What the Blog

I have been meaning to write this for a hot minute and strangely have not had the time. From the insane amount of hours I have been devoting to the restaurant job and the everyday trials & tribulations of life, its no wonder why I haven't written this post. So today as I wait for the DMV to open (I am getting a new license since I superglued mine backwards the other night in an attempt to avoid the DMV) I am going to finally get this post off my chest. It is a story about a happy Sunday shift from a couple of weeks ago.

First off we are only open 6 hours on Sunday, which is a very slowwww shift, but since we cannot keep waitresses staffed and we got our asses handed to us Saturday night, my boss thinks I (yes me, since I am apparently his best waitress) should come in on Sunday (there are 2 other people scheduled, and who are both almost as good as me) to make sure all is covered. Keep in mind Sunday is my ONLY day off. So in I go at 430 as requested, and its dead, a table trickles in, wait 30 minutes, then another one comes in and oh my how scary it is. Its a four top, 2 women (I think) and 2 men. They are all brown with grit & dirt and smell as if they have not washed in over a week, and this is in the 30 degree weather we have been enjoying for the past month. Of course it is my turn on the rotation and so its my table. They saunter up to the counter and ask me how much a pizza is and how much it is with tax, well there goes my fucking tip since they are concerned about paying for a pie. I do my best not to scrunch my face up in disgust and bring them their 2 cokes & 2 mello yellows, and hand the order over to G, the owner to make their pie. At which he promptly asks me if I think they will even pay, to which I reply yes cause the one said they had enough. 8 minutes later I serve them their pizza and refill their drinks and stand back to hope & pray they just eat quick and get out so I won't have to deal with them anymore.

As they begin to finish up, each one of them begin to get up and one by one start to walk out the door, except the taller woman who heads to our restroom and proceeds to stay in there for 20 minutes. Her friend walks back in and says to me, "is my friend in the bathroom, cause I need to check on her cause shes pregnant and might be in early labor", to which I think to myself, WTF, is this woman serious???? Her friend goes back outside and the waiting continues with the other one still in the bathroom, finally G tells me to go "check" on her, basically telling me to get her out of the restaurant. I go and knock on the door and ask if she is ok to which I get an annoyed reply, "I'm fine, my head just itches", eeewweeeee! So not only did I get stiffed on the tip, I had to clean the bathroom up after she finally left, but they did pay the ticket, there was dirt in the sink (possibly from her head itching???) and I did the only smart thing I could think of, donned gloves and used a bottle of bleach in there. Then I proceeded to wipe down that table with bleach, since who knows what they had.

Anyways, I at this point clocked out and went home, since I was not needed and I was 100% over the bullshit of the day. It goes right back to what I am forever preaching, if you can't afford to tip your waitress then you can't afford to eat out, because as gross as I thought these people were, I still waited on them, refilled their drinks and make sure they were as comfortable as possible while doing so, all for 2.13 an hour, without showing my disgust to them and just treating them as any normal table.