An Open Letter To Guys Who Get Pissed When Their Waitress Won’t Give Out Her Phone Number

Dear Men,

Your waitress is not required to give you her phone number just because you ask for it. Maybe you think she is so totally into you because when you asked for extra Ranch dressing she brought you two ramekins instead of one. She did not bring you that extra dressing because she wants to take a ride on your fried cheese stick. She brought you that extra dressing because she judged your gloober globber ass and could tell that one extra ramekin of Ranch wasn’t going to be enough for you and she was saving herself a second trip. Servers, by definition, are there to be nice to you. We try to smile as often as we can because it will give the impression that we are happy to serve you and that we are enjoying what we are doing. Don’t get me wrong, we aren’t always miserable at work, but even when we are, we tend to put a smile on our face. If we don’t, someone will inevitably say that we should smile more so we can make better tips. (Nine times out of ten, that someone will be a man telling that to a female server and then as soon as the woman does crack a smile, either the man is going to think she’s into him, or his girlfriend or wife is going to think that her man is being hit on right in front of her.)

But back to the phone number. If you feel like you and your waitress are hitting it off, it’s fine to ask for her number. Go ahead. After all, maybe the two of you are soulmates and you both felt that spark of attraction when your hands touched each other as she handed you a bread basket. You’ll never know if you don’t ask. However, if you ask for her number and she respectfully declines, it’s up to you be a gentleman about it and accept the truth: she doesn’t want you to call her. Maybe she has a boyfriend or a girlfriend, or maybe she doesn’t mix business with pleasure or maybe the way you sucked all the meat off that chicken wing told her everything she needs to know about what it would be like to make out with you. Deal with it. For whatever reason, she does not want to give you her number.

Your correct response is this: “Okay, cool, can’t blame me for trying, right? Have a good night.”

The incorrect response is any of these:

  • Calling her a bitch.
  • Assuming she’s a lesbian.
  • Not leaving a tip because your feel like your manhood was questioned and your teeny tiny set of balls just shriveled up with embarrassment and went inside your body like a turtle going into its shell.
  • Regressing to third grade and drawing a picture of a dick on the receipt where you are supposed to sign your name. (If you are going to draw a picture of a dick on your receipt, at least make sure you are a good artist. The above picture is very poor and makes me wonder what your penis actually looks like. I mean, are your testicles really horizontal to the shaft? And why are they so small in relation to the length and girth of the rod? Did your circumcision go horribly wrong? Why is it lumpy?)

Look guys, your waitress is not obligated to give you her phone number. If you ask for it and she says no, be a real man, grow the fuck up and deal with it.

Mustard and mayo,
The Bitchy Waiter

p.s. At least the guy in the photo still left a tip. That means he’s not a total dick. He just likes to draw them.

Dine and Dashers Steal $645. Let’s Find Them!

If there is one thing I hate more than anything, it’s people who dine and dash. Too many times, the restaurant makes the server accept responsibility for these lying, thieving asshole customers and it’s not fair. (It’s also illegal, but we know that silly little things like laws don’t always matter in the restaurant world.)

According to Munchies, on New Year’s Eve at a Russian restaurant called Chinar on Staten Island, four pieces of scum peeled themselves off of some murky pond water and went to dinner where they racked up a $645 bill. When the time came for them to pay their bill, they decided it wasn’t necessary and hopped on into their silver SUV and left. This, after picking up their coats at the coat check where they probably stiffed the coatcheck girl too.

Well, the NYPD would like to find these three women and one man four pieces of shit so they can have some words with them. Thankfully, there is surveillance video and I am more than happy to share it until the cows come home. If anyone knows any of these deadbeats, please call the Crime Stoppers Hotline at 1-800-577- TIPS (8477) or fill out an anonymous form on the Crime Stoppers website. You can even send a text to 274637 (CRIMES) and use the code TIP577.

Let’s bust these sorry excuses for human beings. If you don’t have enough money to pay for your meal (and leave a decent tip) then don’t go out to a restaurant. We don’t need you there and we would rather use our time, energy and tables for customers who are going to pay for their food and tip us for doing a job well done.

Share this, so that we can be a part of sending these losers to jail. Let’s do this.

Restaurant Owner Thinks Immigrants Make America Great

There has been a lot of talk about immigrants and immigration in this country lately and no matter how you feel about our current president’s views, I am pretty sure that all of us in the restaurant industry can agree on one thing: without immigrants our restaurants would be in a sorry state. I challenge you to find one restaurant that doesn’t have at least one employee that was born in a country other than the United States. Legal or illegal, every restaurant I have ever worked in has had an employee, usually a dishwasher or busser, who was new to this country and they were just thankful to have a job. After all, it’s not like anyone at the Houlihan’s I worked in was dying to have Keebee’s position. He was from Africa and spoke very broken English, but he busted his ass in that dish room and always had a smile on his face. It says a lot about him that I haven’t worked there in almost twenty years, but I still remember him. He was a hard worker and I hope he’s doing well now.

A restaurant in Brooklyn recently made a stir when the owner had a message printed at the bottom of the receipt. Unlike most places that simply say “have a nice day” or “thank you for coming in,” this restaurant receipt said “Immigrants make America great (they also cooked your food and served you today). The restaurant is called Kiwiana and is owned by Chef Mark Simmons, himself an immigrant from New Zealand. A photo of the receipt was tweeted out by NBC News contributor Mary Emily O’Hara and quickly received over 90,000 retweets and 245,000 likes. That amount of interaction tells me that plenty of people fully agree with the sentiment of the receipt.

I don’t have any desire to get political on this blog. This is a place for us to share our common feelings about this job we have taken upon ourselves. However, I hope that we can all applaud this restaurant owner for reminding so many people that the vast majority of immigrants in this country are here striving for the same things that those of us who were born here strive for: success, happiness and a job that will give us the opportunity to reach our goals. At my restaurant, if we only kept the people who were born in this country, we would lose two thirds of our staff. We would have no one in the kitchen and there would only be two servers and one bartender left. The owner of the restaurant is Chinese and I’m not sure if he was born here, but I’m sure that his parents weren’t.

This country relies on immigrants and our restaurants rely on them even more. I’m all for making America great, but I feel that it’s already pretty great to begin with. And we owe a lot of that greatness to those who came from other countries.

8 Things I Care About More Than Beyoncé’s Pregnancy

Unless you have been hiding in the walk-in for over twenty-four hours, you probably heard by now that Beyoncé is pregnant with twins. For those of you who don’t know who Beyoncé is, what in fresh hell is wrong with you? She is the most important person on this earth right ahead of Jose Cuervo and Barefoot Contessa. It seems that when she made her pregnancy announcement, the whole Twitterverse pretty much exploded and the Internet almost needed to take a sick day. Well, I am here to announce that unless she plans on having those twins in my section at work and I will have to tip the busser an extra five bucks to clean up the holy Beyoncé placenta and afterbirth, I don’t care. At all. In fact, here are ten things I care about more than the two parasites in her belly who are sponging off her for nine months.

  1. There is a ball of used Kleenex on Table 9 that a customer who had a cold left at her table. I care more about that Kleenex than I do about Beyoncé’s pregnancy.
  2. A man once told me his entire life story about growing up near the Grand Canyon because I told him I visited there when I was in high school. I care more about that man’s boring ass story than I do about Beyoncé’s pregnancy.
  3. Under Table 16, there is a wad of chewing gum that has been there for at least two weeks. I care more about that crappy piece of Hubba Bubba than I do about Beyoncé’s pregnancy
  4. The restroom needs more toilet paper, but I couldn’t find any so I pretended to not notice. I care more about how people will wipe their asses than I do about Beyonce’s pregnancy.
  5. Our soup of the day is Carrot Ginger and I think it tastes too sweet and when the chef garnishes it with poppy seeds, it looks like a mouse pooped in the soup. I care more about that soup than I do about Beyoncé’s pregnancy.
  6. The mop head at work is really dirty and needs to be changed, but it’s such a hassle to change it. I care more about the cleanliness of the restaurant floor than I do about Beyoncé’s pregnancy.
  7. One time I saw a kid flick a booger onto his sister and it landed in her hair as she was eating mac and cheese. No one knew it except me and that little boy. I care more about how that booger got rinsed out her hair than I do about Beyoncé’s pregnancy.
  8. Mr. and Mrs. Goldbaum come into the restaurant about once a week and they have a combined age of about 150 years old. They get on my nerves and complain about everything. They always make a huge mess and when I see them heading toward my section, my heart dies a little. I care more about their salt intake than I do about Beyoncé’s pregnancy.

We get it, Beyoncé. You’re pregnant. It’s not like God reached down and touched you and you’ll be giving birth in a manger or anything. Women get pregnant every day. Congratulations…you caught a hot load from Jay Z. There are plenty of us who don’t care. (By the way, Mrs. Carter. You can click here to buy my book.)

This Is Why You Should Sit Where We Tell You

A 89-year-old woman was taken to the hospital for injuries sustained when her Fitbit exploded on her wrist in a restaurant in Willard, Ohio. Betty Walker went to have lunch at Bab’s Burger Barn this week, as she had every day for the last thirteen years, but things did not go as planned. She was wearing her Fitbit, a gift given to her by her oldest grandson. Although she does not know how it works or what it does, she wore it because it matched her track suit. Betty got to the restaurant at approximately 1:15 and was seated immediately at Table 9. However, the table was not to her liking, so she began wandering around the restaurant trying to find a better place.

“I don’t know why they put me at that table,” she says. “It was way too close to the toilets and the sun was shining in my eyes. So I got up to find another table.”

At 3:30, she was still walking around trying to find the perfect place to eat her half sandwich and cup of soup along with a cup of hot water she had ordered because she brought her own tea bag. Waitress Kendall Adear, 24, was very frustrated with the senior citizen.

“She wouldn’t sit the fuck down. Every time she’d find a place to sit, she’d unwrap the silverware and touch everything on the freaking table and then thirty seconds later, she was up looking for another place to sit. I mean, doesn’t she know the food tastes the
same no matter where she sits? I can’t stand that woman.”

After over two hours of constantly walking, the Fitbit on her right wrist began to smoke. Betty, thinking it was just some toast burning in the kitchen, ignored the acrid smell and because of her severe cataracts, she did not notice the smoke billowing from her own arm. It appears that the Fitbit was not used to having more than 30-50 steps per day and this day, as she went from table to table to table, she reached over 100,000 steps. The Fitbit simply could not take the strain and eploded.

Says Adear, “She was like a mad woman, walking all over the damn place. And when that Fitbit started smoking, the first thing I did was dump a pitcher of water on her. I made it look like I was trying to help her, but really I just wanted to pour water on her. It felt great for me.”

After the Fitbit exploded, Betty fell to the ground, coincidentally right next to Table 9 where she had begun her 100,000 step journey. A busboy doused her with a fire extinguisher. Adear also took the fire extinguisher and accidentally dropped it on the woman’s head. “I swear to god it was an accident,” claims the waitress.

Paramedics were called and she was taken to Mercy Hospital where she was treated and released. As she was being placed on the gurney, she screamed at her waitress to wrap up her soup and sandwich and asked for extra bread. She also requested that her hot tea be placed in a to-go cup.

The next day, Betty showed up again for her lunch. This time she was seated at Table 24 and it seemed adequate enough. She stayed there throughout the course of her entire lunch.

“I’ll never wear that Fitbit again, “says Betty. “I’ll tell you that much. It ruined my favorite tracksuit.”

Man Wants Applebee’s to Change Their Policy

Attention everyone who works at Applebee’s or any other restaurant in the world where it is your job to encourage your customers to buy more food because a restaurant is a business that relies on making a profit: Bill wants you to change your policy and stop trying to sell food!!

At a recent trip to Applebee’s, Bill experienced the dreaded “upsell.” After enjoying his salad and water, his server performed the customary action of trying to convince him to buy dessert. Bill did not like that, claiming that since he just had salad and water, it should be obvious he does not want dessert. Never mind that maybe he ate salad and drank water with the sole intention of blowing his Weight Watchers points on a piece of cheesecake…

Bill, it’s our job to try to get you to buy stuff. Maybe you thought the only reason a restaurant ever opens is to give you the opportunity to come fill your gut with prepackaged food that you don’t have to microwave yourself. Nope. A restaurant opens for the owners of it to make money. And servers want you to buy as much as possible because the more you buy, the more we make in tips (theoretically.) That’s why when you ask for a vodka cranberry your server will usually say something like, “Oh would you prefer Kettle One or Grey Goose?” We don’t want you to settle on McCormick bottom shelf vodka. We want to add a dollar or two to your check. That’s called doing business.

Have you ever been to Best Buy and bought an electronic? Did they try to convince you to buy the extended warranty or tell you that a certain cord is better than the cord you currently have? Upsell!

Have you ever bought a new car and had the salesperson tell you how much nicer the car would be with leather seats instead of vinyl? Upsell!

Have you ever bought a gym membership (probably not…) and it was only $1.99 a month but if you wanted to come in at a time other than midnight to 3:00 AM it would bump up the cost to $25 a month? Or maybe if you want to use towels or the steam room, you pay an additional fee? Upsell!

It’s the way of the world, Bill. In the future, if your server is doing their job and offers you cheesecake when you don’t want it, I have a suggestion for you: