Never Have I Ever

There are many things that I have done at the restaurant over the years but there are also many things that I have not. Thanks to the crazy weekend, I can move some of the things from the haven't column to the have...

Never have I ever been so excited about a football game. It was so exciting. I realized that I too am one of those people that yell at the TV and jump around. A sad realization on my part.

Never have I ever dropped the F bomb in front of customers till tonight. It was the most (if there is ever) appropriate time to do so, though. I was, as always, weaving through a jungle of people with a tray full of food and a hand delicately balancing a fresh-out-of-the-kitchen hot bowl of soup. All of a sudden, a group of intoxicated monkeys pop up in front of me to do a faux wrestling/hugging match. As I gently yelled out my current situation, one of the dudes backed up into me.

Thank God the years of maneuvering around drunkards had taught me a thing or two! Instinctively, I jerked back without spilling the hot lava. Unfortunately, my irritations allowed the fatal words to escape my lips. I couldn't help it. I almost burned myself and perhaps an innocent bystander (bar-sitter).

Never have I ever high-fived so many times in one shift. I swear, every trip to my section resulted in a total of...4 high-fives. That's not including the trip back. And they were for the lamest things: "Sake bombs!" High-five. "Football!" High-five. "My name's Sam!" High-five. "You're working!" High-five. Thanks for reminding me. Boo!

And never have I ever been so glad to have missed the drama the night before. I don't know much detail but I do have some key words: People, Alcohol, Loud music, Crowd surfing, Cops, Big mess. Why is it that college town cops are so eager to abuse their power? Ugh! Never should they ever.

Heaven and Hell

What is Heaven?

I'm not really religious but I have many answers to that. If you are asking what my fantasy/near future is, then the answer's easy: Waking up from a nap to Daniel Johns playing a song for me on the piano. He'll sit next to me on the couch and we'll watch classic movies. He'll attempt a Clark Gable persona but ha, you can still clearly hear that Australian accent of his. Ahhh...wow, sorry, lost myself a little there.

If you ask that question in a more practical sense, then my answer is: A hot shower after a hard night's work, curled up in covers with heating pads on the bottoms of my feet and a big ol' glass of ice cold water. A marathon of CSI or anything on Food Network would make it complete. Ahhh...

What is Hell?

That's easy: A restaurant full of angry people, running out of liquor, late food orders, and people who are all up in my way!

Luckily, that was not the case Friday night. Very busy but not hellish. I was worrying about this weekend...all week. I think we all were.

It was a BIG weekend for us! LSU's in town. I don't understand the whole smells like corn dogs thing but our town's sticking to that insult, so I won't question it.

Drunk. Wasted. Trashed. Shit-faced. You can call it whatever you want but people were drinking in full force. I saw that the cops even closed down a road because there were so many people spilling out into the streets. Girls were already falling over and it was only 9. Nuts.

I saw a guy finish off an entire pizza and I avoided looking at a girl peeing behind a trash can. I wonder if that is their idea of Heaven and Hell?

Is It 10 Yet?

Waiting tables can be like being stuck behind a slow moving car. It's frustrating, you're screaming on the inside (car/brain), you try not to hit anyone, and there's no backing out.

It seems like on the days you work the longest, nothing seems to happen. On my dinner shift, I didn't get my first table till 2 hours after I clocked in. I was so bored, I was on the border of harassing my one table with water refills. After another grueling hour of nothingness, I was told that I could go as soon as my remaining tables cleared out...

I had to wait a whole 'nother hour till I got to leave. I only had two, TWO tables mind you.

One, consisting of three people, was determined to get trashed. Every time I was in a visible distance, the speaker of the table flashed me the another round gesture. Considering the amount of beer they were guzzling, they were docile and quite sweet.

My other table consisted of two ladies. They too started off with some drinks. Unlike their neighbors, these women preferred to nurse their beer. It all seemed rather normal till their sewing needles came out. They started to vigorously knit, what I think was, an afghan. This worried me. Even at the alarming pace they were going, if they were going to finish it, I wasn't going anywhere.

Why, oh why, is it when I get to leave early, I can't?! I would walk by each of them, hoping to hear the magic phrase, "Check, please" but only hearing, "Another round."

By the time I finally dropped the bills, it was near closing time. What a weird night.

Rugrats

I've never considered myself a baby person. I, of course, adore my friend's kids but random strangers... I won't go out of my way to pick them up or chat with them. Regrettably, I think my job has caused me to dislike them and their parents, just a little bit more.

Whenever a family walks in the door, I prey that it's not my turn. I've had so many bad experiences with children, just the thought makes me cringe. If the child is still in diapers, I get to look forward to crushed cheerios and Goldfish that gets embedded into the floor. If the child is old enough to complain about their order, I get to look forward to running back and forth making Shirley Temples or Roy Rogers (which an angry mother insist me calling it when getting one for her son. Although a Roy Rogers is technically a cherry Coke).

Advice to all parents: Check out the menu BEFORE you walk in. Getting upset and asking me why we don't serve regular fries and sandwiches for kids is just ridiculous. Bring your own ketchup please. We're an Asian fusion establishment. All we have that resembles ketchup is sweet & sour sauce.

Teaching your stubborn angel manners is also a tool to make your waiter really uncomfortable. Especially when it's busy, I don't have time to stand idly by while you angrily request your child to say, Thank You. "Tommy, tell her Thank you. Tommy? You're not getting another soda till you tell her, Thank you. Tommy, you look at me..." Man, I don't want him to thank me if his heart's not gonna be in it!

If your munchkin is very shy, please don't force them to place their own order. This usually makes me have to get so close to them that their nose is in my ear. "Speak up, honey."

What I hate the most though, is when parents let their rambunctious kids run wild in the restaurant as they each talk on their cell phones. And you KNOW those parents are the ones that would freak out if you corrected their precious darlings. It's hard carrying a full tray of food and cocktails while dodging three boys running full speed and dragging a little one who's tugging on your towel asking repeatedly, "What's that? What's that? What's THAT?"

After babysitting, I feel like I deserve a smile or two from the parents but all I get is a credit card in between the fingers of the hand that's still holding the cell phone. Cold.

What I should do is stand there. "You're not leaving till you say, Thank you. Say Thank You! You're not getting your phone back till you behave!"

Run It Again, Sam

Dropping off the bill at a table can be the most relieving as well as the most tense moment. Is the bill split up the way they want it? Was everything charged correctly? Are they going to tip well?

Whenever there's a dispute about who's going to pay for what, it can get a little funny. I call it the Bill Tug-of-War. "Susan, put your card away! You got it last time." "But Diane, you just brought over that lovely cheesecake last week for brunch! Here, take my card." La la la. All the while, I'm left shrugging awkwardly by the table as cards come flying at my face. Honestly, I don't care who pays. Just as long as someone does.

Running cards can be rather tricky. Not the swiping part, obviously, but there are many things that can go wrong: The online server can be busy, the computer can be unresponsive, we could be low on paper...the worst though, is if your card is declined.

Believe me, we will do our very best to break the news to you discretely. Just slip us another payment method and we'll be on our way. What we don't need or deserve is for you to take your embarrassment and frustrations out on us. How can it be our fault that you have insufficient funds due to your splurge on golf clubs or a new pair of D&G booties?

Trust me, it makes us just as nervous as you when your card's declined. Yes, we have tried to run it more than once! Our computer has a way of telling us who is to blame for an incomplete transaction. Besides, we want to be absolutely sure before we have to walk the Walk of Death back to the table. Staring me down while saying "That's not possible" doesn't help the situation because the impossible just happened. Your credit limit is a problem you need to discuss with your credit card company. Not me.

By this point, no matter what I say or do, I know that you think this is all my fault: I am just a bitter waiter causing a scene because I am unhappy with my current situation and want those who have the luxury of having a lovely dinner out to suffer. I can assure you that is never the case but if you're mad, you're mad. Just ask your friend(s) to pay, take out your anger by slashing my tip down to mere pennies, and have a good night.

Appetizers: $6

Bottle of Wine: $28

Dinner: $32.75

Yelling at your server in front of friends: priceless

Happy HalloThanks Christmas

Many people in the surrounding neighborhoods are hopping on the Wal-Mart holiday schedule. You know the one. They're always ready for the next, next, upcoming holiday.

We haven't even opened the remaining bag of Halloween candy yet and folks are already setting up reindeers and scattering styrofoam snow. Please, did you forget about Thanksgiving? You can't skip over the brown and yellow color scheme that connects the orange from Halloween to the red and green of Christmas. I love Christmas but it just seems too early for lights. Like white shoes after Labor Day...just wrong.

We all need to take a moment and focus on the now! Slow down and pick up a can of cranberry sauce and Campbell's Cream of Mushroom Soup. This is also the perfect time to get out a Paula Deen cookbook. After all, a Southern Thanksgiving=Casseroles=Butter=Coma.

You need a whole month to work off that meal anyway and what better exercise than to climb up and down a ladder and untangling yards of lights. The frustration of finding that one busted bulb probably burns calories too.

So, don't get too ahead of yourself. I promise, if you're patient, Black Friday will tie you over till you hear Bing Crosby or a Disney Mania Christmas Remix on the radio. Nothing says Christmas like the Jonas Brothers rockin' out Adeste Fideles.

And really, you can rush the holidays all you want but you're still required to spend time with extended family.

Infidelity

When you've worked in the same restaurant for so many years, nothing is ever really new. I've eaten everything on the menu wayyy too many times. At least our food items lean on the healthier side. I'd be a goner if I worked in an ice cream shop. Although I don't get excited about our menu anymore, it doesn't stop me from craving the same cuisine...but from another restaurant.

I feel guilty but baby, it's not like that. I'm not really cheating. I just need something familiar but different, you know? Our relationship has become a little bland over the years. I try to throw in some Habanero sauce to spice things up a bit but in the end, it's still the same. You think of specials every weekend but to me, it's just a twist on the regular. We're just together so damn much. It's just too routine with us. I need a new scene from time to time. Can you blame me? When I go out, I'm worry free. I get to wear whatever I want and the luxury of not knowing the person preparing my meal.

I donno. Maybe I am selfish. But it's not like I'm not always reminded of you when I go out. Since I'm always seen with you, when people see me, they ask about you. I always have to drive by your place when I go anywhere. I can never truly be free from you in this town...

I don't mean to be harsh. I appreciate your availability. You're there for me when I'm hungry after a shift... Look, time away from you is not necessarily a bad thing. To be honest, if I'm away from you too long, I start to miss you. So lets just try to give each other some space so that we can keep going and so things don't get too old.

Fairy Blogmother

Sometimes, I'm involved in things so bizarre, I can't make heads or tails of them. Happenings so strange that it leaves my face contorted in a way that the only applicable subtitle would be: Huh? After thinking long and hard, there is only one explanation: I have a Fairy Blogmother who is giving me material to write about.

One night, when I was still a mere hostess, a man came into the restaurant. There was a little time before we opened and the waitresses were still setting up. Before I could give him my "we're not quite open yet," spiel, he hit me with the strangest query. "I'm going to break up with my girlfriend," he says. "Can you get me the most private table?" We did not have any booths and none of our tables were intimate enough for a very public break up... Why would you tell me that? Refer to my Separate Ways entry. Eyebrows furrowed.

One time, I was waiting on this group of guys who were obviously International Studies students. By obviously, I mean they were discussing the economic situation in South East Asia. They really wanted to guess my ethnicity. Glad to be a walking guessing game. After our customer/waiter engagement had expired, I ran their cards and went on my way. When I stopped back at the table after they left, I noticed a note on one of the credit card slips. A phone number written in characters not numbers. And what is that below the digits? A 9% tip... Did he want me to call to ask him why he tipped like a foreigner? Shrug.

[Explanation: For those of you who don't know, in most other countries, the tip is included in the bill or in their staff's pay. So, it is not part of their custom to tip. Foreign travelers, when they come to the States, tend to forget they are in a country whose servers live off the tips they make, thus, making them unfavorable patrons.]

And last night, after I got done with my shift, some guys walked up to my friend and me. One guy asked if I knew who the band was so I told him. Then, he said, "You have a very crisp accent. You must not be from here." I had to tell him to not be fooled by my exterior and that I was in fact a Southerner. After a few more introductory exchanges I learned that he was from Italy and was in the area to see what the South was all about and why it had such a bad rap. His hobbies included break dancing and most importantly, he was an exotic dancer who got into the biz thanks to his ex who was a stripper. Was he hitting on me?

As my mouth hung open, I wondered: Should I have given him a $20 to see if he was bullshitting me? I don't even think I heard an accent. But, it was loud in the bar...

Thanks for the last one Fairy Blogmother. Maybe you can send Hugh Jackman my way. I would TOTALLY be psyched to write about that one!

:(

The sideways emoticon embodies everything I'm feeling at this very moment. I am so tired of smiling, all I can do is lay on my side and frown. It was a pretty decent Friday night before a big game. I don't know if it was because I wasn't wearing my 20%-tip earrings or if it was because it was Friday the 13th but people weren't tipping. And THAT is contagious.

This isn't uncommon though. There are always a couple days in the month where everyone who sits in my section decides to tip the minimum, if at all. And I am 100% sure that it's not me. I was giving away smiles like condoms at a free clinic and making jokes to make the table laugh to divert them from their appetizer's late arrival. I even gave chopstick lessons... Deep breath

After a busy night, when tips are particularly bad, not even the smoothest tequila can kick the aches away. I have to turn down invites to late nights in favor of retreating back home to some sweats and bad TV. Besides, by the time I'm done with side work and clock out, I'm already several drinks behind the crew. I don't like to play catch up.

The night looks a lot less appealing when you go out tired, irritated, and sober. The stumbling dudes aren't as funny, the music isn't as bumpin', and the pizza slices aren't as gourmet. Sheesh, hope next weekend is better!

The Aristocrats

Fifteen minutes till close, this foursome walks in head held high as they push past the hostess to seat themselves. The man flags me down as he whispers a witty remark, making the three women giggle. "Three Michelob Ultras and an Amaretto Sour." Don't let the drink order fool you. These people are high class, these people are important, these people are...Aristocrats.

I give them a couple minutes after taking their top shelf drinks to get their dinner order. I don't mean to rush them but time is rapidly approaching. The man orders a couple starters. The lady across from him lifts her head from her menu to inquire, "What the fuck is that shit?" The group join in for a hearty chuckle as I leave the explanation to the host of this soiree. After I drop the appetizers off, I overhear them in a deep discussion about sexual acts with animals, from across the restaurant...

Seriously? It is unbelievable how these people have the gaul to call others lush and tasteless when they're asking me to recommend something that's not some weird Chinese shit! Your fourth Amaretto sour before your entree has even seen a flame isn't making you fun, just obnoxious.

If you are puzzled by our menu and everything recommended makes you regurgitate profanity, this is not the place for you. May I suggest an Applebee's or an Olive Garden? I hear they have fantastic drink specials and menu items you may be more accustomed to.

After I had taken all their plates away, I thought I'd finally be able to bid them adieu. But oh no! I turned around to see the gentleman waving me over. What did he want? He wanted to challenge my math skills. He was convinced that I had short changed him. In his Mich Ultra haze, he must have forgotten that he was drunk and I was Asian. It was time for this Yuppie to get schooled in 2nd grade arithmetic.

After the battle of wits and pencils were down, I emerged victorious. Unfortunately, his companions were no better and couldn't add in a tip...

Joke's on me

Skills and Qualifications

Working at a restaurant that's located in the middle of town has its ups and downs: Parking is a bitch but at least all the bars are clustered together. So, it's not surprising that job seekers start in the center first.

I've seen many job applications get filled out. Honestly, if you want a job at our or any other restaurant surrounding us, make a friend with an employee. We'll skip over month old applications with above average experience for a reference by a coworker. You could have an outstanding DUI and a prescription drug addiction but hey, we'll give you a try. If you don't have a strong ally though, don't be discouraged. We may personally lay your application on the boss's desk if you bat your eyes and impress us.

Oh, and a touch of advice from me to you: Firstly, if you come in as a customer and ask your waiter for an application, it is not smart to tip sub par. Because then, the "boss" we told you we'd hand your resume to? It's the trash can. Secondly, please don't be cute an write with purple ink or draw on your application. We may not be corporate but we're also not your pen pal. If your doodles are particularly eye catching, we'll keep it. It'll be hanging on the cork board right next to the drawing one of our 2yr old customers gave us. You get a gold star for your creativity, not a job.

And thirdly, I'm aware that not everyone has work experience and therefore don't have a list of job references. Writing down your great grandmother Dorothy is not a really good idea. Even if you only visit her to get drug money, she's still not gonna talk shit about you. A little biased...just a little. And most definitely, don't write down your boyfriend as a reference! What are we going to ask him? We don't care to know your skills at that kind of job.

Be smart or at least act smart, make a friend or two in the biz, and for God's sake, at least ask your neighbor who's yard you mowed once, a year back, to be a reference. Happy Hunting

The Dreaded Alphabet

A-B-C. In that sequence, it'll make any baby's mom squeal but a server cringe. Sesame Street with a badge, it's the ABC.

Big events such as concerts and football weekends bring customers who are looking for a good time and the booze that will help them along. Sometimes, with the crowd comes the uninvited guest, the dreaded alcohol police. Usually, someone in will sense their presence and alert the town's alcohol dealers. But every once in a while, they'll get rather sneaky and plan an ambush during a particularly busy weekend. The last big home game landed a couple bartenders in jail. They send underage undercover agents into the bars. Once they're served, anyone behind the bar is out.

When the word gets out about the ABC sneak attack, I naturally get nervous. I feel like I can judge age pretty well but... More often than I like, I get the girls who cake on the make up as well as guys with so much facial hair, they could have been Brad Pitt and I would have never known.

Most of the time, I card everyone. I'm met with giggles and enthusiasm, "Oh Yeah! I'll show you my I.D. Woop, Woop." I do my courtesy laugh but really, just hand over the plastic. I'm not going to risk going to jail because your tanning bed habit misleads me. And if, for whatever reason, you forget your I.D., please don't ask me to just TRUST you. Seriously, we can't even trust that you'll tip... Oh and one more thing: Keep in mind that it is not OUR fault that you forgot your identification or that you were born before 1988. Are you promising to bail us out of jail? I didn't think so. So tip for the service we are legally allowed to give. You should have drank before you came (and let your DD drive).

Occasionally, I go with my gut instinct and don't mold my fingers into the "card" shape. I always second guess myself though. I had a couple that came in the other night that had me sweating bullets.

The guy was obviously older but the girl...on the border. I swore I saw some pre-30 wrinkles creeping in but it could have been clumps of foundation but I took them their drinks anyway. For the next 40-45 min., I was freaking out because the whole time they were eating, she didn't touch her wine.

I was just imagining myself taking them their ticket, only to be met by the alphabet monsters. It was not a good feeling. Luckily, she drank her wine, they paid, they left, and nothing happened... unless they're planning on picking me up at my house. In which case, my next entry may be from prison.

The Boobfest Before Christmas

One day out of every year, you are allowed to dust off your pleather, thigh-high boots without objection. On this day, you are able to borrow a bra from your girl-friend without hesitation. It's the day you can wear last year's Comic-con outfit without any judgement. This is Halloween, everybody make a scene.

Every Halloween, College Town, MS turns into Universal Studios and the people, Playboy playmates and the guys that Oogle at them. The skirts get shorter, the guys even douche-er, and libidos at an all time high.

What specifically am I complaining about on this day? Couples costumes. Another holiday has crossed over to make those of us who are single feel even more alone. Please, no, go on. Tell me about how your Prince Charming and Snow White costumes are so awesome. Don't spare any details about how you won't be able to leave the apartment without a quickie since she'll look so hot in it. I'll clap, awe, and be sincerely excited for you. But, after your story, I'm gonna excitedly tell you about how I'm going to have a shot of tequila and a self pity martini.

From the unbitter part of me comes some advice for you love bugs out there: If you are a part of a group costume, don't let the group disperse! As a group/couple, you may look awesome but individually, you may look silly. For example, if you decide to go as the Dish that ran away with the Spoon, you can't hop to a different bar without your Spoon. Standing alone, you'll look like a flying saucer.

Halloween is now the new Valentine's Day and others are sure to follow... Bring it on President's Day.