I went out the other night in what was meant to be three or four of us of us at a bar and it quickly turned into eight people who wanted food so “could we find a restaurant instead?” I was not in the mood to go to a restaurant but majority ruled so I sucked it up and went along with the group. We ended up at a sports bar that added salt to my my wound instead of my margarita. Wait, I wanted to go to the piano bar across the street with five dollar frozen drinks and now we are dragging my ass to a freaking sports bar? Come on.
We showed up at a place that was an hour from closing and there were about three people in it. We were those people who showed up when you ready to get the fuck out and we ask for two tables to be pushed together. And then someone in the group uttered those words that make my skin crawl and my face sweat: “can we have separate checks?” I was mortified. But I guess the waitress was used to this request because she didn’t bat an eyelash and said it would be no problem. Out of the eight of us, two people ordered fries. Why did we need to scour the area for a restaurant so two out of eight people could order fries? Why didn’t they just pop their ass into a McDonald’s on the way to a bar? Grrr.
We ordered our drinks and it took fucking forever to get them. I have a lot of patience for servers as you know, but when it is clear that we are your only table and it takes you more than ten minutes to get drinks, I get grumpy. The waitress was really fat. Like The Biggest Loser fat. Like the kind of fat that made her legs cave in resulting in a serious case of the knock-knees. I guess the kneecaps were so tired of supporting 400 pounds of Criscoand carbs that they finally had to lean against each other for support. I looked around to see where Corpulent Connie was with my mother fucking margarita when I saw her huffing and puffing to put chairs on top of tables. As our drinks sat on the bar. Bitch, do your sidework after I get my drink. She finally waddled over with our cocktails and gave one person a frozen rita when they had asked for a rocks one. She said, “oh, I suck.” No one contradicted her. “I guess I’ll just have to drink this one,” she burped. Uh huh. We all know that trick. I invented that trick: tell the bartender you rang in the wrong drink so you can pour it into a coffee cup to drink as you do your paperwork.
She brought our check over forgetting that someone had ordered a dessert. He mentioned the missing caramel whatever-the-fuck and she said, “oh, did you still want that?” He ordered it didn’t he? My own theory is that she rang it in, ate it, and then had it voided off the check saying that he changed his mind. Another tired trick that I invented.
I had one drink for $7.00. I gave her a ten which was about a 40% tip. She sucked and all, but we were in there late at night and I know what that’s like. She deserved that $3.00 tip. Plus, I happen to know that the local grocery store is having a sale on Lean Cuisine frozen dinners for $3.79 each and I thought it was good start towards the diet she needed to go on.