delete

A Comment on Comments, the Crazy Bitch Edition

A Comment on Comments

A Comment on Comments

Having been on vacation for a while and being up to my bloodshot eyeballs in writing my book (it comes out Spring of 2016, so start saving your pennies, because I need everyone to buy a copy), I have not had time to write a new blog post. Today, I have found the time and the inspiration. The time comes from me avoiding other responsibilities like laundry and bathing but the inspiration comes from someone named Raven who sharted out about 15 comments on a blog post, each comment covered in more dingleberries than the one before it. In a blog post called “Why Waiters Say and Do What They Say and Do,” I did my best to explain the reasoning behind so many of the things we do at our jobs. Raven was having none of it. She felt the need to comment about everything and now I feel that same need in this Comment on Comments post.

Raven said: TAP WATER WTF???!? It is NEVER okay to give someone fucking TAP water, unless you specifically inform them that that’s the kind of water you use at your restaurant, first. No one is interested in being poisoned without first agreeing to it!! When you order water at a restaurant, you are of course expecting for the water to come from the drink fountain, so you know it’s not tap. Are you telling me that restaurants have been poisoning me with fluoride and now for the rest of my life I have to specifically ensure that they are using water instead of poisoned water??!? But even McDonald’s does not use tap water! Why the hell wouldn’t you specifically make sure the customers know if they will be being given tap water when they think it has been filtered?!

Raven, I think most restaurants are using tap water, so chill your tits, bitch. While I agree with you that most people are not interested in being poisoned, I find it highly unlikely that you will find anyone who agrees to it.

“Good evening, ma’am. Would you mind if I sprinkle cyanide on your salad this evening?”

“Well, ordinarily, I’d say no, but since you are asking me first and giving me the chance to agree to it, yes I would love it. Extra cyanide, please. And can i have fresh ground pepper as well?”

I wonder what water fountains Raven has been using that produce magically filtered water? If a server brings you a glass of water that you did not ask for, you can bet your ass that it came from the dreaded TAP. I’ve never worked at McDonald’s (thank God for small miracles) but I bet they use tap water too. I guess Raven has been poisoned with fluoride her whole life and despite the fact that she may have fewer cavities in her chewing bones, she is not happy about it. She’d rather have rotted teeth covered in decay than be given water that she did not ask for. Raven, pull that Evian bottle out of you ass, fill it up with air and choke on it.

Raven said: YOU DONT GET TO DECIDE WHEN THE FUCK I LEAVE RANDOMLY PUTTING BILLS ON MY TABLE WHEN I HAVE NOT ASKED FOR IT. WHEN I WANT TO LEAVE I WILL FUCKING LEAVE THAT’S HOW BUSINESSES WORK. I WILL CONTINUE TO HAVE MY DRINK UNTIL THEN AND IF YOU WANT SOMEONE TO LEAVE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE BETTER FILL IT UP. PROBABLY PAID NEARLY THREE DOLLARS FOR THAT DRINK; DO YOU THINK SOMEONE IS SO RIDICULOUSLY STUPID AS TO LEAVE BEFORE IT HAS BEEN REFILLED AT LEAST FOUR TIMES?!

Actually, Raven, placing a check on the table of the customer who is going to pay it, is far from random. It’s very specific. Random would be if I just reached into my apron and pulled out any check and then gave it to any person not caring whose check it was. You can leave whenever the fuck you want and we can give you the check whenever the fuck we want. That’s how business works. It’s a two-way street, bitch, so why don’t you go sit in it and finish your three dollar drink before a truck runs over your ass?

She continues: FUCKING IDIOT, YOU DONT REFILL A DRINK THEN SOMEONE OBVIOUSLY IS NOT GOING TO COME BACK AND *******SURE******* AS FUCK WOULD NEVER LEAVE ANY TIP FOR A WAITER THAT CANT EVEN REFILL A FUCKING DRINK!!!!

I’m pretty******SURE****** as fuck that you don’t leave any tip ever.

And she had even more to say: …And due to this article, I WILL complain LOUDLY to a manager the next time some idiot waiter puts a fucking bill on my table when I HAVE NOT ASKED FOR ONE AND THEY DONT KNOW IF I’M FUCKING DONE YET. And then I will stay at that table as long as humanly possible, maybe until the restaurant closes if I’m not busy that day, and make sure to complain as loud as possible and swear a lot at kids and explain exactly why the fuck i have a right to eat and order whatever the fuck I want after I have already paid exorbitant prices for it, doing it this way in order to cause other customers to leave or not want to come back. You don’t get to fucking dictate when I am finished eating and/or ordering things.

Raven, get a fucking life. What you’re saying is that you are willing to sit in a restaurant for an entire day (providing you aren’t busy that day, and why would you be? It is abundantly clear that you have all the time in the world to leave comments on a blog which leads me to believe that you do nothing with your days except watch Maury Povich and troll the Internet) in order to prove the point that you can leave whenever you choose to leave? You can complain as loudly as you want to the manager about your check being presented too early and that manager will reply with a curt, “Your check was given to you so that is ready at your convenience.” And then when you continue to complain loudly and start to swear at kids, all the manager will have to do is call the cops and say, “Yeah can you come and escort this crazy fucking bitch out of my restaurant?” You see, the restaurant does have the right to ask you to leave. If you chose to sit at a table for nine hours all the while yelling and cursing, you can bet your flat ass that you will be escorted out and told never to return.

Raven, thank you for your comments. They were very entertaining and I truly hope you see this blog post dedicated to them. I am here to be the voice of servers across the land and your idiotic remarks were in dire need of a reply. Kindly crawl back into your hole, turn on your wi-fi and find someone else to annoy because I’m done with you.

delete

Vacation, All I Ever Wanted

Buh bye

Buh bye

This is just a quick note to let you know that I am on vacation in California for the next several days. It is highly doubtful I will find the time to blog while I am away because there will be more pressing issues to attend to like Disneyland, cocktails, San Diego Zoo, Palm Springs, San Francisco and cocktails. If you would like to follow along on this west coast adventure, please join me at Instagram (@thebitchywaiter) where I will be posting far too many photos of alcoholic beverages. Or you can find me on Twitter (@bitchywaiter) where you will find random thoughts and musings that will show you how truly desperate I am for attention.

Another update: my book is finally being published and I am in the throes of writing it which is another reason there has been less activity on the blog as of late. Hopefully it will all be worth it when the book comes out next year and people swarm Barnes and Noble to get their copy of it.

Thank you for everything. If you work in LA, Palm Springs, San Diego or San Francisco reach out to me and tell me where. Maybe I can pop in to see what kind of free shit I can get from you.

xo,

BW

delete

The Most Disgusting Bus Boy in the World

Totally gross

When I worked at Black Eyed Pea in Houston Texas about a thousand years, I worked with a girl named Connie. We caught her eating leftover rolls and fried okra straight from the bus tub which led to her nickname of Bus Tub Connie. She thought it was a waste of perfectly good food and felt an obligation to consume it.

“There are starving children in Africa who would be so grateful for this leftover piece of chicken fried chicken,” she’d say.

“And there are people in the restaurant who think you are a disgusting human being,” we’d tell her right back.

I never thought I would meet someone as nasty as her, but last night at work, it happened. Our bus boy Reggie is officially the mist disgusting person I have ever seen in my entire life.

Reggie is telling us how broke he is and how badly he needs some money. Since he lives at home and does not go to school, I don’t know what he needs money for. His parents don’t make him pay rent, he does not own a car, he does not have a girlfriend and I have never seen him wear anything but ripped up Levis and black t-shirts. The only logical explanationis that he is a major drug addict and needs his fix.

“Man, I would do anything for fifty extra bucks tonight, you know?” he says. “Anything.”

Kristine wants specifics and asks him what exactly he is willing to do for some extra cash since we are all bored at work and could use some entertainment.

“I dunno, “ answers Reggie. “What do you want me to do?”

This is Kristine’s chance. “What if we all pitched in some money and we are willing to give it to you if you eat something really gross?”

Reggie must be more desperate than Kristine expected because he quickly agrees to it. “Okay, what do you want me to eat?”

I can’t believe that he is willingly going to let us decide what he will put into his mouth and swallow. We set some ground rules:

  1. It will be one soup cup of something.
  2. Each person who outs in money gets to add an ingredient.
  3. He must swallow it all.
  4. He cannot drink any water until it has already gone down.
  5. If he throws up, it does not count.
  6. If he swallows it all and keeps it down for 30 seconds, he will get all the money we have thrown into the pot.

Reggie agrees, proving that he must be a serious meth-head. Kristine and I go around the restaurant to see who is willing to donate some money to this very important cause and we find seven people who are willing to each put in $5. It’s not quite the fifty that Reggie wants, but he says he will do it if we don’t fill the soup cup all the way to the top. Everyone chips in their five bucks and their ingredient choice.

  • Kristine: leftover carrot soup from Table 7
  • Juan: chocolate syrup
  • Tim: Tabasco sauce
  • Angel: a leftover hamburger setup that was pulled from the garbage can.
  • Tony: pineapple rice pudding
  • Sarah: dead broccoli from the window
  • Me: a piece of fat that was left on a plate from an order of the shell steak

Kristine mixes it all up in the cup and I swear to god it makes me want to throw up just looking at it. She gingerly places the piece of slimy steak fat on top of the concoction and presents it on a tray to Reggie. Next to the cup is a glass of water, a spoon and $35.

“Eat up,” she tells him.

Reggie picks up a spoon and I see not an ounce of hesitation in his eyes. He pushes the steak fat to the bottom of the cup and stirs it in. The lettuce and tomato from the hamburger setup is breaking apart with the broccoli while the chocolate syrup colors everything a deep dark color of diarrhea brown.

“I’m trying to pretend it’s a smoothie,” says Reggie.

“Yeah, a delicious fucking steak fat smoothie,” I remind him.

He lifts the spoon to his mouth and takes the first bite as the seven off us attempt to wrap our brains around this kind of desperation for $35. He swallows the fist bite and claims that it isn’t that bad. He still has at least three or four more bites to go and I am confident that when the time comes to to eat the fatty piece of gristle, we will all get our five dollars back. Remarkably, Reggie takes a second and third bite without batting an eyelash. There is one more bite to go and it is the one with the fat.

I taunt him. “Just remember who was eating that piece of steak fifteen minutes ago, Reggie. It was that old man at Table 9 who spits everywhere when he talks and leaves the whole table feeling greasy when he’s done. He probably had that piece of meat in his mouth before he spit it onto his plate and it’s the same mouth he used to eat out his wife last night.”

“Shut the fuck up, man!” Reggie yells. “Shut the fuck up.”

I begin to make gagging sounds and then Kristine and Sarah do the same thing as the spoon nears his mouth. I can see the fat quivering on the spoon and it has a some rice pudding on it that makes it look even more fatty.

Reggie swallows it and throws the spoon onto the floor. Kristine looks at her watch and begins the countdown for thirty seconds to see if Reggie will earn his prize.

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1!”

Reggie grabs the glass of water and the money. “Fuck all y’all, I did it. My money now, bitches.”

So Reggie is officially the nastiest person I have ever worked with and you are the most gullible if you would ever believe a story like this on April 1st.

April Fools!

delete

This Is What A Desperate Bitchy Waiter Does

Yes, I am begging you.

Yes, I am begging you.

Hey, remember when I did an episode of the Tell The Bartender podcast a few weeks ago and it was great fun?  I am just writing to let you know NPR is looking to feature podcast episodes, and it would be so helpful if you could nominate the episode I did. As you know, I am a desperate fame whore and it just so happens that Katharine, the podcaster, is too! Can you take a couple of minutes and help us out?  Just fill out this form here which isn’t spam, I promise!

WHERE IS THE LINK?
Here!

WHAT DOES NPR WANT?
This!

“What’s Your Favorite Podcast Episode?
NPR is working on ways to help people discover podcasts — and we need your
help. We’re looking for podcasts from public radio and beyond, and we’d
love for you to share some of your favorite episodes with us.”
BUT ALL EPISODES OF TELL THE BARTENDER ARE GREAT. HOW DO I FIND MY FAVORITE?
Duh, the one I was on. “Episode #54 Live With Norm Lewis and The Bitchy Waiter.

WHAT’S IN IT FOR ME?
My everlasting love!

Thank you very much.