Now I don’t drink coffee, so maybe I just don’t “get it” but it seems to me that whether you put half and half or skim milk in your coffee, it wouldn’t make that big of a difference. Too many times, I have taken coffee to someone and they have a mini stroke when they find out I had the gall to bring them whole milk instead of heavy cream. Or half and half instead of skim milk. The simplest way for these people to avoid this horror of horrors is to just ask for what they want when they ask for their coffee. A simple “with skim milk” will work wonders. It saves me a trip back to the kitchen and it would save the customer from having to contort their face into a ridiculous expression when their brain tries to to wrap itself around the idea of possibly having whole milk. And it’s only a tablespoon anyway, right?
I looked up the difference in calories for various dairy products. Based on a tablespoon serving, heavy cream has 52 calories, half and half has 20, whole milk has 9 and skim has 5. Can someone please explain to me why some lady would freak the fuck out on me that I brought her whole milk instead of skim? It’s a difference of 4 fucking calories. It’s not like I tried to force feed her a Cinnabon cinnamon roll (730 calories) or something. When someone doesn’t specify, I will just bring whole milk. I figure that it’s sorta middle of the road and won’t make that big of a difference. Keep in mind that a lot of times the woman (it’s always a woman. Men don’t care) who can’t handle that tablespoon of whole milk in her coffee, is perfectly fine ordering a three egg omelette with bacon and cheddar but God forbid she has those four extra calories from the whole milk. And here’s a little secret about skim milk that surely happens in restaurants around the globe. If I only have whole milk and the customer really really wants skim milk, I will do whatever I can to please that customer. I want them to have their skim milk, I really do. Therefore, after much experimentation, I have learned that one part whole milk to one part tap fucking water produces the finest skim milk known to man in all the land. People don’t know the difference anyway. It’s like when this asshole asked me for a glass of milk once at the Marriott. He had already gotten way on my nerves, so I served him a glass of half and half. He drank it. All of it. I think when he left I heard him fucking say “moo.” a2a_linkname=”The Bitchy Waiter”;a2a_linkurl=”http://thebitchywaiter.blogspot.com”;
Sometimes a restaurant runs out of something. It’s just like at your house. You may think you have enough Crisco for every possible need, but one day you need more Crisco than you thought and before you know it you are so totally out of Crisco and you have to use Pam instead. Or Vaseline. Or whatever. The point is, it happens. So the other day we were getting ready for brunch and lo and behold we were out of regular coffee. We had decaf but not regular. We had enough for two or three pots but we go through ten or fifteen pots on a good brunch and we were really worried. Like freaking out what the fuck are we gonna do kind of worrying. We scoured the basement storage for regular coffee and even went into the back room behind the storage where we keep mugs and bowls and huge ketchup cans and shit. No regular coffee. By this point all three of us were sweating bullets. I mean we opened in ten minutes and we didn’t have coffee to satisfy our customers-what the fuck were we going to do? Okay, really we were fine. We never looked for regular coffee past the shelf that it is usually on. Someone said “maybe we should just use decaf all day” and someone else said “who cares, I don’t even drink it” and then someone else farted and we all giggled like little girls. So yeah, we used decaf all day. And not one person said one word to us about how the coffee seemed less caffeinated that day. They all drank it and asked for seconds and thirds and imagined the effects of all that caffeine pumping through their veins. And therefore proving our theory that all customers are stupid douches who will drink and eat what we tell them to. “Would you like some more coffee, Mr. and Mrs. Douche?” CLICK HERE IF YOU LIKE THIS BLOG
This lady sat in my booth yesterday and ordered a Diet Pepsi. I told her “oh we only have Diet Coke, is that okay?” thinking that of course it would be okay. It’s always okay. Unless you are the bitch that sat at table 204 yesterday. When the words Diet Coke fell from lips she looked like I just donkey punched her. “No Diet Pepsi, seriously?” Yeah lady, for real. So she had to “settle” for a Diet Coke like I care what she drinks. If you really want me to give a shit, then order a cocktail and then have another one so my check will grow into something substantial. Once I told some one we didn’t have Diet Pepsi but maybe I could find one, like we have a secret stash of forbidden products in the basement. So I went to the soda gun and poured her a Diet Coke and then I sprinkled some Splenda in it because I think Diet Pepsi is sweeter than Diet Coke. Told her I found a bottle of her precious Diet Pepsi and bitch drank the shit up. I worked at another restaurant once where we never once had Ginger Ale but I sold it every day by putting a splash of Coke into a glass of Sprite and not once did anyone notice. Same thing with coffee and decaf. I serve everyone decaf because I don’t need a bunch of caffeinated bitches in my station. And it’s too much trouble to make two pots of coffee. No one knows the difference. How many times has someone told me they needed coffee SO bad and I just serve them a big ol’ cup of steaming decaf? Every day. And then when I ask them if they feel better, they say “Oh God yes, I just cannot function without my caffeine.” Uh huh. Whatever. You will drink what I serve you. CLICK HERE TO FOLLOW THIS BLOG
I have noticed lately that more and more people feel perfectly fine bringing in their own cups of coffee to my restaurant. Do they not get how incredibly rude that is? We sell coffee. I have to French press it every time it’s ordered so it’s not like it’s some skanky ass sludge that we call coffee and then overcharge for it. We charge two bucks for good premium coffee that we make to order. But every day some whore comes in straight from the Starbucks across the street with her grande mocha frappe fuckacino and sits in my station. It’s always a women. Men don’t do that. Would you carry in a Pizzeria Uno pizza to a Pizza Hut and eat there? No. Or would you order a frosty at Wendy’s and then go eat it at Dairy Queen? No. But with coffee, people think it’s okay. Stop it. What I hate most about it is if a bitch brings in her own coffee, when am I supposed to spit in it? A couple of weeks ago, when I brought the food to the table one lady was not there anymore. Her friends said she would be right back but she had to run an errand. Bitch showed up two minutes later with three cups of coffee from Dunkin’ Donuts. What? For real?? I should have sold those three cups of coffee, increasing the check by $6.00 and therefore increasing my tip by a dollar. THEY ARE STEALING MY TIPS. Maybe next time I should just ring their food in to go and tell them I assumed they wanted to go eat it somewhere else.
I don’t know what it is with old people, but I hope when I am old (in like six years from now) I don’t lose my taste buds. I guess after living through the depression and having to eat boot soup and newspaper sandwiches, they just don’t have the ability to taste anymore. Old people always send shit back. It’s never hot enough. Yesterday this lady asked me for a cup of coffee making sure to tell me she meant hot coffee and not iced coffee. Like I am an idiot. So I got her coffee and made sure there was steam coming from it because when there is steam that means it’s hot, right? Well, not when you serve it to an old dinosaur like this lady. Seriously, I think she was a first grade teacher for the caveman. She calls me over to tell me the coffee is cold. Not warm or luke-warm or even room temperature, but cold. She acted like it was one step away from being a coffee popsicle. So I smiled and resisted the temptation I had to knock her fucking false teeth out and went to get her some more coffee. OUT OF THE SAME POT. And guess what. By some miracle of miracles this coffee was much better. It must have been a magic freaking coffee pot that made it’s contents change temperature by 20 degrees in a matter of two minutes. I was nice to her because old people make me sad. I just made fun of her in the side stand because she had a huge herpe on her lip that she probably picked up from blowing men for apples in 1933. “Blowjob for an apple, sir?” I can just see her. She counted out her pennies for my tip and shuffled out of my station. She should have saved the money she spent on coffee and bought some fucking Abreva for that cold sore. It was so big, I almost gave it it’s own menu.
So this man came into my place of employment yesterday with his whore wife and their two whore children. They sat at a whore booth and let the kids play with the sugar caddies because that’s what whore children like to do. I swear to God, what is the appeal of dumping a sugar caddie out in the table? I want to market it for the latest toy craze and make a million dollars on it. The kids play with that shit like it’s a freaking Cabbage Patch doll, or whatever the latest craze is. (I know the Cabbage Patch craze was like 25 years ago, so shut up.) Anyhoo, he orders a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for his boy whore child. It’s not on the menu. I tell him we don’t have it and he looks like he is going to have a stroke or heart attack or some shit. “What? You don’t HAVE peanut butter and jelly?” Nope, we don’t have that. If it’s not on the menu, that means we DO NOT HAVE IT. After he lifted his jaw off the floor he decided to order a bagel and he asked for it with jam. No problem. Then a light bulb went off over his head. He says to me, “so you have jam and you have bread and you must have peanut butter some where, but I can’t order a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for my bastard son the retard?” Nope, we don’t have that. “But-” Nope, we don’t have that. “well maybe you can-” Nope, we don’t have that. Meanwhile his wife finally pulled her head out of her ass and said to him to let it go. If it ain’t on the menu, don’t order it. Just because we have the ingredients to make a coconut fucking cake does not mean we are going to make one. We also have the ingredients to make whore child stew but don’t order it. (The recipe is very simple. It’s bits of whore child into boiling water with a carrot and bullion cube. But don’t order it because we don’t have it.)