Sort of. I guess in the grand scheme of things what I'm about to recount is really not that terrible. I'm alive! I'm relatively healthy! I'm drinking a latte in a coffee shop (yes - I am one of THOSE people, on their computers blogging in a freaking coffee shop. But you know what - I've realized that THOSE people probably also do not have the internet at home.)! So today is only the worst day because I've had a lot of really good days.
THAT BEING SAID.
Today was the worst day at work. My waitressing job. (Apparently "waitressing" is not a word. If my computer had its way, the word would be distressing, hairdressing, depressing, or prepossessing. Most of which is not good and works well as a synonym for my particular situation and day.) It started out fine - I did a lot of prep work, got along with my boss and fellow servers, chatted with the hostess, and felt good about life.
Cue 20 tables all sitting down at the same time and ordering at the same time.
For those of you unfamiliar with restaurants, this means that everything gets backed up in the kitchen. A 10 minute "ticket" (yeah, that's what we call your order) can take more like 20 minutes. Well, my 15 minute ticket took 35 minutes.
This did not make the already unfriendly family of four any friendlier. First, the mother quizzed me on what types of bottled water we have (we only have the water WE personally bottle, and I bottled some of it that morning, thank you very much) and that's IT. No, we don't have a secret stash of Pellegrino or Aquafina or Evian hidden in a cooler somewhere. Asking me more than once will not change my answer or unlock some secret portal to the private water stash. It simply won't. AND YOU BROUGHT YOUR OWN BOTTLED WATER INTO THE RESTAURANT. Question Mark. Exclamation POINT.
Needless to say, she was not interested in our hand-bottled, energy-conserving, carbon-footprint-reducing water. "I'll have a ginger ale no ice THANKS." Ok. You got it.
I checked in with the table after the normal amount of time you must wait for an order. About 12 minutes. I asked how everything was, I offered to refill drinks, I assured them their food would be out shortly.
SHORTLY WAS INCORRECT. IT WAS LONGLY.
I checked with the kitchen. I saw my ticket, I saw my food. For some inexplicable reason, and desensitized to my many check backs and frantic pleading with the chef, the ticket still took THIRTY FIVE MINUTES for two orders of pasta, an order of calamari, and a BURGER. It's not like they ordered a double-stacked filet mignon cooked medium well without burning the outside. It was a very regular, very simple, order.
FINALLY the food was delivered, followed by my third round of profuse apologies. They were not pleased.
I informed my manager of the situation. He offered to buy them dessert. I relayed said message.
Let me just state that normally, NORMALLY, when a restaurant offers to buy your dessert, it's one order of dessert. Two max.
This family MILKED ME DRY in the free dessert department. They got cheesecake, a blueberry tart, a sundae, a double espresso (pronounced expresso...?) and a coffee. All in all, that's about $25 worth of free food and beverage.
One would think they would be grateful for my feeble attempt to correct this annoying mistake. One would think, hm, I just saved $25 on free food, this waitress really helped us out, I should tip her at least 20%.
ONE WOULD THINK.
They tipped me 12% and walked out with their designer bags and sunglasses, leaving a sad girl wearing pants from Target in their mist.
As if that wasn't humiliating enough for one day, the table NEXT to them got into a verbal altercation with me over onion rings.
Let me repeat that.
A VERBAL ALTERCATION OVER ONION RINGS.
The situation: They ordered. They were waited on and taken care of. Their meal took a normal amount of time. The "gentleman" at the table ordered a vegetable sandwich that comes with onion rings. He said, "I would also like a side salad with that. And the onion rings."
Ok, you got it.
I rang in the order, and using the KEYBOARD feature (so exciting and glamorous) I typed, "ADD SD SAL ALSO ORINGS." For those of you non-servers, that means add a side salad, keep the onion rings. But you're smart and figured that out.
Apparently, this was not clear in the kitchen.
So, his meal came out with the salad, without the onion rings. I went back to get said onion rings, and the chef told me to ring them in separately. Ok - no problem, that's acceptable. However, they intended to charge him $5 for onion rings that came with his sandwich in the first place. I have a mild problem with that, but I kept my mouth shut.
CUE ME, 10 MINUTES LATER, DESPERATELY SEEKING SIDE O-RINGS.
I came out, I apologized, I said they would be ready soon. The man yelled,
"WELL THIS IS RIDICULOUS. HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE FOR ONION RINGS? I ORDERED THEM."
Me - "Yes sir, I completely agree with you. I'm very sorry for this delay and I'm trying to get them for you, there's just a lot going on in the kitchen."
Angry, Onion-less Man - "Well, I know it's not YOUR fault but I mean COME ON."
Me - "Yes, I understand, I will be right back."
FINALLY I RECEIVE THE ONION RINGS, after they handed me a plate with two onion rings and I said, "We're charging him $5 for 2 onion rings? And he's already pissed off? I don't think so."
I deliver the onion rings. I go into the bathroom, intending to cry, and look at myself in the mirror and say,
"ONION RINGS ARE NOT WORTH YOUR TEARS. NOT TODAY!" Not any day, really. Unless you got an onion ring to the eyeball. Maybe then.
After all of that painful and awkward servitude, I only made $30.
I decided to go to the gym. I would walk, because that's healthy and it was a beautiful day. As soon as I stepped outside, it began to lightly rain. No worries, I had an umbrella. Halfway there, it began to pour and thunder and lightning. 3/4 of the way there, my shoes and socks were soaking wet and I was seriously questioning my decision.
It was a disappointing workout, with my feet submerged in water.
Today may have been The Worst Day, but that means that tomorrow things will turn around!
What's your worst day story?
This is why everyone should always tip at least 20%. So, I'll tell you a story. My grandmother is not particularly a nice person. When I was a kid, sometimes in the summer she let me come over to use the pool at her apartment complex. I had bad summer allergies, and after swimming a lot my nose would run. Because she disliked the sound of me either sniffling or blowing my nose, she would put me out on the steps of the apartment until I could "control myself." This is just to give you an idea. So, I was in grad school and totally broke and she's in town for a visit. We decide to go to a little diner near the university, where she was a librarian a long time ago. This diner had fantastic breakfasts, and it's still brunch time, so I ask for pancakes. She orders a coffee with conditions (it must be black at first, it must be hot, the creamer you bring must be a certain brand, the artificial sweetener you have is not acceptable, I need another kind. Miss, my coffee isn't black enough because I poured milk in it, bring me another, I don't like this cup....). Then she orders a salad, also with conditions. Five minutes after the waitress (who was a saint) put the ticket in, my grandmother changes her mind. Calls the waitress back. Complains that she couldn't read the description of the salad in the menu well enough because the type is too small. Changes her order. Wants more coffee. Our orders come out. My pancakes are great. My grandmother eats 2 bites of her sandwich and doesn't like the side of slaw (or whatever, I don't remember). Calls over the waitress. The place is now filling with college students wanting quick lunches. Asks to exchange the slaw for toast. Waitress says of course, just a minute. GM finishes sandwich. I finish pancakes. GM calls waitress over again: I don't want my toast anymore. (And none of this calling over was done nicely, it was a sharp "here boy" gesture with the fingers.) Waitress brings check. GM insists on paying. Leaves $1 tip for $12 meal. Yells at me when I try to put down more. We leave. Oops, I say, I forgot my umbrella. Find waitress, give her $10, apologize profusely. God, I felt terrible, and I thought, everyone should have to work in food service at some point early on, because then they'll know never to be mean to the staff.
ReplyDeleteOK, that was a bit of a ramble. I hope your weekend is better than your week has been.
OMG great story, haha. Wait, have I waited on your grandmother?
ReplyDeleteA worst day story... V-neck Tee comes to mind. :)
ReplyDelete