Category Archives: comment on comments

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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A Comment on Comments, the Michael Cera Edition

A Comment on Comments

A Comment on Comments

Wow. Yesterday’s post about Michael Cera got a lot of traffic and lots of comments. So many, in fact, that I feel I must write a Comment on Comments piece. And away we go!

First off, I want to make it clear that I never said anything bad about Michael Cera. There was nothing in the blog post that was specifically negative about him, his acting or his films. All of that stuff came from people who left comments. All I did was notice something in a restaurant and write a story about it in much the same way I have done for the last five years. Many of the negative comments were directed at me, and I’m gonna be honest with you folks, it hurt. It hurt me real bad. Like so bad that that it made me want to go back in time to the 1950’s to sit on a swing at a drive-in and sing about it. (Go to the 1:16 mark.) Most people said that I was making too big of a deal out of nothing. Hello? Are you new? That’s what I do. I am a master at taking a molehill and turning it into a big fucking mountain. That’s basically what this blog subsists on. Welcome to the Bitchy Waiter.

Nicholas had this to say: The Bitchy Waiter should be the Miserable Waiter instead. The man played chess. Get a different job since this one apparently makes you miserable. Life is too short to be so bitchy.

BW has this to say: You know what, Nicholas? I already paid for the URL to The Bitchy Waiter and I don’t want to start a new blog about being miserable too. Why don’t you do that, you miserable twat? Life is too short to not be bitchy is the way I like to look at things.

Krysta had this to say: As a server and bartender. This story is a tad overdone. He has the right to sit at the table. He has the right to order water and sit there from open to close. Yes it stinks, but honestly if you are unhappy with the way other people choose to spend their time, get out of the restaurant business.

BW has this to say: Yes, this story is a tad overdone just like that man at Table 11 last night who asked for his steak to be cooked so there was absolutely no pink inside it. If you are unhappy about a blog with the word “bitchy” in it, maybe you should get out of the blog-reading business.

Lots of people seemed to think that I picked on Mr. Cera because he was famous or because I am jealous of him. Let’s be honest. Anyone who reads this blog on a regular basis knows that I don’t write about the behavior of someone just because they are famous. I will call out any Tom, Dick or Harry if I think it warrants a blog post. And me, jealous of his celebrity? Of course I am. That is not new news.

Eddie had this to say: The blog writer is upset because his own sense of self-entitlement was deflated by someone with more celebrity than himself. He even mentions how the waiter was so impressed by him being a blog writer.

BW has this to say: I never said that the waiter was impressed by me being a blog writer. In fact, I never even said it was a waiter. I was keenly sensitive to that because I promised that person I would not give away their identity. And that person was excited that they knew of my blog specifically, not just a “blog writer.” Trust me, no one ever knows what the hell I’m talking about if I mention the name of my blog.

Eddie went on to say: This blog post is silly. Now, if Cera came in for 5 hours, ordered only a water, left a shitty tip, and then insulted a member of the staff on the way out the door, or complained about service, I would agree you have just cause to slander him on your blog.

BW has this to say: The definition of slander is: “(verb) to make make false and damaging statements about someone.”Where did I slander Michael Cera? Everything I wrote was true. He was in fact at a busy restaurant, taking up a four-top while playing chess. All facts, Eddie. I calls ’em as I sees ’em.

Davin said: I love how you talk about how people think they’re so important, then you try to name drop yourself to the waiter and apparently have a business card that reads “professional blogger”. What a high barrier of entry to become one of THOSE….you’d need to take at least 4 minutes out of your day to achieve that job. Frankly, you come off as a self-entitled prick who’s just jealous of celebrity.

BW has this to say: Davin, my business card does not say “professional blogger” on it. It has the name of my blog and the URL as well as an email address. I got them because I was tired of scribbling that shit out onto bev naps. And for your information, it takes much much more than four minutes a day to create this high quality blog. It takes at least a ten or twelve minutes a day. And maybe I do come across as a self-entitled prick, but then again so do you. The only difference between the two of us is that I can see that about myself which is why I have a blog called The Bitchy Waiter. And as I mentioned before, I am clearly jealous of his celebrity. I also knew that if I wrote a story with his name attached, it would get me more traffic and since I am a needy self-entitled prick who craves fame, it worked out real nice for me. Lots of traffic yesterday! Success!

Someone named D had this to say: Waaaahh, I had to wait for a seat at a restaurant! waaaahh, Michael Cera is playing chess! Waaaaahhh, he got two tables, and I only got one, Waaaahh!  Get over yourself lady.

BW has this to say: I’m a guy.

Finally, Colleen had this to say: It doesn’t matter if he ate or was drinking the entire time. The point of the story is you don’t fucking play chess at a restaurant especially a busy one.

BW has this to say: Thank you, Colleen! His behavior is that of someone who is simply unaware of how inconsiderate they are being. It’s one thing to take up a table for three or four hours but continue ordering food and drinks. It’s quite another to sit there and use the table to catch up with old friends, read a book, do paperwork, talk on the phone or play a few games of goddamn chess. It’s just common sense and good manners. Maybe the restaurant was pleased to have someone of his stature sitting there for a few hours so it could make their place seem cooler. Maybe he left a huge tip to make up for the lost rotation. Maybe I would have waited 40 minutes whether he was playing chess or not. The point is, any customer who uses a restaurant table to play board games when other people would like to use that table to eat is a clueless customer.

Thank you for all the great comments, everyone. This was fun. Now if you’ll excuse me, I am going to go stand on the corner in mid-town Manhattan and hand out my business cards to anyone who will take one and then beg people to call me famous.

You hurt me real bad.

You hurt me real bad.

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A Comment on Comments, the Allergy Edition

A Comment on Comments

A Comment on Comments

Yesterday was a tornado of activity with the Today show appearance. As expected, it created lots of traffic and discussion on the Bitchy Waiter Facebook page as well as this blog. As is my way, I would like to respond to some of the comments, specifically those revolving around my discussion of allergies. Here is what I said about allergies in its entirety:

“You need to be aware of your allergies, it’s not the server that needs to be aware of it. So, if you’re allergic to onions and you order that Philly Cheese Steak that has onions on it, the server’s gonna be a little bit disappointed because it says it right there on the menu.”

Well those 13 seconds opened up the floodgates to every anaphylactic shock allergen in the Western Hemisphere and they came after me like a mob of gluten-free bitches who want biscuits but can’t have ’em. First off, I never said I don’t care about allergies. All I was trying to say was it’s more the customer’s responsibility than it is the server’s. Maybe it wasn’t as clear as I’d have liked, but the whole segment was only 4 minutes long and it was live TV. My “disappointment” comes from the fact that many times people who are allergic to something don’t even bother reading the fucking menu to see what they can and cannot have. My example was spot on: if you can’t have onions, then don’t order something that is described as “smothered in onions.” If you are going to order the meatloaf and you wonder if there are onions in it, then sure, you should ask. And if you’re allergic to gluten and you order a chicken fried steak that is covered in gravy, I would expect the customer to know that most sauces have flour in them and that the steak will be breaded. This is what I am talking about. And if you’re “allergic to gluten” and ask for only a little bit of gravy, you’re not allergic, bitch. You’re just thinking it’s the latest way to get a beach-ready body.

But let’s get to the specific comments, shall we?
Jennifer says: When your restaurant starts listing every single ingredient and every cross-contamination risk “right there on the menu,” only then will I stop asking you what’s in the food and pointing out that my son has an allergy. Until then, I’ll continue to ask and you’ll just have to keep your “disappointment” to yourself. I sure hope you’d be more than “disappointed” if my child died in your restaurant because you were too much of a “bitchy waiter” to answer my questions.

I never said I would not answer questions about the menu, Jennifer. I just expect the customer to know which questions to ask. And you are right about me being more than disappointed if your child died in my restaurant. I would be extremely disappointed. Like bummed to the Nth degree because I have a pretty definite feeling that if your child died in my section, I would get less than a 10% tip and in my book, a 10% tip is a fail.

Sabrina says: So you basically apologize for not having more time to explain on The Today Show and then you cut and paste a comment so that others could make fun of fatal food allergies, as if they were a fad? So which is it are we suppose to ask about what’s in the food or not? I didn’t think there was anything wrong with her statement. I hope your proud of yourself! It’s people like you that my daughter cries almost every day. How about this…GO FUCK YOURSELF off a short bridge and get a REAL JOB!

Oh, Sabrina. Dear, sweet, addle-brained dumb as a box of hair, Sabrina. Yes, I did apologize to some people for not having time to further explain my stance on allergies but I also gave the opportunity to make fun of Jennifer. It’s what I do. But I want to dissect your comment more. I believe you meant to say “I hope you’re proud of yourself” and not “your.” And I am proud of myself. Very proud. And it’s people like me that your daughter cries almost every day? I don’t get that sentence. Are you in the habit of letting her be babysat by jaded middle-aged men who wear aprons for a living because if that is the case, you need a new fucking nanny service. My favorite nonsensical part of your comment is that I should go fuck myself off a short bridge. Again, I don’t get it. Pull the peanut-free nuts out of your ass and try to make some fucking sense. And “get a real job?” That is the most tired argument ever and I can’t go over it again.

Finally, Liz had this to say: Your comment this morning on the Today Show regarding allergies being annoying was completely insensitive. My daughter might die from eating a food with no nuts in the ingredients, but that has been cross-contaminated with nuts in the kitchen. Most deaths resulting from ingestion of an allergen in a restaurant are due to the diner not informing the waiter/restaurant of the food allergy so that they can take the proper precautions. You have misled the viewers of the Today Show and should recant your statement.

I never said allergies were annoying. Read the fucking transcript, Liz. What’s annoying is when people order crap that they are allergic to and they don’t bother to read the menu to see if their allergen is in the dish. I’m sorry your daughter might die if she eats something nutty and delicious. I don’t think I misled the viewers of the Today Show, but I would love a chance to recant my statement. Luckily for me, Matt Lauer gave me his cell phone number yesterday so as soon as I post this blog, I am going to text him and tell him that Liz wants me to come back on the show. Savannah also gave me her cell phone, but I kinda got a flirting vibe from Matt so I’ll reach out to him. Look for me on the show tomorrow. I’m sure it will be no problem to get back on. Thanks for the great idea, Liz. You’re smart.

Overall, the comments about the Today show were overwhelmingly positive. It was a lot of fun for me and the whole crew at the show were so nice. I am happy I got to do it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go bathe in peanuts and make myself a gluten smoothie. Suck it, allergens.


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A Comment on Comments

A Comment on Comments

A Comment on Comments

In a post called Sad Unwanted Child at Booth 16, I described the scene as two parents seemed to be giving much more attention to their newborn baby than the five year old boy who was also a part of the family. It was oddly satisfying for me to see some parents who cared about their child as little as I do, yet sad at the same time. The comment section turned into a debate about breastfeeding for some reason, but one comment stood out on its own. Ashley had this to say:

I do care about babies. Why are most of the servers on here mostly complaining? I for one love my job, even the assholes. They show me that my life may not be perfect, but at least I’m happy. The fact that the other child was described as neglected, I would have called child services.

Ashley, most of the servers on this site who complain are here for that very purpose. It’s called The Bitchy Waiter, you know? I am happy you love your job and how wonderful for you that whenever you see an asshole it reminds you to be happy. Whenever I see an asshole I just think of anal bleaching, but that’s just me. As for your thought that you would have called child services in the case of the neglected child, I think that’s a great idea. Maybe it would go something like this:

Child Protective Services: Child Protective Services, can I help you?

Ashley: Umm, yeah. I’d like to report a child that needs protectiveness because he is, like, totally being all disrespected and shit and totally neglected

CPF: Alright and your name?

A: Um, I’m Ashley and I will be your server today.

CPF: Thank you, Ashley. And where is this child right now?

A: Um, he’s at Table 16.

CPF: Table 16?

A: Yeah, in my restaurant. He’s at Table 16 and his parents are being all rude to him and ignoring him. Like they are all drooling over their new baby and this kid is not getting any attention whatsoever and it’s like totally sad and bumming me out.

CPF: And what is the child doing right now?

A: Eating macaroni and cheese.

CPF: Eating macaroni and cheese?

A: Yeah, but they ordered it without bacon and it’s way better with bacon and I think that’s gotta be like some kinda child abuseness so you’d better send some foster parents over here right away.

CPF: So let me understand: the child is in a restaurant and eating macaroni and cheese with his family?

A: Yeah.

CPF: And you think the parents are paying more attention to their other child?

A: Yeah.

CPF: And you called Child Protective Services because you feel this is a case of neglect.

A: Yeah. So when will the foster parents get here, because my shift is over in about an hour?

CPF: Miss, I don’t think this is a severe case of neglect.

A: Well, he was sitting under the table all alone for like ten minutes.

CPF: That’s not really neglect.

A: Well, did I mention that they ordered his mac and cheese with no bacon?

CPF: Yes, you did.

A: Well, I rest my case then. And his shirt looks dirty and he looks like he needs to blow his nose. And I think they’re gonna use a coupon and that tells me that the parents are cheap and therefore more than likely not buying this kid any toys.

CPF: Does the child look like he has been beaten or does he seem afraid of his parents?

A: I can’t tell right now, he’s playing with an iPad. As soon as he puts it down, I’ll go look and see if I can find any bruises.

CPF: Miss-

A: You can call me Ashley.

CPF: Ashley, this child does not seem in need of our services.

A: Really? Cause it’s like the parents like the other kid way better and I just wanted to do my part to help the children. I do care about the babies.

CPF: I’m hanging up now, Miss.

A: You can call me Ashley.


A: Hello?


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