Restaurant service is a slave-like industry wherein one can justify dealing with unruly customers, constant complaints, and inordinate stress because, generally, the money is good. However, this self-pimpery requires a certain amount of care and general interest in other human animals; this is something no one can achieve.
Wait staff, myself included, are aloof, money-hungry, food slaves that pander to your whims and choke on your dick so they can pay rent. This does not mean they care about you as people. Customers are giant toddlers. They don’t what they want, who they are, where they are. I imagine if a server flat out asked a customer their name it would take at least 30 seconds before they gave a reply. This makes servers hate you. Don’t be an idiot. I don’t have time. Spending even a moment more than is necessary talking to anyone is a waste of my very valuable time. Anyone; someone with a dietary preference, an indecisive child, my mother. Anyone. Standing with my guestbook for more time than I need to is like having bamboo shoots driven into my fingers.
This general feeling carries over to when I’m waited on by another server; get in, get out, bring food, bring check, here’s 30% leave me alone.
There are two extremes with customers, I’ve found. With little to no middle ground.
There are people who realize, hey, people make mistakes; let me make this right for you. And then.. There are people who believe they are the only customer you have and need constant attention and praise, much like small children and loud homosexuals. There are no words for how infuriating these people are. But here’s some words anyway.
The Kind
Like all human beings, one can make a mistake; such as putting a delivery order into the computer with minor errors. It happens, no one is perfect. Upon realizing this I place a phone call to the customer in question:
“Hi, I’m calling about your order”
“Yeah, it was missing some toppings?”
“Yes that what this call is about, I’m so sorry about that, it was a mistake on the computer so of course there will be no charge and free toppings on your next order from us.”
“Oh wow really? Thank you, and no worries.”
That is how a phone call should go. I made a mistake, I’m trying to make it better, and sincerely apologize. Thank you for your courtesy and patience, enjoy your pizza.
However some people will not be so kind.
Human Garbage
You call me, I don’t call you. Let it begin.
“Hi. I don’t have toppings on my pizza.”
No name, no address. Shall I guess? I get the name and address.
“I’m so sorry about that, of course there will be no charge this time and on your next order you’ll receive free toppings.”
“WHY AM I EVEN PAYING FOR THIS. This is ridiculous, how hard is it to hit buttons? You guys have done this to us before and I don’t fucking get it.”
Excuse me. Rude, rude, rude, ya rude. Unnecessary and horrible. Why are you speaking to a stranger like this? Was your mother a she-bear?
“Well I’m very sorry ma’am, a mistake was made but please, let me fix it for you and ensure that this won’t happen again.”
“No. I don’t. I can’t even. My life is over. How dare you not be a perfect human being like me.”
At this point I just choke on dick until my customer is reasonably happy and I can get off the phone. This may take up to 15 minutes, which leaves the other lines ringing furiously. You are a bad person. You are a time sponge. I apologized and did all I could do to fix this situation.
As of now we have a new policy, unhappy customers may sodomize employees until their rage has passed. Are you happy now?
When you work in a restaurant that also does delivery, you will find yourself answering the phone. Constantly; yes that is a given. However it should also be assumed that people have used a phone before in their lives. You are mistaken.
No Menu Nancy
You, ma’am, put as little effort as possible into your meal. Actually no, less than the least effort, just none. Not even any. Rather than plan accordingly you decided to take a stab in the dark and wildly assume the contents of our menu. Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to work in an organic, local restaurant and be asked for something as plebian as a cheese-steak? It hurts. Even though they’re delicious. Still. We have gardens on pizzas, not your meat filled thigh fattener. Get out.
Whisper Like Anne Frank
No menu Nancy is frustrating beyond belief, that being said, Anne Frank here is whispering like the Nazis found the trap door. More importantly she knows what she wants and is infuriated with me because I can’t hear her incredibly specific and convoluted dietary needs on the phone. You have a food allergy? Good. I hope you go into shock, perhaps you should’ve raised the decibels a bit.
Regular Randy is Offended
Regular Randy gets his meals from me all the time. How dare I not know his name/tastes/address the moment I heard his sweet, garbled voice? You sir, thank you. Really. Thank you for your patronage. However you’re a bit presumptuous in assuming I know your every life detail the second I greet you. I would rather you spent your money elsewhere than explain your exact degree of customer loyalty to me.
I Can’t Wait, My Food is Late
Oh good god. You are an awful person. Your food isn’t there and it’s been an hour? Have you ever gotten food ever in your life? Ever, like literally ever? It will take an hour. More importantly, how can you speak to a complete stranger this way? I’m sorry you’re waiting, however you are not the only customer this restaurant services. Get your act together. Solipsism isn’t a thing. We are all also real, you fucking twat.
Moral of this angry story is: Be a better person to the people who wait on you, otherwise you will nurture a deep festering hatred in our black, black hearts.
Answer:
Thank you. You are lovely. Come up here already you tiny I-tie.
Listen. I know I’m not the greatest person to ever live, I’m not a Cambridge nature dyke; however, there are people who think we are equals. This is not true. I am better than a lot of people, cases in point: fatties, uggos, street youths. The list goes on but I don’t have the time to describe the various people that I consider below myself.
Fatties
I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry for the fattie sandwich that God beat you down with. I feel awful that in the womb a deity decided “Your life will be terrible.” I would not wish that fate upon anyone. However, you have been dealt these cards and you have to fucking deal with them. Your life is a never ending pool of misery and goddamn if you don’t deserve some respect for that. Mainly because if you are fat and I talk to you, you are super cool.
Uggos
Oh my god. Your face makes me wish I were dead. I cannot unsee the things your face made me see. However, if you are very ugly and I consider you my friend, holy shit you win the fucking gold medal in good personhood. You are an olympic medalist in being a best friend. This being said, uggos, sorry but, get away. I do not want to talk to you, you make me uneasy, and I want nothing to do with you. The only upside to associating with you is that you make me look like a fucking god by comparison. I will never be as beautiful as I am next to you. And for that, I thank you.
Street Youths
Sorry but frankly, you sicken me. One should never be homeless by choice, and I know that that’s exactly what you’re doing. No one should ever do that; frankly it’s offensive toward homeless people. They live their hard ass life and you do it for fun. Fuck you. You are a bogie asshole and I hate you. Subsistence living should not be a game, it’s fucking reality. Back the fuck up.
In Conclusion
Sorry if this all offends you, but then again I’m not really sorry. I’m pulling it together waiting tables and generally living in a constant state of poverty so fucking get it together Boston. I don’t have time to deal with your problems because I have a myriad of my own. Shut up. I don’t care. Also I hate you.
EL OH EL. Don’t be jealous that we have stories to tell and all your fat ass has is “this one time on tumblr I saw….” stories. i know you craveeeeee the attention but seriously sweetie, spend your time wisely. Don’t make enemies you don’t have the capacity to deal with. So sorry your nights are sad and sexless. Enjoy solitude~*
Heh. Thank you worshipper.
