The Worst Thing Ever to Happen In a Scotland Restaurant

"The Loch Ness Monster!!!"

“The Loch Ness Monster!!!”

I don’t know anything about Dundee Scotland, but it must have been a slow news week there for this story to make it into their news media. Staff writer Stefan Morkis is aiming for a Pulitzer Prize with his hard-hitting news story about a possible “rat” that made its way into a restaurant called Medina Bar and Grill. Here is the link, but let me give you the whole story in five sentences: It was hot outside. Someone propped the door open to get some air. A rat (maybe, maybe not) popped in to say hello. Two people left. Stefan thought “this should be in the news!”

Stefan, bitch, please.

If newspapers wrote an article for every time a mouse, bug or rodent was in a restaurant there wouldn’t be enough newsprint in the world and the Internet would finally be too full for another article. It happens and it’s not newsworthy unless someone has video of the rat ordering a plate of nachos and then sending them back because he asked for them with no jalepenos. Stefan is obviously trying to make it sound much more dramatic than it really was. Did people really “shriek in terror,” Stefan? And do we even know that it was rat? The quotes that you used in your headline tells me you don’t. The sole witness says, “At first I thought it was a mouse but a woman who had seen it said it was larger than a mouse and thought it was a rat.” Basically, someone told you that someone told her it looked bigger than a mouse and may have been a rat.

Stefan’s witness goes on to say that she saw people trying to catch the “rat” in a bucket and since no one did, she decided to leave because she wasn’t as brave as the people who stayed.

The manager is interviewed and basically is like, “Yeah, it was hot outside, we opened the door and it came in. 40 people here at the time thought it was kinda funny except for two uptight bitches who left and probably called their friend Stefan who writes stupid ass shit for The Courier.” He also says that pest control came and checked out the situation and gave it a big ol’ “whatever.”

Way to make the most of a story, Stefan, but you’re in Scotland, and I can think of a much better story you could have written:

Diners at a Dundee restaurant recoiled in panic and fear when a centuries-old myth rose from the deep waters and crawled underneath a table. A witness says, “I was just sitting there eating my porridge and waiting for my kippers and haggis to come out of the kitchen when all of a sudden, I saw the Loch Ness Monster. At first I thought it was a bird but someone told me it was bigger than a bird so I thought it must have been a harbour seal but someone told me it was bigger than a harbour seal so it must have been the Loch Ness Monster. I got me mobile phone out to take a video of it in case it ordered some nachos, but I never did quite see it after that. But I’m sure it was Nessie!” Restaurant workers tried to catch “Nessie” with a giant butterfly net, but were unable to do so and Nessie continues to be the mystery that she has been for so many years. It is not clear how the Loch Ness Monster got inside the restaurant, but there is some speculation that someone left the door open in an attempt to let a rat out of the kitchen. The manager was interviewed and explained that it may have been the Loch Ness Monster but it is also quite possible that it was simply a tree frog that lost its way. Restaurant goers were all escorted to the hospital so they could be examined for lasting effects of fear but only two uptight bitches were asked to stay overnight. They have both been lobotomized in an effort to help them forget that awful day they were in a restaurant when a tree frog/Loch Ness Monster ruined their day.


Don’t Like a Service Dog in the Restaurant? Too Damn Bad.

Dear Bitchy...

Dear Bitchy…

Dear Bitchy Waiter,

Just out of curiosity – what should be done when someone brings a service dog in and someone else is allergic or afraid?


Dear Juliet,

There is only one option for whoever it is that is allergic or afraid of a service dog: deal with it. It’s the law that service animals be allowed in places of business and as long as the animal is not barking, growling or disrupting business it has a legal right to be there. If someone is allergic to the dog, then maybe they shouldn’t go pet it which you aren’t supposed to do anyway to service dogs. If they are scared of it, then they should be given the option to either move to another table or leave.

It is against the law to segregate the person with the service animal, so all the responsibility falls onto the one who can’t handle being in the same room with a trained animal. If they are uncomfortable around a dog and can’t handle thirty minutes being near it, maybe they should put themselves in the shoes of the person who relies on the service dog to help them through life. What’s more of an inconvenience? Being three tables away from a beautiful black lab who is sleeping under a table or spending your entire life without the gift of sight? Anyone who doesn’t want to be around a service dog has plenty of issues and the main one stems from selfishness. Tell them to get over it and direct your attention to everyone else in your section.

Mustard and mayo,
The Bitchy Waiter


Customer of the Day

Uh huh. Sure you do.


The One Thing Parents Need To Do With Their Kids in Restaurants:

For reals.

For reals.

The blog post I am about to write is not my first one about children and we all know it will certainly not be my last one unless destiny reaches down from the heavens and makes me breathe my last breath today. Actually, this post is more about the parents and how I am in desperate need of them to grow some fucking balls and learn how to reprimand their children and accept that if they do, their kids might be upset with them. Stop using me as your bad cop. I may not care about your kids, but that doesn’t mean that I want to be the one to teach them manners.

I’m sure the following scenario, or one very similar to it, has happened to all of us:

Some little half-pint asshole is running through the restaurant like a chicken with his head up its ass. The parents are too busy to control the little hellion because they are downing Sidecars and Old Fashioneds in order to numb their senses and forget the day they thought it was a good idea to have sex without a condom. As Mom slurps down the last ounce of brandy and sucks on an ice cube and Dad tries to squeeze out one more drop of bourbon from a muddled orange slice, their child is three booths away having a conversation with another couple who just want to have a night away from their own kids. As the child slowly meanders closer to its semi-drunk parents, it is distracted by the iPhone it is holding. The child promptly sits on the floor in the middle of the dining room in order to play whatever stupid fucking game was downloaded on its behalf. This is when a server, holding tray of food, walks from the kitchen and narrowly misses the drooling pile of three-foot high human. When the server stumbles slightly and barely saves the food on the tray, the Mom looks up with her glazed-over eyeballs and sees that it was her offspring that was the cause of the potential disaster. She finally springs into action, albeit slower than a sloth on antihistamines.

“Crotch Fruit, sweetie? Time for you to come sit down. Our food is here.” she slurs.

The child makes its way to the parents as the server is placing the plates onto the table.

“You have to sit down at the table because you were almost in our waiter’s way. If you keep running around the restaurant like that, you’re going to make him mad, isn’t that right Mr. Waiter?”

Okay, this pisses me off. Don’t put me in the position of being the bad guy because you can’t take the responsibility that comes with being a demanding parent. Why do so many parents ask that their children to do something in order to please some person that the child does not even know? I hear it all the time: “Asshole, Jr., you better stop screaming or the pilot is going to get upset with you and kick you off the airplane” or “Vaginal Surplus, if you don’t straighten up right now, the supermarket lady is never going to let you come grocery shopping with me again.”

How about, parents, you say something like this to your kids: “If you don’t stop acting like a damn fool, I am going to be pissed off. Me, your parent. I’m the only one you should be trying to please and I don’t give a shit if Mr. Waiter, the pilot or Supermarket Lady is upset with you. They can’t punish you, but I can. Listen to what I tell you and do as I say because I’m your goddamn parent and if you don’t like it when I’m mad at you, tough fucking titty.” Or something like that.

My point is that I don’t like when parents try to make me enforce rules so they can get the behavior they want from their child and still smell like a rose when I end up looking like the asshole and I smelling like fajitas. Do your job, parents. It’s a hard job and thank you for doing it, but enough with the trying to make it look like I am the one who wants them to act like civilized human beings. You want it too and it might be a good thing if your kids know that. Be a parent so I can be your server.