Proof that Waiters and Waitresses Are Great People

The Story of Guppy

The Story of Guppy

Hello, My name is Guppy and I am a stuffed panda. My best friend in the whole entire world is a little girl named Hyra and I love her so much. She is three years old and we have been together ever since she was a baby. We do everything together; we eat together and take naps together and one time we took a bath together, but since I’m a stuffed animal it didn’t work out too good for me and Hyra’s mommy had to put me in the dryer which made me very very dizzy and hot. I go to all of her doctor’s appointments with her and I was with her when she took her first step.

A couple of weeks ago we went on vacation to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina and we had so much fun until one day when the most awful thing that could ever happen happened. We went to IHOP. Well, going to IHOP wasn’t awful, but what happened there was. When Hyra and her mommy and daddy were finished eating, they got up to leave and they forgot me. I had fallen onto the floor (which was a little bit sticky with syrup) and they forgot all about me.

“Wait!” I was saying. “What about me? Please don’t leave me here! I’m under the table!” I was saying it as loud as I could, but the only person who can ever hear me is Hyra and I guess she was just too excited about going to the beach to hear me. I heard their car drive away and there I was, laying in a puddle of syrup, crying because I thought I would never see my best friend again.

A few minutes later, a nice waitress named Debi Jean found me and picked me up. She ran outside to see if she could find my family, but they were already gone. How could Hyra forget about me? And how was she going to be able to sleep tonight without me being there to protect her from the monster in the closet and the one under the bed? And how was I going to sleep without her being there to cuddle with me and keep me warm? I started to cry as I thought about Hyra being all alone.

“Well, shoot,” said Debi Jean. “I can tell that this little panda bear is well loved and someone is going to miss him dearly.”

And then she got an idea. She set me on the table and pulled her phone out of her apron. “Smile,” she told me. “I’m gonna take your picture.” I tried to smile but it was too hard because my heart was breaking. She carried me back to her locker to set me down and said, “Don’t you worry, little panda. I have a plan.”

That night, Debi Jean put my picture on her Facebook page; “Please share this photo so we can find its owner. All we know is she is 4 yrs old, from NC, and it was left at the Myrtle Beach IHOP while they were on vacation last week.”




Well, a couple of days passed by, but nothing was happening. It seemed more and more likely that I would never see my little girl again. Maybe she had already forgotten about me.

Then Debi Jean had another idea. “I’m gonna ask Bitchy Waiter to share it on his Facebook page. He has thousands and thousands of people on his page and maybe if he shares it, I can find the owner of this little panda bear.” So she sent it to him and even he calls himself Bitchy, he shared Debi Jean’s picture of me and he asked people to share it too. Well, suddenly it was hared over 6,000 times! Surely any day now, someone would see my picture and realize that I belong to Hyra. Debi Jean had a box all ready to mail me back home as soon as she got an address. I was a little bit scared to go into the box, but if it meant I would be back with Hyra, I was willing to do it.

And then one day, Debi Jean got a message from Hyra’s parents and they had seen the photo! They told her that Hyra had been heartbroken without me but now I was going to get to go back home! Debi Jean gave me a hug and put me inside the box. I thought I was going to be scared of the dark but all I had to do was think of Hyra’s smile and it made me not scared anymore. It only took a couple of days to get home and the next thing I knew, the box was opened and I saw Hyra’s mommy smiling at me.

“Hyra, come here. I’ve got a surprise for you!” she said.

I hear her footsteps coming towards me and then I saw my little girl run into the kitchen. I know it had only been a couple of weeks, but it looked like she had grown at least a few inches. She ran over to me and gave me the biggest hug I have ever had in my whole life. I hugged her back and whispered in her ear, “I don’t ever want to be away from you again. I love you and you are my best friend!”

Hyra carried me back to her room and I know that she will never leave me behind again. Thank you to Debi Jean at IHOP, The Bitchy Waiter (who must not really be that bitchy) and to everyone else who helped me get back home to my little girl, Hyra. We will live happily ever after.

I hope IHOP knows what a great person Debi Jean is. Maybe if you all went to their Facebook page and shared this story, they will know!


Best friends forever.

Best friends forever.



All Ranch Dressing Restaurant to Open; Springs1 Explodes

Ranch dressing!

Ranch dressing!

Somewhere in this world, Springs1 just had to change her panties because she squirted all over them when she heard about a new restaurant opening in St Louis called Twisted RAnCh where it’s a Ranch dressing bukkake party up in there all the time.

Jim Hayden and Chad Allen are opening the restaurant in June and according to the website every single thing on the menu uses the “fastest growing condiment and best-selling salad dressing.” That’s right, it’s “always fresh, always delicious and always twisted with Ranch.” Of course it will be a huge success because Ranch dressing. Now if they can only figure out a way to make every table in the restaurant a booth that has it’s own control for the air conditioning and the music that plays, no one will ever want to leave.

The menu proclaims they have 18 different varieties of Ranch dressing which is about 17 more than I knew existed. I’ll be honest here and admit that Cheesy Bacon Ranch awakens a part of my brain that hasn’t been used since 1984 when I would go to Mr. Gatti’s in high school and dip my pepperoni slice into a cup of Ranch dressing. I’m not proud of that behavior, but it’s in my past. The restaurant also has one called Southwest Ranch that must have jalepenos in it and I don’t even want to know what’s in the Thai Ranch. Perusing their menu, I see a few things that I would be willing to taste provided they have a full bar for me to wash it down with. Fried Pickle Chips breaded in ranch-seasoned panko and served with chipotle ranch? Yes. Chicken Bacon Flatbread on a ranch-seasoned crust topped with ranch white sauce, chicken, bacon and Mozzarella cheese? Yes, please. Toasted ravioli stuffed with beef and pork and served with marina ranch? Fuck yes, please.

For those of who don’t know who Springs1 is, she is a mysterious crazy lady on the Internet who spouts off insane diatribes about what she believes should be happening in restaurants. Her favorite keys on the keyboard are the cap lock and the exclamation point and she obsesses on Ranch dressing. She has a history of of finding blogs like this one and then commandeering the comments section ranting and raving about how she has been mistreated in restaurants. Her blogs are pure crazy. No one is sure of her true identity, but I have a pretty good idea after some investigative research. When I contacted her to see if she was the illusive Springs1, she denied it, but her comments suddenly stopped appearing on my blog. I also have her blocked now so no matter how hard she tries, she cannot comment on this page. However, I wondered what her thoughts would be on this Ranch dressing restaurant and since I can’t know for certain, I have decided to write what I imagine her thoughts would be:

I HAVE FOUND my favorite restaurant of all time.!1!!1 It’s called Twisted *****RANCH***** and it MAKES my HIDDEN valley moist.!111! (That’s WHAT I CALL MY vagina: hidden valley.)!!11! I CANNOT WAIT to TRY it and even THOUGHT it DOES not open *****UNTIL****** June, I have already looked at the menu and decided what I WILL order: everything.!!1!!!11 Seriously, THIS place sounds so good that I may have to buy a house next DOOR so ****I****** can eat there EVERY day until my arteries get harder THAN my nipples are right now JUST thinking about Cheesy Ranch Potato Bake.!1!!! ******I**** only hope that the ******SERVER**** knows how to treat ME AND *****DOESN’T***** MAKE me MAD.!1!1!! THAT WOULD BE very upsetting because usually IF I ****DON’T**** like *****A**** waiter, I stop GOING to the restaurant, but I WILL never stop going TO this one.!!!11 IT’S ALL Ranch.!1!1! Ummm, HELLO????!??!!! It’s like MY favorite *****FOOD**** of all time and I will do anything to eat at it.!!1!!!! IT’S like my PRAYERS TO Jesus have FINALLY BEEN ******ANSWERED.******!!!111!! June cannot come soon enough.!11!1!


Servers Read Their Own Bad Yelp Reviews

fuck this noise

fuck this noise

Anyone who works in the restaurant industry shares the same feeling about Yelp: it sucks ass. Whiny, self-entitled, pricks of customers who are disappointed with their food or service can log on and let the world know how they feel about their experience.


Behold, real servers, bartenders, managers and cooks read their own bad Yelp reviews. Truly brilliant.


Extra Work Deserves Extra Tip

Yes. Yes indeed.

Yes. Yes indeed.

Maybe I’m wrong, but I believe that extra service deserves an extra tip. If a customer asks me for extra everything and I willingly and obediently comply to all of their requests, then shouldn’t I be rewarded for that extra service that was given? Why, yes. Yes I should.

Two guys come in and sit at Table 15. They look like the kind of guys who would belong to a frat house called Kappa Sigma Douchebag. One of them is wearing a hoodie emblazoned with an image of the #7 train. When I see it, I wonder two things: where would anyone buy something like that and why would anyone wear something like that? The other one has a short thick neck and it appears that his earlobes are attached directly to his shoulders. My waist is most definitely smaller than the circumference of his neck and I am fairly certain that if he were to use my belt for autoerotic asphyxiation, it would be way too small.

No Neck

No Neck

As soon as they sit down they know what they want to drink. “Yo, can we get two margaritas on the rocks with extra salt?”

I tell the bartender about the extra salt request and go back to take their order.

No-Neck tries to tun his head in my direction but finding it too difficult decides to rotate his whole body towards me so he can speak. “I want a hamburger extra well done with extra cheddar and extra onions.”

The subway aficionado grunts out his order as well. “Gimme a cheeseburger too. Well done. Extra cheese and extra pickles. And we ant to start with two orders of the fried shrimp with extra sauce.”

I place their order and go to pick up their margaritas at the bar. Tony has done an exceptional job of rimming the glasses with salt and I feel certain that Mr. and Mr. Frat Boy will be pleased with the amount.

“Is that enough salt for you?” I ask. No Neck looks at the glass by simply casting his eyes downward and attempts to shrug with indifference. The other one says, “It’s alright, it’ll do.” In my mind, there is enough salt on the glass to satisfy the neediest of cattle who are hanging out at a salt lick, but these guys are’t your typical cattle I guess.

They drink the margaritas in a matter of minutes, the straws making that slurping sound they do when there is nothing but ice left in the glass. I bring them their fried shrimp with extra sauce and let them know their burgers will be up in a few more minutes and ask if they’d like another round of drinks. Of course they do.

“Can you make sure they out extra salt on them this time?” implying that it hadn’t been done for the first round.

“Absolutely,” I say through gritted teeth as I make my way to the bar. “Tony, these guys want extra salt and they mean it. Go to town on these glasses, alright?”

Tony picks up two glasses and puts all if his focus on the rims. I watch him slice a lime in half and then coat the glass with the juice. He dips the glasses into the salt container and they come saltier than the Dead Sea. “This ought to do it,” he says.

Extra salt

extra salt


At this point, their burgers are in the window, so I take them the food while Tony finishes the drinks. As I place the burgers on the table, one asks for extra ketchup and I assume that the other will wants some as well so I go get two more ramekins.

“Can I get some mayo?” one of them asks. “And I wanted extra onions too,” he adds. I look at No Neck to see if needs anything else and he is already cramming french fries into his eating hole. When I return with the mayo and onions, No Neck says he too now wants mayo and can he get some extra napkins. I go to get the mayo and napkins and I pick up the drinks on the way. Returning with everything they need, I realize they have asked for extra salt, extra pickles, extra sauce, extra onions, extra ketchup, extra mayo and extra napkins. I proudly set down the margaritas waiting to be thanked for the extraordinary amount of salt that is clinging to the sides of the glasses, but they say nothing except to ask for extra limes.

I wonder what they will tip me and I feel that with all of the extra request and the extra trips I have made to their table, 20% should be a given. When it comes time to give them their check, it is $100.13. Even these boys with heads as thick as tree stumps should be able to figure out 20% of the total. They leave cash on the table and unwedge themselves from the booth and say good night.

On the table is $113. All that extra everything and they can barely come up with a 13% tip. Again, maybe I’m wrong, but I believe that extra service deserves an extra tip.