Category Archives: Michael Cera

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.

The Bitchy Waiter on Twitter.

Another Interaction With a Clueless Celebrity

Clueless Famous Person

Clueless Famous Person

Famous people live by their own set of rules. I don’t believe it’s necessarily because they are all horrible people but because they live in a bubble where people never tell them “no.” They probably surround themselves with “yes men” who are there simply to confirm that every decision they make is a good one even if it’s not. It’s a horrible cycle that continues because famous people are so delusional and the people around them allow it to continue.

I am going out to dinner in Brooklyn to a great place called Buttermilk Channel. They are known for their fried chicken which is served on a waffle, but me, being the purist that I am, can only enjoy fried chicken when it is of the nugget variety so I always opt for a hamburger. It is a Tuesday night and they are slammed as always. There are three of us and we put our name on the list and begin our wait. We are told it will take about fifteen minutes, but I can see that the restaurant is full of two-tops so it’s going to be a while before two two-tops leave at the same time opening up a place to push two tables together for the three of us. The bar is full as well, so we stand on the sidewalk. We are in no hurry and take the time to catch up on our lives and appreciate the late summer weather. After about twenty minutes, I see the hostess come outside with menus in hand but she escorts another group of people to their table. We continue to wait, which is fine. We understand that it is a busy night and people are sitting at all the tables and enjoying their delicious fried chicken. After another twenty minutes, it’s our turn. The hostess leads us to a table in the back of the restaurant and as we walk through the dining room, I habitually survey the situation to see how things appear to be going for those at work. All the tables are full and the servers are busy but smiling. The hostess leads us to our table but right before we get to ours, I notice something unusual. I see a four top-that has only two people at it, a man and a woman, which is a bit surprising seeing how full the restaurant is. That is not the thing that is so unusual though. The two people at the table are playing a game of chess. They have rolled out a portable plastic chess board and are in the middle of some checkmate shit.

“Who the fuck thinks it’s okay to play chess in a busy restaurant?” I ask my friends as we sit down. “And why the hell is the restaurant letting them do that? That’s fucked up.”

We sit down and look at our menus, but the conversation quickly turns back to the Bobby Fischer wannabes at the table next to us. “That’s shitty,” I say again. “They are taking up a four-top to play chess and we waited for a table for forty fuckin’ minutes. Who the hell does that shit?”

“I think I know who the hell does that shit,” says my friend Jane. “Look who that guy is.”

I focus my attention to the guy at the table and I see a young hipster-looking dude who is drinking a cappuccino and holding a rook in his hand as he stares at his rolled out chess board. He looks familiar and I try to recognize where I know him from. “Is he from our neighborhood? Did I used to work with him? Was I his babysitter once? Who is he, how do I know him?”

“Isn’t that the guy from Arrested Development?” says Jane.

“Is it? I can’t tell.”

At this point, Chess King says something to his Chess Queen and I instantly recognize the voice of George-Michael Bluth. Michael Cera is sitting next to us and he is taking up a four-top so that he can play fucking chess.

“We waited for forty minutes so George-Michael could play chess? Awwwww, hell no. Lemme get my phone out and take a picture of this bullshit ’cause this right here is a fucking blog post.”

I reach into my bag and tell my husband to lean over so I can make it look like I am taking a picture of him when really I just want photographic evidence of a celebrity taking advantage of his celebrity.

Michael Cera

Michael Cera

We watch George-Michael finish his game of chess and then we watch him start another game of chess. We are at the restaurant for an hour and when we leave, he is still playing chess. It blows me away that a restaurant would let anyone, no matter how famous they are, take a up a table for that long in a busy restaurant when they aren’t even eating. That’s what Starbucks and your own fucking living room are for. As we leave, I approach someone who works at the restaurant. (I told this person I would not give away their identity.)

“Hi,” I say. “Can I ask you a quick question?”

They oblige.

“I write a blog about waiting tables. It’s called the Bitchy Waiter-”

“Wait, you’re The Bitchy Waiter?? Oh my god, I love that blog!!”

I resist the urge to turn the conversation to more about myself and say, “About that guy playing chess at the table back there.”

The employee’s eyes roll. “Oh, Michael Cera?”

“Yeah, you guys are so busy. What kind of person does that?”

“Someone who has never worked in a restaurant, that’s who.”

I am told that he got there at 6:30 PM. It is now 9:30 PM.

“Did he eat dinner?” I ask.

“He ordered mussels a couple of hours ago.”

I give my business card to the employee and promise them that this will be a blog very soon and leave the restaurant.

Michael Cera has no clue that there was anything wrong with what he was doing. In his world of celebrity, he has made it okay in his brain to use a busy restaurant as his own personal game room No one at the restaurant wanted to tell him that he needed to wrap it up because the restaurant doesn’t want to take the chance of pissing off a famous person and risking that they will never come back again. So the cycle continues. Celebrities make self-involved decisions and no one is willing to tell them otherwise. I did the same thing. I thought about giving him one of my business cards as I walked out so he could read about how his selfish behavior affects others but I didn’t. However, I did write this blog post about him and maybe, if he has a Google alert on himself like I do, he will get an email that will alert him to this blog. If you are reading this, Michael, please pay attention:

It would be fine to take up a table in a restaurant for three or more hours if you were using that table to eat. It is not cool though to sit there and play chess all night making other people have to wait even longer for a table. I suppose it could have been worse though. You could have played Risk or Monopoly and that shit would have taken even longer. No one told you what you were doing was wrong because they didn’t want to upset a famous person. But I am telling you now that it is not cool. If you want to play chess for three hours, do it where everyone else does; at your own home or at Union Square. It’s rude, famous or not, it’s rude.

I hope you will share this so perhaps it will eventually fall into the lap of Michael Cera or one of his people so he can learn the error of his ways.

The Bitchy Waiter on Twitter.