussymagnet. Just the car.
Look, I don't know shit about cars but I do know what a picture downloaded from the fucking internet looks like.
Okay, douche, I'll play. I asked him why anyone would spend that kind of money on a car. To which he replied, "Well, when you have as much money as I do, you just have to find better toys to spend it on. I just have so goddam much money I just buy what ever I want when I want it, blahfuckingblahblahblah"
Oh, just shut the fuck up already. We both know you are completly full of shit.You are not Scrooge Mcduck swimming around in you gold coins.You're not even convincing at patholgically lying about it. And I have found that people that actually do have that kind of money, never talk or brag about. Also, and most importantly, I'm not going to fuck you, so just shut the fuck up about how hard it is having so goddam much cash, pay for your shit and get out of my goddam face because I'm not some 19 year-old college freshman that is impressed or can't see through your dumbassed, hole-filled ramblings.
I mentioned to him that I had just went outside to the parking lot for a smokebreak (yep, back on the sauce) and didn't see any car that remotely looked like the stockphoto he probally shows ten girls a night in hope that it might get him some hot naive poon. But, you don't just don't drive a car like that around according to him. You have to actually go to his apartment (by the way, if your so fucking loaded, why the hell are you living in an apartment anyway, you lying sack of shit?) to see it, hehehe, wink,wink. Are you fucking kidding me? Do I look like I have some kind of mental disability to you that would actually make me agree to go to your fucking place to "see" you fucking imaginary car? If some bitch is dumb enough to do that, she gets what she deserves, because I'm sure she would be disappointed in more ways than not seeing a car he doesn't actually own.
Dude, just shut the fuck up already.Actually you should have shut up about twenty minutes ago, because now I have told the entire staff the line of bullshit you've been slinging and we are all laughing at your dumbass and will laugh at you everytime you step foot in this place.
And, most important, I don't care what you (at least say) you drive or how much money (you say) you have. Even if it was true, I don't give a flying fuck. I'll rather give up the goodies to a guy with a good heart and struggling just like I am before I would let some self centered rich guy asshole so much as cop a feel any fucking day of the week.
I just want you to go home, so I can go home. In my Ford Escort. Which I love. And look, I even have a photo of it on my phone, with me in front of it!! Because I actually own it, you lying, fake car downloading dick.
And what did this supreme dickhead, who according to him, has money practically falling out of his asshole leave me? Three bucks. But I guess he must have a huge car payment or something. What a fucking douchebag.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Chantix and Chocolate Cake
Okay, so I started my Chantix and have been on it for a week. And, let's just say, my nicotine receptors are pissed the fuck off and are just not having any of this shit. Chantix has turned me into a crazy bitch. A zoned out, mean, constantly sobbing crazy bitch. First of all, I'm in a contast fucking fog. I don't even have the mental clarity to make fun of the dumbassess that come into the restuarant. And that just isn't me. Also, I'm usually the quickest bartenter in the place but now I'm moving at a pace of a goddam Golden Girl (no disrespect). Worst of all, it makes me MEAN. And I don't just mean bitchy, but mean. And there is a huge difference. Bitchy is just an additude. Mean is hateful. And I am not hateful.I would never want to truely hurt someones feelings and the people I love, I would die for. And when I talk shit about people, it's usually behind their backs (um, it's called manners).
Two nights ago I came home and my mom told me to go look at the fridge. She had found an old picture of an ex-boyfriend and me and hung it on the fridge because she though it was a very pretty picture of me. I broke up with this guy almost five fucking years ago and, on a side note, a few months ago her and I were looking at some pictures of him and it didn't bother me and we laughed about how ugly all of my ex's were. So I guess she thought I would just laugh about it (and it was a good pic of me). I didn't. I flipped the fuck out! I mean completely flipped the fucked out. I started crying and then started yelling and screaming like a fucking madwoman at my mom. Then I proceeded to say things that I knew would hurt her feelings. But my mom, being the badasss that she is, basically told me to never disrespect her like that, shut the fuck up, and stop taking that Chantix shit before they put my ass in a padded cell because it was making me batshit crazy. Then she gave me a hug and told me she loved me. Then I went home and cried some more because of the nasty things I said to her. I just don't know what the fuck came over me. It's like the fucking devil himself jumped into my ass and started playing his fiddle. And I don't even live in Georgia.
Not really sure what to do at this point. I did some research and there are dozens of pages dedicated to how this is an awful drug and will probally turn me into Cybil. But then of course there are those that said its worked great for them.But I have a huge distrust of pharmicudical companys and doctors with their kickbacks, so I don't know. I'm going to give it one more week and if I'm still acting monkey bananas apeshit crazy, I'm done. If the regulars that took up my collection to pay for the shit, get pissed, well, fuck 'em. They can either have my regular, lovely smoking self behind the bar or deal with a wingnut who can't make their tasty beverages because she's in a fucking straighjacket.
On a lighter note, eariler this week before this shit started fucking with my head, one of my co-workers got the "Jesus table" from my earlier post. She follows this blog and when the first thing out of this guys mouth was if we had chocolate cake because last time it was his birthday and didn't get any. ..blahblahblah, she knew exactly who she was dealing with. Okay, first of all, what the fuck is this guys deal with our goddam chocolate cake? It's not made in house.It's not even that good. I wanted to just slip this fucker a note that said "Piggly Wiggly bakery, look into it". It's like when he askes himself What Would Jesus Do, the answer is "Jesus would go to that one place and annoy the fuck out of the waitstaff about the chocolate cake". Is there a fucking Chantix pill for chocolate? Is he already on it, thus making him a crazy fuck?
He made her go check before they even ordered. What a dickface.
She then told me the pulled that "We tip good" shit. Oh for fucks sake! Are you goddam kidding me? I HATE it when people pull that shit. "I tip good" to me is the equal of saying, "I'm not racist." Which pretty much means you don't and you are.
First of all, its just goddam awkward. We both know that how much money I'm going to make depends on what you feel the need to leave me. We both know it, let's not discuss it. Don't tell me dickhead, just fucking show me. I mean, what the fuck is a server/bartender supposed to say to that shit? Well, as a bartender I can let you know your assurance to me that "I'll be taken care of" is NOT going to get you a stronger drink. At least until I have solid proof in the form of a credit card receipt that you are not totally full of shit (as most of you are). And as a server, agian, what the fuck? "Well sir, I guess I'll just have to take your order and bring your food. You know, like it's my goddam job to do anyway, you clueless dumbass fuckchop!"
Anyway, as further proof that this Jesus table was a bunch of dumbasses, he wasted his fucking breath. From what I understand there were 8 of them and they were getting grat'ed. So yes, asshole, you will tip good. Because it says on the goddam menu that you will. Unfortuanlly they ran her ass off to Biblical proportions. But he did get to stuff his holy-rolling fat bloated face with our fantastic storebought chocolate cake. And Jesus wept.
Two nights ago I came home and my mom told me to go look at the fridge. She had found an old picture of an ex-boyfriend and me and hung it on the fridge because she though it was a very pretty picture of me. I broke up with this guy almost five fucking years ago and, on a side note, a few months ago her and I were looking at some pictures of him and it didn't bother me and we laughed about how ugly all of my ex's were. So I guess she thought I would just laugh about it (and it was a good pic of me). I didn't. I flipped the fuck out! I mean completely flipped the fucked out. I started crying and then started yelling and screaming like a fucking madwoman at my mom. Then I proceeded to say things that I knew would hurt her feelings. But my mom, being the badasss that she is, basically told me to never disrespect her like that, shut the fuck up, and stop taking that Chantix shit before they put my ass in a padded cell because it was making me batshit crazy. Then she gave me a hug and told me she loved me. Then I went home and cried some more because of the nasty things I said to her. I just don't know what the fuck came over me. It's like the fucking devil himself jumped into my ass and started playing his fiddle. And I don't even live in Georgia.
Not really sure what to do at this point. I did some research and there are dozens of pages dedicated to how this is an awful drug and will probally turn me into Cybil. But then of course there are those that said its worked great for them.But I have a huge distrust of pharmicudical companys and doctors with their kickbacks, so I don't know. I'm going to give it one more week and if I'm still acting monkey bananas apeshit crazy, I'm done. If the regulars that took up my collection to pay for the shit, get pissed, well, fuck 'em. They can either have my regular, lovely smoking self behind the bar or deal with a wingnut who can't make their tasty beverages because she's in a fucking straighjacket.
On a lighter note, eariler this week before this shit started fucking with my head, one of my co-workers got the "Jesus table" from my earlier post. She follows this blog and when the first thing out of this guys mouth was if we had chocolate cake because last time it was his birthday and didn't get any. ..blahblahblah, she knew exactly who she was dealing with. Okay, first of all, what the fuck is this guys deal with our goddam chocolate cake? It's not made in house.It's not even that good. I wanted to just slip this fucker a note that said "Piggly Wiggly bakery, look into it". It's like when he askes himself What Would Jesus Do, the answer is "Jesus would go to that one place and annoy the fuck out of the waitstaff about the chocolate cake". Is there a fucking Chantix pill for chocolate? Is he already on it, thus making him a crazy fuck?
He made her go check before they even ordered. What a dickface.
She then told me the pulled that "We tip good" shit. Oh for fucks sake! Are you goddam kidding me? I HATE it when people pull that shit. "I tip good" to me is the equal of saying, "I'm not racist." Which pretty much means you don't and you are.
First of all, its just goddam awkward. We both know that how much money I'm going to make depends on what you feel the need to leave me. We both know it, let's not discuss it. Don't tell me dickhead, just fucking show me. I mean, what the fuck is a server/bartender supposed to say to that shit? Well, as a bartender I can let you know your assurance to me that "I'll be taken care of" is NOT going to get you a stronger drink. At least until I have solid proof in the form of a credit card receipt that you are not totally full of shit (as most of you are). And as a server, agian, what the fuck? "Well sir, I guess I'll just have to take your order and bring your food. You know, like it's my goddam job to do anyway, you clueless dumbass fuckchop!"
Anyway, as further proof that this Jesus table was a bunch of dumbasses, he wasted his fucking breath. From what I understand there were 8 of them and they were getting grat'ed. So yes, asshole, you will tip good. Because it says on the goddam menu that you will. Unfortuanlly they ran her ass off to Biblical proportions. But he did get to stuff his holy-rolling fat bloated face with our fantastic storebought chocolate cake. And Jesus wept.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
She Works Hard for the Money, So You Better Not Fuck with Her!
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.
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.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
The Good, the Bad, and the Fuck Your "Generous Tip"
One of the great/awful things about working in the biz is that you come across some of the biggest assholes you could ever imagine. You also come across some truely remarkable human beings. Tonight was one of those nights.
First the good. I have been making an attempt to stop smoking. I suppose if I succeed I'll have to change the name of this blog to "I need a Xanax break", but I guess that would work too. Anyway, I went to the doc and got a script for Chantix. I've tried to quit before, and it just wasn't happening. So this was my last resort. Now, being a bartender/server, guess who doesn't have insurance? This girl, that's who. And that shit cost about $300. All I can say is this shit better work, because I have been planning on picking up extra shifts to pay for it.
I have a bar regular who can be a pain in my ass sometimes (and he knows it, I tell him daily. We have that kind of special bar regular/bartender relationship. But I know I'm his favorite, so it's okay) But really when it comes down to it, he has a good heart and would pretty much do anything for anybody. So I put up with him and he puts up with me and, well, we get along just fine and have had some great/meaningful/heartfelt conversations with him and trust him with some of my secrets and he has never judged me. He knows how much I really want (okay, need) to quit smoking, so I was telling him how I took the first step with getting the Chantix but it would be awhile before I could actually pick it up because it just wasn't in my budget. I wasn't poormouthing. I completly planned on getting it as soon as I could, but he actually threw a 20 down and went around getting donations from other people he knew that happened to be there tonight. He raised me over $100 and promised me he would have the rest of it within a week.
Well, let's just say that my cynical little heart just melted. This isn't a creeper trying to hit on me. He is someone who actually cares about my health and wanted to help. It really meant a lot to me and it showed me that not all people are all talk and bullshit and no action.And that people you come across in this life, care about you more than you ever would have imagined. And that makes me smile. So, I know you will never read this, but thanks Joe. It really did mean a lot to me that you cared that much. And you're drink will never be empty or underpoured on my watch.
Okay, now to the bad. And these people fucking pissed me the fuck off and can suck a dick (this happened before the other thing did. Maybe if it hadn't I would have not been as pissed. But probally not).
Anyway, couple comes in with a baby. Sits it on the table. Whatever. I get their drinks. Take their order. The whole time they are snapping pics with their phones of the kid. I can tell they just want me to ooohhh and ahhh all over this baby. Just by the way they were looking at me, I new they wanted me to comment on what a sweetheart he was, how adorable, how precious. What the fuck ever. I have nothing agianst kids or babies. Maybe one day I'll have one. Who knows?In the past I've waited on kids that were so well behaved and sweet that my uterus ached.But I just was not in the fucking mood today. I'm not fucking Olan Mills taking pictures of your vagina dropping. I'm not going to go on and on about how fucking great it is that you as a couple have reproduced and decided to plop you fucking kid down on my table. You ordered you food. You got it. Your drinks never went empty and I was never at one time rude or short with you. I just didn't mention your fucking baby. It's not like he's ordering anything anyway and he's asleep so why the fuck do I need to acknowledge him? You have a baby. Big. Fucking. Deal.
Anyway so they finish eating and I ask them if there is anything else I can get them. No, they say, just the check. That would imply they didn't want dessert or anything right? I would think so, but apparently I was dead fucking wrong.
So they and the most precious child ever to be given birth too (how dare I not see that) leave. I go to pick up the credit card slip and ......fuck. They are some of those fuckers that like to leave passive agressive little notes on the slip. FUCK YOU. I would rather you just have the balls to go to the manager and complain than be little note writing pussies. You know I have to turn that shit in and you know the manager is going to see it and, well, it's just a dick move.
Basically the note said that I didn't offer them dessert (you fuckers said you were ready for the goddam check!) , didn't bring them bread plates (I totally fucking did), and that I didn't really conversate with them. Well, fuck me! What do you want me to do, sit down and fucking eat with your asses. You really didn't speak to me much more than to give your order, so its not like I was avoiding having any type of conversation with you. I was doing my job and waiting on other tables that obviously doesn't have issues of not getting self-entitled attention.You got everything you needed from me. Maybe you just hate each other so much as a couple that you need to bullshit with your server to have a nice meal. Maybe Superbaby didn't feel like talking to your asses either. Maybe your just passive agressive fuckfaces.
Personally, I think the reason they were so pissed off is because I didn't one time mention their baby and they felt that maybe, perhaps, they weren't fantastically special people for fucking and having a kid but simply normal people that happened to get knocked up. I know that's what really pissed them off. I could just tell by the way they kept snapping pictures of his ass everytime I walked by.
So they leave this long ass note (front and back) about how I need to be more personable. WTF? Most people I know when they go out just want to talk to the person they came out to eat with. Maybe I'm just crazy like that. I'm your server. Not a goddam clown to entertain your asses. I wasn't rude but I sure as hell didn't intend on bouncing a ball on my nose like a fucking seal to make your experience more enjoyable.I also have other shit I need to do. And I'm sure as hell not going to droll all over your crotchdropping, because frankly, I see babies everygoddam day and they all pretty much look the same. Oh and the kicker: They left me a four buck tip on $60, circled it and wrote "Generous tip." Fuck you. I hope your kid grows up to be a faboulous gay man that you disown because you just seem like the type of assholes that would do some shit like that. I then hope he writes a tell all book about how you are both assholes and makes millions of dollars and has a happy wonderful life far, far away from you dickwads.
Oh and by the way, I threw your slip away and told my manager I lost it (you didn't actually think I was going to let my ass get chewed out because of you, did you?). Also you can keep your "generous tip" and shove it up your passive agressive asses.
But I digress. Once again, thanks Joe. You made my night.
First the good. I have been making an attempt to stop smoking. I suppose if I succeed I'll have to change the name of this blog to "I need a Xanax break", but I guess that would work too. Anyway, I went to the doc and got a script for Chantix. I've tried to quit before, and it just wasn't happening. So this was my last resort. Now, being a bartender/server, guess who doesn't have insurance? This girl, that's who. And that shit cost about $300. All I can say is this shit better work, because I have been planning on picking up extra shifts to pay for it.
I have a bar regular who can be a pain in my ass sometimes (and he knows it, I tell him daily. We have that kind of special bar regular/bartender relationship. But I know I'm his favorite, so it's okay) But really when it comes down to it, he has a good heart and would pretty much do anything for anybody. So I put up with him and he puts up with me and, well, we get along just fine and have had some great/meaningful/heartfelt conversations with him and trust him with some of my secrets and he has never judged me. He knows how much I really want (okay, need) to quit smoking, so I was telling him how I took the first step with getting the Chantix but it would be awhile before I could actually pick it up because it just wasn't in my budget. I wasn't poormouthing. I completly planned on getting it as soon as I could, but he actually threw a 20 down and went around getting donations from other people he knew that happened to be there tonight. He raised me over $100 and promised me he would have the rest of it within a week.
Well, let's just say that my cynical little heart just melted. This isn't a creeper trying to hit on me. He is someone who actually cares about my health and wanted to help. It really meant a lot to me and it showed me that not all people are all talk and bullshit and no action.And that people you come across in this life, care about you more than you ever would have imagined. And that makes me smile. So, I know you will never read this, but thanks Joe. It really did mean a lot to me that you cared that much. And you're drink will never be empty or underpoured on my watch.
Okay, now to the bad. And these people fucking pissed me the fuck off and can suck a dick (this happened before the other thing did. Maybe if it hadn't I would have not been as pissed. But probally not).
Anyway, couple comes in with a baby. Sits it on the table. Whatever. I get their drinks. Take their order. The whole time they are snapping pics with their phones of the kid. I can tell they just want me to ooohhh and ahhh all over this baby. Just by the way they were looking at me, I new they wanted me to comment on what a sweetheart he was, how adorable, how precious. What the fuck ever. I have nothing agianst kids or babies. Maybe one day I'll have one. Who knows?In the past I've waited on kids that were so well behaved and sweet that my uterus ached.But I just was not in the fucking mood today. I'm not fucking Olan Mills taking pictures of your vagina dropping. I'm not going to go on and on about how fucking great it is that you as a couple have reproduced and decided to plop you fucking kid down on my table. You ordered you food. You got it. Your drinks never went empty and I was never at one time rude or short with you. I just didn't mention your fucking baby. It's not like he's ordering anything anyway and he's asleep so why the fuck do I need to acknowledge him? You have a baby. Big. Fucking. Deal.
Anyway so they finish eating and I ask them if there is anything else I can get them. No, they say, just the check. That would imply they didn't want dessert or anything right? I would think so, but apparently I was dead fucking wrong.
So they and the most precious child ever to be given birth too (how dare I not see that) leave. I go to pick up the credit card slip and ......fuck. They are some of those fuckers that like to leave passive agressive little notes on the slip. FUCK YOU. I would rather you just have the balls to go to the manager and complain than be little note writing pussies. You know I have to turn that shit in and you know the manager is going to see it and, well, it's just a dick move.
Basically the note said that I didn't offer them dessert (you fuckers said you were ready for the goddam check!) , didn't bring them bread plates (I totally fucking did), and that I didn't really conversate with them. Well, fuck me! What do you want me to do, sit down and fucking eat with your asses. You really didn't speak to me much more than to give your order, so its not like I was avoiding having any type of conversation with you. I was doing my job and waiting on other tables that obviously doesn't have issues of not getting self-entitled attention.You got everything you needed from me. Maybe you just hate each other so much as a couple that you need to bullshit with your server to have a nice meal. Maybe Superbaby didn't feel like talking to your asses either. Maybe your just passive agressive fuckfaces.
Personally, I think the reason they were so pissed off is because I didn't one time mention their baby and they felt that maybe, perhaps, they weren't fantastically special people for fucking and having a kid but simply normal people that happened to get knocked up. I know that's what really pissed them off. I could just tell by the way they kept snapping pictures of his ass everytime I walked by.
So they leave this long ass note (front and back) about how I need to be more personable. WTF? Most people I know when they go out just want to talk to the person they came out to eat with. Maybe I'm just crazy like that. I'm your server. Not a goddam clown to entertain your asses. I wasn't rude but I sure as hell didn't intend on bouncing a ball on my nose like a fucking seal to make your experience more enjoyable.I also have other shit I need to do. And I'm sure as hell not going to droll all over your crotchdropping, because frankly, I see babies everygoddam day and they all pretty much look the same. Oh and the kicker: They left me a four buck tip on $60, circled it and wrote "Generous tip." Fuck you. I hope your kid grows up to be a faboulous gay man that you disown because you just seem like the type of assholes that would do some shit like that. I then hope he writes a tell all book about how you are both assholes and makes millions of dollars and has a happy wonderful life far, far away from you dickwads.
Oh and by the way, I threw your slip away and told my manager I lost it (you didn't actually think I was going to let my ass get chewed out because of you, did you?). Also you can keep your "generous tip" and shove it up your passive agressive asses.
But I digress. Once again, thanks Joe. You made my night.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Ha Fucking Ha
For some reason every single one of my "guests" (that's what my manager would have me refer to them) last night thought they were one of the goddam Kings of Comedy. If you've been in the biz, I know you know what I'm talking about. Those dumbass cliche jokes every server/bartender has heard a million times. You ask them how they want the check. "Oh, we don't want it!", "You just keep it", ect., ect,. Very fucking funny asshole, now just tell me how the hell do you want me to spilt this motherfucking check up so you can get your unorginal, unhalirious ass out of here. Or the dipshits who say stupid shit like, "I don't have any money, guess I better wash some dishes". I actually hope you are kidding because we have a dishwasher for that shit and I will call the cops on your ass. I should actually call the cops anyway for you making me stand here one more second than I should, listening to you laugh at your own jokes and basically raping my ears with your annoying ass chuckle.
And then there is the dickheads that all but lick their fucking plates clean and when you go to clear it they say, "Oh, we just HATED it!", or "That was just terrible!" Oh, for fuck's sake, just hand me your goddam plate, piggy. I don't have time for this shit. And if you think you're even getting a courtesy laugh from me, fuck you. I'm taking the plate you just inhaled a chocolate cake off of and walking away, just so you look like the gluttonous asshole you have proved yourself to be.
Just shut the fuck up, pay your bill and leave. I don't need your stupid, unwitty ass comments that you would have no be no less than mentaly retarded not to realize I hear dumb shit just like it every day. You are not funny and I can only hope your dining companions see what a cheesedick you are.
We've heard every single "joke" there is, it wasn't amusing when anyone else said it. I can assure you, you saying it will not be an exception.
But nothing, and I mean nothing, will make me roll my eyes out of my head more than when I'm tending bar and I ask some drunk ass if he wants another one (Why I even bother, I don't know). They then proceed to say, "Twist my arm!" Okay, first off, fuck you. I'm not touching you for fear of catching your obvious dumbassness. And I highly doubt anyone has ever had to twist your arm or even imply there is still more booze in the county to get your ass to have another drink. Here's your fucking drink. Leave me alone, drink it and shut the fuck up.
Here's a tip. If you are one of those douchebags that makes these kind of "jokes", NO ONE thinks you are funny. If they happen to laugh, trust me, it's not because you have in any way amused them. They are just working for their tip. And shame on you for making someone work that hard for a tip. And if you have friends that pull shit like that when you go out with them, I totally recommend cutting them out of your life and defriending them on Facebook. Block the fucker too, they are that much of a douchebag.
And then there is the dickheads that all but lick their fucking plates clean and when you go to clear it they say, "Oh, we just HATED it!", or "That was just terrible!" Oh, for fuck's sake, just hand me your goddam plate, piggy. I don't have time for this shit. And if you think you're even getting a courtesy laugh from me, fuck you. I'm taking the plate you just inhaled a chocolate cake off of and walking away, just so you look like the gluttonous asshole you have proved yourself to be.
Just shut the fuck up, pay your bill and leave. I don't need your stupid, unwitty ass comments that you would have no be no less than mentaly retarded not to realize I hear dumb shit just like it every day. You are not funny and I can only hope your dining companions see what a cheesedick you are.
We've heard every single "joke" there is, it wasn't amusing when anyone else said it. I can assure you, you saying it will not be an exception.
But nothing, and I mean nothing, will make me roll my eyes out of my head more than when I'm tending bar and I ask some drunk ass if he wants another one (Why I even bother, I don't know). They then proceed to say, "Twist my arm!" Okay, first off, fuck you. I'm not touching you for fear of catching your obvious dumbassness. And I highly doubt anyone has ever had to twist your arm or even imply there is still more booze in the county to get your ass to have another drink. Here's your fucking drink. Leave me alone, drink it and shut the fuck up.
Here's a tip. If you are one of those douchebags that makes these kind of "jokes", NO ONE thinks you are funny. If they happen to laugh, trust me, it's not because you have in any way amused them. They are just working for their tip. And shame on you for making someone work that hard for a tip. And if you have friends that pull shit like that when you go out with them, I totally recommend cutting them out of your life and defriending them on Facebook. Block the fucker too, they are that much of a douchebag.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
The Complete Fucking Over of Man's Best Friend
Okay, this doesn't really have anything to do with the restaurant biz. But I'm still pretty fucking pissed off about it, so I need to vent. On the way home from work tonight I stopped at a gas station off the highway to get cigs and saw a beagle running back and forth across the road.
I may not like people all that much but I just so happen to be a huge animal lover, so I got out of my car and basically chased this dog into a residental area. I lost track of him and pray he's okay. I then decided to drive around some more to see if I could find him, and I'm hoping he went back home. So I then get back on the highway and see that someone had hit a dog (he looked kinda like a cattle dog, so I know it wasn't the beagle). He was pretty much splattered in the middle of the road and cars were just whipping by him. Someone just hit him and left him there. That shit doesn't fly with me. I was fucking pissed the fuck off. What kind of heartless fuck just hits a dog and leaves him there to be flattened by more cars on a busy highway? A fucking no good dickhead asshole, that's who.I understand that sometimes dogs or cats run out in front of you and sometimes you run over them. It's an accident and accidents happen. I get that. But to just leave him there?!? That is just some fucked up bullshit. Get out of your goddam car. Pull it out of the road. Check for a collar. Goddam it do something, don't just leave it there and go on your fucking merry goddam way like you didn't just kill something!
So I pulled over, almost getting hit myself and dragged him over to the grass and covered him up with a trash bag. That's really all I could do, I was by myself and he was too heavy for me to pick up. One of my male friends (with a huge heart for animals too) is going to stop and get him after he gets off of work and bury him. This dog was probally someone's beloved pet and it was the very least I could do just to get him out of the way of oncoming traffic. I wish I could have done more. This was a living creature and deserved more than to become uncared about roadkill.
But the thing that really pisses me off is that cars kept driving by and watching me do this (I'm a tiny gal and it was nighttime) and not one fucking person stopped to help. FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU. Shame, shame, shame on you fuckers. All of you are heartless fucks and I hope someone hits your asses with a semi and leaves you to rot in the middle of the road. *
*Sorry for the rant, but I love dogs and I am really fucking pissed and outraged.
I may not like people all that much but I just so happen to be a huge animal lover, so I got out of my car and basically chased this dog into a residental area. I lost track of him and pray he's okay. I then decided to drive around some more to see if I could find him, and I'm hoping he went back home. So I then get back on the highway and see that someone had hit a dog (he looked kinda like a cattle dog, so I know it wasn't the beagle). He was pretty much splattered in the middle of the road and cars were just whipping by him. Someone just hit him and left him there. That shit doesn't fly with me. I was fucking pissed the fuck off. What kind of heartless fuck just hits a dog and leaves him there to be flattened by more cars on a busy highway? A fucking no good dickhead asshole, that's who.I understand that sometimes dogs or cats run out in front of you and sometimes you run over them. It's an accident and accidents happen. I get that. But to just leave him there?!? That is just some fucked up bullshit. Get out of your goddam car. Pull it out of the road. Check for a collar. Goddam it do something, don't just leave it there and go on your fucking merry goddam way like you didn't just kill something!
So I pulled over, almost getting hit myself and dragged him over to the grass and covered him up with a trash bag. That's really all I could do, I was by myself and he was too heavy for me to pick up. One of my male friends (with a huge heart for animals too) is going to stop and get him after he gets off of work and bury him. This dog was probally someone's beloved pet and it was the very least I could do just to get him out of the way of oncoming traffic. I wish I could have done more. This was a living creature and deserved more than to become uncared about roadkill.
But the thing that really pisses me off is that cars kept driving by and watching me do this (I'm a tiny gal and it was nighttime) and not one fucking person stopped to help. FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU. Shame, shame, shame on you fuckers. All of you are heartless fucks and I hope someone hits your asses with a semi and leaves you to rot in the middle of the road. *
*Sorry for the rant, but I love dogs and I am really fucking pissed and outraged.
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