The Happy Waitress: What the $#^% is wrong with you?!

There really is no better subject line for this week's "Happy Waitress" column, and after you're done reading this, I'm sure you will agree.

I've been through this before: I can spot a bad tipper/group of bad tippers when they walk in the door. So can any other waitress with 1 day on the floor. Yes they have a certain "way" about them and most times they fall into certain categories. This category would be "high school kids who have parents that didn't teach them manners and now it's too late because they are 17 and know absolutely everything..there um...ever was to know. Ever."

I made the mistake of taking this table (I had the chance to pass, but thought I didn't know my own intuition as well as I really absolutely do) of 13 high school brats last week. This blog is long overdue, so my apologies. They came in, loud, obnoxious, high on "OMG it's Christmas/New Year's Break and even though we can't drink, we probably do but it's OK cause we're like sooo cool and acting like jackasses makes us....um...COOLER!!!" Yeah!! Dance of coolness ensues.

Cut to drink order: water, water, water, water, water, water......water. So, as if their actions already as they entered the restaurant didn't scream "you ain't gettin' NO tip from us!", this just hammered in the last nail to the coffin. I bring over 3-4 pitches of water, glasses and straws. I already have plenty of tables and another party of 15, so I won't have time to go to the table, get a refill for someone and then bring it back only to hear that two more people want refills. There's no possible way to do it. None.

Before I even take their dinner order (extremely difficult because they are having a full blown conversation over the orders..um...can you shut up please?) they are asking if we're having that special we typically have that night.

Of course we are. Otherwise, your cheap asses probably wouldn't be here. Can I get you another water with that?

They all order the special. The special is an all you can eat special, which I translate to "all I can run back and forth from their table to the kitchen all night". Every single order that comes out I make sure the table, which they have now expanded to THREE tables, is clear so they have room to eat. They always have enough water and they always have enough clean plates. In fact, they never have to ask for anything. I'm good like that. I don't want my customers to have to ask, I can read their minds, and I'm happy to do it...not for free...but I'm happy to do it.

As the evening progresses (you know they were there for close to four hours, taking up all of my time and most of my tables) I see that their cups are red. Water, as we all know is um...clear. So eventually they come clean that they've been daring each other to "drink that"...some mix of water, hot sauce, pepper, salt and whatever else they could find on the table. So I get the lovely task of clearing all of the cups (reminder: that's 13) and bringing out all new cups as well as new pitchers (4) of.....WATER. As I'm listening to them tell me that "he started it", and ask for more water (WHAT THE $#*@ DO YOU THINK I'M DOING AT YOUR TABLE GENIUS?!) I stop them all and tell them that no, I am not their mother. I am their waitress. I do not have time to babysit them and they are making my job way harder than it actually has to be. Furthermore, now the people in the back have to take time to wash all of these cups that were perfectly fine to begin with because they decided to play a game of "let's see who will drink this." They "apologize" and I tell them to put all of the cups to the table behind them and I will bring out new everything. Before I can even walk away they are already ordering their next round of "all they can possibly eat ever"...Dude- REALLY?! I'm trying to clean up your &*%&ing mess- you can wait a hot second.

So I bring back everything I said I would and then ask them for their next order. In the midst of this I hear the following, "HE WON'T SHARE THE WATER WITH ME!" Damn, your parents must be proud. I look over there, exclaim that they must be kidding me and that, again, I'm not their mother so this is not my problem. Four or five courses later, and after the floor is COVERED with chicken bones, wrappers, straws, and the contents of a pinata, they want the check.

I can't wait to see how right I am.

The bill: $237.00...once the discount for these punk ass bitches is applied, the bill is under $200. I'm handed a wad of cash and asked to count it to make sure it's right.

Half the group walks out the door and I then point out to them that they handed me the right amount assuming they only wanted to tip me $3.

WHAT THE &#$% IS WRONG WITH YOU?!

I no longer care and walk up to the remaining group of pointless losers that will depend on their parents until they are 40, and contribute to this crap ass New Jersey/American soceity that we already live in and hear them ask if a tip was left. I explain to them that yes, I was tipped $3. That they each couldn't even have left a DOLLAR for me to come CLOSE to 10%. I then tell them that they never needed anything, were rude, that I have to clean up after their mess and that their crap kept me from other tables during the evening which didn't help my tips with others. They got the best they could have gotten and for what? Why on Earth do worthless children with parents that obviously sucked at raising them deserve such good service?

One guy hands me $5, says he's really sorry and that's all that he can afford.

Nice gesture but McDonald's is across the street. No tipping necessary there. Oh, and there are wings in the convenience store next to us for the future. Go there.

Then, yes, it keeps going, one of them has the audacity to ask for another round of all he can eat and I tell him that the offer is over at 11pm. It's 11:07. He asks if there's anything I can possibly do...to which I say...depends how much you possibly tipped. Oh wait, nothing? So no, I can't help you. Get out and never come back.

Where on Earth do you get off asking a favor after tipped $3 on a $181 bill that was originally $237? Where? Let me guess, when you're in a bind, mommy and daddy swoop in with credit cards don't they? There's a reality show waiting for you somewhere I'm sure.

They leave, I have $8 from that bill. I guarantee they will never come back.

Although, they are that stupid so they just might. I hope they sit with me....

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.

It's Connecticut, not Texas

This week I crossed off another place that I will not travel to unless there is a car getting me there and taking me back. Oh, and it has to be paid for. If you're wondering where the other places are, here: Philadelphia (I'm convincing nothing good comes out of there/happens there...ever) and Westchester (no comment even necessary).

Now moving to the top of the list: Connecticut.

I had a photoshoot scheduled this past Monday. I responded to a casting that was for NYC models for a shoot to take place in NYC. In case you're wondering, NYC is in NY and not Connecticut. I know, confusing.

The photographer gets back to me last minute that he would like to hire me, but he needs me to travel to Connecticut (I'm going to start naming this "CT" because typing the name of this state is more annoying then actually traveling there) because he has a meeting that night and can't make it to NYC and back in time.

Fine. He's in New Haven which is straight up Route 95 so great, and super easy. I can get up there, shoot and get back in time for rehearsal.

So I leave at 6:30am est (NYC and CT are in the same time zone) to make it for a 9:30am shoot, which is an hour extra just because I'm worried about traffic. I get into NY state and see the following on a large blinking neon sign:

"EXITS 19-21 IN FAIRFIELD, CT CLOSED DUE TO ACCIDENT. PLAN ALTERNATE ROUTE".

Guess who doesn't live in CT and has no idea what alternate route would be smart? Hi, that's me. No problem, I think that maybe by the time I get through NY and into CT the accident will be gone. Of course, my hopes are dashed when I see the same sign by the time I cross into CT and reach exit 5.

So, now 8am, I call the photographer, alert him of the situation and ask him what he suggests for an alternate route being that the accident is only 20 miles south of his studio.

Answer: I don't know. I don't drive in that area.

Interesting...because this is how you would get to NYC, which is where the casting originally was. Oh, and if someone was travelling to me and were 20 miles away in ANY direction, I could give them an alternate route. But that's me and I have a brain. Oh, and we're not in Texas, we're in Connecticut. I'm one or two counties away and this moron can't tell me where I should go?

He then tells me that I should have a GPS. Super. How about you airlift one to me. Oh wait, you don't know where I am jackass.

This is where I should've turned around (especially when he told me that he hadn't even HEARD about an accident 20 miles from his studio) but because I'm a reliable professional model, I pressed on and called my best friend. I said "I'll give you 20 bucks if you can tell me where I am." She can't guess, I inform her and what do I hear from my best friend who is at work in New Jersey?

"WHAT?! You can't go to CT!!! There is a huge fuel spill and 95 is closed."

Weird how while in NJ, she knew that, yet the fabulous CT photographer had no idea what I was talking about because he thinks his state is the size of the entire country!!!!!

At 9:00 I hit the wall. Car in park. Can't roll down the windows because it's 80 fucking degrees out and there are bees flying into my car (Hi, I'm allergic) and my phone rings. It's fabulous CT photographer asking me my status.

I explain to him where I am and I get a reaction that sounds like he just smoked about 4,579 trees... "Oh...wowzers."

Wowzers?! Fucking wowzers? Really asshole?

I inform him that next exit I get to, I'm turning around and going home because I need to be in Jersey, on stage at 2pm. He's basically like "OK whatever".

I get to the next exit around 10:30am est. I turn around and go home.

I spent over 6 hours in the car that day to take a tour of NJ, NY and part of CT. I still cannot wrap my head around the fact that this genius couldn't 1. express any sympathy or 2. give me directions from where I was when I was only 20 miles south of his studio.

CT, you're officially off the list. Suck on that.

Happy Waitress: Closing Time...

The picture may be fuzzy but the message to the women in black was clear: we are closed. See all of those chairs that are sitting upsidedown on tables? It's not a fancy new decoration and we aren't trying to invent a new way to sit...we're trying to tell you that those hours on the door aren't just numbers for fun.

The two ladies you see before you entered the restaurant while looking at the hours that were on the door...perhaps they thought we were using Central or Pacific time, but we weren't. We use Eastern time and they entered an empty restaurant 13 minutes before our closing time.

After being served dinner, we found out, those were just the appetizers and that they wanted more. Awesome, because now we're 2 minutes from closing which means that the kitchen is still open.

And once those two minutes are up, and their food is rushed to the tables, the chairs go up, the televisions go off, the signs go off, and we all sit there and count our money and wait.

And wait.

And....wait.

15-20 minutes after "closing time"...you know, those hours that are printed directly onto the glass front doors....the ladies clad in black sit surrounded by wooden chairs and angry chicas who just want to go home.

I would never, ever, want food from a kitchen that was just about closed. I also will not eat in an empty restaurant. That's icky. But these two didn't seem to mind and they aren't alone as this happens all the time.

I can see if there's a major game on. There wasn't. I can see if the restaurant is packed. It wasn't. I can see if the weather doesn't suck completely. It did.

But come on. You know that we were closing, you came in anyway, and then you ordered apps and dinner...and then you see that no one can leave because you're still here.

You must be in the fabulous group of "I've never waited tables before".

But that's OK. Sit there. Enjoy your food. Alone.

And please enjoy the atmosphere of lights off, no music and chairs surrounding you.

Artistic License

Theatre is very interesting. Full of opinions, ideas, conversations...and artistic license.

I recently auditioned for a production of "Joseph" and found out last night that I was not cast. Not a big deal, as much as I would love to do the show (and be paid to do it) it will come around again and this theatre is almost two hours away from my house.

And this particular theatre is full of artistic license, that I can't wrap my head around.

They say that you can't get upset when you don't get cast becuase you never know what they are looking for. I whole heartedly believe that because there are roles I've been asked to audition for that I was convinced I was wrong for, and there are roles I didn't get that I was convinced I was perfect for.

Then there are the roles you don't get because they were pre-cast. I'm all for pre-casting, especially if you have the perfect people. For some shows, I'd even recommend it.

However, if the director or staff wants to go against the norm (really push the envelope in my opinion) then that needs to be made clear from the jump.

The only role I am interested in for "Joseph" is the narrator. In the room I was in, every single female said the same exact thing. I came to find out that the role of the narrator was going to be given to a guy.

So...is Joseph going to be played by a girl? Are we renaming the show "Josephine and her technicolor lingerie...?" I think that's a smaller leap than making the narrator a male.

Furthermore, the only featured female role in the entire show is the narrator.

There was no mention of this before the audition, at the audition, nothing. So no female there knew they were auditioning for a role that they weren't even going to be considered for.

I'm all for artistic license and being creative, but when you take for granted the time people take to audition for a show then you are wrong.

To add to this, the director that was putting together this show has since removed himself from this show. They cast the show (according to the email I received last night) after a sit down session with the former director, current musical director and choreographer. So they had a "pow-wow" and cast the show based on...I have no idea.

This is the biggest clusterfuck I've ever auditioned for. I cannot understand how you can take artistic license like this and keep it a secret. Newsflash to this theatre: there were ten women that I came in contact with that only wanted to be considered for the narrator, not including myself. It would have been awesome if you mentioned that the role isn't even up for grabs.

Oh, and if you could pay for my gas and time that I lost that day for absolutely nothing, I'd appreciate it.