Tales from an unemployed waiter part two.

The work week was as expected, gloomy, like the weather today. This past Thursday, I worked a double. On break, I came back to blog, about the first half of my shift. Now with the memory of Thursday night slipping away from me, I will try to remember the three, yes three tables i had that miserable night.

First off there was the woman, who barely spoke. And when she spoke, she spoke lightly, nervously. She had two sons with her who seemed to be adopted, and that’s ok. She seemed like she had been really screwed up by past relationships. Generally, I felt pretty bad for her. Her kids didn’t like me. Even when I brought out icecream for them, they seemed perturbed. The bad thing about this is that they took the survey home.

Now you may ask yourself , who cares about surveys? And the answer is surveys are actually very important in the corporate chain that i work for. They let the higher ups know how the restaurant is running, and who should be commended and who should be put under the radar. I usually have a few good surveys a month, but lately all bad ones. Regardless, after the dinner, I still gave them a survey, hoping to the powers that be, that they wouldn’ take it, but they did.

The next table, was a table that i had waited on before. I knew they were difficult, but genuinely nice people. I thought I could be myself around them, and tried to incorporate humor into thier experience. First I argued with her about her primavera. She said she wanted it in a red sauce, and not a cream sauce, no problem. So I said to her, you want it in a pomodoro sauce. She said no, I want it in a red sauce. I said to her that pomodoro is a red sauce, but nevertheless, the customer is always right, and I was wrong. I went up to the kitchen and said, she wants it in a red sauce. They said you mean pomodoro? And I said yes, but she wants it in a red sauce. and Pat my friend the chef, said yeah, a pomodoro sauce. And I said that’s what I was trying to tell her. He said that she was a douche difficult customer, and I said, “well yeah”… Anyway, her kid started ordering me around, he was a ginger. Don’t get it twisted, I said ginger, meaning a red head soulless southpark character. Anyway he ordered me around for a bit. It really takes a toll on your self-esteem, when a kid, who’s barely out of diapers starts telling you what to do. I wanted to scream “I’m a grown man, your really damaging my sense of self worth.” But all i said was “sure, another milk…more bread, no problem.

I don’t know if I looked visibly annoyed, but the situation fell apart from there. The father came in with a Rolly Fingers moustache. A villainesque, mad scientist Gene Wilder looking moustache. Normally moustaches are suspect to me. In this case I thought, wow quite a nice moustache. He might have seen me examining his moustache and once again was not amused. Anyway, I don’t really recall what happened, besides the fact that they took the survey. Another pissed off customer. Another day of me shooting off my mouth. I swear I should stop talking completely.

The last table was a really chilled out table, who liked me but left the survey behind. FML

Anyway,

Respect the server who knows how to write, and stop ordering me around kid….just another jagged thought by jason.

2 Comments

    1. Thanks so much Jill, great to see you reading the magazine. How have you been? Please come back and see us again, we are constantly updating the site. thanks again, means alot to me.
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