Don’t Tell Me To Rush Your Food

Dear Man at Table 9 Who Told Me You Were in a Hurry,

What is your problem? You barreled in and flagged me over within two freaking seconds after you plopped your gloober globber ass onto your chair. Your arms were flailing about so wildly that I thought you were either having a seizure or were trying to take flight. Neither, it turns out. You seem to think you are the only person in the restaurant who has other things to do. You expected me to drop what I was doing and take care of your needs first because you think you are the most important man in all the land. You are not, sir.

“I’m in a real big hurry, “ you told me. “I need you to put a rush on this food.”

And then you ordered roasted chicken, the one thing on the menu that takes the longest to prepare.

“That takes about 15 to 20 minutes to make, is that going to be alright? I asked.

Judging by the huge sigh that escaped your body, it was not okay, but you still said it was. “But put a rush on it.”

Listen, asshole, I’m not putting a rush on your chicken for three reasons:

1. Chicken has to cook.
2. I don’t care.
3. I don’t care.

When your chicken was done, I immediately took it to you along with your check so you could eat and pay at the same time in order to get to your super important meeting, or whatever. Suddenly, you no longer seemed to be in a hurry. You took your sweet ass time eating that chicken, relishing each and every bite. I watched you scroll through Facebook on your cell phone and I saw you put the fork down for at least two minutes so you could text someone. The check that I so thoughtfully brought to you sat neglected on the edge of the table. After you sucked the last bit of marrow from the chicken bone, you had the gall to ask me what we had for dessert and you ordered a bread pudding and a cup of regular coffee. When I brought it out, I produced a new check for you.

“I know you’re in a big hurry, so do you want me to take that check now for you while I’m here?”

Suddenly you remembered your earlier ruse of being in a rush and handed me your credit card and I took care of your check within thirty seconds. But then you fucking sat there. You even had a refill of coffee which, by the way, was decaf. You weren’t in a hurry. You were just hungry and self-important.

If you’re going to tell your waiter you are in a rush just to get your food out as soon as possible, at least finish the acting exercise and leave quickly. Every time you pull that stunt, it diminishes the importance of someone else who really is in a hurry. And it makes us servers think that all customers are liars and we are less likely to do anything to help them get out quickly which is exactly why I did not put a rush on your chicken.

It has to cook.
I don’t care.

Mustard and mayo,
The Bitchy Waiter

Vegetarian Upset at LongHorn Steakhouse

Sometimes I sit here at my computer struggling to find something to write about. Honestly, we all know this blog is basically a variation of about ten different topics that I just regurgitate in different forms. It’s not always easy to produce a blog post for the dozens of people who enjoy reading them, but today I opened up my messages and someone sent me the story of Mike.

Mike recently went to LongHorn Steakhouse and was upset that they didn’t have enough vegetarian options for him to choose from. At a steakhouse. It seems that his wife had a hankering for a hunk of beef. She hankered for a hunk of, a slab or slice or chunk of, a snack that is a winner and yet won’t spoil her dinner, she hankered for a hunk of beef. Mike, being the loving and caring vegetarian husband that he is, accompanied his carnivorous lady love and when he asked about vegetarian options, the server, unsurprisingly, told him “we have salads.” According to Mike’s post on the LongHorn Steakhouse Facebook page, that is NOT a suitable response.

Actually, Mike, it is. If the restaurant doesn’t have anything other than salads to offer vegetarians, it is the most appropriate response the server could give because I’m pretty sure this is what the server wanted to say:

Umm, you know you’re at a steakhouse, right? Our kitchen is full of dead animals from chickens to fish to cows. Seriously, it’s basically a slaughterhouse back there. Why the hell would you come to a steakhouse and get upset that we don’t cater to vegetarians? Would you go to an Italian restaurant and get pissed off that the menu is full of pasta or go to a Thai restaurant and want enchiladas? Get the hell out of here, Mike. Let me focus on some folks who want to tear into a piece of meat and rip it apart with their incisors and canines. How about a baked potato that you can shove up your poop chute, Mike? Buh bye.

But no, the server simply said “we have salads.” The server had restraint.

LongHorn Facebook page did reply to Mike and asked him if fish was an option for him as it is is for many vegetarians. Mike told them that eating fish is not vegetarian and that the response put the nail in the coffin for his relationship with LongHorn. “Bye,” he says. However, it was not the final nail in the coffin, because Mike came back an hour later to reply again and then seven hours later he returned to post once more:

“…my point which you have TOTALLY MISSED, was that steak LOVERS often marry- or are friends with or have lunch meetings with- vegetarians.”

Yes, Mike, there are some meat lovers out there who have inexplicably fallen in love with vegetarians. Not since Romeo and Juliet have we seen such star-crossed lovers. The trials you and your wife must face each day to live side by side, her with a giant turkey leg hanging out of her mouth and you with a Ziplock baggie of baby carrots in your murse. The next time your wife wants to satisfy her craving for meat, she shouldn’t have to go alone. Either you find a restaurant that can please you both or you accept that you have a limited diet and you deal with it. It’s not the responsibility of a restaurant to cater to the taste of every possible customer. It’s the customer’s responsibility to find a restaurant that suits them. If you want a lot of vegetarian options, you don’t go to a steakhouse. And if you do go to a steakhouse, you accept that you may be limited to salad. You and your wife can make this work, Mike, I know you can. If Romeo and Juliet can live happily ever after then so you can you and Mrs. Meat. Oh, wait, Romeo drank poison to kill himself when he thought Juliet was dead, but she wasn’t dead and when she woke up and saw him dead she ended up stabbing herself with a dagger. Hmmm, so that didn’t work out for them exactly. Anyhoo, if you go to LongHorn again, just get a salad. And if there are some bacon bits on it, it’s not like bacon is poison and it’s definitely not worth stabbing yourself over.

A Comment on Comments: The Lady Who Called a Busser a “Creature” Edition

A few days I wrote a blog post about a woman named Ali who wrote a Yelp review and called some of the restaurant staff “creatures.” As you know, I am wont to stand up for the rights of any server who I feel may have been unfairly treated so I called her out for her misbehavior. Well, this woman got wind of my post and it gave her big ol’ lady boner. She even updated her review and called herself famous. She also called me an Internet Troll Prick. (Cue me Googling a website where I can have t-shirt made that says Internet Troll Prick). She also claims that I wouldn’t allow her to leave a comment on the blog which is a complete and total lie because she did leave a comment under the nom de plume of Wendy. When I first read the comment from “Wendy,” I did not know it was from Ali. I thought it was just your average Internet Troll Prick looking for attention. That comment was left at 11:46 PM EST on Sunday night. Eleven minutes later, I received a private message that was from Ali herself and it was a cut and paste of Wendy’s words. Now I know that Wendy and Ali are the same person. Thirty-eight minutes later, Ali left the same comment on the Facebook page.

 

This tells me that Ali spent at least 50 minutes thinking about my blog post which is about twice as long as I spent writing it. Her private message to me was even more detailed than the original comment. In the original post, I didn’t insult Ali. I called her a creature but that was the same word she used to describe the restaurant staffer. No big deal, right? But in her message to me, she goes further and, although I did not analyze her first review line by line as she seems to think I did, I will do that with her message.

You’re a bitch alright. Yes, Yes, I am.

Roasting “fans” whose comments offend you and feeling compelled to burn them by dedicating blog posts to them. You are not a fan. You are a random Yelp reviewer. Besides, I don’t “roast” fans. I only roast customers who treat service staff poorly.

How precious. How important that must make you feel. I am precious but it does not make me feel important. My self-importance has nothing do with with Internet Troll Pricks who send me messages.

You’re so angry about being gay and working in the service industry, that your only release is attacking strangers who disagree with you. What a sad life you lead. I am not angry about being gay. Nothing could be further from the truth. I have been with my husband for 26 years and I would not consider my life to be a sad one in the slightest. And working in the service industry doesn’t make me sad either. people like you make me sad.

I’m flattered that you took so much time to analyze my comment line-by-line and dedicate a post to me. Don’t be flattered because I didn’t take that much time. I wrote that blog post while sitting on the toilet and the dump I flushed away meant more to me than you do.

It was truly moving what a cunt you really are. Especially considering how much time that took away from taming that Ramen noodle-wannabe, frizzy curly wig you swing about, most inevitably leaving bits of DNA in your customers’ food. You’re not Justin Timberlake, circa 2000 sweetheart. I don’t often use the c-word, Ali, but if the cunt fits wear it. And although my hair may be frizzy and look like ramen noodles, it’s not a wig and I didn’t take any time away from taming it to write the blog post. I mean, seriously, look at my hair. Does it look like I take time to do anything to it? You’re right about two things: I am not Justin Timberlake in 2000 and I probably do leave bits of DNA in the food of my customers.

You are a deplorable human being and I pray your tables are seated with bus loads upon bus loads of children. A deplorable human being? It takes one to know one, Ali. As for the bus loads of children, I’m actually okay with that. I’d rather deal with loads and loads of children than loads and loads of something else that land all over my face. (Speaking of loads, say hello to your little boy for me.)

Go get a real job. Too bad being an asshole doesn’t pay anything, you’re already excellent at that! I do have a real job, actually. It’s called waiting tables. And if you don’t think being an asshole pays anything, all I have to say about that is thank you for clicking my website! And you can buy my book here.

But wait, there’s more! A little while later Ali sent me another message:

Did you know that I’ve actually been asked to kill myself by your readers? By the the looks of your life, you would be more likely kill yourself. I actually live a very fulfilling and happy life with my little creatures! Ali, I never asked you to kill yourself and I never asked anyone to tell you that. Sorry that people can be so mean and heartless on the Internet. Oh, wait, you already knew that, didn’t you? Carry on with your fulfilling life…

And then she sent one more:

Misogynistic faggot. And to that I say this:

And here is a screenshot of the post on my Facebook page in case she deletes it…

This Woman Thinks We are “Creatures”

Everyone has a right to leave a review on Yelp. Our founding father’s indirectly mentioned Yelp when they drafted the constitution in 1787:

We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect union, establish Justice, whine our little asses off on the Internet, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.

Therefore, Ali P. was just doing what our forefathers wanted her to do when she created an account, dreamed up a password and logged into Yelp for the first time. James Madison would be proud. While I applaud Ali for doing her civic duty, I take umbrage at what she had to say when she was reviewing a place called The Rabbit Hole in Colorado Springs, Colorado and left it 2-stars:

The food is better than McDonald’s. Our waitress was awesome. Some hostess or bussing creature walked by our table and abruptly announced “THIS IS NOT A PLAYGROUND” to my 5 year old who had tripped off of a stair right by our table. I admit he was getting antsy because we were there for awhile waiting for a remake of some dishes. I implore all young serving creatures, do not reprimand a woman’s child by mocking them condescendingly. Overall, the food is not that impressive to spend $170 on dinner and then be mocked by a teenager.

Okay, fine. So she thought the food was overpriced, but it was better than McDonald’s. I suppose she is trying to give the place a compliment but that is the most backassward compliment I have ever seen. It’s like slapping someone with but doing it from behind and reaching under your own legs to slap someone else in the taint. She also thinks her waitress was awesome which should at least bump it up to three stars, but nope. She is upset that a hostess or bussing “creature” told her admittedly “antsy” child THIS IS NOT A PLAYGROUND. Ummm, bussing creature? She later implores all “serving creatures” to not reprimand a woman’s child.

Creature? Creature??

First off, Ali, show a little respect. If we are going to be tossing about the word “creature” why don’t we use it for your 5-year old little boy who tripped off a stair right by your table? If your creature was sitting down with his Mama Creature, he wouldn’t have tripped, right? And then the employee wouldn’t have had to do your job for you which is to remind children that restaurants are not a place to play.

Restaurant staff are not creatures. We are human beings with feelings, emotions, brains and pretty much the exact same body composition as you, Ali, except where we have hearts, you have a calcified piece of organ meat that needs to be re-fucking-hydrated. How do you think that hostess felt when she undoubtedly read your review and saw that you referred to her as a creature? I bet she didn’t feel good. There’s no need to insult the staff of a restaurant because your little snot-nosed creature was misbehaving. By the way, how does it feel to see someone on the Internet calling your child called a creature? I bet you don’t like it any more than the staff at The Rabbit Hole did.

Again, you have every right to leave a review, good or bad, for any establishment your creature ass rolls into. But if you’re going to insult someone in that review, then it’s open season to insult you back. If anyone is a creature here, it;’s you, Ali P. Okay and maybe your son as well. Just a couple of creatures trolling the Internet looking to hurt the feelings of someone who was trying to keep your kid from getting hurt in a restaurant because you couldn’t be bothered to do it yourself. You’re a creature, Ali. And so is your son. Also, Ali, you should buy my book. Click here!

 

Read Ali P.‘s review of The Rabbit Hole on Yelp

Happy 4/20

Dude, I am totally going to write a blog post today even though it’s 4/20 and I have way better things to do, man. I won’t say what better things I have to do, but seeing that it’s 4/20 figure it out. How about a Comment on Comments blog? That sounds like a really good idea, but it does not sound better than a big plate of Pizza Rolls. I dunno why I am so suddenly hungry for Pizza Rolls. Oh my God, I would totally eat some Pizza Rolls if I had them, wouldn’t you? They are, like, so good. Pizza Rolls are like my spirit animal. Or nachos. I love you, Pizza Rolls. Okay, anyway. A couple of people had some kinda like rude things to say so I like, wanted to respond:

Anonymous says: If you don’t want to wait on people like this- get out of the service industry or work at an establishment that doesn’t accept those type of reservations. You need to do your job- with a smile! it is the service industry.

Hey, Anonymous. I just gave away my last fuck a couple of days so sadly I don’t give a fuck anymore. It’s my blog and I can write what I want to write. Oh, snap! That’s right,  I said “snap!” You know what would be good right now? A Snapple Iced Tea. Right? Whatever happened to Wendy the Snapple Lady? I wonder if she got fired or if she quit. I liked Wendy. I wish I could give her a hug right now. I wanna hug Wendy the Snapple Lady and then I want to make her a cupcake made out of Cap’n Crunch. That sounds so good right now. My God, why on earth do I have the munchies? Anyway.

Joseph P. says: I’ll tell you what I don’t have any patience for…a bitchy waiter. Life happens. People go to restaurants. I’m sorry you don’t get to stand by the velvet rope and choose who gets in. Yes. It sucks. I probably wouldn’t like it much better, but then, if I was that bitter, I’d probably not be in the hospitality industry.

Listen Joseph, I am in this business because that is where the road took me. Would I rather be at a place that had a velvet rope where I got to choose who I waited on? Yes, that would be divine. Speaking of divine, do you like Bette Midler? She was so good in For the Boys. She totally should have won an Oscar for that, right? She’s on Broadway now doing Hello, Dolly. I kinda want to see it, but then again, I kinda know exactly what to expect. Okay, sorry, I keep losing my train of thought for some reason. Is it 4:20 PM yet? I have an “appointment” that is very important. Anyhoo, the service industry is my home. It means so much to me. Hey, I have an idea!!! Oh my God, it’s such a great idea. What if everyone who was in the service industry decided that we would all embrace our jobs and give the most amazing service to every single customer and then all those customers would be so happy that they would then go out into the world and be nice to everyone else and then those people would do the same thing and before we know it, the whole world would be all happy and perfect and it would be all because the waiters and waitresses of the world started it. We can make a change, y’all. We can, you know? I mean right this second I feel so close to everyone and I want to share my feelings with everyone I meet and- hey, does anyone know if Saved By The Bell comes on? I totally feel like watching that right now. Or Bewitched. I love Bewitched. Oh my God! How great would it be to eat some Pizza Rolls and drink a Snapple while watching Bewitched? If that could happen, I would be so happy.

Okay, where was I? Oh, it’s 4/20. Doesn’t 4/20 have some sub-culture reference? I’m not sure. But I have to go now. I have a friend to meet at the Starbucks in Columbus Circle who is going to loan me a book that I want to read. We meet every two weeks for a book exchange. My friend’s name is Booger. He smells like patchouli.

Happy 4/20. Go read a book.