A Comment on Comments: Dan Responds Edition

A Comment on Comments

A Comment on Comments

Last week, I posted a list of “Dan’s Cardinal Sins” that someone had sent me. Being the bitch that I am, I took that list and responded to each and every point and gave it the ol’ Bitchy Waiter treatment. Lo and behold, the blog post made it back to Dan and he responded to it. I have been called out and rightly so. Of course I do not know the full story of the list and made up a bunch of shit in order to get a few laughs. In the spirit of “fair play” I have decided to re-post his reply so that everyone can see both sides of the story. It is very seldom that someone calls me out with such depth and I give major kudos to Dan for taking the time to respond. Believe it or not, Dan has my respect. His responses to my responses are below and highlighted in bold. Thanks, Dan. I believe we are now even, yes? the only thing I want to respond to is your crack about my crappy looking website: you’re totally right. 

I’m actually the author of this list, and the owner of the restaurant in question. This is a tongue in cheek add on to your normal run of the mill server orientation packet that’s bored everyone that’s ever worked in a restaurant to tears. Ours is 40 pages and is a hugely in depth training manual. This is given to all staff members as we are a fun place and we like to keep it light. So… for all you assholes that just wanted to comment with out getting the full story I too will go point by point. I’d also like to give you a piece of advise as an owner of a thriving establishment. Serving 100% is a privilege, and can very easily be one of the most rewarding jobs out there. Don’t be so quick to be miserable, or you will be miserable at your job. I expect my staff to be fun, energetic, and positive always, with this I expect and will continue to expect greatness from them. Below are point by point responses to this dickbag author, who instead of making any real money, runs a website to continue the plague of miserable lived servers. A plague we simply do not tolerate in my restaurant. To the level of it say’s “Be Nice” on the back of our t-shirts.

Title – The man you never want to work for – I have people still working for me since the day we opened our doors, 6 years ago, I’ve also met my best friend, and longtime girlfriend as staffmembers. Clearly he’s offbase to begin with.

Maybe you will learn something when I explain this to you and be a better person / server (if you ever were one).

“What can I get you to drink?” I am assuming he wants servers to suggestively sell things and say shit like, “Can I get you a glass of orange juice or a fresh cup of coffee?” (Yes, and further more it’s rude, we have a fabulous cocktail list, made by professional mixologists. Not to mention its fucking dumb for a server not to offer a drink. Our per plate average is $6-$12 our cocktails run from $5-$9, this is basically like adding another person to your table in our cafe. And anybody that’s ever served before knows higher the check average higher the tips)>

Un-prebussed tables. I’m with Dan. This is a good thing. Maybe not a cardinal sin, but a good thing. (It is a cardinal sin – messy tables can flat out ruin the experience for the guest. There’s a reason why at 5star establishments they actually “decrumb” the table for you before presenting desert.)

Cell phones in the dining room. Again, not an uncommon rule, but that’s what aprons are for, right? (No – servers aren’t stupid, cell phone in apron means cell phone being checked in a corner / checked in the bathroom / checked in the waitstation. There’s a phone in the store, if there’s an emergency call the store. Phones are to be left in a bag or in your car. When you’re on my time, I don’t need you distracted by a fucking snapchat. That’s time that could be spent doing something for guest or co-worker)

Eating in the dining room. Pretty normal request. (No argument)

Horsing around in the dining room. I would ask for a definition of “horsing around.” Does he mean there is to be no galloping or eating of hay? Are servers allowed to have a good time while at work as long as they do not officially trot? (What synonym would you like me to use for “horsing” around, it’s an expression moron. We all know the crazy antics that go on in restaurants… these things are meant to be kept in the back where they are not seen by guests, again have you ever worked anywhere where people actually cared about the product they’re presenting?)

Being late and not calling the store. Yes, Dan, good point. (No arguement)
Texting/calling Dan’s personal cell phone for work related matters. This one confuses me. They cannot call about work related issues, but I guess they can call just to shoot the breeze and talk about life. If he truly does not want people to call his cell phone he should probably not give the number to his staff. Also, servers should remember that if they do want to call him about non-work related issues, to only do it when he is not in the ding room, otherwise he won’t get the message. (See cardinal sin #3.) (No dummy, there’s 3 other managers that work there – and believe it or not I’m not always there, thus, they need to call the store so that the Manager on Duty know what’s going on. Simple responsibility – which clearly you have none of).

Not cleaning up after yourself. Fine. I agree. (no arguement)

Bad attitudes. Uh oh, I might have a problem here. I think it should say no “outwardly” bad attitudes, because if my attitude is crap but I can manage to keep it inside where no one knows about it, then my attitude can be as bad as it fucking wants to be. (No bad attitudes are cancer, and are in direct conflict with our “be nice” motto. Bad attitudes spread like cancer, and rub off on one another. FOH people especially need to put on a show, so to speak, each and every time they walk in the building. Anything that is causing a “bad attitude” should be left at the door. And since you like to argue semantics so much throughout this – very clever and simple way of making an arguement – If you keep your bad attitude is kept inside at all times, how the fuck would anyone know you have a bad attitude, thereby you’d be abiding by my rule dummy).

Dropping menus off at a table and walking away. Dropping off menus and running away is perfectly acceptable. (Running out of ideas are we? Our whole staff gets this list – this is for hosts. One of the worst habits a host can have is to just drop menus off at a table and walk away. A simple “so and so will be right with you” goes an infinitely long way.)

Bitch faces. Okay, fire me now. (See two rules above – if you look miserable, and/or are perceived to be miserable, you must be miserable, nobody wants to be served by Grumpy Cat.)

Requesting off for the wrong year. The wrong year? Do people really have to put in their requests 12 months in advance? (No dumbass – we actually live in 2014 and do schedules digitally, so when you click the year some people will click the wrong year. Then you complain that you get scheduled. We are actually 1 of the few places I have ever seen that have never denied a request off. It’s one of the very few perks of working in a restaurant. So we as managers don’t ever even look at the dates, we just approve them, thus why it is critical that people request off correctly. And believe it or not it has happened enough times to make the list.)

Starting sidework when the dining room is messy (especially on weekends). What if your sidework is in the back of the house and you don’t know that the dining room is messy? (Semantics again – so clever, we’re one of the busiest places to work in our city, so it’s critical that we do as good a job keeping the place clean as we possibly can, which is a constant challenge. This simply means to clean your section before you go to the back to do the rest of your shit.)

“I have to go to my other job.” Okay, this is bullshit. If someone has to work two jobs to get though life, then both jobs need to understand that they are of equal importance. (no as a business owner, you have a duty to schedule yourself in a manner that works for both businesses. When someone tells me before their things are done, that they have to leave, it tells me the other job is more important. I worked 3 jobs for my first 10 years in the industry and was never late or left early at one of them. It’s called respecting your work and doing your job fully.)

Being more than 10 minutes late and not calling. Didn’t we already go through this with #6, Dan? You can eliminate one of them and shorten your list to 36. (Didn’t we discuss there’s a phone in the store? Do you even realize that there was a whole big huge world out there that functioned when there was no cellphones?, and to add on to #6 there’s also a thing called email nowadays. IF there is an work related issue that needs my attention, it’s better to be addressed in a more formal manner than a text message. And yes I welcome my staff to text me about things other than work. Most employees would love that – I think of them all as my children, delinquent as most of them are, I truly care for each and every one of them.)

Un-presentable food. That seems like it should be on the list for the kitchen crew. (No again, servers are responsible for delivering the food, and are the last line of defense before it hits the table, and they all have the right of refusal, how many of you actual servers have had that privilege before, or at least have been mortified by dropping off a charred steak that was supposed to be rare, only to get a 5% tip, hhmmmm?? Thought so)

Not talking about specials. If the restaurant is Denny’s or Cracker Barrel, how special can the special be? Is it really worth talking about? (You don’t have a clue pal, there’s tons of places that do amazing things with foods, Ok maybe you have worked in restaurants – but there’s a whole crazy world of food out there that doesn’t revolve around chains… well maybe not were you live… but I digress).

We are out of ______ when it’s in a box. I am assuming this means he wants people to go to the stock room to look for napkins before declaring that the restaurant is out of them. I agree. (no arguement)

We are out of ______ and not writing it on my list. Write it on the list but whatever you do do not text or call him about it. (This is just dumb, if we’re out of something shouldn’t the MOD (that’s Manager on Duty) know first. If i’m there, wouldn’t they tell me?)

Clutter. Examples of clutter would copies of this fucking list. (you’re just losing steam at this point aren’t you)

Crap from the bargain box. I have no idea what this means. (It’s the thriftstore that shares a back dock with us, people take stuff all the time then leave it in my restaurant, 1 it’s theft, to it just sits in my already too small kitchen – see clutter above)

Running biscuits before hot food. This is a travesty. Biscuits ARE hot food, Dan, and the biscuit is one of the most important foods of any breakfast establishment. Your comment leads me to believe that you have something against biscuits, and that sir, makes you a dick biscuit. (Dick Biscuit? Clever again, well you sir are just an asshole that probably lives in his mothers basement at 40. You don’t even have an original website – shiftgig or ifyoucan’tafford to tip destroys you. If you can’t beat em join em right? I’m pretty sure my old Prodigy internet could load this page – super fancy, you’ve found your calling. Anyways – The reason this is on here is because biscuits go to every table, they’re our signature item for fucks sake. But as we are so busy – a feeling you’ve clearly never experienced or you wouldn’t be such a miserable “bitchy waiter” we place a premium on getting people what they actually ordered. Biscuits are like bread sticks at olive garden to us – you get them for free and endlessly Difference is, our guests actually like our food.)

Complaining about tipping out. Feel free to complain about how little you make, how crappy the sidework is and what a dick Dan may be. (they’re actually free to complain about me all the time, I have a great life, successful business, and am proud of who I am, anybody in a position of power gets complained about, it’s natural. Why they can’t complain about tipping out is really quite simple. They’re tipping out their co-workers and that should never be an issue. They are 1 unit, and I expect them to take care of eachother at all times. More than that even.)

Smoking for more than 4 minutes. This is my favorite point, because he does not specify what you can or cannot smoke in those four minutes. Marijuana, crack or tobacco, it does not matter as long as you do it within four minutes. Enjoy your smoke breaks. (goes without saying moron, again that part is in our 40 page handbook, and is illegal… you’re just grasping at this point).

Unfilled drinks. However, unfulfilled dreams are fine. (re-read last sentence in above point).

Dirty silverware being rolled. I agree and according to point #24, dirty weed is fine for rolling. (Did you take a bong rip half way through this or something? Then nap? You’re barely making sense anymore.)

“That’s not my job.” Sorry, if some bitch throws up a Philly Cheesesteak Omelette all over the table and I see you walking towards me with a mop, those are the first four words that will come out of my mouth. The next two will be “I” and “quit. (this is probably the exact reason why you’ve never amounted to anything more than a pathetic blogger. Successful people don’t have a vocabulary of “that’s not my job” Successful people have ownership if any and all things that they do, and is a big reason why they are successful. I try to inspire all of my staff, who often have dreams of their own outside the hospitality industry to adopt such an attitude as it will take them infinitely further in life. We are all one, and no job is bigger or smaller than anyone, I was dishes and pickup puke with best of them, my first night as a barback ever, 15 years ago it was the first thing I ever had to do 5 minutes after walking in.)

“I’m on dish today.” Again, what the fuck does this mean? (Again, this goes to the whole staff, as it’s fun – so this is meant for kitchen, during slower periods we won’t schedule a dishwasher, and members of the cook team are responsible for dishes. They have a tendency to get lost over there and not help out on the line if needed. Again see “that’s not my job comment”)

Leaving ketchup, etc. on table. You can leave the bottles of ketchup but none of the ketchup itself. This will be awkward when a customer wants some for their fries and all you are allowed to give them is an empty bottle of ketchup. (again, we’re not a burger bar, ketchup isn’t part of our decor, it’s lazy serving, condiments are an accent to a meal, what if the next person at that table didn’t order anything that would even remotely require ketchup, what if they hate ketchup, what if they’re allergic to ketchup? It’s pure lazy serving and we don’t do lazy serving).

Properly wiping off tables so you get all excess food off of it! This is the only sin with an exclamation point, so Dan means business. He is going to be seriously pissed off if you properly wipe a table, so leave that food all over the damn place. But not ketchup. That would be wrong. (I gotta eat this one, I forgot the Not, this will be amended on future version(s) – joke and joke away, it’s deserved).

Not being proud of where you work. Wait, so no Bitch Face AND I have to be proud of where I work?? Oh, hell no. (Yes pure and simple, a company staff is and are it’s ambassadors, it’s the second question people ask after they meet someone, it is very important. I don’t want people that aren’t proud of what they do / where they work. Not just for me, but for their own fucking happiness as a person.)

Ringing in the wrong side. This is similar to waking up on the wrong side. Of the bed. (you hit a high note with killing me on wiping off tables – and you’ve lost steam again) we are a restaurant, not a buffet, or whatever the fuck kind of place you’ve worked because I honestly can’t figure it out at this point, anybody that has worked in a restaurant knows what a side is. Steak (Potatoe’s / Fries / Grits / Collards) our guests have choices, and it makes us all look stupid if we don’t get orders right)

Waiting on fries. Yeah, why bother waiting on fries since you aren’t allowed to leave any ketchup to go with them? (An issue in our restaurant that frankly you wouldn’t understand unless you worked there, fries are consistently forgotten to be dropped and thus the entree is sitting and waiting on french fries… )

Cold pancakes/eggs/french toast. In other words, stick your finger into every piece of food to make sure the temperature is correct. (i’m sorry, basic principle of food at work here hot food should be hot, cold food should be cold, for fucks sake man – I know you’re trying to be creative here… but jesus, that’s like food 101).

Microwaving anything. So why is there a microwave there, Dan? (it finally broke – and we haven’t replaced it I guess another edit is in order).

Spending too long at a table. You must inherently know the amount of time.
Spending too short at a table. Dan is not going to tell you details. You can have four minutes to smoke crack, but all other time limits must be instinctual. (yes dummy, we teach our servers to read a table, a single diner may want you to stay at a table to entertain them, some other diners may not, we unlike most places encourage individuality out of our serving staff. Again, not a privilege you’ve ever had and I’m sorry for you.)

All in all I know in today’s world it’s very easy to sit behind a computer and trash someone. But it’s important that we look at both sides of something before we destroy it. At the end of the day I’m sorry for you as I am sorry for all of the “bitchy servers” out there, that just can’t seem to not be miserable. Don’t get me wrong, there are some downright deplorable managers out there as well, and owners, but at the end of the day, the industry is by far one of the most rewarding, fun, and positive things you can do with your life. You have the ability to touch so many different people and genuinely better there life, even if it’s for a single moment. It’s people like you sir that ruin it for the rest of us that love what we do, love the people that work for us, and love the people who visit us. I’m sure you’ll have some witty retort after another rip.. but I will not. I have too much to do and too many great people to worry about.

 

To That Barefoot Kid At Table 16

nasty, nasty, nasty

nasty, nasty, nasty

Dear Little Boy Who is Running Around the Restaurant in Bare Feet,

Your mom is an idiot. If she even knows who your dad is, he is probably an idiot too. What kind of person thinks it’s alright to take the shoes off of a three-year old kid and let him run around in a restaurant? Your mom, that’s who. And she’s a fucking idiot. Yes, I get that you were whining about having to wear shoes and it was easier for her to just pull them off and let you go, but guess what, kid. I don’t like wearing shoes either, but I deal with it. Life is full of responsibilities like paying rent, buying groceries and wearing fucking shoes in restaurants. Grow up, little asshole.

It’s not that I am against seeing your cute little piggies, really. It’s just that I worry about your safety. These floors at work are nasty. Just last week, someone broke a glass right where you were standing. I swept it up, but between you and me, I did a total half-assed job. For all I know, there were slivers of glass all over the fucking place. I could have done a better job, but I remember thinking, “Aww fuck it. It’s not like people walk around in here barefoot or anything.” But then here you are, little three-year old. Do you have any slivers of glass in your tootsies yet? If you do, I’m almost sure that your whore mom is too busy drinking her White Zinfandel to pull her lips away from the glass for two minutes to give you a Band-Aid or anything, so beware.

By the way, the floors are also dirty. Like, really dirty. You know who’s in charge of keeping the floors clean? I am and you already know that I did a half-assed job with the cleaning of the broken glass. Imagine what kind of job I do when I mop. When I mop, I do a quarter-ass job. Sometimes I don’t even use any Murphy’s Oil Soap because the bottle is too far away from where I have to fill the mop bucket with water. And sometimes, all I do is pour enough water onto the mop to make it damp so that my manager will see it and assume that I mopped, Yes, what I am saying is that the floor is as disgusting as the bottom of a chicken coop. Some days I don’t even sweep because I learned that walking around the restaurant before we open gives the illusion that I am sweeping and that’s good enough. When you get home, your mom may be surprised at how dirty the soles of your lil’ baby feet are. Then again, if she’s letting you run around in here barefoot, she obviously doesn’t care about your feet or anything else. Judging by the way she is eyeing that wine bottle, the only thing she cares about is getting her buzz on.

Look, kid, you’re adorable with the food stains all over your shirt and that milk mustache you have had since you came in. I love how your hair is sorta matted down on one side and that scab on your elbow is super cute. You’re really working that whole 90’s grunge/homeless kid look. I just wanted you to know that it might be in your best interest to put on some damn shoes. If your mother doesn’t care, please know that I do. I truly care about you, kid.

If you are too young to read this, I apologize. Just give this letter to your mom and if she is comfortable reading something other than the side of a box of wine, she can read this instead. Oh fuck, I just acknowledged that you can’t read and I kept on going with all these words that you can’t understand. Fuck. Oh, I’m sorry, I have been cursing to you. That was wrong of me. Wait, you can’t read, so whatever the fuck. Fuck it. Just put on your goddamn mother fucking shoes, asshole.

Mustard and mayo,
The Bitchy Waiter.

p.s. I’m giving away a free pair of brand new work shoes from Shoes For Crews. Click here for the info, asshole. Then maybe you can have some damn shoes to wear.

Two Stories. One Purse. (Get It Off the Floor!!)

Move your fucking purse, bitch.

Move your fucking purse, bitch.

Everyone knows that each story has two sides. So often, we only hear one side of the story but today is different. Today is the day that we will know both sides of the story and that story is about a purse. A purse that happened to be placed on the floor of a restaurant and then had its picture taken. Is it wrong to lay a purse on the floor of a restaurant, possibly blocking the walkway and endangering a server? Is it wrong of the server to assume that the purse should be placed on a chair instead? Perhaps the purse has a good reason for being on the floor. There are two stories, one purse.

 

 

 

The customer’s version:

La di da, la di da. I’m so excited to be here at the Cracker Barrel. I haven’t been here in three days and I can feel that my arteries are starting to unclog a little bit, so that means it’s time for some fried chicken livers. Good lord, I’m hungry. At first I was planning on eating a salad but now that I’m here and I can smell the grease, my mind has been changed. Maybe I’ll get some fried chicken and some fried okra too but I need to make sure I save room for some of that double chocolate fudge Coca-Cola cake. It’s after breakfast, but I’m sure if I ask for a side of pancakes they will do it. The customers is always right, after all. I would have been here sooner but I had to get my hair cut this morning. I still have not found someone who can cut my hair to look like that adorable Kate Gosselin girl. I took this picture of her to the beauty salon but they just can’t seem to get it right.

nice hair

bitch haircut

Anyways, I met my friend Pam here and they tried to put us at a little rinky-dink table for two. I said, “Excuse me, but Pam’s ass is huge and we need a bigger table. I want that one,” and I pointed to a table for four. The waitress obliged because she knows that the customer is always right. So we’re sitting down and I can’t figure out where to put my purse. I love my purse. It’s big and red and I got it at Sam’s Club. It has about ten different compartments and a place for my pen and my checkbook and my lipsticks and my lady needs. Some people are surprised that you can get purses at Sam’s but I know that you can everything you need at Sam’s. I love this purse so much and when I bought it came with a free six-pack of paper towels and block of Velveeta. Anyways, I just didn’t know what to do with my purse. Pam put her purse on the empty chair next to her but that didn’t make no sense to me. People put their butts on those chairs and I love my purse too much to put it on a nasty ol’ Cracker Barrel chair, so I decide to put it on the floor next to the table. That way it’s easier for me to drop some of them cute little mini bottles of syrup into it. When our waitress comes up for me to tell her I want a sweet tea, she is so rude; she is straddling my purse with her legs and I saw her dirty ol’ shoes get within a couple of inches of it. I don’t appreciate that at all but I’m still gonna leave my purse there on the floor and if she thinks it’s in her way, then she’s just gonna have to deal with it. I always keep my prized possessions on the floor and that purse is my prized possession. Even at home I keep my purse on the floor. It’s right next to my Louie Buton shoes I got at Costco, my Coach wallet that I bought off of Ebay and my jewelry that I ordered off of QVC. The floor is the perfect place for valuables. Anyways, I can’t wait to get my fried chicken livers. Don’t you worry, arteries, y’all be clogged up again right quick. And yes, my purse is staying on the floor right where it is even if it does seem to be in the way of all these waitresses walking back and forth here. It’s their job to accommodate my needs and I need to have my purse on the gosh darn freakin’ floor. Now bring on the livers!

The servers version:

Look at that dumb Kate Gosselin-wanna-be bitch with her cheap ugly ass purse laying in the floor right where I need to walk. I guess I’ll just have to spill water on it, kick it and then “accidentally” trip on it so I can scatter all her crap all over the mother fucking place.

 

 

Found: The Man You Never Want To Work For

You don't want to work here.

You don’t want to work here.

Each day, my inbox is filled with hundreds and hundreds (okay, two or three, maybe) pictures and emails from people who want my opinion on some restaurant situation. A couple of weeks ago, someone named “Amanda” sent me a photo and a short rant about her time as a server at a breakfast chain restaurant. Try as I might, I could not convince her to tell me the name of the chain, so we can only assume it’s Denny’s, Cracker Barrel, IHOP or some shit like that there. Amanda has waited tables for five years and presumably knows her way around a stack of pancakes, but there was a manager there that she could not tolerate and after four days, she put in her notice and Rooty-Tooty Fresh and Fruityed her ass outta there. Amanda tells me the man’s name was Dan and instead of a table chart or menu or anything about the restaurant, she was simply given a sheet of paper titled “Dan’s Cardinal Sins.” It is a list of 37 things that Dan the Man cannot stand and it’s pretty ridiculous. I want to look at this list and dissect its points. Even though we do not know where the restaurant is located or what chain it is, hopefully, enough people will share the post and it will eventually get back to Dan who will maybe realize what a dick he truly appears to be.

  1. “What can I get you to drink?” I am assuming he wants servers to suggestively sell things and say shit like, “Can I get you a glass of orange juice or a fresh cup of coffee?”
  2. Un-prebussed tables. I’m with Dan. This is a good thing. Maybe not a cardinal sin, but a good thing.
  3. Cell phones in the dining room. Again, not an uncommon rule, but that’s what aprons are for, right?
  4. Eating in the dining room. Pretty normal request.
  5. Horsing around in the dining room. I would ask for a definition of “horsing around.” Does he mean there is to be no galloping or eating of hay? Are servers allowed to have a good time while at work as long as they do not officially trot?
  6. Being late and not calling the store. Yes, Dan, good point.
  7. Texting/calling Dan’s personal cell phone for work related matters. This one confuses me. They cannot call about work related issues, but I guess they can call just to shoot the breeze and talk about life. If he truly does not want people to call his cell phone he should probably not give the number to his staff. Also, servers should remember that if they do want to call him about non-work related issues, to only do it when he is not in the ding room, otherwise he won’t get the message. (See cardinal sin #3.)
  8. Not cleaning up after yourself. Fine. I agree.
  9. Bad attitudes. Uh oh, I might have a problem here. I think it should say no “outwardly” bad attitudes, because if my attitude is crap but I can manage to keep it inside where no one knows about it, then my attitude can be as bad as it fucking wants to be.
  10. Dropping menus off at a table and walking away. Dropping off menus and running away is perfectly acceptable.
  11. Bitch faces. Okay, fire me now.
  12. Requesting off for the wrong year. The wrong year? Do people really have to put in their requests 12 months in advance?
  13. Starting sidework when the dining room is messy (especially on weekends). What if your sidework is in the back of the house and you don’t know that the dining room is messy?
  14. “I have to go to my other job.” Okay, this is bullshit. If someone has to work two jobs to get though life, then both jobs need to understand that they are of equal importance.
  15. Being more than 10 minutes late and not calling. Didn’t we already go through this with #6, Dan? You can eliminate one of them and shorten your list to 36.
  16. Un-presentable food. That seems like it should be on the list for the kitchen crew.
  17. Not talking about specials. If the restaurant is Denny’s or Cracker Barrel, how special can the special be? Is it really worth talking about?
  18. We are out of ______ when it’s in a box. I am assuming this means he wants people to go to the stock room to look for napkins before declaring that the restaurant is out of them. I agree.
  19. We are out of ______ and not writing it on my list. Write it on the list but whatever you do do not text or call him about it.
  20. Clutter. Examples of clutter would copies of this fucking list.
  21. Crap from the bargain box. I have no idea what this means.
  22. Running biscuits before hot food. This is a travesty. Biscuits ARE hot food, Dan, and the biscuit is one of the most important foods of any breakfast establishment. Your comment leads me to believe that you have something against biscuits, and that sir, makes you a dick biscuit.
  23. Complaining about tipping out. Feel free to complain about how little you make, how crappy the sidework is and what a dick Dan may be.
  24. Smoking for more than 4 minutes. This is my favorite point, because he does not specify what you can or cannot smoke in those four minutes. Marijuana, crack or tobacco, it does not matter as long as you do it within four minutes. Enjoy your smoke breaks.
  25. Unfilled drinks. However, unfulfilled dreams are fine.
  26. Dirty silverware being rolled. I agree and according to point #24, dirty weed is fine for rolling.
  27. “That’s not my job.” Sorry, if some bitch throws up a Philly Cheesesteak Omelette all over the table and I see you walking towards me with a mop, those are the first four words that will come out of my mouth. The next two will be “I” and “quit.
  28. “I’m on dish today.” Again, what the fuck does this mean?
  29. Leaving ketchup, etc. on table. You can leave the bottles of ketchup but none of the ketchup itself. This will be awkward when a customer wants some for their fries and all you are allowed to give them is an empty bottle of ketchup.
  30. Properly wiping off tables so you get all excess food off of it! This is the only sin with an exclamation point, so Dan means business. He is going to be seriously pissed off if you properly wipe a table, so leave that food all over the damn place. But not ketchup. That would be wrong.
  31. Not being proud of where you work. Wait, so no Bitch Face AND I have to be proud of where I work?? Oh, hell no.
  32. Ringing in the wrong side. This is similar to waking up on the wrong side. Of the bed.
  33. Waiting on fries. Yeah, why bother waiting on fries since you aren’t allowed to leave any ketchup to go with them?
  34. Cold pancakes/eggs/french toast. In other words, stick your finger into every piece of food to make sure the temperature is correct.
  35. Microwaving anything. So why is there a microwave there, Dan?
  36. Spending too long at a table. You must inherently know the amount of time.
  37. Spending too short at a table. Dan is not going to tell you details. You can have four minutes to smoke crack, but all other time limits must be instinctual.

Pumpkin, Pumpkin Everywhere, It Makes Me Want To Puke

Enough already.

Enough already.

Waiter: Hello and welcome to Autumnal Harvest Dining. My name is Tim and I will be your server tonight.

Customer: Hi, Tim, thank you.

Waiter: May I start you off with something to drink while you look at our Harvest Menu?

Customer: Can I just have some water with lemon to start?

Waiter: I am sorry, but we don’t have any lemons right now. I would be happy to bring you a water with pumpkin wedge, would that be alright?

Customer: A pumpkin wedge? No, I don’t want a pumpkin wedge in my water.

Waiter: Very well, sir, but here at Autumnal Harvest Dining we welcome all things autumn. The first day of fall has arrived and this is our favorite time of the year. It’s when we get to wear our cozy sweaters and enjoy the flavors of autumn.

Customer: Yeah, just bring me some water, hold the pumpkin wedge.

Waiter: Yes sir, very well, sir, but may I please let you know of our specials tonight? Our chef has prepared some wonderful options.

Customer: Fine, yes.

Waiter: Our soup tonight is a cream of pumpkin soup garnished with toasted pumpkin seeds and served with a side of roasted pumpkin. We also have an appetizer salad of seasonal greens with a house-made pumpkin vinaigrette. We have two entrée specials tonight, the first being a vegetarian option: a pan-seared pumpkin filet smothered in pumpkin gravy and served with whipped pumpkin and a pickle.

Customer: A pickle?

Waiter: I’m sorry, did I say a pickle? I meant pumpkin. Our second entrée is southern fried chicken.

Customer: Oh, that sounds good, tell me about that.

Waiter: Well, the chicken is organic and free-range, having been raised on a pumpkin patch in Pennsylvania and humanely slaughtered by a farmer dressed as scarecrow. The chicken is soaked in a pumpkin beer for twelve hours and then dredged in our pumpkin flour before being fried in extra-virgin pumpkin oil. Served with sweet pumpkin fries and a pickle.

Customer: A pickle?

Waiter: Gosh, I meant pumpkin, I don’t know what’s wrong with me, my apologies.

Customer: Do you have anything that isn’t pumpkin?

Waiter: Sir, it is the first day of fall. We here at Autumnal Harvest Dining embrace all things seasonal, so why would we have anything that isn’t pumpkin?

Customer: Just because it’s fall doesn’t mean that every goddamn thing has to be fucking pumpkin-flavored.

Waiter: Yes, sir, you’re absolutely right. I’m going to go get you a pumpkin spiced latte.

Customer: I don’t want anything pumpkin! I demand to speak to a manager right this minute.

Waiter: Yes, sir. That would be Mr. O’Lantern. Unfortunately, Jack isn’t here right now. He’s apple picking this evening and then following that, he will be on a hay ride. Why don’t you calm down and let me get you a pumpkin spiced tea and some pumpkin chips and salsa. Or how about an order of pumpkin nachos? On the house?

Customer: I don’t want pumpkin!

Waiter: Not even our pumpkin lemonade? Or our pumpkin-spiced calamari?

Customer: You know what? Fuck you. Fuck you and fuck your pumpkin, alright?

Waiter: Sir, fucking my pumpkin is a very personal and intimate time for me and I usually  prefer to do that in the privacy of my own home. However, to accommodate your somewhat voyeuristic needs, I will be happy to fuck a pumpkin for you. If you will excuse me, I just need to go to the kitchen to find the perfect pumpkin, hollow it out slightly but not too much so that it still feels good, carve a hole in it and pop it into the microwave for about thirty seconds. I shall return momentarily. I do like to practice safe sex while fucking my pumpkin and seeing that I was not planning on any pumpkin coitus this evening, I wonder if you might have a condom for me to use. A pumpkin-spiced condom would be ideal.

Customer: You’re sick, you know that? I’m outta here.

Waiter: Well, thank you for joining us at Autumnal Harvest Dining, sir and please enjoy your first day of fall. Do come again.

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An Open Letter to the Rude Regular Customer

I really do.

I really do.

Dear Rude Regular Customer,

Why are you always such a bag of douchieness, sir? I have waited on you so many times over the last four years and I have always been nice to you. You also perform at the club occasionally and even though you seem to think you are a star in the same caliber as Sting or Michael Bublé, the truth is that Charo’s right nipple probably has more Twitter followers than you do. The last few times you have come in, I have decided to see if you will even acknowledge my presence, waiting on the sidelines to see if you will recognize me as the same guy who is here every single time you come in, but you never do. You walk right past me as if I am Casper the Friendly Ghost’s homely cousin with a hairlip that you don’t want to make eye contact with. Last night was no different.

You stood in my way. You fixed your hair. You ignored me. You fixed your hair again. You ignored me again. Yes, I saw you looking at yourself in the mirror over and over again. Don’t worry, the stubble on your face looks perfect. A few weeks ago, you talked to me a for a couple of minutes, but that was only after I told you I was doing a show and that I had 178,000 followers on Facebook. I could see in your eyes that you were jealous. (As of this moment, I have exactly 32.40329 times more followers than you do, sir.) I brought you some water last night, but you didn’t say thank you. The only people you know how to thank are the 15-20 people who come see your shows, friends, most of them. Bored friends who are there out of a sense of obligation.

Your parents showed up last night to hear you sing and since you were only doing one number at the very end of the evening, we didn’t charge them or ask them to buy drinks. They got there late and since we know them and they’re nice, we were nice to them. That’s what nice people do. I guess niceness can skip a generation, huh? After the show was over and I was cleaning up the room, I found an iPhone at a booth. A nice, white, unlocked iPhone. I knew it belonged to your Mom and I also knew that we had your number and could call you to come get it. I dropped it into my apron and carried some empty glasses over to the rack. This is when you came back in because you forgot something of your own.

“Hey,” I said to you. “I think this is your Mom’s phone, isn’t it?”

What you did next didn’t surprise me at all: you took the phone put of my hand and wondered out loud about your Mom’s inability to keep up with her things. You turned away from me without a thank you or eye contact or any acknowledgment at all that I had just found your mother’s fucking unlocked iPhone. You put it in your pocket and walked back out of the club. And this is why I hate you.

I didn’t have to give that phone to you. I wouldn’t have done anything to it like toss it in the trash or hide it under the booth, but I could have put it on silent and placed it in the lost and found box in the coatroom so your mom wouldn’t know where it was for a few days. I could have done what my friend Bob did to an unlocked cell phone that his asshole customer left behind. He took it into the restroom and took a picture of his dick and then texted it to the customer’s mother. When she texted back with shock and disbelief, Bob apologized and told the mom that the photo was not meant for her but for his boyfriend. And then when her text came back that said “You’re gay??” Bob texted back and said, “This isn’t how I imagined coming out to my mom.” I didn’t do that, did I sir? No, I was nice.

After you left and I picked up my jaw from the floor at your unbelievable rudeness, I called you a douchebag, not knowing that there were three customers still sitting in the lobby. They thought I was calling them douchebags and came up to ask me why I was being so rude to them. I had to explain myself to them. I went to your poster hanging on the wall.

“I wasn’t calling you a douchebag,” I said to the man. “I was calling this guy a douchebag.” I jabbed my finger at your perfectly Photoshopped face on the poster. “This guy right here is a douchebag. His mom left her phone here and I found it and gave it back to him when he didn’t even know it was missing. He didn’t say thank you and it pissed me off, so that’s who I was calling a douchebag, not you.”

“Oh, okay,” replied the man, “because I couldn’t understand why you would have any reason to be mad at us.”

(Truth be told, I did have a reason to mad at them: they were pains in the ass who were needy and whiney and when the computer rang in the wrong price for something, I apologized and not only corrected the mistake, but gave them a discount on top of it and after splitting their check with three different cards, they still left me no tip. I called them douchebags after they left, because I may be a bitch but I’m not stupid. I wait until after people leave before calling them douchebags.)

So, Rude Regular Customer, I guess I just wanted to get that off my chest. If your mom ever leaves her unlocked iPhone in my section again, she will be getting a very interesting text message from you. It might involve a penis or it might involve an asshole, but it definitely will not involve a “thank you.”

Mustard and mayo,
The Bitchy Waiter