I love holidays set forth to force you to show someone you care about them. Not particularly for the emotional value, seeing as I have no significant other, but for the monetary value. If you work in a restaurant the best days to work are holidays like these, some establishments even see these shifts as prizes that they give away to good employees. Thankfully at my job were a bit understaffed so for these days the whole family works together. I walked in at about five and the store was already about seventy five percent full of customers, which means in our language “balls to the wall”. As I looked around just to see what I was dealing with I noticed one thing, almost every table sat had only two people, adorable.
As the night progressed, it seemed every table I had were two hungry valentines. Couple after the couple, it felt so monotonous I wanted to cry. Especially because being a single person it was a defeating feeling seeing how many couple seemed unhappy or awkward sitting there together, like they had better things to do. I literally had a table that sat there and texted on their iphone’s while their kid colored quietly. I mean I could be making completely irrational judgments about people that I literally encountered for an hour and a half at best, but people say more then they think. A person’s body language and demeanor can normally say a lot about who that person is. If a girl is sitting a table with her special valentine (which you wouldn’t go to dinner with anyone else but your valentines on Valentine’s day) and her arms are crossed, her lips are squeezed shut, and she just looking around its clear this is not the place she would like to be. Then out of the nowhere, the clouds to heaven opened over my section and showered two of the most please ant butch lesbians I have ever met in my life.
They were hysterical. I was eating up everything they said, through the bantering with the drink orders and the “you get this and I’ll get that, and we’ll share” ten minute ordering extravaganza I was dying of laughter. I was busy though, and as cute as this Laverne and Shirley situation was I had to move, and they were killing me on time. I threw their order into the computer and when on about my rounds, trying to catch up on them as much as I could. As I walked back to the counter I noticed their ticket to their food was a few tickets back I asked, how long their food was going to be and they told me a minute so I waited. As I stood there they took the two pizzas out of the oven, cut them, threw them on a pan and then slid them over the counter to me. I was confused, but then they threw down the ticket, I rang in their food wrong.
Now this is where you see true colors, you mess with someone’s food after they have been waiting a half an hour you could see blood. No, it’s not that serious but people treat it like I just accidently stabbed them sometimes. I walked back up to the table and the lesbians knew something was wrong. See, body language. I explained that their food came out wrong and before I could finish, they instantly started consoling me, then blamed everything on the kitchen and then grabbed all of the food out of my hands. I felt horrible, it doesn’t normally happen to me but I’m human and some people just find that impossible. It’s mindless work by all means, but sometimes you get it wrong. I really did explain to the ladies that it was my fault and I had made the error when inputting their food, first because I wanted to be honest to them, and second the receipt is an exact copy of what I ring up so if they would have remembered would they ordered then they would have clearly known it was my fault. But the response they gave me was more then I could have given them. They gave me hope. Because after I explained it all and blamed myself they told me there was nothing I could to do to ruin their night of “lady time”. They got their bill, the extremely butch one of the two thanked me for “gettin ‘er drunk” and went on about their night. There are good people in this world, I swear.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Be a Patient Patty, Please.
Number of People: 2
Number of People Contemplating Divorce at Table: 2
As i walked up to the table i literally felt this eerie, akward, uncomfortable sensation comeover me, like i had just walked in on someone using the bathroom. The joy of a busy Friday night is that I’m always moving. Literally, I’m walking in just giant circles around the store, from my tables to dish, from dish to the expo window, and then back to the tables. It becomes much choreographed in a way. So in the midst of a busy night when get sat with a very good looking couple i' instantly notice. You know the couples that just complement each other, the ones that look good individually, but just look better together because they’re just too obnoxiously good-looking of people. It’s sick that all these thoughts go on in my head in the middle of a rush but the people in a way are the entertainment, plus they’re all I’ve got to look at other then the food, and that never changes.
As I got closer to the table , the conversation I thought I was going to stop, didn’t. In fact it wasn't even a conversation, it was an argument; an extremely heated argument, being fought through fake smiles and clinching teeth. So now I’m standing their smiling, just as fake as they are, and I’m pretty sure were all aware of how fake were being, really awkward now. The only word I could even squeeze out through the tension was “drinks”? All I got back was “Two waters, thanks”, and then right back into their glares. Yeah, I didn’t have time for this at all.
I returned to the table with the drinks, as I was walking up, the butt end of the sentence I intruded on ended like this, “I contacted my lawyer yesterday, if you want this could be finished in…” and then there I am with the drinks. Wishing my timing wasn’t so impeccable. I asked if they needed more time, the woman said yes, he said no, and then ordered a medium cheese pizza and gave me the menu’s, including the one he grabbed right out of her hands. I felt bad for her, but unfortunately I was so busy that this Days of Our Lives episode was just going to have to wait until I could tune back in when I bring them their food.
The time goes by and I barely even notice them as I’m running around. As I walk back to the expo window to get their pizza, it had been about thirty-five minutes so I’m hoping things have been smoothed out by now. I turn the corner, walk up to the table only to find the female now in full on tears. I’m talking liquid eye liner down her cheeks, a trail of snot exiting her nose, and a little pile of napkins in front of her on the table. As I’m setting my pizza down on the stand at the other side of the table, I notice that next to the pile of tissues is a ring, my heart broke for her. Now normally if I’m in the middle of a Friday night rush I don’t have time to think about anything else, but as I walked away from the table this lady’s tears were really starting to weigh on me. When I brought the check I also brought one these little Ben & Jerry’s little ice cream cups with two spoons, I figured it couldn’t hurt. The man looked really annoyed. He gave me his card without looking at the bill, and I left. I returned, wished them a good night, and moved on about my job. When I came back to the table after they left to get my book, it was gone. No receipt, no cash, nothing, they even took my pen. Rude.
I chalked it up to two things;
A. The husband did not appreciate my gesture, and made it a point to make it known.
B. They were too distraught over what was happening to even think about me.
Regardless I let it go, for this reason only, I’ve had those days. The days when you just wish someone could just be a little bit patient with you when you need it the most, so I was. Instead of cursing them for the next two hours, I took a breath, smoked a cigarette, and had the host double seat me. Sometimes as a serve I find myself expecting people to give me a break, seeing as my job is not a funfest. But, seeing as I think people should extend that mercy to me, I should extend that mercy to other people. Maybe they forgot, maybe they didn’t have enough money to tip me and were embarrassed, regardless it happens.
The next day, the female came back in with the server book, my pen, and five dollars to tip me for the food. She gave it to the host and told her to tell me thanks for the ice cream. Patience is a virtue, I’m learning slowly.
Number of People Contemplating Divorce at Table: 2
As i walked up to the table i literally felt this eerie, akward, uncomfortable sensation comeover me, like i had just walked in on someone using the bathroom. The joy of a busy Friday night is that I’m always moving. Literally, I’m walking in just giant circles around the store, from my tables to dish, from dish to the expo window, and then back to the tables. It becomes much choreographed in a way. So in the midst of a busy night when get sat with a very good looking couple i' instantly notice. You know the couples that just complement each other, the ones that look good individually, but just look better together because they’re just too obnoxiously good-looking of people. It’s sick that all these thoughts go on in my head in the middle of a rush but the people in a way are the entertainment, plus they’re all I’ve got to look at other then the food, and that never changes.
As I got closer to the table , the conversation I thought I was going to stop, didn’t. In fact it wasn't even a conversation, it was an argument; an extremely heated argument, being fought through fake smiles and clinching teeth. So now I’m standing their smiling, just as fake as they are, and I’m pretty sure were all aware of how fake were being, really awkward now. The only word I could even squeeze out through the tension was “drinks”? All I got back was “Two waters, thanks”, and then right back into their glares. Yeah, I didn’t have time for this at all.
I returned to the table with the drinks, as I was walking up, the butt end of the sentence I intruded on ended like this, “I contacted my lawyer yesterday, if you want this could be finished in…” and then there I am with the drinks. Wishing my timing wasn’t so impeccable. I asked if they needed more time, the woman said yes, he said no, and then ordered a medium cheese pizza and gave me the menu’s, including the one he grabbed right out of her hands. I felt bad for her, but unfortunately I was so busy that this Days of Our Lives episode was just going to have to wait until I could tune back in when I bring them their food.
The time goes by and I barely even notice them as I’m running around. As I walk back to the expo window to get their pizza, it had been about thirty-five minutes so I’m hoping things have been smoothed out by now. I turn the corner, walk up to the table only to find the female now in full on tears. I’m talking liquid eye liner down her cheeks, a trail of snot exiting her nose, and a little pile of napkins in front of her on the table. As I’m setting my pizza down on the stand at the other side of the table, I notice that next to the pile of tissues is a ring, my heart broke for her. Now normally if I’m in the middle of a Friday night rush I don’t have time to think about anything else, but as I walked away from the table this lady’s tears were really starting to weigh on me. When I brought the check I also brought one these little Ben & Jerry’s little ice cream cups with two spoons, I figured it couldn’t hurt. The man looked really annoyed. He gave me his card without looking at the bill, and I left. I returned, wished them a good night, and moved on about my job. When I came back to the table after they left to get my book, it was gone. No receipt, no cash, nothing, they even took my pen. Rude.
I chalked it up to two things;
A. The husband did not appreciate my gesture, and made it a point to make it known.
B. They were too distraught over what was happening to even think about me.
Regardless I let it go, for this reason only, I’ve had those days. The days when you just wish someone could just be a little bit patient with you when you need it the most, so I was. Instead of cursing them for the next two hours, I took a breath, smoked a cigarette, and had the host double seat me. Sometimes as a serve I find myself expecting people to give me a break, seeing as my job is not a funfest. But, seeing as I think people should extend that mercy to me, I should extend that mercy to other people. Maybe they forgot, maybe they didn’t have enough money to tip me and were embarrassed, regardless it happens.
The next day, the female came back in with the server book, my pen, and five dollars to tip me for the food. She gave it to the host and told her to tell me thanks for the ice cream. Patience is a virtue, I’m learning slowly.
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