Tips to Make Your Server Not Hate You. Volume 4

32.  You accidentally knocked over and broke your glass.  How embarrassing. Okay. Now that you have had a few minutes to sit there and laugh at yourself, could you please get up without putting your hands in broken glass so I can clean up your table. Let's leave the laceration-induced bleeding to the professionals, please.

33.  You snap, clap, whistle, bang your glass on the table. What do I do? Laugh.  you were making a joke, right.  Meaningful eye contact, or an "excuse me?" work very well. Manners. Whoda thunk it?

34.  You want to try to sneak your beer to your underage girlfriend? Cute. yup, get that sixteen year old good and drunk and see what her dad does to you when he finds out.  Meanwhile, you're both gone as soon as I see it happen, and believe me Casanova, I have eyes all over this place.  Underlying message here: date rape is a crime, and you proud owner of an over 21 ID, are not a minor.  Overlying message: go get drunk in a field or something.

35.  Do not try to run out on your tab.  I can spot all the behavioral signs that go along with tab-runners.  And I can run faster than you.  I have legs up to my tonsils and used to be in track.  You are probably drunk and weighed down by all the crap you just stuffed in your face.

36.  Do not stick your gum or anything else that has been in your mouth on the table. Gross. I once saw this happen to a server who plucked it right off the table and gave it back to the customer.  I really wish that i did not have to include this tip. it seems like it would be common sense.  I compare people who stick their gum to the table to people who used to pick their noses and eat what they found in kindergarten.

37.  Do not leave your or yours bodily fluids at, on, or around the table.  Your kid puked?  Not cute, not funny, not my problem.  last time that I checked, a haz mat suit was not a part of my uniform.

38.  Refills:  I know, I know, soda pop is expensive. At least two bucks no matter where you go, so I get the point of getting your money's worth, but come on.  Do you need to drink nine glasses of coke in an hour? Do you really expect me to bring you another one every four minutes?

39.  Refills, number two: Because i think giving children soda is a form of child abuse, I will take it out on you, the parents, by giving them nineteen refills if they are so inclined.  I know this sounds terrible, but maybe, just maybe having to deal with your kid's sugar shock and the sugar hangover that ensues will be enough to stop this from happening a second time.

40.  You're dressed like a whore.  Or you have super outlandish hair.  Or you look/smell like a bum.  Or whatever else you have going on that makes people's eyes pop out of their skulls. And it's not Halloween.  Guess what, people are going to stare at you.  get used to it.

So a girl walks into a bar...

a girl i know walks into the bar i work with some dude and two other girls. one girl, cleavage, brown tan and acne scars is a bit frumpy, so the eyes slide right by her, as i am sure she is totally used to, what with being friends with the absolute train wreck to her right. miss thaaaaang walks in on stilettos, short skirt, sunglasses and a super plunge top. tan tan tan. makeup, holy shit. she does have good hair,though, and would be very pretty without all the extra shit. she looks like a parody. people are judging her, she has fans and foes. namely a very pretty mousy girl who is sitting with her thug life dipshit boyfriend at the table next to them. pretty mouse is staring at her and laughing, probably uncomfortable that her jaggoff boyfriend cannot seem to prize his eyes away from her cleavage. nothing much happens while porn girl is there. she eats some pizza, drinks some diet cokes, goes to the bathroom 50 times, and has every cook in the kitchen coming out to stare at her. not from lust, more fascination.

so where was i going with this? oh yeah. she looked ridiculous, but i like all people and treat everyone the same, even thuggster and bambi at the table next door who were rude and demanding. the difference between the two tables? porn queen gave me a 25 percent tip. thickwad gave me a 0 percent tip. that is the difference. as soon as you walk out the door, i have forgotten you, unless you make me remember with numbers like that. porn girl is always going to get a smile from me. d bag will have to wait a few extra minutes while i take care of the people that actually don't suck.

Tip Number 19: End girl on girl hostility.

it's always funny to run into people you know and love waiting on in your bar. it really is, if you actually do love them. if not, meh. most of my regulars are couples and chicks. this surprises people to no end as i think they think i perform sex acts on all of my male customers simply because i am a single female. i can pay my rent and bills in 3 shifts. pretty sure i don't need to be giving out handies with every pizza sale.i just don't have the time.

anyway.

a couple i had known about a year was sitting across the bar from me and my friends. they were drunk, but then, so was i. i bought them a few shots, and girl came up to talk to me. "You know, when i first started coming in to BLANK, i really did not want you to wait on us. you were so friendly, it was weird, i thought you were hitting on my boyfriend. you look like the type my boyfriend would leave me for. he sucks, sometimes. but then i realized that you are just nice. sorry. you aren't a slut, but, you know? love you."

i had to sit for a minute after that. sip sip vodka soda.sip. all gone. i remember being with a guy who used to check out waitresses. and baristas. and fucking everything that moved. it made me feel terribly paranoid and insecure. i would call him on it, he would say i was a lunatic. so i get it. but it is not my fault.

if your boyfriend is checking out the server, or if you are just being insecure, well, don't take your shit out on me. i treat everyone the same. i am always in a good mood, and i have never and will never flirt with my customers. i make really good money because i am consistent and thoughtful. not because i am eye candy who will pretend to worship you. this is not a strip club or a sex chat line. i am not getting paid enough hourly to entertain your fantasies, and i am guessing the five bucks you are going to write in as a tip no matter what the bill, will not keep me warm at night.

the uniform is something i have heard comments on from a few females, as well. funny. i was wearing black tights, a black mini skirt, black flats and a fitted black logo tshirt. the girl who made the comment? wearing almost exactly the same outfit. she  was just pear shaped, short and a bit flat. so we look a bit different in our outfits, but how can a girl say i look slutty, when we are wearing the same fucking thing? Hey jealousy? sorry, you ain't never gonna look like me.

Tip Number 1: Do not hit on your server.

so there was this guy who came in for a few months to the bar where i work. he would come in alone, at first with his phone, and then with a book. he was nice and polite. he drank surly and jameson, ate cheesebread, whatever.

because i am not an idiot and he was not very covert about it, i knew that he was interested, in at least looking at me, as he did so often. he started showing up about once a week, and we got to chatting. he wasn't a bad looking guy and he seemed pretty cool from what i gathered. i had a boyfriend and so wasn't interested outside killing time during the slow time. sometimes, too, when it is busy, these tables are the best. like islands in a hectic storm. it's nice to stop off and know they will not ever need anything major, just more water every once in awhile.

so, one night he shows up with friends, who introduce themselves to me. weird, i don't even know the regular's name, so...we talked a bit more and at this point i am single. nothing happens,though, until a week later when one of his drunk female friends lays it on me that this guy likes me and has been coming in to see me and talks about me and whatever.

exciting, though, not creepy. he isn't a weirdo. just saying.

so, i give him my number, he loses it and makes valiant attempts to retrieve it. does. calls me. we hang out. and that's that. nothing. i am being my usual self. intense but goofy, so whatever. it's never me. he starts opening up about his previous pseudo wife and his very cool kid, and all the problems with money and commitment and suddenly i am very tired. and very glad he has to go do something so that i can just go home.

some men are such fantasists, such idealists, that they hold this weird daydream at the forefront of reality because that which is slightly out of grasp is more interesting than what is in one's arms, i guess. my being real exhausted him. we will be friends, but our equal illusions are shattered. his of Pygmalion, mine of Cyrano.

I try very hard not to take numbers from guys at work. it is not healthy, and there have been a few casualties.It could be worse. i could be dating a coworker.

If I were him...

i would look me in the eye.
i  would smile back.
my eyes would not linger on my breasts.
i would still watch me retreat. i do have great hair. and a nice ass.

if i were her...

i wouldn't bother watching his every move.
i wouldn't order beer plus cheese bread plus a meatball hoagie.
i would grow my hair waist length and dye it mahogany.
i would leave him to his (fat) chances with the waitress.

if i were them...

i wouldn't ask for a round of waters to start. they aren't going to finish with anything else, right?
i wouldn't make such a mess.
i wouldn't be so rude.
i wouldn't try to walk out on my tab.

if i were you...

i would visit me whenever you feel like because i always want to see your face.
i would ravage me without hesitation.
i would pat myself on the back for being so fucking sweet.
i wouldn't change a thing.

because i am me...

i will politely ignore the him who keeps leering at me even though he is with his girlfriend.
i will discreetly let her know she has sauce on her face.
i will chase them out and make them feel so guilty they will include a 30 percent tip.
i will love you, probably for as long as it's possible.

Tip number 2: Do not blame your server if your food comes out shitty.

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.

tips to make your server not hate you. volume 3

21. Smokers vs. Non. Not much I can really say about this, as I am divided. I smoke but cheered the loudest over the smoking ban. Kind of got tired of having to throw my work clothes directly into garbage bags after work. So, the non-smokers got their wish, but now they want more. It is getting to the point where we can't even smoke on patios anymore. Which, I also get to a certain extent. I do not always want to be breathing in smoke while I am trying to eat, but I will be damned if I do not dig having the freedom to light up myself as soon as I am done.

22. Food Allergies. Please let us know when you have them. It is not enough to simply ask to have something removed from a dish, we need to make sure there is no cross-contamination. On the other hand, if you have an aversion to something, do not get all pouty and rude if we cannot give you a perfect substitute, because no, not every bar stocks potato vodka and vegan cheese. sorry. you aren't being progressive, just picky.

23. So you say it's your birthday? Great, we have a table for the four of you. awesome. and then every 5 minutes, four more people show up until I am waiting on thirty people with no warning. Look, I am great at my job and yes, you will have separate tabs, but please, if you know about this in advance, give me a heads up.

24. We are closed. So leave. I am almost positive that if i went to your job at Target or Starbucks or wherever, I would not be able to loiter there twenty minutes after close, so why is it different when you come to my work?

25. Yes, you are that asshole. That we all talk about and hate waiting on. You are patronizing, you hit on everything that moves, you don't tip, you want a fancy schmancy cocktail and 3 different mixed shots for last call. We don't like you, but we are patient. Some day we will find out where you work and be that guy who you and your coworkers talk about and hate dealing with, because sometimes karma needs a little nudge.

26. this is not the right place to dump someone. I know you want a public place so there is no scene, but come on, if you are that juvenile, why not just text the person, yee of little balls? Because I do not have enough napkins to mop up all that mascara and spray tan, and you aren't going to tip me well enough to make it worth my while. If you don't skip out on the bill entirely, that is.

27. Pub Crawls. So fun, and so matchy-matchy. Nothing can really stem the blood of chaos, but you can make things a bit easier for yourself and your server. Stick to beer and single ingredient shots. have cash, or if you want to be the coolest person ever, open a tab for the whole pub crawl and sort out your cash yourselves. tip well and try not to get in the way of all the people who are not there to celebrate the penguins or whatever.

28. Can I have a water? Sure, and you can keep having refills as long as you are not just sitting there with your friends, not ordering anything else. How does this not make sense to people? Why would i do a service for someone that will generate no bill and thus, no tip, when i have a whole room full of people who are actually paying to be there. walk your cheap, thirsty ass over to SA and buy a bottle of water. you can refill it free in the bathroom sink.

29.Poor service. sit down at my table and be shifty, hostile, bossy, and sullen. If you don't make eye contact, mutter your orders at me, and ask for a myriad of ridiculous shit like more cherry juice in your lemonade or a side of blue cheese and ranch and ketchup mixed together, there is a good chance my winning smile and polite interest in your needs as a customer will fall by the wayside. You, in turn will pick up my aggravation and think that I am a bitch who obviously hated you on sight, so you will become even more sullen and demanding. I will become thin lipped and eye-rolly, and you will retaliate by paying me mostly in nickels. no tip.
30. Point 2 of the above: Do not EVER think you that you are being profiled. I do not care about gender, religion, race, age, sexual orientation. I am never thanking my lucky stars that I get to wait on a table of good looking guys as apposed to a hassled looking family with six kids. That is the true beauty of living and working in such a diverse city. Everyone is different, so every encounter is a new adventure. I don't judge anyone until they either look down their nose at me, or don't bother to look at me at all.

31. Pay attention. When your server comes to get orders, refill drinks, whatever, make sure to order when everyone else does. We run enough. we do not need to wear a path to and from your table just because you need just one more thing every time i come back. Sometimes, i get paranoid that people do this shit on purpose...