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Life is only what you wonder.

Friday, October 28, 2005

I'm Waiting . . .

On my worst days, I think that before you're allowed to eat out at a restaurant, you should be required to work at least one shift as a server in a restaurant.
Not as a cook, line attendant, cashier, or host/hostess, but as a server who has to put up with everyone's crap and doesn't get paid by the hour to do it.
And not in a fancy-shmantzy restaurant either. Someplace like Denny's or the White Coffee Pot or some Truck Stop Diner -- on the busiest most chaotic night of the week.

People either don't realize that we rely on the tips we make to pay our bills, or else the just don't care and some days it's all I can do not to go off on somebody.

    Like this:
Two ladies are seated in my section and I go over to introduce myself and take their drink order and they immediatly start out barking commands at me before I can get my name out.
So all through their meal I'm being super-attentive. There's nothing I didn't do for them. I even took the one woman's coffee and heated it in the microwave because she said it was too cold. (She puts four creamers in it and expects it to still be piping hot. I guess she didn't pay attention in science class.)
Why was I so attentive? Because I have dollar signs in my eyes, that's why. I don't do it because I'm such a sweet person. (I mean, I am, but that's not why I do it.)

Anyway, I treated these women like they were queens, OK? Then right before they left the one woman calls me over and says,
"I'm so sorry. You've been great, but we didn't bring enough to give you a tip. But next time we'll take care of you, I promise."
"Sure thing, you bitch."
OK, I didn't say the "bitch" part, but I thought it pretty hard.

Because it's all about graciousness.
Which is another way of saying keep your fat mouth shut and think before you speak.
Who knows? She might actually follow through and take care of me later.
I'm not going to hold my breath, but it could happen.

    And this:
Last Sunday three little old Church ladies in thier humongous hats and floral-print dresses were sitting in my section.
Nice ladies, very sweet, no trouble at all to wait on.
Anyhoo, right before they left one of them (the one with the biggest hat - I guess she was the leader of the pack) calls me over and says, "I'm sorry, but we have no money to leave a tip, we gave all our money to Jesus."
Of course, my first instinct was to say,
"Well, you should have gotten Jesus to wait on you then!"

But I didn't say it.
I didn't even think it for more than a minute or two, because at least they were nice.
Sometimes that makes all the difference.

On a related note, I saw the trailer for the movie Waiting.
I haven't seen it yet, but it's only a matter of time.