Defeating the purpose

I recently made a trip to a sports outlet to pick up a ski mask for a football game. This is a rather large store that caters to people that are fit, work out and play sports. Skiers, gym rats, bikers...people that work out. You can smell the fitness in the air when you go inside the store. But before you go inside, you have to park.


As I pull into the parking lot I noticed a line of handicap spots along my right side. About 9 to be exact. The last handicap spot at the sports store was all the way in the back of the lot.

Am I missing something here? Isn't the point of the handicap spots to get those that are disabled as close to the entrance as humanely possible? Don't people park in these spots that aren't handicap because they are too lazy to walk from a spot designated for them?

Furthermore, it's a sports shop. Tell me why you need 9 handicap parking spots which count for almost a third of the spots there!

And no, no one was parked in any of these spots. During the holiday season when you're not necessarily shopping for yourself, no one was parked in these spots.

My guess is, because if there were any handicap shoppers there, they would be better off parking in a spot that isn't designated for anyone. Because those spots are a hell of a lot closer to the door.

If you insist on having 9 parking spots for those that are handicapped, why not make the first couple of spots in each row for these people? What happens if the first 5 or 6 are taken and the rest of the parking lot is full? So someone in a wheelchair has to park practically on the highway?

I don't know who thought of this parking lot or who approved it or which person is the bigger moron. All I know is if I was in a wheelchair and had to park in the bushes because the parking lot was jammed with holiday shoppers and jocks buying for themselves, I would kick some serious ass when I got there.

The Happy Waitress: McDonald's is across the street

So, last night I had a table of college kids that were clearly under 21. They didn't really fit the "mold" of the type of customers that come into where I work but whatever...there were four friends, three guys and a chick. I swear this wrote itself...

I introduce myself to the table and take their drink order...I was expecting 4 waters and was surprised to only hear 1 water and 3 cokes. Cool. Maybe I misjudged them when they walked in the door (has never happened and still hasn't...just wait)

I bring over their drinks and ask if they are ready to order or need a few minutes. Upon asking them this, I see a pile of cash (mostly singles and fives) and on top of that pile, coins. I do not work in a strip club and this is not a pretty site. Their response to me is: "Um...can you give us a few minutes while we work out the cash situation?"

Seriously? If you can't afford to go out and you're counting your pennies, get your shit together before you leave the house. I understand being broke but I would never show up to a restaurant and count my money including coins (who even carries coins anymore) in front of the waitress. Get the hell out of here with that.

I give them around 5 minutes to figure it out. It's not a terribly expensive menu and there are plenty of options. When I come back they state that they still aren't ready.

5 more minutes go by.

When I come back they point to a platter on the menu and ask me what that would cost, plus the drinks, plus tax. To which I say "plus tip". Yeah that's right. I said it. Why? Because I wasn't going to get a tip anyway so I'm not in any real danger. And, shit like this should never be tolerated. The customer is not right in this case and frankly, this is why there should be a "waiting tables" course taught before you are allowed to graduate high school. No one ever uses gym, but that course, they would use.

Anyway, I go to the computer and type in their request, void it out and come back to the table with their number. To which they laugh about how they cannot afford that (the number was under $50 between four people just FYI).

7 minutes go by.

I come back and they've decided they can afford it. Fine. Order in. Food out. Anyone need a refill?

You can guess what comes next right? "Are they free?"

Refills done, everything's done...and they want the check. Here ya go.

I give them plenty of time to count out the pennies...come back and they push the pile of cash across the table and say that it's for the bill, and could I put my tip on their credit card?

No, I cannot. The computers don't work like that, but if you tell me how much you want on the card then I'll keep the leftover cash as my tip.

They say "$10".

Whoa! I was wrong? You're going to leave me $10 on a $44 bill? Sweet.

They then tell me that they have waited tables before so they feel really bad.

(dangerous statement to make if you cannot back it up by the way)...

I take the credit card. Swipe. Declined. Swipe again...this is for $10 remember...and declined. Again.

I go back to the table and inform them of this which they say "I knew it.." I give them a few minutes to figure it out, guard the door and then go back to the table. They express how embarassed they are but because they've been in my position before two of them are going to stay and the other two are going to get more money.

A full hour goes by before two of them come back. I don't even go over to the table. I'm done.

End result? $4 on a $44 bill.

OH wait. So...I was right...again?

Always am, always will be. I know it when you walk in the door.

Next time either order something cheaper because you know you've "been in my position before" and "feel awful" or go to McDonald's. All you did was cost me money as your tip goes directly to the hostess and the bartender for tipout. Thanks for nothing and do not come back.

Happy Waitress: Close Your Mouth

Welcome to another installment of "The Happy Waitress"...inspired by how bad manners really can get beyond the bad tipping/no tipping at all.

I recently had a table, two women, who were clearly ready to save a lot of money as when I went over to their table I couldn't even introduce myself before they barked at me "wings are 25 cents tonight, right?!"

I corrected her stating that they were "50 cents each and not 25". To which she, of course, then said that she called ahead of time and was told otherwise. You know what, who the hell calls up and asks how many quarters wings are? Really? I can't wait to see what kind of a tip you'll be oh-so generous to leave. Anyway, that's not what this blog is about.

After clearing up the whole 50 cents versus 25 cents debate I ask if they would like blue cheese, ranch or celery and (here comes the surprise) they ask if it's extra. Of course it's extra but whatever. So they only want one each. Super.

Order in, order out, food on the table and I ask "are you guys all set...is there anything you need right now?" Answer: "No". Mk.

3 minutes later I come back to check in with them and I guess they felt that I was going to run away from the table because they felt the need to tell me they needed more blue cheese. WITH A MOUTH FULL OF BLUE CHEESE AND WINGS.

DIS-FUCKING-GUSTING!!!!

Are you kidding me? I don't need to see you chew up a dead bird with wing sauce and blue cheese...especially in your mouth full of jacked up teeth. And you know what? If I wanted to give you another blue cheese for free, I technically could, but now? Absolutely not. Chew your fucking food and fucking swallow it. I. Can. Wait. There is no need to show me how you chew. I'm not interested. No wonder you're not here on a date. Ew. Vomit. Puke.

I turned my head down because I seriously thought I was going to hurl, and headed back to the kitchen to pick up another blue cheese.

That's another 69 cents please. Next time shut your mouth and I'll hook you up.

Foul. Just foul.