I'm not going to lie, I'm an amazing waitress. Especially under the influence of alcohol... But that's a whole different story. I think every single person should wait tables for at least one week of their lives, no matter what kind of life you lead or were born into. Yes, it builds character, but waiting tables also makes you realize just how ridiculous and stupid people are. Here are a few tips to help you not be an asshole when you go out to get served:
1.) If you are over the age of 19 and ordering a Long Island Iced Tea not as a joke or during a bachelor/bachelorette party, you should really take a long, hard look at yourself. If you complain that your Long Island (or "Strong Island," as the classy folk call it) is not strong enough, you should probably speak to a professional about your problem. No judgement.
2.) If you give me 2 credit cards that decline for an $8 drink, you should have stayed home. Times are tough sometimes and that's ok. Let's not embarrass the both of us. Sometimes it's not in the cards.
3.) If you ask for a to-go box for your french fries, you're really disgusting. I speak from experience when I say old, cold fries are disgusting. Next day fries are even worse. Cut your losses.
4.) If you call me over frantically because you're ready to order and then you ask me, "what's good?" and proceed to FINALLY take a look at the menu, you're a real asshole. Get back to me when you have a plan. I have better things to be doing. Like facebooking. Same goes for people who make up menu items that don't exist on the menu because they can't be bothered to read and see what we actually have. When you assume, you're only making an ass out of yourself. I have nothing to do with your stupidity.
5.) If you are vegan or gluten-free and you are at a place with a bar, chances are we may not be able to accommodate you. Take care of that on your own time. It's not my responsibility to keep up with your dietary restrictions, just like it's not my responsibility to keep up with the Kardashians. I can offer you something in a green olive from our fruit tray. Take it or leave it.
6.) If you order a drink and then vanish, leaving me walking around in circles with your drink in my hand wondering if I hallucinated your order, you're an asshole. At least wait until I get back or let me know where to leave your midori sour. Thanks.
7.) Farting in your waitress's personal space IS NEVER OK UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE. You'd be surprised how often this has happened to me. It's never ok to fart on anyone. Except maybe your roommate. (Depending on your dynamic, it can be really funny.)
8.) If you ask me to list all 19 beers we carry and then order the first one I said, you should know you're kind of an asshole. Stop me when you hear your beer!
9.) If you ask me if we have Diet 7up, Diet Dr. Pepper, or Coke Zero, ask yourself how many bars you've been to that carry any of those? If you can name 3, I will pay the Mexican busboy to go to the nearest 7-11 and get you a liter of any of those.
10.) If I come over and ask you and your group if you need anything and you all just give me a blank stare and say nothing, you're not capable of being out in public because obviously you don't know how to act in society.
11.) If you are part of a birthday or any special occasion and you have a cake and you don't offer me a piece, but you take the ENTIRE leftover cake home, you're a FAT asshole. I've been waiting on you all day or night. The least you could do is offer me a piece of cake. In that instance, I will just politely offer to box the rest of it up for you, and then slice myself and my fellow co-workers off about an 8th of your cake. I play dirty.
12.) If you leave me a tip under 16% and then ask for my phone number, you probably won't get the correct one. Bad tippers are a HUGE turn-off.
And last but not least... This is one of my biggest pet peeves:
13.) If you are practically having sex in front of me, there is obviously something else you'd rather be doing. GO HOME AND DO IT! Stop eating bread in front of the poor, as they say. I'm all for people having sex. Go get it!
This has been a public service announcement. You're welcome.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Save the Date
"I think we both make people not like us." (Actual text from my roommate, Kenny Kelleher, last Friday at 1:05am.)
"Oh yeah? No shit." (Actual text back from me, last Friday at 1:05 am.)
In the almost 6 years of living together, neither of us has had a boyfriend. Well, I've come close. And by close, I mean a couple of seemingly promising long-distance relationships. (So actually, not close.)
People can never believe that either of us are single. I can't say that I blame them. I mean, we're pretty awesome. So awesome that I kind of think we THINK we're more awesome than we actually are, proving Kenny's theory that, in fact, "We both make people not like us." The point is, if we both had a dollar for every time people asked us why either of us are single, we could live somewhere where we aren't constantly woken up by leaf blowers, trash trucks, construction, ambulances, motorcycles, saxophones, opera, and car radios.
December of 2012 will be 7 years of living together. Thus, we will be "Common Law Married." Time flies when you're scaring the shit out of each other in your apartment. It's only right that we have a ceremony to celebrate our domestic bliss. And although I'm pretty sure he'd like to be registered at either 7-11 or Taco Bell, logic tells me we should definitely register for a nice set of plates for all the cooking we never do. We are grown adults who eat our take-out and fast food off of mismatched plates with cartoon characters on them. I'm not proud.
Also, if anyone has a connection to Katy Perry or Beyonce and could get them to perform at our ceremony, that would be awesome.
"Oh yeah? No shit." (Actual text back from me, last Friday at 1:05 am.)
In the almost 6 years of living together, neither of us has had a boyfriend. Well, I've come close. And by close, I mean a couple of seemingly promising long-distance relationships. (So actually, not close.)
People can never believe that either of us are single. I can't say that I blame them. I mean, we're pretty awesome. So awesome that I kind of think we THINK we're more awesome than we actually are, proving Kenny's theory that, in fact, "We both make people not like us." The point is, if we both had a dollar for every time people asked us why either of us are single, we could live somewhere where we aren't constantly woken up by leaf blowers, trash trucks, construction, ambulances, motorcycles, saxophones, opera, and car radios.
December of 2012 will be 7 years of living together. Thus, we will be "Common Law Married." Time flies when you're scaring the shit out of each other in your apartment. It's only right that we have a ceremony to celebrate our domestic bliss. And although I'm pretty sure he'd like to be registered at either 7-11 or Taco Bell, logic tells me we should definitely register for a nice set of plates for all the cooking we never do. We are grown adults who eat our take-out and fast food off of mismatched plates with cartoon characters on them. I'm not proud.
Also, if anyone has a connection to Katy Perry or Beyonce and could get them to perform at our ceremony, that would be awesome.
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