The worst thing about a serving job is the inconsistency. Everything can go smoothly one night, the nxt night I might be tempted to go on a murder spree. That's how this week has been for me, with Tuesday night being exceptionally terrible.
Our restaurant has been slow lately, so I was happy to get a party of eight around 10pm. On parties of eight or more, we're allowed to add 18% gratuity to their check. I took their order happily, knowing I was guaranteed at least a $30 tip from them. They're eating their chicken wing appetizers and everyone is happy. All of a sudden, a huge cockroach starts crawling around their table. Crap....
The table moved to another section and was transferred over to another server. Bye bye $30 tip.
Then, I'm sat with a party of seven teenagers. Being sat with a party of seven is like being punched in the face. We recount each person over and over, hoping one of them has multiplied so that there are eight people and we can add gratuity. Is one lady pregnant? Cause that has to count for two people! The baby sleeping in the high chair who won't be eating, he definitely counts as an eighth person.
I wasn't that lucky. It was just seven spoiled-brat teenagers. These kids, who were trying to get free stuff from me, ordered as though they were rolling in the dough. They wanted to add shrimp to this, steak to that. Chicken wings, desserts, you name it.
Most teenagers who come in groups are rude and disrespectful. I hope to God that they have to wait tables at some point in their lives; they have it coming for them. I tell them their wings are taking a little longer and I'll bring them out when they're ready. "Does that mean they're free?" Hell no, they're not free! They ask for to-go boxes, and one demands that I give him a box of bread to take home. I reply ever so kindly, "This isn't Olive Garden. You'll be paying for that."
They ask for their free refills every two minutes and run me to the ground. It sucks, knowing these teenagers aren't going to tip me and yet I am under their mercy.
Then of course, after they're half-way done with their pastas, three of them claim their broccoli is too tough and would like to order something different. We had to give them three new free pastas. Brats.
I split all their checks, which are a combined total of over $100. They each give me exact change with no tip. Except for the bread-guy, he shorts me a dollar and I certainly let him know it.
They all received the stink eye from me until they left, and may have heard a few immature comments from me to other servers. Oh well.
After that night of losing what should have been $50 in tips, and most of my self-respect, I couldn't bare the thought of going in the next day and doing it all over again. But I went, had three parties with over eight people and couldn't have asked for a better night.
As servers, we probably all come off having multiple personalities: crazy and pissed off one night and happy and blissful the next. Friends, please don't blame us. Restaurants have made us this way.
No comments:
Post a Comment