Customers Say the Darndest Things

When your 3rd grade teacher told you there are no dumb questions, they clearly never worked in the service industry.

From the tame: "Can I have a Grey Goose and Vodka?" To the just plain sad: While looking at her credit card receipt, "Am I the merchant? Do I keep the merchant copy?"

People say the strangest things in a restaurant. You'd think that the dim mood lighting also dimmed their brains.

There have been people who would walk in and not know what kind of food we served. To be fair, our decor doesn't exactly scream Asian: A bamboo plant here, a fish tank there. Assuming these patrons missed those markers and the subtle hints from the chopsticks on the tables and the visible sushi bar, the menu is a dead giveaway. So, when you walk up to the bar and as you thumb through the menu, demand a Cheeseburger, be prepared to be faced with wide-eyed service.

You would think stuff like that only happened in Chuck Norris, he walked into a McDonalds, ordered a Whopper and Got it, jokes. Unfortunately, no.

I've had customers ask me if they could pay 1/2 since she only ate 1/2 her meal...When I told her no, she ASKED WHY! In what world are you able to pay for the portion you ate? Even at a buffet, you pay before you eat. I'll also never forget the time I had to explain that the salad that comes with the lunch special cannot be substituted out with a lunch entrée just because the price-is-the-same. When met with confusion and a hint of anger, I had to explain the silliness of the query using the McDonald's combo menu as an example. Yes, I felt slightly dumber after that exchange. Especially, when I had to do it TWICE.

Seriously, in order to survive some of these people and their questions, I have to grit my teeth when I smile and drink heavily after.

Separate Ways

Please, for the sake of our sanity, please do NOT breakup with your significant (or not so significant at this point) other in a restaurant.

I know you think this is the best way to have a civil conversation without yelling, throwing of things, and slamming of doors since you're out in public but keep in mind that while you're breaking it off, we, the waiters are still committed to serving you till the end of our 30min to 1 hour relationship, no matter how uncomfortable and uninvolved we are. It's in our job description to keep a smile and ask for total payment so...

So, if there is no other way, do it but don't look at us like we're being insensitive when we drop the bill off and wait for you to pay while the other person in your party is stealing the napkins off neighboring tables to cry into them. YOU made this decision, not us.

And for those of you who are particularly rude and fail to understand how the situation is surprisingly more awkward for us, I will come by and suggest that you stay for dessert and ask ever so politely, "Is the check together...or separate?"

Cluster. Fuck.

Gotta love football weekends. The restaurant fills up to near maximum capacity and we're all hopping from table to table like fleas.

For a crazy night, I don't have a particular episode to note. Well, except for the table of 13 kids who couldn't get their cash to add up, regardless of their iPod calculator app. How is it that not one person in the group can total the cash ON A CALCULATOR and compare it to the total, which I highlighted with a pen? The education system has failed them. They clearly need to add a Restaurant Bill chapter to the Math curriculum.

Sadly, this is nothing new. You won't believe how many times I've gotten credit card receipts and found that in the process of adding the tip into the tab, the patron mysteriously reached a total less than the actual bill.

But back to tonight. Let me first set the stage: The restaurant is very narrow and long with a tight little waist near the bar (like an hourglass). So, when the bar is 3 deep, there is a tremendous traffic jam. A cluster fuck, if you will. Now, try pushing against the current with a tray full of food and top heavy wine glasses. Top it all off with being vertically challenged. Thank God my voice carries! Weaving through the crowd sideways, really slow gets very tiresome. And that's not all.

Not that this town needs any excuse to drink but football definitely calls for liver churning binges. Inebriated, the inner crazy and perv come out to play. In my case, a drunkard seized the opportunity to grab my butt and towel (which is also back there) while I was hopeless: walking sideways, both hands occupied with various items, only allowed to go forward, and unable to look back. Sneaky bastard darted out the door before I could even think of obscenities.

Football weekends: Rowdy either way but always better when the team wins!

My Name is ___

I always have a mini panic attack when customers ask my name. I immediately replay our entire interaction up until that moment to make sure I didn't do anything wrong or possibly made a facial expression that could have been misconstrued.

Most of the time, they just want to know so they can act all buddy-buddy with me and make it easier to get my attention; for instance, from across the restaurant. These guys are all complements and no buck. Such a tip tease.

This particular time, it was an older couple. As soon as I walked up to get their drink order, I saw potential warning signs. The wife was not smiling and the man was rummaging through his wife's purse to look for his glasses. "I can't see in this light," he said. After I had brought out the appetizers and answered a few questions about the menu, the husband asked me for my name.

Uh oh. Rewind....Replay. Nope, no incidences that I could think of. I continued the routine and brought them their entrées. After their last plates were taken away with a little chuckle about wasabi, I brought them their bill. That was when the husband said something to me that I was not expecting at all.

"You did a good job." Wow, didn't see that coming. I don't think I've ever had anyone tell me that before. I've gotten Thank You's and We enjoyed it's but never telling me I did a good job. Although I was taken back, I did feel like I earned a gold star that day. Haha, my mom would be proud.