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everybody’s biscuit bitch

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So…for those of you that don’t know what it’s like to work in a restaurant…here’s a taste. And disclaimer: I wrote this at like 3 am after particularly painful shift, and there is language. Don’t say you weren’t warned.

I have been at The Restaurant for five years…almost a full quarter of my life.

I love my job sometimes. I love the people I work with. My managers are pretty much great, though I’ve had some ups and downs with a few of them. Nothing we can’t work out. (And by work out I mean me spouting off some choice words and acting like a bitch and then getting over it.)

But this weekend was kinda rough.

Some people are bastards. They just are. They shouldn’t be allowed out of the house, much less allowed into my restaurant to dine so that I must wait on them hand and foot.

I have come to the conclusion that there are just certain people types that come into to eat. Let me familiarize you with a few of them. If you or someone you know fits this type, stay out of my restaurant and away from me. Thanks.

In no specific order…

Old People
Can I have blue cheese dressing? And coleslaw? And on the side, on the side, on the side? No salad, thanks, it meddles with my digestion. And I need no butter, no salt, no preservatives, and no seasoning. What do you think this is, freaking Cracker Barrel? Cook at home or get your hospice service to bring you your salt-free, taste-free, fat-free meals.

The Weak Drinker
There’s always that one guy who thinks he is such a bad ass and can’t wait to get his alcoholic beverage, and then he orders something like a Seabreeze or a Sunset Passion Colada. It’s like, “hey, can I get the lamest drink on the menu? And can you by any chance make it pink?” Sure, you wimp, would you like me to get you a lobster bib while I’m at it so you don’t get any juices on your pink polo with the collar popped?

Cheap-Asses
A most prominent species, SOBs that have no place in anything outside of the Waffle House. You got 100 dollars to drop on dinner, son? You’d betta be dishin out at least 15 for my tip or step off. I don’t have time for your white trash crap.

People that should have been pro-choice
Nothing makes my uterus draw up on itself faster than people with children that would have been better left as a twinkle on someone’s eye. I swear, sometime kids can be cute, but some children that make a bigger mess than their personal circumference area need to be gagged and on a leash. And the screaming. Some people need discipline their children before I feel like I need to. This weekend I had at least three tables that made me feel as if God was telling me subliminally that I do not need to give birth.

Dumb jerks
Hi, I’ll have the seafood platter…ma’m, you are in a seafood restaurant, you’ll have to be more specific than that.  Chances are, anything could be considered a seafood platter.

People who don’t freaking listen
I’ll be right back with some more coffee and tea…can I get you anything else? Um, yeah, some more tea would be good. What a novel idea, you jerk, I wish I would have thought of that before you were so kind to bring up the fact that you’ve been sucking on ice cubes for the past five minutes. You are not my only table, and to be frank, you aren’t very high up on my priority list right now, either. Would you like baked potato, mashed potato – wait, can I have vegetables instead? Well, if you’d wait for me to get done, you would know that yes, indeed, you may have vegetables or even a delicious rice pilaf instead of the three varieties of potatoes that we have to offer.

The over-exaggerator
We’ve been here forever…I highly doubt you’ve been here forever. In fact, this restaurant itself has been here barely 30 years. So I suggest you take a lesson from Axl Rose and learn a lesson in patience, sir. And by the way, while we are on the subject, you are also not “starving” and you are most likely not “freezing.” Have you seen the kids on the Sally Struthers commercials? Now those are the customers I know are starving and I’m most worried about getting shrimp scampi to.

People who can’t shut the F up
Whether they are on the phone or talking to the person next to them, some people need to know when to shut up. If I am at your table, giving you my time and attention, please be courteous and kind enough to give me the same. Do not continue to “beep beep” someone on your Nextel or yak into your phone while I am attempting to either go through the fish presentation I have so carefully and artfully prepared or when I am eagerly trying to obtain your drink order. Just kindly shut the f up and wait until I am done. If you see someone you know and I am taking your order, politely wave and then seek them out at a more convenient time. This is my time, our time, and I want to get your order right…well, not really, I mostly want to get what you want written down and get away from you.

People that are stuck in one time period
But this used to be smoking…but I always used to get cheddar potatoes…but the last time I came in I got the outer banks sampler…well, guess what, this isn’t the last time, things change, and times do change as well. Read the menu. Read my lips. Listen to me talk.

Cheap-Asses, Part Deaux
Geez, is this really 19.99 for a plate? Is it really 10.25 for a lobster tail? Yes, really. What do you think? You’ll say that, I’ll wave my hand, and magically the prices on the menu will change? Everything isn’t subjective, and I am not a magician. Food costs money, and sometimes ours costs a little bit more.

And lastly, to the family of six people that I waited on with two younger kids, a baby, and three adults that came in at almost closing, ran me to death and asked for extra crap and made a mess and left me two ones after paying a 70+ dollar ticket with a credit card ….

I hope you burn in hell. I hope your children never graduate college and you are forced to put up with them forever. I hope you have every ounce of bad luck you can in life. I hope you step on every crack, walk under every ladder, and I hope you get food poisoning from the single piece of chicken and cheddar biscuits you hounded me to get a carryout box for.

Oh. And I hope your Mothers’ Day SUCKS.

The saddest part of all is that most of this will probably come true without my wishing it because you are too trashy to even amount to anything much more than the cheap clientele that come into The Restaurant with no money to spend, you stupid mfers.

Happy Mothers’ Day, everyone.

I love my job.

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