I've been contemplating an end-of-the-summer blog about all of the silly people I've come across in my waitressing hours this summer, but oddly I've gotten very good at removing those irritating people from my distress. Oh sure, we always remember the humdingers who REALLY got our dander up, but most float away into the abyss because I deem them unworthy of taking years off of my life by stressing me out for more than the actual time I have to look at their smug faces.
But a waitress nightmare happened last night, and I thought some of you might actually want to laugh at me for a change. So here goes.
I had a lovely family of five get seated in my section. A mom and dad, son, someone's mother and I think someone's sister. I recognized the couple as folks who come up every summer for a vacation. The lady is very pretty, but very much NOT taken with herself. I remembered her and liked her again immediately. As a group, they were very polite, and patient with the fact that I was busy (an 8-top's food was coming out and a 2-top and 4-top had been seated within seconds of each other a few minutes before they came in).
Things were going very smoothly with them, and their food came out in a timely manner, looking perfect. Great, now I can get that 8-top cleared and get their separate checks done! The usual flurry of requests for sundries needed to go with the meal ensued... another milk for the kid, an extra napkin for granny, and (Oh!God!No!) mustard for the lady.
Well, it's been the bane of our existence this summer not having mustard bottled up. The restaurant I work in is big (big enough that one poorly filled mustard bottle ain't gonna cut it), and if we are lucky, there is perhaps one bottle of almost empty mustard way back behind the hot fudge, parmesan, and salad bowls in the cooler. I trek off on my mission for the needed items as they begin their meal. Nope, no mustard in there. I resort to my usual plan when this occurs. A busgirl grabs the gallon jar of mustard from the walk-in cooler while I get a spoon and a small (plastic) ramekin. I push some mustard into it, grab the milk and some napkins and head back to their table. (I GOTTA check on those 2 tables in the back and make sure everything is okay)!!
Zip! Zip! Here's your napkins, the glass of milk, and here's your... WHOOPS! That sonofabitch flew out of my hand and toward the nice lady at about a hundred miles an hour.
Noooooooooo!
It's like those slow motion movies where you can see the thing you don't want to happen happening in a movement that is like single frame action. And yet, you are unable to stop the dreaded motion. So yes. The mustard did fling itself across her breast and onto the arm of her (not making this up) white embroidered shirt. It's like the Southwest commercial where I'm standing there and some invisible announcer is asking me if I want to get away. Hell yes, I want to get away. I want to take a 4 second step back, and hold onto that puppy a little tighter as I set it down.
Mustard. It never comes out. I'm apologizing as profusely as I can, looking sheepish over the accident, and she's cooing at me that it's okay, it's okay... I run for a clean cloth soaked in seltzer because really, if anything is gonna help it not set and make it possible to come out, it will be seltzer. I throw some napkins at her to blot it until I can get back from the bar with the wonder soda. I give her that. I bring her a dry cloth to blot it dry when she's done. Her family is eating happily around our efforts. I continue to apologize (profusely!) and she continues to assure me that is is absolutely no big deal. What a trooper. On the breast of another less assured woman, this could have been a true disaster. I am relieved by her casual attitude about the mishap, but embarrassed nonetheless.
At one point when she was finally enjoying (??) her dinner, she took off the ornate shirt and had on just her tank top type shirt. Unfortunately, it was cool enough in the restaurant that she needed to don the mustard splashed shirt again before the meal was over. Ugh. A marked woman, to be sure.
When the meal was over and the check was requested, I'd taken off any extras I had control to remove from the check, then got my hostess to comp the appetizers. If I could have, I would have made the whole check disappear. I was truly that embarrassed. As we ended our time together, the mustard-tattooed lady assured me that this sort of thing happened to her all the time. I was able to laugh and quip that it was her fault then. I asked her why she wasn't wearing mustard yellow on a day that the Packers played anyway. She was amused and continued smiling. Amazing woman.
These are the kinds of people I want to remember. I don't want to remember the guy who hassled me the entire time he was in my presence, demanding my full attention because he thought he was more important than the 20 other people in my dining care at the time. The guy who "bragged" that he was from California and his guests had just returned from Thailand, but ordered the iced tea because it had free refills and soda didn't. The guy, who, left a whopping 10 percent on his $50 tab.
The guy whose wife got slimed with mustard left 20 percent and THANKED me when he left. There really are some swell folks still out there.
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A smattering of thoughts as I maneuver through my days....
2 comments:
It should read sumbitch instead of sonofabitch. :lol:
Another good story.
I worked in food service (fast food no less) for about 6 years after high school and I can relate to the people you deal with. It's amazing how one good experience with good people can make up for the 20 assholes you dealt with right before. I got to the point where I was almost numb to the assholes and was able to tune them out. I went out of my way to take care of the good guys.
But there was always a day every now and then that one of the assholes would push the right button.
My best memory of an asshole was this one time on evening shift a guy came thru drive thru. He pulled around and came inside screaming at my drive thru girl that he didn't get his napkins. He was being very loud and disruptive. I stepped in and asked him his problem and he started to say a bad name when I cut him off and asked him to leave. He demanded to see the manager. Hee hee, I am the manager and will you please leave. He said he would be back to talk to the owners and have my job as he didn't like to take orders from somebody as young as I. He felt I had no business being a manager and told me so.
He came back the next day and the owners just happened to be there. The owners were husband and wife and would stop in about every other day for an hour or so. I told them my story when I saw him pull in. He walks in all big and before he could get one word out the husband told him that if he didn't immediately turn aruond and walk out to never return that he would have the police department escort him.
It's a great feeling to have owners back you 100%. They could have easily listened to the asshole first but they trusted my word. I learned later that they had delt with him before but it still felt good :)
hehehe...there's always one in the crowd, Tony! And yes, it is awesome to have the support of the higher ups.
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