i waited on a couple of fat fucks. they ordered, in typical fat fuck fashion, a pitcher of miller lite (one of 3), two coca colas with cherry juice in them, cheese sticks, buffalo wings and french fries with ranch sauce to start, and a large double crust carnivore with some extra cheddar cheese on top. as fast as i could, i put their order in because i did not want them to start eating the imitation parmesan or the table or whatever. i was gone for roughly 37 seconds before the guy was shaking his empty diabetes-maker at me, rudely signalling his NEED for a refill. i obliged. and soon after, their appetizers were out as well.
i am not sure how either of them were able to detect temperature at that point, what with their jaws being unhinged to allow for more food to be crammed down their throats and everything, but she did.
Hey! hey waitress, hey! these cheese things are Cold! They are stone cold! we can't eat these Cold!
i am so sorry, ma'am. sometimes they pull them from the (gelatinous, oil filled fryer) oven too soon, and they do not get cooked all the way through. i will have them make a new batch which will be out in about two minutes.
Fine.
I sort of expect, being the rational person that i am, for them to continue eating the rest of the food mountain blocking their view of one another, but they don't. they instead mutinously push their plates away and commence staring at me, as if i should be personally "baking" their fried cheese logs, or at least begging for forgiveness.
maybe you can see where this is going. i couldn't.
the cheese sticks came out in two minutes, as promised. but in the meantime, everything else got cold, apparently.
We wanted to be able to eat everything together and now it's all cold except for the sticks. we need new wings and fries, too. (at this time i am gazing at the half eaten wings and nearly completely eaten fries and all that fucking ranch drizzled on the table).
Fine.
I had the foresight to take the cheese sticks back. into the fryer they went for a second time. please stay hot. please stay hot.
so, out all three new appetizers come. the pizza is now done, as well. without the fucking cheddar. damn it all to hell. so, i push the remake button. this button is fiction, so instead i beg the kitchen to start over again, knowing that if we just throw the cheddar on top, the evil obese sweating all over the vinyl booth will know and send it back.
i still think that i may be fine. they have to get through the second round of apps, after all. For a minute, I am right. more cherry coke and another pitcher and they actually seem to not be hexing my first born any longer.
one minute.
two minutes.
five minutes.
Um, where's are pizza? It's been awhile. we are hungry,you know.
Oh, it will be out in just a minute. Wanted to keep it warm while you had your appetizers.
Well, it better be. we want it now. and more beer.
So, i fly through the kitchen. it is going to be another few minutes. I stare longingly at the first pizza, now being devoured by coworkers. I do not tend to eat a pound of flesh per slice, but i am starving and would gladly chew on a mad cow patty at the moment. no time, though, i have three other tables who have been politely neglected in favor of the carnies at 106.
so i tend to everyone else. more tables flood in. we are genuinely busy now. i get to add a blister, full bladder, and an errant bra strap to my growling stomach as i whirl dirvishly through the dining room. the couple sits and fumes, their table covered in buffalo sauce, ketchup, and ranch. funnily enough, though, the napkins remain untouched. i cannot go back there without that fucking pizza.
Finally, finally, it is ready and it is right. I bring it out, whisking away the chicken bone graveyard and kindergarten finger sauce paintings, and make a hasty retreat. After two minutes, the usual amount of time i give people to taste test their food, i check back and half the pie is gone. still, i politely enquire.
this doesn't taste good. It's too salty.
okay. what would you like me to do?
is there a way to make it less salty?
not really. it is all meat and extra cheese.
we want it remade. maybe without the cheddar.
okay. but i will have to charge you for both pizzas.
what the fuck? why? we didn't like it.
yeah, but it was made exactly how you ordered it. there is nothing wrong with it.
fuck that. no. we're done. give us the check.
okay.
and a box.
of course.
what happens next is no mystery. they paid in cash, attempting to short me five bucks. i called them on it as they were leaving and was given exact change. i just laughed.
what i learned from this experience, is that i should have known all along that they would be dicks and should not have neglected my other tables in favor of them.
what everyone else should learn: if something sucks about your meal, tell us, we want to help and we want you to come back. if you order something you do not ordinarily like and you don't turn out to like it, be cool. we will generally not charge you for the (your) mistake and will bring you whatever you want instead. be an ass, and you will pay for it. also, if your server seems slow or flustered, look around. you will probably be able to spot the idiots who are running them into the weeds.
i am not sure how either of them were able to detect temperature at that point, what with their jaws being unhinged to allow for more food to be crammed down their throats and everything, but she did.
Hey! hey waitress, hey! these cheese things are Cold! They are stone cold! we can't eat these Cold!
i am so sorry, ma'am. sometimes they pull them from the (gelatinous, oil filled fryer) oven too soon, and they do not get cooked all the way through. i will have them make a new batch which will be out in about two minutes.
Fine.
I sort of expect, being the rational person that i am, for them to continue eating the rest of the food mountain blocking their view of one another, but they don't. they instead mutinously push their plates away and commence staring at me, as if i should be personally "baking" their fried cheese logs, or at least begging for forgiveness.
maybe you can see where this is going. i couldn't.
the cheese sticks came out in two minutes, as promised. but in the meantime, everything else got cold, apparently.
We wanted to be able to eat everything together and now it's all cold except for the sticks. we need new wings and fries, too. (at this time i am gazing at the half eaten wings and nearly completely eaten fries and all that fucking ranch drizzled on the table).
Fine.
I had the foresight to take the cheese sticks back. into the fryer they went for a second time. please stay hot. please stay hot.
so, out all three new appetizers come. the pizza is now done, as well. without the fucking cheddar. damn it all to hell. so, i push the remake button. this button is fiction, so instead i beg the kitchen to start over again, knowing that if we just throw the cheddar on top, the evil obese sweating all over the vinyl booth will know and send it back.
i still think that i may be fine. they have to get through the second round of apps, after all. For a minute, I am right. more cherry coke and another pitcher and they actually seem to not be hexing my first born any longer.
one minute.
two minutes.
five minutes.
Um, where's are pizza? It's been awhile. we are hungry,you know.
Oh, it will be out in just a minute. Wanted to keep it warm while you had your appetizers.
Well, it better be. we want it now. and more beer.
So, i fly through the kitchen. it is going to be another few minutes. I stare longingly at the first pizza, now being devoured by coworkers. I do not tend to eat a pound of flesh per slice, but i am starving and would gladly chew on a mad cow patty at the moment. no time, though, i have three other tables who have been politely neglected in favor of the carnies at 106.
so i tend to everyone else. more tables flood in. we are genuinely busy now. i get to add a blister, full bladder, and an errant bra strap to my growling stomach as i whirl dirvishly through the dining room. the couple sits and fumes, their table covered in buffalo sauce, ketchup, and ranch. funnily enough, though, the napkins remain untouched. i cannot go back there without that fucking pizza.
Finally, finally, it is ready and it is right. I bring it out, whisking away the chicken bone graveyard and kindergarten finger sauce paintings, and make a hasty retreat. After two minutes, the usual amount of time i give people to taste test their food, i check back and half the pie is gone. still, i politely enquire.
this doesn't taste good. It's too salty.
okay. what would you like me to do?
is there a way to make it less salty?
not really. it is all meat and extra cheese.
we want it remade. maybe without the cheddar.
okay. but i will have to charge you for both pizzas.
what the fuck? why? we didn't like it.
yeah, but it was made exactly how you ordered it. there is nothing wrong with it.
fuck that. no. we're done. give us the check.
okay.
and a box.
of course.
what happens next is no mystery. they paid in cash, attempting to short me five bucks. i called them on it as they were leaving and was given exact change. i just laughed.
what i learned from this experience, is that i should have known all along that they would be dicks and should not have neglected my other tables in favor of them.
what everyone else should learn: if something sucks about your meal, tell us, we want to help and we want you to come back. if you order something you do not ordinarily like and you don't turn out to like it, be cool. we will generally not charge you for the (your) mistake and will bring you whatever you want instead. be an ass, and you will pay for it. also, if your server seems slow or flustered, look around. you will probably be able to spot the idiots who are running them into the weeds.
No comments:
Post a Comment