The Bitter Bistro

"We're vegetarian.  We don't eat egg or egg white," they told me for the tenth time in less than an hour.  I get it.  You're from a part of the world that worships cows and you don't consume animal products, but you are getting on my last nerve.  And I was on my last nerve over two hours ago. Your dietary restrictions, whether based on religion or allergens, are fine with me.  But please stop making it the responsibility of the server or the restaurant to cater to your needs. This couple came in for just desserts.  The woman ordered a hot chocolate.  But she said she's vegetarian, but somehow she is okay with milk.  Then her husband came in and joined her.  He said he's vegetarian.  He wanted to know what desserts we had that didn't have any egg or egg whites. But before I left to get a dessert menu, he stopped me and ask me to have the chef make sure that he would have an eggless waffle ready for him when he comes in for breakfast the next

I've noticed that the majority of customers that come into my restaurant know which silverware to eat with for each course.  But this blog is not for the majority of customers that come into my restaurant, it is for the the people who live life on the edge, by trying to cut their steak with a butter knife. I'm talking about the short knife that is on the edge of the small bread plate that is to the left of your salad fork.  Sorry, I know I just dropped a lot of knowledge just now, but try to keep up.  If it were up to me, we would just use sporks and a steak knife for everything.  But that is not the world we live in. We live in a world where a customer yells at me to bring them another knife, or asks me why their drink is taking so long to get to them, and I have to point out that the knife and drink that they asked for the first time, is sitting right-in-fricking-front-of-them. "Anything else I can get for you right now?  I didn't think so." Pay attent

It's like quicksand.  Meaning, that the more I struggle to get out of the restaurant industry, the more I sink into to it.  At this moment, I can't even get fired from my current gig, and I'm not even knocking on wood. Summer can be a lonely time for those of us that work far from the beach.  As I write this, any server working in a Santa Monica restaurant has made at least $200.00 for a lunch shift.  And if you didn't, you probably still made more than I did on my night shifts. I have almost come full circle at my current restaurant.  I helped open the place 9 years ago, and it was the busiest and most profitable gig I have had to date.  It wasn't perfect, but at least I knew that all I had to do was make it to the end of the shift, and I would somehow see the light.  And that light being at least $300.00.  Nowadays the light is very dim.  But the new light at the end of the tunnel is a complete renovation of the space.  That's right.  Soon I'll be op

An older lady was dining with her husband, granddaughter, and her granddaughter's boyfriend one night, when the old lady turns to me and says, "What do you have that's soft to eat?  I forgot my teeth." Who the hell forgets their teeth?  Let me get this straight, when you looked at yourself in the mirror before you left, you didn't notice something was missing when you smiled? "I know how you feel," I said, "sometimes I forget my phone.  I feel lost without it."  She just looked at me as if she didn't know what I meant by that because she still uses a rotary phone.  (Look it up.) I explained that we have soups that she could have, but she was concerned about her choices for salad.  She and her family were using a Groupon, so they had to select from the items on the prefixed menu. "Is the salad soft?" she asked. "I could have the kitchen chop it fine for you.  That would make it easier to eat." I replied.  I