Category Archives: comment on comments

Allow Me To Set This Woman Straight

Screen Shot 2015-10-08 at 3.15.29 PMAs I am wont to do, I stirred up some angst last week when I wrote about an incident at a Texas Roadhouse where two women claimed that their meal was ruined because of a nearby screaming baby. Overall, most opinions were split down the middle with half of the people siding with the upset women and the other half siding with the ear-piercing screaming bag of baby parts. However, one woman named Kelly sharted out way too much information in a Facebook comment and I can’t let it go by without really dissecting it to fully understand what she is trying to convey.

“It is thanks to your page and those who comment as to why I rarely dine out anymore.” I feel really awful that Kelly has kept herself from the joys of the Clam Strips Platter at Friendly’s or a Colossal Meatball at Ninety Nine Restaurant and Pub and it’s all my fault. I had no idea I held such power that would keep someone from eating out.

“At first the content and satire of this page was ‘cute’, but taking the risk that my almost 2 year old will not be completely mute on our outing, I wouldn’t want to disturb other guests.” Thank you, Kelly. This is exactly why I want you to do. Only go out if you are 100% certain that your baby will stay 100% quiet. If you aren’t positive about it, duct tape is readily available in a variety of colors and designs that could make dining out even more fun! Your baby will love it. (Don’t get his hair caught on it though. Ouchy!)

“Although it’s okay for other guests to disrupt my experience with their crude and loud behavior…” Kelly, maybe you should stop taking your baby to strip joints and beer halls. That could potentially eliminate that whole issue. That’s some bad parenting right there, Kelly. Tsk, tsk. Try a family friendly place like Cracker Barrel so you can be surrounded by good wholesome country folk who like eating Cracker Barrel Samplers and Country Fried Steak

“…while the wait staff huddle in a mass, not working, discussing (loudly) their personal lives.” You cannot assume that just because they are huddling in mass that they are not working. They could be discussing something very important like how much powdered sugar gets sprinkled onto a dessert or where to store the teaspoons. As for them discussing their personal lives, well, what the hell are they thinking? How awful of them to attempt to have conversations about things other than table numbers, food running and sidework. If only the world could be run by robots so we could do away with that pesky need for human contact with the people you work with.

“I refuse to pay your bills when it’s a profession you chose.” Absolutely, you have a right to feel that way and you are also correct when you say it is a profession that most people chose. I would be very surprised to hear that any servers are being held against their will or that these were jobs that were chosen for them. There were no slave ships that carried people across the ocean and deposited them at Applebee’s.

“You want to child-shame parents, as if we’re not allowed to give your restaurant business and out money in your pocket.” What does this even mean? I never said you were not allowed to go to a restaurant, but if someone is going to do something that attracts attention to themselves, I do have the right to blog about it. And lets; face it: child-shaming parents is always good fun.

“You all sound angry that the only thing you’re qualified to do is take a food order and refill ketchup.” I can’t speak for all servers, but I can try to: most of us are qualified to do many, many other things than wait tables. We do it because we want to and for you to assume that all servers who do this job because it’s their only option is just as wrong as me saying that every mother who has a two-year old is a pain in the ass. Possibly true, but not necessarily true.

“My child has never disrupted an establishment and I’ve also been generous to servers who treated my child as a person, and not a nuisance.” Then why the fuck are you even complaining? If your child is one of those rare mythical creatures that are perfectly behaved in restaurants, no one is even bitching about you. Take your little Unicorn Baby out to Bennigan’s and go to town on a plate of Housemade Cottage Pie. You and your baby ain’t the problem.

“God forbid you step in and offer assistance.” Wait, what? You think if a server sees a baby crying it is our job to fucking babysit it for you so you can suck down another glass of Pinot Grigio? Offer assistance?? What if I assist your baby back into its stroller and then push it to the curb for you, is that what you want? Because I am fine with that, but don’t be trying to sue my ass after I assist the stroller into the parking lot where it hits a parked car and the baby pops out onto to the asphalt. I was only trying to help.

“You just complain passive aggressively from afar.” It’s Facebook, dear. It’s not that afar.

You can preorder my book, The Bitchy Waiter, by clicking here.

A Comment on Comments; the “Jew fro” edition

A Comment on Comments

A Comment on Comments

Every now and again, I will take six seconds out of my time at work to create a video that I look at as a Public Service Awareness event. Such was the case last week when I did a video simply asking people to say “please” and “thank you” when dining out in a restaurant. I suggested that by using such simple manners, it could get them better service because servers are more apt to go out of their way for customers who are genuinely nice to them. I posted the video to the Bitchy Waiter Facebook page thinking it would be a harmless piece of advice and never expected anyone to have a problem with it. Boy, was I wrong.

Video of the day. #serverlife

A video posted by thebitchywaiter (@thebitchywaiter) on

Some man named John really took offense to it. He posted dozens of comments about the video and me specifically, insulting not only my profession, but my physical appearance. Perhaps posting comment after comment on a Facebook page is John’s way of compensating for a vey small penis and it’s how he fulfills himself. Many people say that I can dish it out, but can’t take it when someone is mean to me. The truth is, I can take it, but I have a bigger platform to respond to the insults. (I also have a bigger penis.)

This is John’s first comment:

Alright John, I do not have a ”Jew fro.” I’m not even Jewish, you stupid schmuck. Speaking like a bitch is just the way I speak. Actually, I write like a bitch more than I speak like one, but neither causes patrons to make fun of me. You may think I’m fucking stupid, buy you’re the dumbass if you thought you could say these things about me and not expect some type of retaliation. I wonder what, in the six-second video, shows that I am a vindictive gay man. Reminding people to say “please” and “thank you” is by no means vindictive. Vindictive would be me spending an hour on a blog post to say what an asshole you are.

Then, John showed he has no reading skills:


Ummm, this page is called The Bitchy WAITER, not “bartender.” And it’s cute how you stress that you’re not gay and have nothing against gay people. Are you sure you’ve never had anything against a gay man? Like maybe your micro-penis against the buttocks of some young stud after the two of you had a few too many beers in your mom’s basement? Me thinks John doth protest too much because, based on his profile, he works at a gentleman’s club surrounded by tits because, you know, he’s super straight.

Later on, when someone wanted to know why I don’t just go get another job, John popped up again to squirt out some more thoughts:


Now John is assuming I’m uneducated and have no other choices in life because that must be the only reason anyone would ever choose to wait tables. His argument is ironic since he himself also waits tables. And then goes back to calling me vindictive but this time he also calls me small. John, I am 5’ 9” and, while not tall, I’m not small either. The only thing small here is that teeny tiny Vienna sausage of a penis you have in your underwear. Okay, it may be wrong of me to assume your penis is small and that you are dealing with some kind of Napoleon Syndrome that leads to aggressive multiple postings and that this is your way of showing the world you have some type of power, but I’m gonna go ahead and go with that assumption.

In an attempt to justify his rants, he then posts something to let us all know that he is in the industry:


Dickless John, if you are getting paid in figs, you work for a shitty company. At least you should ask for Fig Newtons.


I don’t know about anyone else, but what John is doing seems exactly like airing his bitchiness out on Facebook. I would suggest that he stop airing out his bitchiness and try airing out his asshole instead which is quite possibly stuffed full of figs. No one wants a figgy asshole, John.

Eventually, John stopped posting. We can only assume that he either got tired of saying the same thing over and over again or that his own ass swallowed him whole. I vote for the former because his asshole was probably too busy trying to get away from the ass to which it was attached. With any luck, his asshole made its escape and is now safely ensconced in a foster home free of figs and able to do what it wants. Meanwhile, John is back at work at the titty bar hoping that if he stare sat enough naked breasts, his penis will grow to the size of a roll of Lifesavers.

Fuck you, John. And thanks for being one if the 242,152 people who follow my Facebook page.

Watch Out, Someone Thinks My Job Isn’t Real

Screen Shot 2015-08-02 at 1.54.40 PMEvery now and again, someone drags their sad lonely body from underneath a rock somewhere and ends up on The Bitchy Waiter Facebook page. Perhaps this person was on her way to the International Convention of Trolls and took a detour somewhere around Busted Bitch Boulevard and Dried Up Vaginal Way and accidentally found herself on a page where she is not welcome, needed or desired. Such is the case with Laura who seems intent on stirring up as much trouble as she possibly can by using too many CAPS and bad punctuation to express her tired views about servers.

First off, Laura, do you think you’re the first person to come up with the “get a real job” statement? You’re not, just like you aren’t the first person to have someone ejaculate all over their face. Just because you said “get a real job” or caught a load of baby batter on your cheekbones doesn’t mean you are the first one to do it.

I want to look at your well-versed and thoughtfully crafted Facebook post and truly understand what it is you are trying to convey.

“To all the pathetic ass servers.” First off, are you describing servers as pathetic asses or are you referring to people who serve ass? Your sentence structure is confusing and I would also suggest you use a colon instead of a period at the end of that sentence.

“Please understand when you applied for your job NO ONE forced you to take that pathetic $2-$3 an hour job.” I think everyone who has a job understands that they are not “forced” to take it. That would be called slavery and although waiting tables is a rather subservient position, it isn’t slavery which was abolished in this country in 1865.

“I see how you take home anywhere from $50+ a shift in tips, even some over $200.” Yes, Laura, this is true. Sometimes I make $50 for a whole shift, but when that shift is six hours long, I don’t find that to be a very rewarding day at work. And there have been times when I made $200 in a single shift but those are the shifts that make up for those shitty ones. Inconsistency is the price we pay for accepting this “pathetic” job.

“STOP complaining over tips lower than the bills 20% because you do NOT deserve that.” Actually, I DO feel that we deserve it and since this is MY Facebook page that is dedicated to MY blog and the whole point of it is bitching about things I find to be unfair, I CAN say whatever the fuck I want, you cum-stained loser. (Someone called me that recently and I have decided to embrace the name and use it as often as possible.)

“You deserve to be paid for you time spent at that table while going by min wage standards. So in reality you are hardly at the table for 5-10 minutes TOTAL. you DO NOT deserve $5 for 10 minutes of work.” Maybe you only see your server at the table for 5-10 minutes, but the fact is there are a lot of other things happening that you don’t see. Do you want to join your server when he goes downstairs to dry storage to get more Splenda for your table because you used it all to make some free lemonade? Maybe you want to accompany your server when he is in the kitchen explaining to the cooks that you ordered a pasta dish but want three ingredients left out because you’re “allergic” to them. And you certainly are not there to see when the server is hosing down your table after you left it looking like a tornado went through a trailer park. Do we make more than minimum wage at the end of the day? We probably do and if we wanted to make less than that we would sign up for a job as a gas station attendant. (No offense to gas station attendants.)

“Get real, if he jib didn’t pay well you wouldn’t be there. Get a REAL on you stupid fucks.” Your argument makes no sense, you silly bitch. You just insinuated that the job must pay well, so why would we go get another one? Other than having to deal with the occasional miserable dried up bitch like yourself, it’s a fine job. And by the way, it IS a real one. (I think that’s what you were trying to say. It must be hard to type effectively while one thumb is up your asshole and the other hand is holding a can of Mountain Dew and eating a bag of Funyons.) If we have a job that pays us well and is so easy to do (according to you) wouldn’t we be stupid fucks for giving it up?

I realize I came down a little hard on you, Laura, but coming down on you hard is probably nothing new to you, Trampy McTramp Tramp. I did make the effort to block out your last name and cover your profile picture so that you can remain anonymous. I get a lot of hate mail and complaints and many people say I can dish it out but I can’t take it, but the truth is, I can take it. That’s why the original post is still on the page and I will not take it down. I can take the insults as easily as Laura can take a fist up the poontang. The difference is that I have a much bigger platform to voice my dissenting opinion. And also, marginally better writing skills.

Have a nice day.

A Comment on Comments; the “Why I Hate Hot Tea” Edition

A Comment on Comments

A Comment on Comments

Earlier this week, I posted a photo (see below) on the Bitchy Waiter Facebook page about how much of a pain in the ass it is to serve hot tea. A few people who don’t understand what the “bitchy” means in Bitchy Waiter got their panties in a twist and came down on me for it. First off, I am not going to apologize for speaking the goddamn honest truth: preparing a hot tea is something that makes a little piece of my soul dry up and blow away in the wind leaving a bitter dusting of hatred all over my section. I am not saying it is justified for me to feel this way, but I am saying that it’s true. And, as is always the case with someone so small-minded like me, I have decided to respond to a few people who have the gall to disagree with me.

Deronious said: How hard is it to bring out hot water and tea bags? Cripes almighty.

Oh, Deronius, if only it were that simple. You see, though, it’s not. Getting a hot tea for someone has about as many steps to it as your name does vowels: too goddamn many. When someone says they want hot tea, their next question is inevitably “What kind do you have?” This is when I have to dig deep into my brain cells to recall all of the varieties of dried leaves that people have the option of stirring into hot water. I have to spout out that we have black tea, green tea, cinnamon apple, English Breakfast, Earl Grey, peppermint, red zinger, lemon zinger, mandarin orange, chamomile, country peach and whatever else the fuck is in that big dusty box I never refill. They will usually ask for Lipton and then I have to go find it. I also have to find a clean looking coffee cup because unlike with coffee, they will be able to see inside this mug of water when I place it before them. I also have to find a saucer, a teaspoon and then go to the bar to get a lemon wedge and something to put it in. Then I go to the reach-in to get the milk and/or cream to pour into the non-existent creamer that seems to mysteriously disappear the moment I need one and I also have to pick up some honey from wherever the hell we store honey. It’s a lot of steps for something that costs $1.50 and will maybe increase my tip by about thirty cents. So, yeah, it’s a pain in the ass.

Brenda said: So what about serving hot tea is so demeaning? I would think it would be easy as coffee or anything from the bar.

Listen, Brenda, no one said it’s demeaning to serve hot tea. I mean, it’s no more demeaning than serving a burger or a plate of pasta and we do that all goddamn day. It’s not as easy as coffee because of all the steps I mentioned earlier and it’s certainly not as easy as ordering a cocktail because I don’t have to make that. All I do is ring that in and the bartender has to deal with it. Let the bartender start his own blog about what a pain in the ass it is to make a mojito.

Elle said: I’ve heard it all now. This ‘bitchy’ (/whiny) waiter needs to go and get a real job and see how hard the rest of the workforce has it when you factor in shitty co-workers/bosses/customers AND the fact that you’re doing an ACTUAL difficult job.

Elle, please go the nearest computer, log in to Amazon and order yourself a bag of dicks to chew on, because I’m sick of the “get a real job” argument. It’s as tired as you probably are after a long hard day at the whorehouse when it’s “buy one whore and get a blow job for free” day. You think the rest of the workforce has it so much harder because they work with shitty co-workers, bosses and customers while working an “actual” job? My job is more actual than your imagined boyfriend, Elle, and some of my co-workers and bosses are the most horrible people on the planet. (I’m talking to you. Mo.) If you truly have “heard it all” you can now stop removing the wax and semen from your ears because there no longer a need for you to listen to anything else for as long as you live. Close up your earholes, close up your legs and close up your mouth. We’re done here.

As always, thank you for your comments. It’s my most sincere pleasure to read them and they fill my heart with love. Best wishes and 25% tips to all of you, bitches.


Fuck you and your hot tea.

Fuck you and your hot tea.



A Comment on Comments

A Comment on Comments

A Comment on Comments

About a year and a half ago, I wrote a blog post about a rather famous woman who came into my section and then left without paying the check or leaving a tip. The blog post was called “Famous Person Dines and Dashes.” As with most of my blog posts, once I hit submit, I never gave it a second thought. That is, until someone named Anonymous commented on it:

I was horrified when I read this about my friend Elke. I’ve known her for many years and both Ben and Elke were and are very generous and big tippers. I asked Elke and she was invited to that show and therefore never thought that she owed anything. I think you should apologize to her and be informed before you slander someone else.

Well, anonymous, where to start? First off, I looked up the official definition of the word slander to make sure I have not committed any crimes.  Merriam-Webster tells me that slander means “to make a false spoken statement that causes people to have a bad opinion of someone.” According to that very official definition, a slanderous statement must be a false one. My statement was not false. Your friend did actually sit in my section and then she left without paying the check or leaving a tip. I even asked her if she would like her check and she told me to leave it on the table. Secondly, my statement wasn’t spoken, it was written. If you want to hear my statement spoken out loud, you can click here, but it still doesn’t make it slanderous, because it’s a true. She owed money. She knew I was putting the check on the table. She left without paying. All. Fact.

You tell me that your friend was invited to the show and did not know she was expected to pay anything, yes? I wonder what part of “Ma’am, I have your check. Do you want it now or would you like me to leave it on the table?” implies that there is no check. Ignorance is not an excuse.

I learned this lesson when I went to court to fight a traffic ticket. I had rented a car for 24 hours and parked it in front of my apartment. I saw that there was a fire hydrant nearby and knew I could not park too close to it. I got out of the car to look for a sign to tell me how far away I needed to be from it and I looked at the curb to see if any part of it was painted yellow. There was some paint on the curb, so I parked the car beyond the paint. I still got the ticket. I went to court to fight the ticket and explained to the judge.

“Your honor, I don’t own a car. I only rented it for one day. I wasn’t sure how far away to park from the hydrant. There was no paint on the curb where I parked it so I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“Your car must be fifteen feet away from the hydrant, sir,” he told me.

“Your honor, I took pictures of the curb to show you that there was no paint telling me I couldn’t park there.”

“Fifteen feet, sir.”

“But I didn’t know that.”

“Ignorance is not an excuse to break the law.”

At that point he slammed his gavel down and I paid the sixty fucking dollars. I also learned a lesson: ignorance is not an excuse.

Since you tell me you have asked your friend about this situation and I now know that she knows she skipped out on a check, I suppose, then, that I can expect to get to work any day now and find an envelope with an apology card and nine dollars in it, yes? I look forward to that. As for an apology from me? I don’t think so. I don’t see the need. Perhaps my statement could cause a few people to have a bad opinion of your friend, but I let people come to their own conclusions about the integrity of someone who doesn’t pay their check or leave a tip.

Sorry, Elke Kravit.


A Comment on Comments

A Comment on Comments

A Comment on Comments

I wrote a story last week about a family who felt they were slighted at a restaurant because they had a stroller. Maybe they were and maybe they weren’t. The blog was called Entitled Parent Story #246 or Attack of the Stroller People. It generated lots of comments from people but none so fascinating and head-in-ass as Mary who had this to say:

For all the people who work in the food industry who have the audacity to bitch about serving the public, accommodating children or calling anyone entitled, get a fucking education, and get a job doing something else and you won’t have to bitch. Also, don’t refer to your establishment as “posh,” you are still serving the public and working for “tips and wages;” that is all.

My favorite comments are the ones from people who travel the Internet to a page called The Bitchy Waiter and then get offended that the website is about a waiter who bitches. I don’t know how to make the page any clearer than it is. When Mary goes to the Christian Singles website she is not surprised that the site is full of single Christians who are looking to hook up, is she? Is she shocked when she heads over to a website called Pork Rind Porn and it’s all photos of people who are way too familiar and comfortable with pork rinds? (Note to self: build a website called Pork Rind Porn.) This blog was made for bitchin’ and that’s just what I’ll do. And one of these days this blog is gonna walk all over you. Are you ready blog? Start walkin’:

Mary, shut your pie hole and move on. It does not take “audacity” to bitch about serving the public. All it takes is a brain, emotions and the ability to type. This blog is a venting page where I can say what I want and how I want and it is also a forum for people to complain about the things they can’t complain about elsewhere. For your information, I have an education; a real education that I went to college to get. You think jobs grow on trees, I suppose. Twice this summer, I visited Botanical Gardens. I saw cherry trees and pine trees and Chinese Maple trees, but never once did I see an Actor tree or a Lawyer tree or a Nurse tree. So don’t troll your ass over here and spout out the “get an education and get another kind of job” bullshit because it doesn’t fly on this page. And who’s to say that people who have those other jobs don’t have reason to bitch? I have a friend who writes an anonymous blog about being an elementary school teacher. She has a masters degree and bitches more than anyone I know, so education does not cease the need to bitch, bitch. Mary concludes her statement with “that is all.” But it isn’t all because trolls like Mary can never stay under their bridge for very long. She continues:

Go work in a factory. There are no babies or parents there.

What a great idea, Mary. Let’s all go work in factories. I bet there is no reason at all to complain about factory jobs. They are probably so fulfilling. True, there are no children with strollers or parents there to complain about, but I am pretty sure I can find something else that warrants a complaint. Believe me, I’m really good at finding the crappy in any situation. Let’s see, factory work…what could possibly suck about working in a factory? Other than the dangerous work environment, the noise, the pollution, the monotony and the low wages, it sounds like a fucking dreamland. Fuck you, Mary.

With all the things going on in the world, I love that there are people moaning about having to do, not only their job, when many people do not even have a job, but complaining about having to perform a simple aspect such as accommodating a somewhat annoying person at that job. Poor servers! Your job is so horrible!

Mary, guess what. People complain about their jobs. It’s our nature and it’s what allows us to keep going to the job. If we didn’t have a way to vent then people might hole up their emotions and it can grow and fester into a big nasty gross wound, similar to what you may have in your genital area that flares up every six to eight weeks. I bet even Vanna White complains about her job and she has to have one of the easiest ones in the feakin’ world. (Note to self: create a Vanna White Complaints website.)

How dare me to click on a link on a Facebook page where hundreds of people were already appalled by the stupidity and audacity of you fucking idiots, as shown through their many comments, and come here and feel the need to also be appalled and astounded by your stupid whining and bitching and desperate moaning. Cheers bitches!


Yes, how dare you to click a link on Facebook called Bitchy Waiter and not be prepared for bitching waiters. Open your eyes and look at what you’re clicking. It’s the beauty of the Internet, Mary. If you don’t like something you just click away and never come back. Most of the servers on this page are worthy professionals who are great at their jobs and come here to let off some steam from dealing with dumb ass people like you. Bitching on a Facebook page does not mean that they do it to their customers. And it’s nice of you to use the word “audacity” but you already did that in your first comment. I get it, you want to make sure you take full advantage of the Word a Day calendar that your Secret Santa bought for you last year at the holiday office party where you drank two glasses of White Zinfandel and then told that guy who works in the next cubicle that you can show him what the real meaning of “ho ho ho” is, but chill out. For future comments, you can use these other words that are synonymous with audacity: courage, fearlessness, boldness, enterprise, rashness, dauntlessness, intrepidity and audaciousness. I will continue the “stupid whining and desperate moaning” if you promise that you will continue popping out from under your bridge every now and then to make people solve a riddle before crossing it. Cheers to you too, you miserable sack of skin.

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