pearl necklace
Thank you to Erin for today’s guest post about a rude woman in pearls. Again, I did not choose the photo of Barbara Bush to represent this woman, Erin did. But if the shoe fits… -BW
Picture this: Sicily, 1925.
No, go with a major city in the Northeast Corridor, 2012
Seated in my section were two women of a certain age – dressed to the nines. The restaurant where I’ve worked for the past two years is located in a very affluent part of the city and many of our guests have more money than they know what to do with. (We see dozens of those weighted black Amex cards a week) A few of the servers like to refer to guests such as these women as “The Ladies Who Lunch”. They can be absolutely wretched.
I approached the table and said hello with a smile. I took a drink order (Two iced teas) and returned to the table. Unfortunately (as it was a brunch shift and nothing is ever where the fuck it should be during brunch because there’s never enough coffee or, “that sugar in the brown packet”, or fat free creamer to satisfy the masses of impatient, demanding jerks that comprise a dining room full of brunch guests), there was no sugar to be found and I had to drop the iced teas off with a cheerful “I’ll be right back with the sugar”. I turned away from the table to hunt down a caddy.
Suddenly, there was a bony hand dripping with pearls clutching my wrist and a voice demanding that I “Wait a minute!” One of the women had a question. But it wasn’t a question for me, oh no, it was just imperative that I stand there at the table, wasting time, with the eyes of all the other impatient guests in my section boring into the back of my head. I knew there were coffee mugs down to their last drops and water glasses being emptied all around me as I waited with mock patience for this woman to ask her companion a series of questions regarding their order which could definitely have been addressed without me standing at the table neglecting my other guests.
I, again, tried to make my temporary escape and repeated “I’ll be right back with the sugar” for the second time, but now the woman had turned to speak to me directly. She placed the order for both women. When she had finished I said, “Thank you,” and, for the third time, “I’ll be right back the sugar”.
To which the woman replied,” I still need sugar”.
I had to laugh. I had to! I mean, I had mentioned my intent to return with it THREE TIMES already. Maybe the laugh was a little maniacal. I mean, brunch at a busy restaurant that does anywhere from 200-400 covers in 5 hours can be a shit show worse than Wal-Mart at midnight on Black Friday in the ghetto. And when someone is literally holding on to your wrist so that you are forced to stay at the table and waste precious seconds that could be devoted to other things – like refilling coffee at 6 other tables or dropping checks or running credit cards or WHATEVER else needs to happen immediately to stop you from losing your shit and never getting out of the weeds – when one person is selfish enough to keep you from getting these things done your laugh might exit your mouth with a little snark to it.
And I imagine that mine probably did.
At that exact moment I spied a discarded full-enough sugar caddy on the server station to my right and took a baby step to reach it with an extended arm. I had barely moved, however, when the woman LEPT out of her chair and, literally, screamed at me.
“NO!” she roared, “DO YOU HAVE A PROBLEM”!?
Now, my immediate thought was “Damn! How’d that old bitch stand up so fast?” But my verbal reaction was feigned shock and an “Absolutely not ma’am, “I’m just grabbing your sugar”.
“Good!” she growled, glaring at me. “Get it then!” she snarled.
I placed the caddy on the table and ran directly to a manager to remark “I don’t think I should go back over there”, but the look on her face as she glanced past me over my shoulder told me this was far from over. “Here she comes, get out of here,” my manager whispered to me frantically.
I handed off the table to another server and was happy to part with the shitty tip I was bound to receive. But at the end of the shift I got an earful from management because the woman is a regular and she had been unhappy with her dining experience. In fact, the woman’s exact words to management had been “I don’t want that crazy Irish bitch waiting on me.” Of course, I tried to cry racism but the woman had apparently added the disclaimer “And I can say that because I’m Irish.” So I guess she gets away with that one.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m VERY proud of this story. I love that she called me a bitch and that I get to keep my job and she is no longer allowed to sit in my section. I just still can’t get over the sense of entitlement she had. She felt it was perfectly acceptable to jump out of her seat and yell at me as if she were my mother in front of an entire dining room full of guests and other FOH employees. It’s just incredible.
All in all, I know there’s a special place in hell waiting for that woman and her class of rich bitch friends. A hell where no one ever, ever, shows up with the sugar.
Joey B
A customer -tall , large older man snuck up on me when I was very busy refilling coffee and checking on my tables an he yelled ” booo” in my ear so loud I had a ring for over a week . I thought my ear drum got damaged . It was hard to take orders cuz I couldn’t hear properly . I don’t think his ” joke ” was that funny . I think he is a big bully . Why is there so much disrespect in USA towards service people -that includes cleaning Ladies , bus Boys , Porters , Cashiers ? Funny how everyone thinks ” US = Democracy ” but acts totally different . I go out of my way to be nice and kind to people no matter who they are . I NEVER dismiss anyone .If someone touches me -no biggie . I take care of mommies w/ broods and don’t bat a lash and old folk & try to do my best -I RESPECT my job as a Server -and if u r a Server – respect yourself too -walk tall -give Respect -Take Respect .
Gil
I don’t care how “well heeled” someone is or dressed..They have NO right to touch you. Once she grabbed your wrist ,she crossed the line. You did better than me, because I would have yanked my hand away and told her never to touch me again. Grabbing to me is agressive and to a certain extent, combative.
@ Irene..That “man” assaulted you and you were well within your rights to call the police and/or defend yourself. Why didn’t your manager or fellow servers intervene at least?
Jan Patnode Jennings
”I mean, brunch at a busy restaurant that does anywhere from 200-400 covers in 5 hours can be a shit show worse than Wal-Mart at midnight on Black Friday in the ghetto.”
”“I don’t want that crazy Irish bitch waiting on me.” Of course, I tried to cry racism but the woman had apparently added the disclaimer “And I can say that because I’m Irish.” So I guess she gets away with that one.”
i love irony
Let me clock out or I'll start stealing
Man, Sicily in 1925 sucked.
Any how, it is always amazing how egotistical people get when they are used to others complying. Kind of like a baby who cries constantly and knows his parents will come running, until they don’t and tantrums ensue. Maybe she needed warm milk and a burping?
S
I would have called the police if someone yanked on me like that. I don’t care who you are (or who you think you are) if you choose to put your hands on me, you won’t be staying very long.
Irene
I experienced something similar to this, however I am a manager, and I was responding to a guest complaint from a server. When I arrived at the table of nine people and identified my mark, I approached the gentleman and he did something I never ever expected. He grabbed my arm and ripped down with such a force it bent me almost completely in half, so my face was literally inches from his dish. He proceeded to berate me about the dish (which really was a simple fix!) while holding me down in the same place. Eight other people at his table, tables around him all full, and no one did a thing… In a military town none the less. Second worst experience as a manager from a guest ever. Completely humiliating.
euphoric_mania
Nobody gets to touch me without my expressed permission first. Good job (mostly) keeping your cool. I can’t always do it so well.
Paul
Where was the manager when the customer grabbed your wrist? You NEVER touch a server! I’d 86 her ass.
Rachel
I’ve been grabbed once. I was not polite about it. If people touch a stripper who is taking her clothes off and bending over for them for hundreds of $$$ night, a very large man will not so gently escort them from the premises and tell them to not come back. But, here people are, putting their hands all over servers who are dropping off their salads.
Carl
I’ve said for years that it isn’t just the younger generations that display the entitlement behavior. Who taught them? I was in the industry for years, and I had more issues with people over 40 than anyone else. What’s wrong with our youth today? Their parents, and grandparents!