Wednesday, April 22, 2015

Assuming Makes An Ass Just Out of Me

Everybody has their favorite cocktail.  Their drink of choice.  A love for their libations.  Whatever!  Whether somebody is rough around the edges, gay, black, nerdy, white, female, or tranny, I've served every cocktail around the sun to everybody, but I can usually tell what type of drink goes with the person.

The other night I "assumed" wrong.  

A man and woman were sat in my section.  The woman excused herself to go to the ladies room.  I approached the gentleman, (50's) glasses, with distinguished grey hair, welcomed him, and asked him if I could get him a drink.

"While my date is in the restroom, I'll order for both of us.  A Strawberry Basil Martini, and a Makers' Mark Manhattan up," he politely requested.

I put in their drink order.  His date, (early 40's) pretty, Asian, arrived back from taking her dump.

I got the drinks from the bar, brought them to their table, and placed the Strawberry Basil Martini in front of the woman.

"That's actually my drink," the man interrupted.  "Sorry for the confusion.  I know it seems the opposite.  I would assume the same thing."

"I never assume anything.  Or ever again, for that matter.  I should go."

And I quickly walked away.

Until next time... Server's don't pay their rent with compliments.

"Bitter.  Party of 1?  Your table is ready."









ITUNES
STITCHER
TWITTER
FACEBOOK
IT DOESN'T GET ANY BITTER THAN THIS!

Thursday, April 16, 2015

The Traitor Lobster Benedict Arnold

The evil Benedict reared it's ugly head again.  This time fooling a customer with a poached egg on their Lobster Benedict.  And the customer exclaimed,

"I didn't know there are poached eggs on Lobster Benedict.  I don't want no poached egg."

I don't even know where to begin with this.  Who the hell doesn't know that there are poached eggs on ANYTHING Benedict?

And to make things even better, it actually said in the description of the dish, that it had poached eggs.

Now the customer is just dumb and can't read.  And that's no way to go through life.

Plus, you just wasted Lobster.  That's a crime in itself!

I offered to make things better, but she pulled the old, "I'm not hungry anymore" line on me.  At this point, I was fine with that.  Seriously?  You don't go to a restaurant hungry, and then suddenly not be hungry.  That's not how it works.  You are mixing up your emotions.  You're still hungry, but now you're just being an asshole...

A hungry asshole.

Until next time... Server's don't pay their rent with compliments.

"Bitter.  Party of 1?  Your table is ready."










ITUNES
STITCHER
TWITTER
FACEBOOK
IT DOESN'T GET ANY BITTER THAN THIS!


Monday, April 6, 2015

Wine O Confusion

Do you know the difference between red and white wine?

In case you don't, let me help you.  Red wine is RED.  White wine is WHITE.  Doesn't that sound simple?  I thought it did.  However, the customers that I had the other night did not agree.

They ordered a bottle of Pinot Noir.  That is a red wine.  The fact that the word "Noir" is in the name of the varietal should tip people off that that the wine is going to be a darker color.  I did my usual schtick of presenting the wine to make sure it was the right one that they ordered, including pouring out a taste, and so on and so forth.  They both agreed the wine was good and correct and when I left the table, the man and woman BOTH had a glass of red wine in their wine glasses.  I repeat, the color of wine in their glasses was the color RED.

Later I went back to the table to check on everything and they say that the wine wasn't the one that they had ordered.  They said that they ordered a bottle of white wine.

I don't throw the word "stupid" around very often, but these two dingbats have got to be two of biggest morons I've ever had sit in my section.  Where do I begin?

First off, the color of the wine should've been a red flag.  You said you ordered white, but the wine that I poured out was red.  And it also says what type of wine it is on the bottle.  In this case, it said Pinot Noir.  That's a red wine, folks!

And did you notice how I didn't put the bottle on ice after I poured the two glasses.  That's because you don't put red wine on ice.  Although I have had guests request that a couple of times, but typically, you don't keep red wine chilled.  White wine on the other hand always likes to chill out.  Which is exactly what I needed these guests to do:  CHILL OUT!

Somehow this turned out to be my fault, saying that I didn't listen to what they wanted, but on the third day Jesus rose from the dead and they were upset about that because they're Jewish.

The good news is that my manager still made them pay for the wine because of the obvious.

The bad news is that they didn't tip me.  That's okay because I got their license plate number and reported them to the cops for drunk driving... or did I?

Until next time... Server's don't pay their rent with compliments.

"Bitter.  Party of 1?  Your table is ready."










ITUNES
STITCHER
TWITTER
FACEBOOK
IT DOESN'T GET ANY BITTER THAN THIS!

Monday, March 23, 2015

Micro-Manage This!

Control freak.  Bossy.  Obsessive compulsive.  Nit-picky.  Micro-manager.  Call them what you want, I can't stand any of them.  Being a manager is already a disliked position in a restaurant, but add the word "micro" to it, and now you've got somebody who will stay on you like stink on shit.  And they really enjoy the smell of shit.

I work with one of these... (ahem)... people.  And I don't know why I ahemed them, but basically this person is a major pain-in-my-ass.  Sure, the intentions might be good, but when a server is trying desperately to do their job so they can make money in order to pay their bills, the last thing we need is somebody getting in our way of making that money.

There is a thing called, "The Steps of Service," that most of us servers try to follow with each table.  That's the rapport that I am trying to establish with each guest that is sitting in my section.  I am trying to get you to like and trust me, and then I can do my job of making sure that you have some sort of pleasant dining experience.

Then the control freak steps in and completely takes over my table.  Usually you would expect this from one of your server co-workers, but not somebody in a management-type position.  Now that he has completely monopolized all of my customer's time, I try to step back in a do my job only to find out that their entire order has been taken.  Like I said, normally this would be called table stealing, (KIM,) but in this case, it's micro-managing.

And now I've become the weird guy at the table because the guests don't understand that I'm their server, not the manager with the control issues.

It's like when you are outside, and there's a fly that keeps buzzing around you for no apparent reason.  That's what it's like.  And the more I try to run away and swat at it, the more it keeps buzzing around me.

BUZZ OFF!!!

Until next time... Server's don't pay their rent with compliments.

"Bitter.  Party of 1?  Your table is ready."










ITUNES
STITCHER
TWITTER
FACEBOOK
IT DOESN'T GET ANY BITTER THAN THIS!

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Bike vs Car. Car Weighs More, but Bike Acts Like Car

I drive through Beverly Hills when I go to work.  Besides the usual annoying things like Bentleys, Porsches, and Maseratis; me having to ignore all of the texting and driving--because apparently if you have money, you're exempt from this law.  That leaves me with the bicyclists, and they are the worst of the bunch.  They are the worst because they think that they're cars too.

Since when does a bike outweigh a car?  I got A's in Chemistry so I'm going to confidently say that a car outweighs a bike.  Even if the person riding the bike is morbidly obese, my car still outweighs the bicycle package.  But bicyclists still act like they are a semi-truck driver, barreling down the road, on the way to make a delivery to the supermarket, while peeing in a wide-mouth-jug.

My last encounter involved a guy riding his bike right in the middle of the road.  Just to give you a visual, there are two lanes going in each direction.  But those two lanes are packed with cars desperately trying to cut each other off, in order to save 15 seconds so when they arrive at their destination they can give a shorter apology for being late.

This guy doesn't move left, and he doesn't move right.  He stayed smack in the middle, and ignored any sign that there was a car behind him.  That car was me.

I give the "Hello?" horn honk as a courtesy.  He turns around and courteously gives me the finger.  I can't go around him because I've got an older woman driving a Cadillac to my right, and she is drifting around her lane like a boat that didn't get tied down in the marina.

We go a couple of more blocks and I see that a bike lane has started on the righthand side.  I know that the bike lane has started because it had a sign that said, "Begin Bike Lane."  Again, I honk.  He turns around and I motion that he should move over to the bike lane.  He doesn't get what I am pointing at, but instead he decides to ride along the side of my car.

Our conversation went as follows:

Bike Guy:  "What the fuck?"

Me:  "No thanks.  I was just telling you that there's a bike lane over there.  ALL FOR YOU!."

And I pulled away.  Because another thing a car can do better than a bike, is go faster.

Until next time... Server's don't pay their rent with compliments.

"Bitter.  Party of 1?  Your table is ready."










ITUNES
STITCHER
TWITTER
FACEBOOK
IT DOESN'T GET ANY BITTER THAN THIS!


Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Waiter? My Teeth Are in the Bread

When things get awkward between a server and the guest, they get REALLY awkward.  Sometimes the problem can be solved with some sort of diplomacy, and other times the server can only walk away and blog about it the next day.

Last night was the latter.  

I had an older gentleman and his daughter sitting in my section.  I wasn't sure if she was his daughter or not--but it didn't gross me out as much to think of her as his daughter--so I just went with that.

After they had ordered, I brought them the bread.  It's a mix of baguettes, crackers, and stuff.  Next thing I know, the daughter is waving me over.

"Is everything okay?" I ask.

"Not really."  She motions to the gentleman.  "He bit into the baguette and broke his front teeth off."

Sure enough, the man showed me where his front teeth used to be, and they weren't there.  But the whole time I'm thinking of what to say in this moment.  I've handled a lot of situations, but never something like this.  I was assuming that these were fake teeth that broke off and not his real ones.

"Did it hurt?" I asked.

"Of course it hurt," the woman responded.

What I didn't get was, why the hell would somebody who has fixed-fake-front-teeth, bite into a baguette?  The baguettes are the hardest of the breads that I offered.  And now the woman was worried about the rest of their meal that wasn't yet at the table.  I just apologized to them, and walked away.  

I told my supervisor, and the chef, and we didn't know what to do.  We got an incident report filled out just in case they would want to get some sort of compensation for the teeth.

The food arrived at the table, and the woman was worried about how her dad was going to eat the Chicken Caesar Salad, and Margarita Pizza.  He was just interested in eating, but she had to keep telling him that he had no front teeth.

He found a way to do it, because the food disappeared.  Hey, if worse came to worse, I would have offered to puree the salad and pizza.  That's how you know I'm a professional, I'm willing to go above and beyond for my customers.

But now I am going to start carrying a tube of "Fixadent" in my apron for the next time this happens.

Until next time... Server's don't pay their rent with compliments.

"Bitter.  Party of 1?  Your table is ready."









ITUNES
STITCHER
TWITTER
FACEBOOK
IT DOESN'T GET ANY BITTER THAN THIS!

Wednesday, February 4, 2015

A Review About Yelp by An Elite Yelper

The following post is my interpretation of what a review of Yelp would look like by one of their "elite" Yelpers.

A friend of mine told me about Yelp a while back so I decided that I would give it a try since I have nothing better to do with my life.  You call this a helpful website?  First of all, the color scheme is all about the red.  Some of it is white, but it's mostly red.  Way to try hard at picking colors, Yelp!  I don't know about you guys, but red doesn't say "helpful," it says "I'm mad as hell."

Seriously?  I'm missing "The Real Housewives of Portland" to do this right now.

God!  I need a cocktail.

Anyways...

You would think that Yelp would be more welcoming to having people come to their website to use it.  And I know what the hell I am talking about, I use websites all the time.  All I do is go to the browser thingy and type "www" and then whatever I'm looking for and (BAM!)... internet magic.

My first impression of Yelp was just okay.  I wasn't excited, but it wasn't like I was going to be doing anything else, so I gave it a chance.  I enjoy being able to say bad things about people behind their backs, so this is a perfect place to do that.  But then I had to look around the site to find the "write a review" link.  I'm out of breath just thinking about how hard that was.

MOVING ON...

Now I was asked to create a profile.  REALLY YELP?  My profiles are all over the internet.  I already have so many social network friends, that I can count on any of them to give me a ride to the airport, OR help me move.  That's how important I am in my world...

So I created the profile.

After I lost 10 minutes of my life (I had to take several selfies to use for my profile pic) I got down to business.  And Yelp should kiss my feet for giving them any business in the first place.

When I was writing my review, it did something weird on the website and I had to wait a whole 5 seconds for it to not do the weird thing so I could finish writing my dissertation.  Everybody loves what I have to say.  Hence, my elite social media status, so all of my social media friends just die whevever I write a review becuz I'm so funny!  I'm even LOL'ing right now as I write this shizz.

I am giving Yelp 2 stars because most of it sucks except for the fact that my review is now on it.  (That's worth 5 stars alone!  HELLO?)  Now that Ithink about it, I am going to move it up to 3.5 stars.  So half of it sucks, and the half that my review is on is great.  So that means that my review is "funny," "useful," and "cool."

And along with the bad color scheme, they have a tasteless exclamation point after the Yelp logo that has a Daisy for the dot on the bottom of the mark.  First of all, I'm allergic to flowers.  So just seeing a Daisy makes my eyes water.  NOT COOL YELP.  By the way, you owe me an Allegra.

I won't be "Yelping" again anytime soon.  BTW... you should totally follow me on instagram.  I'm @itsallaboutme.

Until next time... Server's don't pay their rent with compliments.

"Bitter.  Party of 1?  Your table is ready."









ITUNES
STITCHER
TWITTER
FACEBOOK
IT DOESN'T GET ANY BITTER THAN THIS!