Anyone got any ideas on how to make some people understand that its not an option but an obligation to tip properly. If you don't have enough money to tip, you shouldn't go out. To me, if you stiff a server for no reason, its the same as stealing. Not only did you not tip but you also have stolen the time in that seat that the server depends on making money from. The penalty should be great. Public humiliation first, jail time second and finally the guillotine. Advice and or religious propaganda is not considered a tip!
One of my servers came to me and showed me the tip left at her table. It was a piece of paper that had printed across the top "MEMO" then hand written it said "I have gone to my fathers house and prepared a place for you. Will come back for you soon. Please be ready." signed Jesus Christ. So I'm asking, what in the world is she to do with this. First, blasphemy on who ever left this note in his name. Second, who ever left this to the young waitress has freaked her out leading here to believe that maybe a creeper is out there and is going to kill her. Last, this note won't put gas in her car! As if this wasn't tragic enough to the young waitress, I felt it necessary to text her after she went home. The text read "Hey its J.C. you ready? I'm out front. Come on I ain't got all night!" Now I know that the text wouldn't put gas in her car either, but it was at least kinda funny.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Saturday, November 12, 2011
How did I get on this path?
Some times when I get home from work I kick off my shoes, throw on some sweats, open a beer and as I drink that golden amber beverage I have to ask myself how the hell did I get to where I am. Where was it that I jumped on the path that lead me here. I mean I think I had the normal jobs that a normal kid would have growing up, or did I.
The first job I had was a paper boy. Normal enough, a kid on a bike tossing papers to the porches. If only having fifteen customers spread out over twenty five miles is normal. That didn't last long. Then there was the amusement park. What kid wouldn't want to work at an amusement park? This amusement park was small and set way out in the country. The kind of amusement park that the Ferris Wheel comes off its axis and rolls into the lake killing a few and hurting more. My job was in the gaming area, I was in the dart the balloon booth. I would collect money, hand out darts, replace the popped balloons and hand out prizes. There was an air tank off to the side that would fill the balloons and a three inch spike in the counter to tie off the balloons. NOTHING TO THIS JOB! Third day on the job, all was fine when these drunk people came by and decided that my booth was there game. The drunk men came to the counter and demanded the darts. They were throwing them as though they were wanted to hit me. I sat up on the counter to get out of their way and I sat right on the three inch spike. I ended up at the nurses station, got a tetanus shot and made that my last day. There was a string of meaningless jobs, then finally the job that was the foot of the path leading me here.
I was nineteen and I decided that I needed to make something of myself. I packed my bags and left Ohio heading for L.A. With big dreams I was ready for the change in my life. Lots happened the first couple of months, that will have to be other blogs. But the job that's important to this story was a waiter job in an affluent area called Westwood. Stars would come down out of the hills and come to this burger joint where I worked. The only rule that stands out to work here was that you had to treat the stars as normal people and never, never, ask them for autographs. I had worked there a while and always couldn't wait to go to work. I loved that job! One day I went in and a booth of mine was seated. As I rounded the corner I almost peed myself. There sat two Hudson brothers, I don't know their first names, sitting with them was a very pregnant Goldie Hawn. God I love this woman. Anyway that whole day became a blur because of her. I will never forget that day, it definitely was a highlight to the job that was to become a career. Its funny how the exact same moment in two different peoples life mean such extremely different things. I will never forget that day, were as she had forgotten by the time she got home. She later gave birth, two days before my twentieth birthday, to a bouncing baby girl named Kate Hudson. Wow that puts into perspective my age, but also shows where my love for the job stems from.
The first job I had was a paper boy. Normal enough, a kid on a bike tossing papers to the porches. If only having fifteen customers spread out over twenty five miles is normal. That didn't last long. Then there was the amusement park. What kid wouldn't want to work at an amusement park? This amusement park was small and set way out in the country. The kind of amusement park that the Ferris Wheel comes off its axis and rolls into the lake killing a few and hurting more. My job was in the gaming area, I was in the dart the balloon booth. I would collect money, hand out darts, replace the popped balloons and hand out prizes. There was an air tank off to the side that would fill the balloons and a three inch spike in the counter to tie off the balloons. NOTHING TO THIS JOB! Third day on the job, all was fine when these drunk people came by and decided that my booth was there game. The drunk men came to the counter and demanded the darts. They were throwing them as though they were wanted to hit me. I sat up on the counter to get out of their way and I sat right on the three inch spike. I ended up at the nurses station, got a tetanus shot and made that my last day. There was a string of meaningless jobs, then finally the job that was the foot of the path leading me here.
I was nineteen and I decided that I needed to make something of myself. I packed my bags and left Ohio heading for L.A. With big dreams I was ready for the change in my life. Lots happened the first couple of months, that will have to be other blogs. But the job that's important to this story was a waiter job in an affluent area called Westwood. Stars would come down out of the hills and come to this burger joint where I worked. The only rule that stands out to work here was that you had to treat the stars as normal people and never, never, ask them for autographs. I had worked there a while and always couldn't wait to go to work. I loved that job! One day I went in and a booth of mine was seated. As I rounded the corner I almost peed myself. There sat two Hudson brothers, I don't know their first names, sitting with them was a very pregnant Goldie Hawn. God I love this woman. Anyway that whole day became a blur because of her. I will never forget that day, it definitely was a highlight to the job that was to become a career. Its funny how the exact same moment in two different peoples life mean such extremely different things. I will never forget that day, were as she had forgotten by the time she got home. She later gave birth, two days before my twentieth birthday, to a bouncing baby girl named Kate Hudson. Wow that puts into perspective my age, but also shows where my love for the job stems from.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Why a Spoon?
I wish I could go a day with out dealing with people that have no class, but pretend they do. I mean whats the point. You either have it or you don't. Talking with your mouth full and complaining about things, so you don't have to pay what you owe, will instantly shut down your scam. Not that you haven't already been figured out the second you came through the door. If I wonder if you have a mirror at home and know how to use it, the class thing is out the window. Nothing like being called to a table and there you sit with that look on your face as though you too could smell that smell inside your trailer. Then you speak as though I'm beneath you. That's what makes me smile. That's what makes me love my job. If you think for one second that I'm listening to your rambling bull shit, your wrong, I'm envisioning me reaching down to your table and grabbing a spoon then thrusting it into your neck to shut you up. Now your probable wondering why a spoon? Because it will hurt more!
I was called to a table that drank their whole bottle of wine and found something in the bottom of the bottle and in the bottom of the last glass poured. Two women sat at the table, one white one black, wearing there 70's outfits and hairdos that were even ugly for the 70's. The white one dramatically showed me the debris in the bottle and her glass. I told her that that was nothing, that wines sometime have tannins in them that are part of the wine. The black one now fires up. "TANNINS...TANNINS!" she barks. " I have been drinking wine my whole life and never heard of such a thing." There was an uncomfortable silent moment where I was waiting for them to say what they wanted or was I daydreaming about the spoon on the table. Anyway I asked if the wine tasted bad, after all you two drank the entire bottle dry!. The white one said "that's not the point!" Then I said "I guess the point is that you two don't want to pay for the wine." They both responded with a nod and one of them said "that would be nice". I smiled at them, because they both had purple stained lips and I imagined that it was from blowing Barny (the big purple dinosaur). As I left the table, the black lady turned to the table behind her where an older black man was sitting. She felt it necessary to show the stranger what was in the glass. He stood and turned to the table and told them that he was a bartender most of his life and that what I told them was fact. I wanted to hug the man, he was better than the spoon, He definitely hurt more. The two women left, not feeling as good about things as they wanted. I was happy that they were gone.
I was called to a table that drank their whole bottle of wine and found something in the bottom of the bottle and in the bottom of the last glass poured. Two women sat at the table, one white one black, wearing there 70's outfits and hairdos that were even ugly for the 70's. The white one dramatically showed me the debris in the bottle and her glass. I told her that that was nothing, that wines sometime have tannins in them that are part of the wine. The black one now fires up. "TANNINS...TANNINS!" she barks. " I have been drinking wine my whole life and never heard of such a thing." There was an uncomfortable silent moment where I was waiting for them to say what they wanted or was I daydreaming about the spoon on the table. Anyway I asked if the wine tasted bad, after all you two drank the entire bottle dry!. The white one said "that's not the point!" Then I said "I guess the point is that you two don't want to pay for the wine." They both responded with a nod and one of them said "that would be nice". I smiled at them, because they both had purple stained lips and I imagined that it was from blowing Barny (the big purple dinosaur). As I left the table, the black lady turned to the table behind her where an older black man was sitting. She felt it necessary to show the stranger what was in the glass. He stood and turned to the table and told them that he was a bartender most of his life and that what I told them was fact. I wanted to hug the man, he was better than the spoon, He definitely hurt more. The two women left, not feeling as good about things as they wanted. I was happy that they were gone.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Ghetto Woman, Country Redneck and the Chicken Wings
On any given day, I could have a run in with an unhappy guest. Sometimes its easily handled, other times its not. All you can do is to keep your calm, don't take any of it personal and avoid other guests from being affected by any disruption. Some people think that the louder they get the quicker things will go in their favor. FYI, I will not fold to loud, rude behavior. I will simply ask you to leave.
I was having a busy shift one day when I was called to the bar for an unhappy guest. When I got there I could see a potential problem looming. At the end of the bar sat two heavy set black women and one heavy set black man. and they appeared to come straight out of the ghetto. sitting a couple seats from them were three country rednecks that just came in from hunting. The three ghetto people had a problem with their chicken wings being raw. The spokes person for their group spewing Ebonic bull shit loudly at me, saying they were going to die from eating the raw wings. I asked the big woman to calm down as I explained that our wings come to us full cooked and she would not get sick. I told her I would cook them all new wings and I will cook them crispy. I removed the wings from in front of them and went to the kitchen. When the new wings were ready, I took them to the ghetto big three. Before all three plates were down the spokes person once again started screaming raw wings. I raised my voice to her now and said "please stop saying that, its not true." She then said "get us new ones", I told her no, that if she was not satisfied with the wings I would take them off their bill. I asked If she would like something different. She Said "I want wings", again I said no. She pushed the wings at me and instructed the other two to do the same. The big man said"nothins wrong with mine", she then yell at him" your gonna die if you eat them." Again I asked her to stop saying that. Then one of the rednecks had had enough. He says "god damn lady I ain't ever seen you people push chicken away before" My jaw dropped as to leave me speechless and in shock, I turned quietly from the group with the chicken wings in hand and went into the kitchen. I couldn't help but to wonder if they were killing each other right then. After regaining my composure I returned, the only one now sitting at the bar was the redneck that spoke his mind. I asked where everyone was and the bartender told me they all payed and left. I was happy that there had not been incident and the night was quiet from then on.
I was having a busy shift one day when I was called to the bar for an unhappy guest. When I got there I could see a potential problem looming. At the end of the bar sat two heavy set black women and one heavy set black man. and they appeared to come straight out of the ghetto. sitting a couple seats from them were three country rednecks that just came in from hunting. The three ghetto people had a problem with their chicken wings being raw. The spokes person for their group spewing Ebonic bull shit loudly at me, saying they were going to die from eating the raw wings. I asked the big woman to calm down as I explained that our wings come to us full cooked and she would not get sick. I told her I would cook them all new wings and I will cook them crispy. I removed the wings from in front of them and went to the kitchen. When the new wings were ready, I took them to the ghetto big three. Before all three plates were down the spokes person once again started screaming raw wings. I raised my voice to her now and said "please stop saying that, its not true." She then said "get us new ones", I told her no, that if she was not satisfied with the wings I would take them off their bill. I asked If she would like something different. She Said "I want wings", again I said no. She pushed the wings at me and instructed the other two to do the same. The big man said"nothins wrong with mine", she then yell at him" your gonna die if you eat them." Again I asked her to stop saying that. Then one of the rednecks had had enough. He says "god damn lady I ain't ever seen you people push chicken away before" My jaw dropped as to leave me speechless and in shock, I turned quietly from the group with the chicken wings in hand and went into the kitchen. I couldn't help but to wonder if they were killing each other right then. After regaining my composure I returned, the only one now sitting at the bar was the redneck that spoke his mind. I asked where everyone was and the bartender told me they all payed and left. I was happy that there had not been incident and the night was quiet from then on.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Burger Bag
There is a term used in our business, MFD, make fucking do. There isn't a day that goes by that at some point you have to MFD. The key to MFD is to play off what ever it is that your doing as though it was meant to be.
One shift that I was managing, a server came to me to tell me that we had run out of to go boxes and that they had a couple burgers that need to go. I went to the dry storage and found that what the server had told me was the truth, there were no to go boxes. I continued to look and I found a box of bags that were about the size of our burgers and they were lined in wax paper. I thought that maybe this was meant to be our new burger bags and that maybe we were doing away with the burger box. I took them to the kitchen and announced that I found burger bags. We quickly bagged up the to go burgers and sent them on their way. For the next few days these bags came in handy to use as to go burger bags. At some point my boss called me into the office and she asked me who put these bags in the kitchen. I told her that I did and that we were out of burger boxes so I just assumed that these were the replacement for them. She just shook her head and looked at me as though I was retarded. She then explained that these bags were designed to be placed in the boxes in side the ladies room stalls to collect used women's hygiene products. I still was not sure what she was telling me, she then snapped boldly "they are to put used tampons in!" Unfortunately half the box was used before she caught this, but in my defense, these bags kept the burgers in them, warm and moist! That is true MFD.
One shift that I was managing, a server came to me to tell me that we had run out of to go boxes and that they had a couple burgers that need to go. I went to the dry storage and found that what the server had told me was the truth, there were no to go boxes. I continued to look and I found a box of bags that were about the size of our burgers and they were lined in wax paper. I thought that maybe this was meant to be our new burger bags and that maybe we were doing away with the burger box. I took them to the kitchen and announced that I found burger bags. We quickly bagged up the to go burgers and sent them on their way. For the next few days these bags came in handy to use as to go burger bags. At some point my boss called me into the office and she asked me who put these bags in the kitchen. I told her that I did and that we were out of burger boxes so I just assumed that these were the replacement for them. She just shook her head and looked at me as though I was retarded. She then explained that these bags were designed to be placed in the boxes in side the ladies room stalls to collect used women's hygiene products. I still was not sure what she was telling me, she then snapped boldly "they are to put used tampons in!" Unfortunately half the box was used before she caught this, but in my defense, these bags kept the burgers in them, warm and moist! That is true MFD.
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