The Crazy Mashed Potato Lady

Yeah, they’re awesome…

Maybe there was a full moon or maybe some neighborhood insane asylum left the back door open last week because we had a couple of crazy bitches come into the restaurant on the same night. After the first one left, I took out the little notebook that I keep in my apron and started jotting down details so I could blog about her, but before I could even finish, another one came in and I knew I was getting two crazies for the price of one.

Lady number one is a regular who hangs out at the bar next door. I’ve never been inside that bar, and judging from the clientele and the way it looks through the window, I never will. It’s one of those places where people drink hard liquor and smoke cigars with one foot outside the door and the other foot inside so they can drink and smoke at the same time. I imagine if I went in and ordered a Queenspark Swizzle, I would promptly be asked to leave. So this woman comes in to the restaurant after knocking back a few because she needs something to soak up the liquor in her stomach. She tells us she likes our mashed potatoes so she wants a side of them. She points to one of the to-go boxes that are sitting behind the bar and slurs out, “I want that size, but fill it all the way to the top.”

Now this is a box that ordinarily holds much more than one side dish. It usually houses a side of fries that take up a lot more room than a couple of dollops of mashed potatoes. The owner/chef is near the bar and confirms that she wants the box filled up.

“Yeah, fill it up,” she says, her breath liable to get a small child drunk if the poor thing were to inhale too deeply at the correct moment.

The owner informs her that in order to “fill it up,” it would probably be a total of four orders but Drunky McDrunk Drunk confirms that she loves our mashed potatoes and she wants them. The kitchen puts the potatoes in the to-go box, she pays for them and stumbles back to the bar next door to eat and pour more cheap beer into her drinking hole. Forty-five minutes later, she calls us very upset and I happen to be the one who answers the phone.

“Did I just now pay $17 for mashed fucking potatoes?” she wants to know.

Actually, she paid $17 for mashed potatoes almost an hour ago, but it seems to have taken her this long to process that she handed a twenty-dollar bill to the bartender and he only gave her three dollars back.

“Well, you paid for four sides of mashed potatoes to fill the to-go box. Since each side order is $4 plus tax, yes you did pay $17 for mashed potatoes. But it was forty-eight minutes ago, not just now,” I say as I look at the stabbed check to see when exactly she placed the order.

“Who the fuck pays $17 for mashed potatoes?” she yells.

“People who love our mashed potatoes and then order four sides of them, I guess.”

“I wanna talk to the owner!”

The owner gets on the phone and reminds her that she specifically asked us to fill the to-go box to the top. He also reminds her that he told her it would be four separate side orders. She is not satisfied and says she is coming back over.

Two minutes later, the Drunken Beauty with a hankering for mashed potatoes appears at the door. She is holding the to-go box and a plastic fork. Most of the potatoes are gone with some of them on her shirt and and some of them in her teeth.

“I never woulda ordered these if knew it was gonna be $17,” she whines. “Why are they so damn expensive??”

The owner explains to her the simple concept of multiplication and how four times four is sixteen. He also tells her that these are real potatoes with real butter and real cream and that they are not cheap to make. She is upset and threatens to tell everyone at the bar next door that we sell $17 mashed potatoes as if anyone there will remember anything she burps out of her mouth. The owner reaches into the cash register and gives her a five dollar bill apologizing for the miscommunication. The woman looks at the bill and all she sees is another pint of Guinness and is instantly satisfied with the outcome. She triumphantly turns around to go back to the bar, cradling next to her chest what’s left of the potatoes.

“And I’m taking these with me!” she says.

“Have a wonderful night!” I happily chirp. “Enjoy them and come back soon!” The sarcasm goes through her as quickly as the beer probably does.

The owner shrugs his shoulders and tells the bartender that the drawer will be five dollars short tonight. This is when I pull out my notebook to write down what just happened when another woman enters the restaurant.

To be continued…


Do the mashed potato.




“Waitresses Are Too Stupid To Work a Cash Register”

Wendy doesn't know shit.

Wendy doesn’t know shit.

Very often, people ask me why I choose to wait tables when there are so many other options out in the world. I figure since Broadway star hasn’t happened for me and my teeth are too jacked up to be a male super model, I’ll just keep peddling pasta and potatoes for a living until something better comes along. I had my reasons for becoming a waiter back in the late 1980’s, the number one reason being I needed a flexible schedule to pursue an acting career. I liked working nights at the restaurant so I could audition during the day and then if I got into a show, I could switch to lunch shifts allowing me to rehearse and perform at night. That was a good enough reason for me to become a waiter and I’m sure everyone has a good one for their own personal experience. Maybe the reason is so that a parent can work the breakfast shift and be finished with work in time to be home for their kids when they get out of school. Or maybe someone likes being able to make more money per hour than they would selling a pair of Easy Fit jeans at the Gap. Or maybe they just like the way their hair smells after carrying sizzling trays of fajitas all day. What I’m trying to say is that there are lots of reasons someone chooses to tie an apron around their waist and make a living serving food. One of those reasons would NOT be what some clueless chick named Wendy said on Facebook:

I think people become waitresses for one of two reasons. Reason 1 is that they are too stupid to work a cash register at McDonald’s or Wal-Mart. Or the most likely reason is because they choose to make $2.83 an hour (and pocket all the tips) so that they can still receive their food stamps and welfare checks.

Oh, Wendy. Poor, unaware, shit-for-brains Wendy who honestly thinks that every server is a total loser when in actuality it’s anyone who says something so ignorant who is the loser of the bunch. There are so many things wrong with her statement (not to mention that Facebook profile picture) that I don’t know where to begin. I shall start at the very beginning; a very good place to start. When you read, you begin with “A-B-C.” when you blog you begin with ‘Oh, bitch, please.”

For her to imply that all servers are stupid is simply a blanket statement that holds no truth. I’m not saying there aren’t stupid severs because there are and I have worked with some of them. (Hey, Mo, how are you, you stupid fuck?) For the most part though, servers are not stupid. On the contrary, we have to use our brains while we are at work, unlike Wendy who probably just counts the roaches on the ceiling as she lays on her back at the whore house*. Secondly, no disrespect to people who work cash registers, but you don’t have to be that intellectual to use one. They are basically big calculators that tell you what to do and how much money to give people as change. Severs use cash registers or computers on a regular basis, so fuck off, Wendy.

Wendy also thinks the most likely reason we are servers is because we choose to make $2.83 an hour and pocket all the tips. Ummm, yeah, bitch, we pocket all the tips because that’s our fucking paycheck. She’s wrong about collecting food stamps and welfare checks. Does she think we don’t have to claim those tips as income? Does she think that the government believes we survive on only $2.83 an hour, or less in some states? Does she think that blond hair in her profile picture is fooling anyone? Plenty of servers make more than enough money to make a decent living and have no need for government assistance. Surely there are some who do, but I would say it is definitely the minority of servers. Wendy is full of shit (and Diet Coke, probably) and doesn’t know what the hell she is talking about.

Thank you to the person who sent me the screenshot of Wendy’s statement. I like to do my part when I can and stand up for us servers so that people can understand the truth about our jobs. Even if I have to tackle one misinformed person at a time, that is what I will do. Wendy, wherever you are (probably squeezed into a booth at an Applebee’s somewhere complaining that the iced tea isn’t sweet enough), I hope this blog post bounces back to you so you can read it and get a bitch slap of the truth. You need it.

* Since I don’t actually know Wendy, this is a joke. She may or may not work in a whore house. I cannot be sure. This blog is for the sake of comedy and it’s all based on my opinion. It ain’t CNN. Get over it.  -BW


The Worst Tip on God’s Green Earth

Bitch, please

Bitch, please

There is no server in the world who wants to get a piece of literature expounding the wonders of Eternal Life with Jesus Christ our Savior, especially when that piece of literature is not accompanied with a 15-20% tip. It’s been said before and I will say it again: “Jesus loves me, this I know, but Jesus doesn’t pay my rent.”

A photo has been making the rounds on social media and it has caught my eye enough times to feel the need to address it. It comes from a Facebook page called Disciples of the New Dawn and it’s ether a cult or someone who is a desperately needy Facebook troller who craves attention, which, now that I think about it, sounds exactly like the Bitchy Waiter Facebook page. The photo says:

Going out to eat? These tracts are a great way to brighten your server’s day and give them the hope they so desperately need. Most people who work in the food service industry cannot get real jobs because they have a criminal record or are under the grip of drug and alcohol addiction. You wouldn’t want your hard earned money going towards financing their sinful behavior would you? Do the right thing, tell them that there is hope and Jesus CAN save them from their path to self destruction and the eternal damnation that follows.

Okay, so whichever Disciple of the the New Dawn of the Planet of the Apes created that image is an expert troller of epic proportions because they pushed every single button that is going to piss off the service industry. Not only do they imply that we are all total losers who have no other job option, they say that we are all drug and alcohol addicts. How rude. I can stop drinking whenever I want to stop, I just have to keep drinking to be able to tolerate assholes like this in my section. If I wasn’t somehow buzzed, who knows what I would do in retaliation for a receiving a Jesus tip. And then they want to add a little extra salt to the wound so they make sure to refer to waiting tables as something other than a real job. Well, the joke’s on you Disciple of the New Dawn Wells, because there isn’t any salt since I never refilled the salt shakers, so ha ha!

The photo is presented on their Facebook page with a story as well:

Friday evening seven members of The Copperhead Vanguard stopped at a local chain restaurant for supper after they completed their supply run. Upon leaving they were followed out the door by their waitress who accosted them for leaving some of our literature behind instead of a gratuity. Sergeant Major Fletcher, politely explained to her, that her real treasure lies in Heaven and that rather than be greedy she should be grateful for Christ’s gift of everlasting life (Matthew 6:19-20). She continued to be rude and abusive, so Master Sergeant Jacobs went inside and spoke to the manager. She alerted the manager to the her unacceptable conduct and she was rightfully terminated on the spot. This is the cancer that liberalism spreads; people in lesser stations in our society have become insufferably greedy and believe they are entitled to what others work hard for. Simply put, she was unable to understand why she didn’t deserve a tip. This is Obama’s America in a nutshell folks. The food wasn’t prepared correctly, it arrived unacceptably late, several times she very rudely interrupted them while they were composing their status update emails and WORST of all they overheard her telling another waitress that she was quote “Hella Weeded”. If you want extra you need to put forth some effort into your job, getting high on the job and treating your customers poorly isn’t the right way. We pray that she learned her lesson and will try harder if she finds another job. God’s Peace.

Again, this whole thing is probably completely made up and the Disciples of the New Delta Dawn are just trying to get attention. I mean really, who would think that “hella weeded” means getting high on the job? Whether it’s real or not, enough people are seeing the image who will automatically assume that it’s all true and it is my duty to to make sure that even more people see it who will know they are full of shit.

If your server is rude and does a poor job of serving you, then absolutely, that server does not deserve a 15-20% tip. No server is going to treat a customer like shit and then be surprised when they get stiffed. However, no customer should ever think that a piece of paper explaining how to get into Heaven is a decent tip. It’s not. All that happens to that pamphlet is that it goes into the garbage with dirty napkins and leftover chicken bones. It does not go into the bank and it does not pay bills and it does not spend. Leave them at home. As for the Disciples of the New Dawn of the Dead, leave us servers out of your preaching. We don’t need you standing up for our souls and we certainly don’t need you affecting our tips. As for everyone who is reading this, here is their Facebook page and here is their Twitter. I think you should all go see what they are about and make your own conclusions, but my conclusion is that the Disciples of the New Dawn are crazy fucks who have no respect for anyone in the food service industry and they can eat my pud.

Or maybe it’s just a satirical website and they’re really really good at what they do.



This Manager Has Officially “Had It”

Yeah, he's pissed

Yeah, he’s pissed

Anyone who works in a restaurant has to endure the occasional “mandatory meeting” where your manager will gather you all around to discuss the need for arriving to work on time, the necessity of clean uniforms and the importance of the two-minute check back. Most of the time, these meetings are scheduled at the ungodly time of one-hour before-your-regular-time o’clock and if it happens to be your day off on the day of the meeting, too damn bad. If your manager has a sliver of soul, he or she might show up with a box of donuts to entice you to participate, but most of the time it’s just a cold impersonal meeting that you hope will end quicker than a prostate exam. And you know that moment when they ask if anyone has something they want to discuss? That’s the moment that you hope everyone will just keep their mouths closed because nothing that is ever brought up at one of these meetings ends up being changed. It doesn’t matter though to that one server who always has to raise her hand to complain that the closing crew isn’t doing their share of the sidework and the openers are getting screwed and blah blah, blah. These meetings always have and always will suck.

One of those meeting is happening today at 1:00 and the manager that called the meeting has officially had it. According to the picture that was sent to me, all the cooks and dishwashers are about to get their asses handed to them on a platter and if the sign is any indication, the ass will be half-cooked the platter it’s being served on will be filthy:

“I’m sick and fucking tired of the condition of the kitchen cleanliness and no fucking prep being done. The dish line is fucking disgusting the bathrooms never get cleaned. You guys sit on the server line on your fucking phones and I’m done with it. If your late or not here your fired. I don’t give a shit if you have probation or if your in jail or your car won’t start. I have fucking had it with you people.”

Well, where to start, where to start? This manager is about to have a fucking conniption and his head is about to pop off his shoulders with rage. I imagine there was steam shooting from his ears as he pounded away on his keyboard to print that note. He’s so angry that he forgot the difference between “your” and you’re.” I like how he took the time to highlight the whole sign with a pink marker, because everyone knows that highlighting something means that you really really mean it. And what is up with these cooks and dishwashers who are either in jail or probation? But my main question about this sign is this: who’s going to be cooking the food and washing the dishes at the height of the lunch rush?? This meeting is at 1:00, so hopefully this restaurant is only open for dinner.

I want to send out good positive thoughts to all those cooks and dishwashers who are at that meeting today. Be prepared for the wrath of your manger and you’d better get cracking on cleaning that dump up. Don’t worry about it too much though. We all know that these meetings are just a band-aid for the real problem. Sure, the bathrooms will get cleaned today and the dish line will be a smidgen less disgusting, but in about a week things will go right back to the way they were and you can all go back to the server line and sit on your phones again.