Can we talk about customers and their insane need to sit at the one dirty table in the whole fucking restaurant? It happened a few days ago to me and I cannot wrap my tequila-soaked brain around it. The restaurant has three booths all right next to one another. They are each the same in dimension, appearance and distance from each other. I can see no discernible difference between any of them. Two of them are clean with silverware and glasses while one has a dirty plate on it, two glasses with water in them and a couple of napkins. Two customers have just left the booth right when another couple walks into the restaurant. We don’t have a hostess so, as per usual, I greet them at the front and tell them to sit wherever they’d like and I will follow them with menus. Like fucking moths to a flame or me to a margarita, they make a beeline for the one dirty booth and sit down. Why? God in heaven, why do they do that? They actually walk past one clean booth to sit at the dirty one. I do not understand it. Menus in hand, I approach the table.
What I say: “Hello there. Give me a minute or two and I will clean this table for you.”
What I think: “Dumb asses. I hate you. I hate you so hard.”
Suddenly, they pull their heads out of their asses. “Oh, gosh, I didn’t even notice this table is dirty. Do you want us to move?”
What I say: “No, it’s fine. I’ll clean it right now, don’t worry about it.”
What I think; “You didn’t notice a pile of dirty napkins sitting in front of you? And you didn’t see that dessert plate with chocolate syrup all over it? You suck at seating yourself and I hate you.”
Do people do this on purpose? Is there some deep subconscious urge to take advantage of having a person serve them so they do everything possible to have us do as much work for them including cleaning a table as they sit at it? Did they want to watch me scrub chocolate syrup off the table and get down on my knees before them to pick up the straw wrapper? As I am wiping the table down, a few errant bread crumbs make their way from my towel to the booth seat. I notice that the woman sees these crumbs but I decide that the crumbs shall remain where they are. Had her ass not been sitting there, I would have wiped the booth seat down too, but since she so desperately and immediately wants this seat, the crumbs can sit with her.
“Okay, here are your menus and I will be right back with place settings and glasses.”
“Ummm, I’m sorry, but now the table is all wet.”
What I say: “Oh, gosh, I’m sorry. Let me get a dry cloth real quick and dry that off.”
What I think: “Get over it! It’s water, lady. Are you so precious that you are going to dissolve if your elbows should touch moisture? It will be dry in thirty seconds; drier than my sarcasm but not as dry as your vagina. Good lord, you could have fucking sat at the other booth that is right behind you and all would have been fine, but noooo, you needed to sit here now, so before I have even began my steps of service, I am seriously annoyed by you.”
I dry the table, take their order, serve the food and everything goes off without a hitch. They are nice and friendly, but I can’t help but wonder what the fuck makes anyone want to sit at the one dirty table in a restaurant. Stop doing that, people, Really. Stop it.