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This Woman Had a Very Trying Time at TGI Fridays

theresaEvery couple of weeks or so, I scroll through the Facebook pages of various restaurants to see if there are any commenters who are in need of my advice or wisdom. Many times, I discover someone who is need of support, for they have gone through something that no human being should have to endure. Today, I need us all to grasp hands and send out some positive energy to Theresa who went to a TGI Fridays in Jacksonville, Florida and had something horrible happen. No, I’m not talking about her order of loaded potato skins that didn’t have enough load on them. I’m not referring to the crispy chicken fingers that tasted like freezer burn. I’m not even referencing the crispy green bean fries that tasted too much like green bean and not enough like fry. While Theresa was at the restaurant, she looked out the window and saw a rat. Yes, outside of the restaurant, she saw a rat. No, the rat wasn’t climbing on her table and asking for a sip of her Crown Apple Cooler. The rat wasn’t underneath the booth gnawing on a baby back rib bone. The rat wasn’t even in the restaurant. It was outside. You know, where rats live. When she told her server about it he told her, “at least it’s outside.” Truer words have never been spoken.

Y’all, Theresa needs a prayer circle right now, for she looked outside and saw something that belongs outside. Who knows what else she spotted while looking out the window. Maybe a tree or a cloud? Or maybe even a bird. My, God, a bird might be out there! I hope when Theresa left, all of the TGI Fridays team gathered around her and created a human shield to protect her as she walked to her car. I hope they gave her a sanit rag to use as a blindfold so her eyes were not assaulted by any other horrific images of things that happen outside. Like a leaf or another car.

“Look out, Theresa! Wind! And the blindfold isn’t going to help you because wind is invisible!!”

After she got past the horror, Theresa went to the TGI Fridays Facebook page to alert them of this experience. Because, you know, the people who run the TGI Fridays Facebook page are going to be able to do something about a rat that she saw several hour earlier. Oh, wait, no they can’t. They are not able to zoom on over to Jacksonville, Florida to investigate the appearance of a rat doing his thing. All they can do is offer her a gift card to come back. Which is probably what they will do. And Theresa will go back because she cannot resist the lure of warm pretzels with craft beer-cheese. She will venture out again, taking the chance that she might see something while looking out a window.

Here is my advice for Theresa: if you don’t want to see what’s happening outside the window, then don’t sit next to a window. Problem solved. Let’s just hope the rat stays outside and isn’t going to be smothered in a Jack Daniels glaze and tossed on top of a piece of flatbread.

Woman Claims Sexual Assault for Asinine Reason

A woman named Isabelle Lassiter and her family went to have dinner at a hibachi restaurant in Tennessee and ended up having a miserable time when she was “sexually assaulted” by the chef. No, the chef didn’t feel her up or expose himself or even flip a shrimp into her privates. He simply used a water toy that looks like a little boy and when the little boy’s pants were pulled down, it squirted water. When that water got on her face she freaked out claiming sexual assault because the only person who is allowed to pee directly on her face is her husband. The husband, feeling intimidated by a 4” piece of plastic that shoots a more steady stream than he does, sprung into action demanding a refund for their meal and saying he would call the police if they didn’t do it.

Well, the restaurant was all, “Umm, are you fucking serious here?”

They were serious and the cops were called.

“He pulled his little shorts down and it had a ‘wanger’ and he squirted me right in the face,” said the woman who clearly does not know what a “wanger” looks like.Screen Shot 2016-07-27 at 10.46.32 AMIf she thinks that looks like a penis, my condolences go out to her husband who definitely got the short end of the cock. Now I know why he was so intimidated by the massive 4” “pee-pee boy.”

“To do that to somebody’s mother while they are sitting at the table!” said Lassitter. Again, being peed on the face is something that should be done in the privacy of ones home and not while sitting at a hibachi restaurant.

Isabelle Lassitter was peed upon.

Isabelle Lassitter was peed upon.

A police report was filed, but no one was arrested for this heinous crime.

What we have here is a case of someone trying to get some free food. I’m surprised she didn’t lay her face on the grill and claim that she didn’t know it was hot and then demand a free dessert. No word on if they got their food comped, but we do know that from now on, the chefs will use the toy at request only. Yes, just because one woman was so uptight about this simple toy, now no one else will have the pleasure of being sprayed on by the pee-pee boy. Meanwhile, Louise and her husband will continue their quest to file ridiculous police reports about stupid shit. And the next time her husband pees on her face at home, they’ll laugh and laugh about that time they were on the news for making a big deal about such a small wanger. And then they will cry because they are both stuck with his penis that looks like that of a 4” pee-pee boy.

Woman Eats Own Hand at Diner

breaking-newsAn elderly woman in Amboy, Indiana is in stable condition after reportedly eating her own hand while at a restaurant. Reports say that Ruby Thomas, 84, was at a local diner when the incident occurred. After sitting at the table for approximately 4-5 minutes without receiving the customary complimentary bread basket, Thomas took matters into her own hands. Literally.

“The waiter never brought me a bread basket and I was starving,” said the woman. “What choice did I have? My blood sugar was dropping and with this heat dome happening, I didn’t want to take any chances that I might pass out.”

Her waiter, 23-year-old Curt Spencer, was reportedly out of the dining room at the time of the self-cannibalization. “I was just in the bathroom for a little bit. I didn’t even know she had been seated. I come out and I see this old lady eating her own hand and I’m all, damn, that bitch is hungry!”

Paramedics were called to the scene as well as a bus boy. As she was being wheeled out on a gurney, she was heard griping about the slow service and threatening to never come back again. Cashier, Emily Bloom says this is not the first time she has made this claim. “Every week she comes in her and complains about something and every week she tells us she’s never coming back. Maybe this time she means it. I mean, I dunno how she’s even gonna feed herself now.”

Thomas is expected to recover although she now only has two fingers and half a thumb. No word on how much the busser was tipped to clean up the extra mess.

You can read the whole story here.

When One of Your Regulars Dies

Sad-manI arrive to work and the first thing my manager tells me is, “Did you hear that Morgan died?”

“Who’s Morgan?” I ask.

“The man who comes in all the time with his wife.”

“Which one?”

“The Irish guy.”

Which Irish guy?” (My neighborhood is full of ‘Irish guys.”)

“Him and his wife were here on Christmas Eve and she got mad at you for asking them to leave, remember?”

I do remember. That was the night he first introduced himself to me after being his server for many years. He was very nice, as opposed to his wife who got upset with me that night when I let them know that we had been closed for thirty minutes and I wanted to be home to enjoy my Christmas Eve dinner. In all fairness, they had paid their check 40 minutes earlier, they were the only ones in the restaurant for over an hour and she knew we were closing early that night. I think about how frustrated I was at her that night and now I feel nothing but sadness for her because she lost her husband of 30 years.

The bartender hears the news and is as shocked as I am. “He was just here last Sunday and he introduced himself to me. He shook my hand and told me ‘thank you for your service and thank you for your friendship.’ I can’t believe he’s gone.”

I saw Morgan two weeks earlier when he came in alone as he was wont to do. His wife joined him a bit later and it was the first time I had seen her since our awkward Christmas Eve conversation. Everything was fine that night and we went back to the relationship we had had for so many years before. This night, as I stand at work and watch customer after customer sit at Table 7, it makes me sad to know that I will never see him sit there in his usual spot.

According to his obituary, Morgan was only 59 years old. He had just retired in November to pursue his lifelong dream of writing screenplays, a passion he had always held, but put on the back burner as every day life took over. He was only ten years older than me and he was just finally getting around to working on his dream. And now it’s too late for him. Morgan always left me a very good tip, but now he has left me with something much, much better: a reminder to make every day count. His obituary quotes him as saying, “The great thing about living is living. Maximize every day.” That is what I want to take away from my time with this regular. I want to remember that every day is precious and that we should use every moment of our lives to pursue what makes us happy. Morgan never seemed unhappy, even when his wife was upset with me for wanting to enjoy my Christmas Eve. By all accounts, he was a happy person. But knowing that he didn’t get to become the successful screenwriter that he always wanted to become makes me want to try even harder to make my dreams come true. We should all learn this lesson from Morgan. We need to recognize that we are not guaranteed a “tomorrow” and by putting off our dreams, we might never get the chance to make them happen. That doesn’t mean you won’t be happy, but in my final hours I want to know that I died trying.

Thank you for the tip, Morgan. Rest in peace. You will be missed.

How To Get Fired in 140 Characters or Less

Cn96WWJWcAADYaOYet another server has fallen victim to the lure of ranting on social media and this time it cost her her job. Greeley, Colorado waitress Megan Olson got fed up after being stiffed one too many times and rather than accepting that that’s how it goes in the world of waiting tables, she took to Twitter and spit out some hate speak. “If I had a real life purge I would kill as many Mexicans as I could in on night #learnhowtotipyoufuckingtwats.” Needless to say, it did not go over well. When the Tweet became public, The Texas Roadhouse she worked at quickly asked her to get the fuck out.

After she pulled her tail out from between her legs, she wrote an apology on her Facebook page:

I wrote hurtful, inconsiderate, insensitive and careless words and I understand the amount of people I have offended by that. There are no excuses for what I have done. I sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, apologize to everyone for my momentary lack of judgement. I want you all to know that I do not actually feel this way.

People, people, people, when you will you learn? If you are going to say horrible things on social media about your customers, nine times out of ten, you’re going to get fired for it. (Apparently, I am the exception to that rule. Do as I say, not as I do, alright?) Megan learned a valuable lesson and I would imagine she will have a hard time finding another job for a while. Nowadays, I bet the first thing an employer does when looking at a potential new hire is Google them and now Megan gets to see this story in her Google search. On the bright side, I’m sure she can always apply for a job at Donald Trump’s campaign. I hear he’s looking for volunteers to build a wall between the United States and Mexico and I bet Megan would jump at the opportunity. Good luck, girl.

side note: I’ve been to Greeley, Colorado and the whole town pretty much smells like shit. I don’t remember why, but it just does. Or at least it did when I was there in the late 1980‘s. Megan’s attitude fits right in.

4 Times It’s 100% OK to Not Give a Damn About Your Customer

helpful-waitressTime and time again, we have it drilled into our heads that we servers are there to satisfy every whim and need that our customers may come up with. Yes, we are there to serve and it is our aim to please. After all, we like to believe that the better the service, the better the tip, but we all know that isn’t necessarily the truth. How many times have we made sure our service was spot on only to see a measly 10% tip scrawled onto the tip line? We always want to give our customers the impression that we care about them even though, more often than not, we don’t. After all these years of wearing an apron at my job, I have learned that there are a few times it truly does not matter if we care or not. When these instances come up, slap on your phoniest smile and think to yourself, “Yeah. I don’t give a damn.”

When the same customer complains about the same thing every time they come in. We all know these people. I have a woman who comes in every two or three weeks and always orders the hamburger. And every single time, she tells me, “I guess I’ll try the burger again even though they always over-cook it. I dunno why I I keep trying because it’s never good.” You know what, lady? I dunno why either. If the burger consistently disappoints you, maybe you should order something else. Or better yet, take your ass to Burger King where they say “we will hold the pickles, hold the lettuce, special orders don’t upset us.” If the food is always a problem for you and never a problem for anyone else, maybe you’re the problem. Yeah, I don’t give a damn.

When someone is complaining about the sun being too bright. These are people who just need a reason to complain. If they are sitting next to a window and can’t handle the inconvenience of sun, maybe they should pop a couple of extra Vitamin D and crawl back into their coffin until the sun sets. We can adjust the blinds for them if the sun is shining directly into their face, but let’s not forget that the sun is the very thing that keeps us alive and if it comes down to me having to decide between a life-giving ball of energy or a dried up twat who wears her sunglasses 24 hours a day, I vote for the sun. Yeah, I don’t give a damn.

When a customer is in a very big hurry. Time management is an issue for a lot of people and just because you have something to do that starts in twenty minutes doesn’t mean I am going to ask the kitchen to cook your food before anyone else’s. When I worked in Times Square, every night someone would run in and show me their tickets to the Broadway musical they were about to see and ask me to rush their food. The thing was though, almost everyone in the restaurant had tickets to see a Broadway show. The only difference was that other people made better use of their time. I will certainly do my best to get your food as quickly as possible (believe me, I can’t wait for you to get your ass out of my sight), but I’m not going to do it at the expense of someone who knows how time works. Yeah, I don’t give a damn.

If someone is upset by the behavior of another customer. This one is tricky, because more often than not, I am going to agree. If Table 9 complains to me about the screaming brat at Table 11, I will concur that the child is being a nuisance and should have a dirty sanit towel stuffed into its mouth. However, if I were to take the dirty sanit towel and stuff it into the mouth of the child, there is a pretty good chance my tip will suffer for that. Is it my responsibility to tell a person that someone else wants them to change their behavior? While it is my job to make the dining experience as pleasant as possible for my customers, it is not my job to dispense parental advice. Maybe I will agree with Table 9 and encourage them to go address the issue themselves. Or better yet, maybe I will tell my manager to deal with it because that’s why he gets paid the “big bucks.” Basically, yeah, I don’t give a damn.

And please remember it is completely alright to not give a damn as long as your face gives the impression that you do give a damn. The wonderful thing about our brains is that we can think whatever we want and no one has to know the truth. As long as we smile at our customer, express empathy and offer assistance, they will never know that inside our head all we are hearing is the sound of a big booming voice yelling though a megaphone proudly exclaiming, “Yeah, I don’t give a damn!”