So at The Restaurant we have this obscene family-style strawberry shortcake. It's layers of ice cream, strawberries in some sugary goop, poundcake and whipped cream. It's seriously disgusting. On the menu it says that it serves 2 to 3 people but in reality, it could feed a small army of sugar-craving lunatics.
Anyway, TJ is waiting on two people who decide to order this thing. As they're eating, they pay the check. After TJ runs the credit card and they sign the receipt, they hand the check presenter back to him. 12% tip. Wonderful.
The couple proceeds to (shockingly) not be able to finish the dessert and ask TJ to wrap it up.
I've said before that the staff of The Restaurant is not one to put things in food, spit in food or anything gross like that--but they will fuck with you.
TJ takes the dessert into the back server station where, at the time, we had a bread warmer. It must be said that this bread warmer was dangerous. If you accidentally leaned on it or brushed up against it, you would get seriously burned--which is part of the reason we got rid of it.
So what does TJ do? He tosses the dessert into a metal to-go container, sits it on top of the bread warmer and just crosses his arms and watches it. Juan, one of our head busboys, comes to the back and asks if TJ needs it wrapped up. "Nope, I got it," he says. Juan looks a little concerned and hesitantly walks away.
The dessert melts into a veritable chunky soup with small mounds of poundcake and lumpy strawberries. TJ seals the container very tightly and double bags it.
I mean, really what are they gonna do? Get home and call the restaurant to complain that their ice cream melted? I can hear our manager now..."So let me get this straight...you took your ice cream...to go...and you got home and it was melted? Hmm."
Moral of the story? Tip your fucking server.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Monday, January 18, 2010
Barfy and Narc-y
This post has been a long time coming. I've taken some time off from the blog since I've been feeling uninspired and, well, kind of lazy. But the time has come for the inevitable Barfy and Narc-y (B&N) post, so here goes:
We have this couple who comes in every Thursday night. They have had their "regular" servers in the past, but as staff turnovers go, they end up with a new server every few months. As it turns out, at this juncture in time, they love me. Perfect.
First off, they are old (she's about 65, he's around 80, I suppose). And to be honest, they have hearts of gold and are usually very, very nice. The own a bakery in a borough and always come in around 10:40pm. For the record, this is 20 minutes before we close and they take an hour and a half to eat. So you can imagine my delight when they hobble through the door suggesting my section.
Here's a rundown of their visit:
-As soon as I see them approaching the door I begin putting their order into the computer (which takes about 7 minutes in itself).
-They start with sparkling water and insist that one of the bus boys go to the kitchen to have their bread toasted. They don't eat butter, so they ask for marinara sauce and sauteed garlic and olive oil in which to dip their bread (the chef is thrilled to do this).
-To start they order a shrimp appetizer (no butter, no capers, no salt, not too well done) and a side of steamed broccoli (well done) with more garlic and olive oil on the side (they once asked if they chef could cook the stems and tops of the broccoli separately so the tops wouldn't turn to mush...I said no).
-Entrees are a fish dish (no butter, no salt, no capers, extra olives, extra basil, no mussels, extra shrimp) a half order of fettuccine with white clam sauce (which is usually with linguine...extra clams) and a salmon dish (no salt, no butter, light breadcrumbs and "could you ask the chef to pick us out a really large piece of salmon?")
-Before the food comes she asks me to tie a lobster bib around her neck.
-When they're finished eating they ask for to go containers ("the plastic ones, not the foil ones") and for cloth napkins with hot water and lemon to clean their faces.
You may be wondering about the nicknames. Well, here you have it:
After they pay the check. She gets up and goes into the handicapped bathroom for 15-20 minutes. I guess I should have mentioned earlier that she weighs about 97 pounds, always wears Gucci sunglasses throughout the meal, and looks like skeletor...you can imagine what goes on in that bathroom. Anyway, the husband, like clockwork, every single time, falls into a coma within three minutes of the woman leaving the table. He literally looks dead. By the end of their meal I'm the last server there and usually contemplating suicide or reading a magazine at an empty table near the back. When she finishes up in the bathroom she wakes up her husband. They leave as slowly as they came and say, "See you next week!"
I go and pick the check presenter off the table and again, sure as anything, they've left the same tip as last week: 14%.
Stellar.
We have this couple who comes in every Thursday night. They have had their "regular" servers in the past, but as staff turnovers go, they end up with a new server every few months. As it turns out, at this juncture in time, they love me. Perfect.
First off, they are old (she's about 65, he's around 80, I suppose). And to be honest, they have hearts of gold and are usually very, very nice. The own a bakery in a borough and always come in around 10:40pm. For the record, this is 20 minutes before we close and they take an hour and a half to eat. So you can imagine my delight when they hobble through the door suggesting my section.
Here's a rundown of their visit:
-As soon as I see them approaching the door I begin putting their order into the computer (which takes about 7 minutes in itself).
-They start with sparkling water and insist that one of the bus boys go to the kitchen to have their bread toasted. They don't eat butter, so they ask for marinara sauce and sauteed garlic and olive oil in which to dip their bread (the chef is thrilled to do this).
-To start they order a shrimp appetizer (no butter, no capers, no salt, not too well done) and a side of steamed broccoli (well done) with more garlic and olive oil on the side (they once asked if they chef could cook the stems and tops of the broccoli separately so the tops wouldn't turn to mush...I said no).
-Entrees are a fish dish (no butter, no salt, no capers, extra olives, extra basil, no mussels, extra shrimp) a half order of fettuccine with white clam sauce (which is usually with linguine...extra clams) and a salmon dish (no salt, no butter, light breadcrumbs and "could you ask the chef to pick us out a really large piece of salmon?")
-Before the food comes she asks me to tie a lobster bib around her neck.
-When they're finished eating they ask for to go containers ("the plastic ones, not the foil ones") and for cloth napkins with hot water and lemon to clean their faces.
You may be wondering about the nicknames. Well, here you have it:
After they pay the check. She gets up and goes into the handicapped bathroom for 15-20 minutes. I guess I should have mentioned earlier that she weighs about 97 pounds, always wears Gucci sunglasses throughout the meal, and looks like skeletor...you can imagine what goes on in that bathroom. Anyway, the husband, like clockwork, every single time, falls into a coma within three minutes of the woman leaving the table. He literally looks dead. By the end of their meal I'm the last server there and usually contemplating suicide or reading a magazine at an empty table near the back. When she finishes up in the bathroom she wakes up her husband. They leave as slowly as they came and say, "See you next week!"
I go and pick the check presenter off the table and again, sure as anything, they've left the same tip as last week: 14%.
Stellar.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
You know the economy's bad when...
...people start eating the frozen, technically-edible peach skin that the peach sorbet comes in. (We'd actually never seen this before and then last week saw it twice...a two'fer!)
Next thing we know people are going to start eating shrimp tails.
Next thing we know people are going to start eating shrimp tails.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Sanitation therapy
“Clean” has always been a relative term at The Restaurant, but I don’t know what’s going on lately because everything in the place is downright dirty. Wine glasses have smudges (or worse, lipstick) on them, plates have encrusted cheese, butter knives have dried pieces of basil on them, cheese shakers are coated with marinara sauce. In short, everything is fucking gross.
The other day I saw Lauren take a menu and just throw it into the garbage. I asked her if it was torn or anything. “Nope, just filthy.” I laughed at first thinking she was kidding (as dirty menus are generally wiped down by the host staff), until she explained that she and another waitress Athena had found a new form of stress relief at The Restaurant. It’s called sanitation therapy and it goes something like this:
Anytime she picks up a soda glass and it’s got residue from the last customer’s lime wedge on the rim, she simply drops it into the trash can next to her. It saves her from making a trip to the dishwasher and also gives her a little bit of that “stick-it-to-the-man” feeling. At first I was concerned that this may get her into trouble, but then I thought if a manager were to ask her, Lauren would just say the glass had a crack in it (which it decidedly would by the time it hit the bottom of the trashcan). And it’s not just glasses, it’s plates (“it’s chipped!”), forks (“it’s bent!”) and cloth napkins (“it’s torn!”).
The beauty of sanitation therapy is that it’s subtle. No one ever shouts out, “watch me screw The Restaurant over!” but every once in a while if you watch servers closely you’ll see it. Athena will be putting an order into the computer tapping her finger on the screen repeatedly. And without looking up you’ll see her slide a chocolate syrup-covered sugar caddy into the garbage.
The other day I saw Lauren take a menu and just throw it into the garbage. I asked her if it was torn or anything. “Nope, just filthy.” I laughed at first thinking she was kidding (as dirty menus are generally wiped down by the host staff), until she explained that she and another waitress Athena had found a new form of stress relief at The Restaurant. It’s called sanitation therapy and it goes something like this:
Anytime she picks up a soda glass and it’s got residue from the last customer’s lime wedge on the rim, she simply drops it into the trash can next to her. It saves her from making a trip to the dishwasher and also gives her a little bit of that “stick-it-to-the-man” feeling. At first I was concerned that this may get her into trouble, but then I thought if a manager were to ask her, Lauren would just say the glass had a crack in it (which it decidedly would by the time it hit the bottom of the trashcan). And it’s not just glasses, it’s plates (“it’s chipped!”), forks (“it’s bent!”) and cloth napkins (“it’s torn!”).
The beauty of sanitation therapy is that it’s subtle. No one ever shouts out, “watch me screw The Restaurant over!” but every once in a while if you watch servers closely you’ll see it. Athena will be putting an order into the computer tapping her finger on the screen repeatedly. And without looking up you’ll see her slide a chocolate syrup-covered sugar caddy into the garbage.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Seen and Heard: 5
Seen: Someone propose (marriage!!!) at The Restaurant. Nothing says romance like chicken francese.
Heard (The Crazy Waiter sees that he got a 5-top of Mexican guys): "What the fuck is this bullshit?!....Oh well, at least they can clear their own plates."
Heard (The Crazy Waiter sees that he got a 5-top of Mexican guys): "What the fuck is this bullshit?!....Oh well, at least they can clear their own plates."
Definition of the Day: Dead Soldier
Dead Soldier - n. - A drink that has been wrongly made by the bartender, either because he simply poured the wrong liquor, or because a server entered the wrong drink into the computer. ("Gin and tonic? She said VODKA tonic.") Usually the drink will remain on the bar for a few minutes for good measure. For example: a server enters a glass of zinfandel into the computer. The bartender pours a white zinfandel. Upon approaching the bar the server realizes he or she meant to ring in a red zinfandel. Now the white (pink) wine will sit on the bar for about 5 minutes, just in case someone else happens to order a white zin. But let's get serious. No one drinks white zin except very old women and southerners. After the time the wine begins to lose its chill, it becomes a dead soldier.
Usage--
I see two martini shakers in the back server station. Upon inspection they are full. Mark grabs one from my hand and proceeds to pour it into a kids cup. Upon further inspection, the liquid is green.
Me: Mark...is that...an appletini?
Mark: Lay off me woman! We got dead soldiers here!
Usage--
I see two martini shakers in the back server station. Upon inspection they are full. Mark grabs one from my hand and proceeds to pour it into a kids cup. Upon further inspection, the liquid is green.
Me: Mark...is that...an appletini?
Mark: Lay off me woman! We got dead soldiers here!
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Seen and Heard: 4
Seen: The host Augusten sitting at a table in the back of the private party room alternating between taking bites of Italian bread and taking bites of straight butter from the little wrapped butter chips, which at the moment were too cold to spread properly.
Heard: (note: we have a server named Cherish)
Bartender: (to the Mexican bar back) Can you get me some Cherries?
Bar back: Cherries? She's in the party room. I get her?
Heard: (note: we have a server named Cherish)
Bartender: (to the Mexican bar back) Can you get me some Cherries?
Bar back: Cherries? She's in the party room. I get her?
Definition of the Day: Same Side Seaters
Same Side Seaters - pl. n. - Two people, usually romantic couples, who sit on the same side of a table that has a booth on one side and a chair on the other, as to be asclosetoeachotheraspossible. The couple is usually either in high school, or middle-aged divorcees on their first date (married people never like to be that close to their spouse).
Usage--
Me: Oh man did you see--
Mark: --table 51? Oh yes. Same side seaters!! Good luck with those douches...
I never really understood this as I prefer, when eating garlic-laden food, to be a good foot and a half away from my dinner companion. Typically SSSes are super cheesy and usually assholes. Why rush to judge you say? Because honestly if you're squeezed in between two other tables just like yours, chances are, you're rubbing up on someone from the next table, which makes them feel awkward. And you don't care. Therefore, you're an asshole.
Usage--
Me: Oh man did you see--
Mark: --table 51? Oh yes. Same side seaters!! Good luck with those douches...
I never really understood this as I prefer, when eating garlic-laden food, to be a good foot and a half away from my dinner companion. Typically SSSes are super cheesy and usually assholes. Why rush to judge you say? Because honestly if you're squeezed in between two other tables just like yours, chances are, you're rubbing up on someone from the next table, which makes them feel awkward. And you don't care. Therefore, you're an asshole.
It finally happened...
That's right. The Crazy Waiter got suspended. I mean, let's face it. It was inevitable. He got caught saying one of his under-his-breath (or in this case, not so much) comments. However, what I suppose was luck, on his part, was the fact that it could have been so much worse. He could have called a customer a cocksucker to his face or punched in a computer monitor (which has also happened at The Restaurant). But no. It was a relatively unremarkable day in the life of TCW. He just happened to get caught. This is how the suspension played out:
TCW: Hi there, how's everyone doing toni--
Man: --Can I have some butter?
::TCW turns to our bus boy Jose and asks him to get some butter for the man.::
::Turns back to the table and takes a drink order, rings them into the computer, and brings them back to the table.::
Man: Did you bring my butter?
TCW: (looks and sees Jose in the server station looking like he's getting butter) It will be over in just a second.
::TCW proceeds to tell the specials when he gets to the last one, Jose has still not returned with the butter::
TCW: And finally this evening we have a surf and turf made with one filet mig--
Man: Can I get that butter?
TWC: (turns, walks away from the table about 3 steps and yells to Jose) Can someone get these people some butter before they have a fucking riot?
And thus, suspended.
TCW: Hi there, how's everyone doing toni--
Man: --Can I have some butter?
::TCW turns to our bus boy Jose and asks him to get some butter for the man.::
::Turns back to the table and takes a drink order, rings them into the computer, and brings them back to the table.::
Man: Did you bring my butter?
TCW: (looks and sees Jose in the server station looking like he's getting butter) It will be over in just a second.
::TCW proceeds to tell the specials when he gets to the last one, Jose has still not returned with the butter::
TCW: And finally this evening we have a surf and turf made with one filet mig--
Man: Can I get that butter?
TWC: (turns, walks away from the table about 3 steps and yells to Jose) Can someone get these people some butter before they have a fucking riot?
And thus, suspended.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Definition of the Day: Balsamic vinegar
Balsamic vinegar - n. - an Italian vinegar made from a reduction of grape juice. It is often paired with olive oil for use as a salad dressing, or occasionally a condiment in which to dip bread. In Italian restaurants you might find balsamic in something like this:
Various Balsamic vinegar brands include Bella, Avanti, Clearspring, Biona, Regina and Villa Bellentani.
THIS is NOT a brand of Balsamic vinegar:
That's right. One of my many genius co-workers stumbled drunkenly into dry storage and grabbed the first jug of brown liquid they saw. They proceeded to, at the end of the shift, fill all of the half empty bottles in the restaurant with the murky fluid. It wasn't until a couple days later that I noticed the mix up as I, myself, was assigned the task of refilling.
For those of you who don't know, Lea & Perrins is in the Worcestershire sauce family. This type of sauce is generally used in bloody mary mixes and meat marinades and is generally not thought of as an ingredient in salad dressing or ideal for bread dippage.
Just thought I'd clear that up.
Various Balsamic vinegar brands include Bella, Avanti, Clearspring, Biona, Regina and Villa Bellentani.
THIS is NOT a brand of Balsamic vinegar:
That's right. One of my many genius co-workers stumbled drunkenly into dry storage and grabbed the first jug of brown liquid they saw. They proceeded to, at the end of the shift, fill all of the half empty bottles in the restaurant with the murky fluid. It wasn't until a couple days later that I noticed the mix up as I, myself, was assigned the task of refilling.
For those of you who don't know, Lea & Perrins is in the Worcestershire sauce family. This type of sauce is generally used in bloody mary mixes and meat marinades and is generally not thought of as an ingredient in salad dressing or ideal for bread dippage.
Just thought I'd clear that up.
Monday, July 28, 2008
California Fridays
Esteban: Did you know TJ made up "California Fridays"? As in, on Fridays he only pushes wine from California. What the fuck? I wish I sold enough wine that I could just pick a region.
The Low-Rent Top Ten (or so), By TJ Giglio
In an effort to keep all of you loyal readers undoubtedly in-the-know, TJ has graciously volunteered to list off, in his opinion, the top "low-rent" things, actions, etc. seen in restaurants.
Enjoy.
-A customer ordering beginning a request with, "Lemme get a ______."
-Indulging in ranch dressing in a public setting.
-Use of the term "regular" (i.e. "I'll have the regular salad"). I didn't grow up in your father's house. I don't know what's "regular" to you.
-When given olive oil for bread, a customer asking, "do you have butter?" Additionally, when non-Italian people get butter at a restaurant and ask for olive oil. You're not Italian. You don't really like that. You just saw an episode of Molto Mario.
-Sprite.
-A customer referring to a lobster tank as an "aquarium."
-A customer asking to add cheese to anything not coming with cheese.
-The use of the word "water" as a verb by waitstaff (i.e. "Connie, can you water table 36?"
-A server saying a table number loud enough for a customer to hear.
-Giving a handful of plastic creamers for coffee.
-Placing a drink or food item on top of a menu on the table.
-Use of the term "veggie" for vegetable or "parm" for, say, eggplant parmesan.
-The term "combo."
-A server saying "grilled to perfection." Fuck off.
-Asking a server how much he makes.
-The birthday song.
Enjoy.
-A customer ordering beginning a request with, "Lemme get a ______."
-Indulging in ranch dressing in a public setting.
-Use of the term "regular" (i.e. "I'll have the regular salad"). I didn't grow up in your father's house. I don't know what's "regular" to you.
-When given olive oil for bread, a customer asking, "do you have butter?" Additionally, when non-Italian people get butter at a restaurant and ask for olive oil. You're not Italian. You don't really like that. You just saw an episode of Molto Mario.
-Sprite.
-A customer referring to a lobster tank as an "aquarium."
-A customer asking to add cheese to anything not coming with cheese.
-The use of the word "water" as a verb by waitstaff (i.e. "Connie, can you water table 36?"
-A server saying a table number loud enough for a customer to hear.
-Giving a handful of plastic creamers for coffee.
-Placing a drink or food item on top of a menu on the table.
-Use of the term "veggie" for vegetable or "parm" for, say, eggplant parmesan.
-The term "combo."
-A server saying "grilled to perfection." Fuck off.
-Asking a server how much he makes.
-The birthday song.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Two Servers Google Chatting
Lauren: i have a feeling i'm outside tonight ever just get those feelings?
Me: just give [the manager] a sexual favor so we can leave.
I better not be outside. i will be so sweaty and gross.
Speaking of favors......[bartender] from [closed wine bar] is apparently working at [another wine bar] now.
Lauren: oh SUPER
Me: ha
Lauren: somewhere else to frequent
Me: we need another wine bar
Lauren: are you still feeling ill?
Me: better since lunch
Lauren: same here
Me: what'd you have?
Lauren: a hangover
Me: for lunch?
Lauren: oh for lunch?
Me: ha
Lauren: a hotdog and fries
Me: nice
Lauren: what are you eating for dinner
Me: family meal?
Lauren: haha i always eat before the shift
Me: i had apple and yogurt for breakfast and salad for lunch then it all goes down the shitter once i get to t-t-t-t-[The Restaurant].
Oh and i hear you had a pool the other night
Lauren: ? what ?
OH yeah.
God i was bored on Tuesday.
I made a pool on what family meal would be.
Me: that's awesome
Who won?
Lauren: well no one technically.
Courtney said rig egg mozz [rigatoni with eggplant and mozzarella]
But it was penne
Me: HA
Lost on a technicality
Lauren: so i gave it to her bc i was too lazy to give everyone their dollar back
Me: that's hilarious
Lauren: i think we should up it to 2 dollars tonight
Me: ok i am cracking up. this is rediculous
Lauren: i already have money down on rig vodka
Me: fine. i got ziti nap
Lauren: oooo and ziti is a good choice bc it COULD be penne or rig and TECHNICALLY you aren't wrong by saying ziti
Me: bam!
Lauren: so scratch that i got money down on ziti vodka
Me: no way. unfair.
Lauren: now doesn't that just make your stomach turn
Me: ugh
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Ticklish Tanninberry Time!
It started out as a joke in the pre-shift meeting:
Manager: Mark, describe this Cabernet.
Mark: It's jammy and has delicious ticklish tanninberries.
It's lame but for some reason keeps us endlessly entertained. I'm not exactly sure how this translated into the little game we now play at the restaurant....
Whenever a table leaves a substantial amount of wine in a bottle or if a large group has an open bar tab we take it upon ourselves to sample some wine. And by "sample," I mean "chug."
For example, last night Mark managed to get two full glasses of Chardonnay from a deserted bottle. He hid them in a the back server station then approached Fritz, Heather and I across the restaurant and yelled, "Ticklish Tanninberry Time!"
We all, like rockets, took off running toward the back station. Fritz and Mark screeching to a halt, got to the glasses first and chugged the first halves. Then they quickly pass off the glasses to Heather and I to knock out the rest. All in under 15 seconds. High fives all around.
Love those ticklish tanninberries.
Manager: Mark, describe this Cabernet.
Mark: It's jammy and has delicious ticklish tanninberries.
It's lame but for some reason keeps us endlessly entertained. I'm not exactly sure how this translated into the little game we now play at the restaurant....
Whenever a table leaves a substantial amount of wine in a bottle or if a large group has an open bar tab we take it upon ourselves to sample some wine. And by "sample," I mean "chug."
For example, last night Mark managed to get two full glasses of Chardonnay from a deserted bottle. He hid them in a the back server station then approached Fritz, Heather and I across the restaurant and yelled, "Ticklish Tanninberry Time!"
We all, like rockets, took off running toward the back station. Fritz and Mark screeching to a halt, got to the glasses first and chugged the first halves. Then they quickly pass off the glasses to Heather and I to knock out the rest. All in under 15 seconds. High fives all around.
Love those ticklish tanninberries.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Definition of the Day: Buy Back
Buy Back - n. - A free drink from a bartender given to a customer who exhibits one or more of the following behaviors: extensive tipping, having a really great personality, or being extremely attractive.
Proper usage--
One bartender to the other: "Give that guy a buy back. He's mad chill and hooked me up with a fat tip last time he came in."
Incorrect usage WHICH I ACTUALLY HEARD SOMEONE SAY THE OTHER NIGHT--
Douchebag customer to the bartender: "Do you guys do buy backs here?"
Ok. You can't ASK for a buy back! Would you go in to a restaurant and ask your server for a free appetizer just cuz? No. To be honest I was a little delighted when I heard this, as my friend John was bartending that night. First of all, that particular bar is very liberal with their free-drink-giving so had he not asked the question, he probably would have gotten a free drink. Second of all, John is from New Jersey and doesn't take a lot of shit...especially from some guy who brings his own pool cues to the bar and has the collar on his polo shirt popped. So here's what happened:
Guy: Do you guys do buy backs here?
John: Uh, sometimes we do.
Guy: Ok cool, because this is my third beer.
John: Ok buddy. I'm glad you're keeping track.
....
John (to the other bartender): See that fucking guy over there? Don't give him shit.
Proper usage--
One bartender to the other: "Give that guy a buy back. He's mad chill and hooked me up with a fat tip last time he came in."
Incorrect usage WHICH I ACTUALLY HEARD SOMEONE SAY THE OTHER NIGHT--
Douchebag customer to the bartender: "Do you guys do buy backs here?"
Ok. You can't ASK for a buy back! Would you go in to a restaurant and ask your server for a free appetizer just cuz? No. To be honest I was a little delighted when I heard this, as my friend John was bartending that night. First of all, that particular bar is very liberal with their free-drink-giving so had he not asked the question, he probably would have gotten a free drink. Second of all, John is from New Jersey and doesn't take a lot of shit...especially from some guy who brings his own pool cues to the bar and has the collar on his polo shirt popped. So here's what happened:
Guy: Do you guys do buy backs here?
John: Uh, sometimes we do.
Guy: Ok cool, because this is my third beer.
John: Ok buddy. I'm glad you're keeping track.
....
John (to the other bartender): See that fucking guy over there? Don't give him shit.
Friday, June 20, 2008
So Klassy
So there's this couple that comes in a few times a month. The assumed wife is moderately attractive, Asian and in her 40s. The husband is pushing 80, looks like Christopher Lloyd in Back to the Future III, wears only Hawaiian-print shirts and walks with the most horrendous limp that I'm amazed he manages to stay upright. He kind of drooly and overall just nasty. They only drink water. They order linguine with white clam sauce. The woman is reserved (I actually don't think I've ever heard her speak), but the guy is just voracious and sloppy. The servers turn away while he eats.
So one day they come in and I'm the lucky server who got to take care of them.
Me: The usual tonight folks? Linguine with white clam sauce?
Dr. Emmet Brown: Yep, that's right.
Me: Anything to drink?
Dr. Brown: Nope, just water.
Me: No problem. Would you like to start with an appetizer?
Dr. Brown: No, just the pasta.
So I pour them water and go to put the order into the computer. I turn back and walk past their table and behold:
The guy has placed his spoon onto his bread plate and is shaking the cheese shaker furiously filling the spoon with cheese. He proceeds to, you guessed it, eat the cheese.
So disgusting.
Talk about an amuse bouche.
Monday, June 16, 2008
TCW: Priceless
Evan the host has been, unintentionally, seating only women in The Crazy Waiter's section. The Crazy Waiter doesn't want too many of any one race, sex, age or creed in his section, but women are especially unappreciated. It was during this time that we got this little gem from TCW:
TCW: Evan, is this a restaurant or a goddamn gynecologist's office?
TCW: Evan, is this a restaurant or a goddamn gynecologist's office?
Why one person loves New York...
Recently in New York magazine:
“I love New York because the waiters and waitresses are the most beautiful, interesting, creative, stylish, aloof, and driven collection of service providers that can be found anywhere on this planet. They all have a story. They all have a plan. And they all forgot to bring me the fucking mustard.”
“I love New York because the waiters and waitresses are the most beautiful, interesting, creative, stylish, aloof, and driven collection of service providers that can be found anywhere on this planet. They all have a story. They all have a plan. And they all forgot to bring me the fucking mustard.”
Friday, June 13, 2008
Table 61
Man: Can I have a decaf coffee?
TJ: Sure.
::TJ goes and gets the coffee, sets it on the table::
Man: Is this decaf?
TJ: Yes it is.
Man: It better be or I'll chop your nuts off.
TJ: Sure.
::TJ goes and gets the coffee, sets it on the table::
Man: Is this decaf?
TJ: Yes it is.
Man: It better be or I'll chop your nuts off.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Don't Fuck With Us
The best quote from the movie Waiting goes a little something like this:
"Never fuck with the people who handle your food."
It never ceases to amaze me that people don't understand this. And while my crew never stoops to the point of spitting or putting other foreign objects into entrees, you need to know that there are still ways that we can fuck with you. Most of these you'd never notice, but there are servers all over the place feeling smug at this very moment knowing they pulled one over on your dumb double-the-tax-tipping ass.
1.) Roll your eyes at your server for any reason. ANY reason. Guess who's getting piping hot bowls for their salad? You are! Mmm....arugula that's reminiscent of sauteed spinach. Yum. Sure there's cold bowls we could find. But you're an asshole. TJ actually once told a table, "This is how they do it in Italy. They actually put the bowls in the ovens!"
2.) Your server just started opening a bottle of wine at the table next to yours. You have just gotten your credit card into the check presenter and you start WAVING it at us. Fuck you. Guess what your server's gonna do? After that wine is open, you better believe she's gonna stay at that table and tell the specials. All the specials. She might even tell the table about items that aren't on the menu just so you have to wait longer, all the while smiling and giving you the "one minute" raised index finger.
3.) This is almost a side note to number two... Even if we aren't busy and you wave anything at us (hand, check presenter, empty glass) there's a good chance we'll simply wave back. Or better yet completely pretend not to see you and walk the other way.
4.) I had a table once order the cheapest Chianti on the list. As I pour a taste for the old fat guy one drop of wine gets on the white paper (that should tell you something) tablecloth. The guy takes his index finger, dips it in the spilled dribble of wine and show it to his wife, eyebrows raised. Furious, I left the table and went to talk to The Crazy Waiter. After telling him the story, he goes over and SLAMS into the back of the guys chair, pretending to have tripped. Oops! Did you spill that delicious Chianti on the table? Let me get you some napkins.
5.) Oh, that's sweet. You're a 70-year old kept woman who thinks "the help" is so adorable! So what do you do? You take your server's hand and say "Honey, you can get me a coke." Oh REALLY!!? Why thank you so much for the opportunity! Right. Looks like you're going to have enough ice in that coke to sink the Titanic. Oh, it's gone in two sips? Please allow me to get you another! It would be my pleasure to charge you $2.50 for as many cokes as you'd like ma'am!
Special thanks to Lauren for extra reporting for this post.
"Never fuck with the people who handle your food."
It never ceases to amaze me that people don't understand this. And while my crew never stoops to the point of spitting or putting other foreign objects into entrees, you need to know that there are still ways that we can fuck with you. Most of these you'd never notice, but there are servers all over the place feeling smug at this very moment knowing they pulled one over on your dumb double-the-tax-tipping ass.
1.) Roll your eyes at your server for any reason. ANY reason. Guess who's getting piping hot bowls for their salad? You are! Mmm....arugula that's reminiscent of sauteed spinach. Yum. Sure there's cold bowls we could find. But you're an asshole. TJ actually once told a table, "This is how they do it in Italy. They actually put the bowls in the ovens!"
2.) Your server just started opening a bottle of wine at the table next to yours. You have just gotten your credit card into the check presenter and you start WAVING it at us. Fuck you. Guess what your server's gonna do? After that wine is open, you better believe she's gonna stay at that table and tell the specials. All the specials. She might even tell the table about items that aren't on the menu just so you have to wait longer, all the while smiling and giving you the "one minute" raised index finger.
3.) This is almost a side note to number two... Even if we aren't busy and you wave anything at us (hand, check presenter, empty glass) there's a good chance we'll simply wave back. Or better yet completely pretend not to see you and walk the other way.
4.) I had a table once order the cheapest Chianti on the list. As I pour a taste for the old fat guy one drop of wine gets on the white paper (that should tell you something) tablecloth. The guy takes his index finger, dips it in the spilled dribble of wine and show it to his wife, eyebrows raised. Furious, I left the table and went to talk to The Crazy Waiter. After telling him the story, he goes over and SLAMS into the back of the guys chair, pretending to have tripped. Oops! Did you spill that delicious Chianti on the table? Let me get you some napkins.
5.) Oh, that's sweet. You're a 70-year old kept woman who thinks "the help" is so adorable! So what do you do? You take your server's hand and say "Honey, you can get me a coke." Oh REALLY!!? Why thank you so much for the opportunity! Right. Looks like you're going to have enough ice in that coke to sink the Titanic. Oh, it's gone in two sips? Please allow me to get you another! It would be my pleasure to charge you $2.50 for as many cokes as you'd like ma'am!
Special thanks to Lauren for extra reporting for this post.
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