Half Caf-Decaf?

I did something today that I have never done in over 20 years of waiting tables.

Let's see, to understand the level of my temper that incited this ghastly act I may need to give some background on the festivities that occur on Tuesdays where I work. We've had tour busses that come through around noon, eat a family style meal, and head out the door. The waitstaff (usually just two of us) is responsible for setting up, salads, etc, etc... After the banquet, we clear, clean, organize, and then set the dining room for the evening shift. It's been a good gig--in and out, no messing around, no meetings, no dragging out the day so we have to find mundane chores to while our time while they yammer amongst themselves. And the tips have been very good for these forays, which is why I've continued to sign up for them all summer. Well, that and Tuesdays are my day off. I have felt compelled to take these hours while they are available since wintertime is never quite as wealthy in the tip department.

So we have a groove with these luncheons which has been working pretty well. Sometimes we have two parties, spaced about a half hour apart. (They never work that way though since someone is always early)! Today, however, we had one usual bus tour, a group of lady golfers off the menu, and this "Invest All of Your Money with Us and We Will Pay for a Family Style Lunch for You and Any Other Freeloader You Bring" meeting thrown in to the mix. Well, the first thing that threw off the rhythm is that they were arriving as we were arriving to set up. Not a good thing. We handled it though, because we are professionals who do good work. Okay. The Entitled (entitled to lunch and as much bitching as they can get in for their free meal as possible) crowd was covered for the next hour and a half, at least.

We moved through the rest of our set-ups without problem. Well, the bus tour was a half an hour early, but who counts that? The lady golfers went off without a hitch (thank God, since one of them is a former owner of the place). The Entitled Ones' leader gave me the thumbs up to go for lunch and we were off on the final leg of our luncheon journey. Ohhh, were we off... On the race we wish we'd never heard the gun go off for.

I can tell you that leaving 60 quasi-interested folks sitting at dinner tables for two hours while you drone on about how great your company is will only lead to near cannibalism. It started when we went with salads and rolls. Before we could even get all of the salads served, the whining began for more rolls, coffee, water, extra napkins, extra settings, more butter. Holy shit, people! I guess when you've been promised a meal, then forced to sit through the "catch" your eyesight can get pretty nearsighted. I don't think any of those folks realized that two servers only have four hands and four legs between them.

The demanding pandemonium continued as the meal progressed without diminishing. "Are there more ribs?" "Can we get more sour cream?" "We'd like more water here!" "We need butter." And on and on and on it went. There was a particular couple who were determined that their squeaky wheel would get the grease on all of the above counts, and more! They asked for more coffee no less than three times. They needed butter. They needed ribs. They demanded more rolls. Other pockets of outrage burst forth too. Those who needed special treatment or items not included in the meal. "Yes ma'am." "No problem sir." "Sure." Nod. Smile. Keep the annoyance off of your face. Be courteous, above all.

After 45 minutes of abuse like this, I became dismayed with the human race. Why is it that when something is free we get more quibblesome? Excuse me, let me say what I mean. Why does a free lunch bring out every freeloader and el cheapo in a 50-mile radius? Grrrr! I'm a person, not a robot attending to your every whim. Maybe instead of snarling about there being no ribs, you ask the guy five people down from you to pass them? It's FAMILY STYLE, people. At home, you'd ask your son to pass the ribs. Here, you ask the gentleman who has them in front of him. Rocket science, I'm telling you.

Yeah. So you get the drift of my pasted on smile and taut nerves by this point? Man, I bust my butt to make people happy and get them every possible thing they might need for their meal when I'm working. I'm like that. I'm a perfectionist and I take it as a personal failure if you've had to ask me to refill your water glass. But you know what? Sometimes I gotta admit defeat. I was feeling pretty deflated by the kicks to my ego from these people who refused to be pleased by our efforts. And I can tell you that I've worked enough family style banquets to be able to tell you that these people were hogs on the food. We put out an abundant meal, but these people made us look like we'd shorted them of this meal they paid-wait, they didn't pay a dime for the meal. That's right.

When the male half of the noisemaking couple belittled me for another pot of coffee while we were serving dessert, I took the pot from him, finished what I was serving, and headed back to the kitchen to dutifully fill the carafe. This is when my evil side arose. We were at the end of a marathon of luncheons. There was no decaf left. I swear to you, I have never filled a decaffeinated coffee pot with regular coffee, EVER.

Until today. I hope that man is still awake.