Last night, Saturday, was jam packed. There were five of us working the floor, and I did get my fair share of the tables.
I arrived to work at 3:00pm, a little bit early, and was out and about running errands for the restaurant. I had to go to the liquor warehouse and buy some booze, go to Wal - Mart and a lots of other small stops along the way. I don’t mind running these errands, as I get paid to goof off and drive around town. It’s not like I am missing anything, because we do not open for costumers until 6:00 p.m. anyway. Once I am back, I find my fit from last week about people being late for work had, at least, some effect. By 4:15, I am told, all but two employees had shown up for work - the other two arrived by 5:00 p.m., a new record! (Note: we are supposed to arrive by 4).
At 7:30, I was getting nervous. No one was in the restaurant. The chef was complaining that all of the food would go bad and two of the servers went across the street to get some food to much on. It was looking grim.
Then, at 7:45, the flood gates opened and they came pouring in. I was first in the rotation and got a table of 3 - I know these people, they were born in a barnyard or raised by wolves or something along those lines. Lady number one is 5′ 1″ and easily 350 lbs. Despite this, she always insists on walking around in public in low-cut tube tops, letting her jelly rolls flap freely in the wind. This is complemented by her coke-bottle glasses and knee-high, high-healed stripper boots. Never mind we are a 4-star establishment and that we have a strict dress-code after 5:00 pm (which is “waived” when you spend ungodly amounts).
She was accompanied by this squirmy middle aged man who never says anything - other people have to order for him. That is until the bill comes. He always pays and always questions everything. “We didn’t have four glasses of wine - only three.” “No, sir, we brought four to your table.” Are you sure this dish is $27.00? I thought it is $23.00″ “No sir, I will bring you the menu and show you it is $27.00.” “Maybe the menu I had was different?” “No sir, they are all the same.”
The third woman is the black sheep. She is easily 6″ 7′ and slender with short blond hair. I suppose the paparazzi was after her last night, because she worse big black sun glasses - inside at 8 at night - a long black trench coat and long black leather boots.
Jelly roles decided to finish everyone’s plate and, literally, lick the plates clean. Despite the tongue- driven dish-washing job she preformed on our plates, she asked for seconds on dessert.
The bill arrives for $210. Tip: $38.00.
The next table was the best one: The were quite, never asked for anything once they ordered and we happy with both the food and the atmosphere. It looked like three friends in their early 40s who wanted to enjoy a quiet high-end meal together. They ordered a cheaper bottle of wine and expensive food and were always smiling and saying “thank you” when I, or a busyboy, came to their table. On busy nights, these tables are a God-send. No, they do not tell you jokes or make you laugh or think differently about life, but they make the night go by easier without problems or over-loading you with marginal and trivial tasks. Bill: $187. Tip: $35.00.
My third tableresembled my second. A party of four, what looked like two couples, who wanted a quick, but elegant meal. They mentioned they had theatre tickets and were unfortunately a bit rushed. I do appreciate when tables tell you they cannot linger. Despite this, they did not rush me or get snippy or rude. I just made sure to deliver everything to the table as soon as I could. They weren’t demanding nor were they unreasonable. They were in and out in an hour or so (fast for our restaurant). Bill: $134. Tip: $25.00.
Table Four was the 10-top from Hell. When I found I was next int he rotation at 8:35pm, I was very happy. When a ten top was sat in my section, I was delighted.
The ten top included 5 girls in their mid 20s, 2 older couples and a gay guy in his mid 30s. How or where they found each other, I have no clue. What they have in common or why the dine together is beyond me. However, after 10 minutes, I realized they all have one big thing in common: they are all ass-holes and bitches. Pardon my language.
The table orders 2 bottles of cheap wine and a two shots of tequila. At this point, I asked if they would be paying together or separate. Of course, this ten top wanted 6 separate checks. No problem. I was working with a new waitress in training on the ten top and showed her how to split one table 6 ways. On our POS system, a 6-way split is not an easy endeavor and takes planning and a strong will.
Once the wine and tequila is out, I go back and take orders. Old man, sitting at the end of the table says to me “I want a Cesar salad and a T-Bone Steak.” Never-mind I was taking the women’s orders first or that I never actually asked HIM what he wanted, he decided to bark orders out of turn. I ignored his first request, as another member of his party was midway through her order. She finishes, and he barks the order again, this time with the preface “Listen up!”
I reply, “I am sorry sir, I was talking with the woman seated next to you, I did not want to interrupt her as she explained her order. What can I get for you SIR and THEN I will take the ladies’ orders.”
“I want a t-bone - you understand? T - Bah. Own. Steak. And a Cesar salad.”
“Sir, we do not have t-bone on the menu. Perhaps you would like to try our –”
“No! I want a T. Bah. Own. Steak. Is it that hard to understand?”
“Yes sir, it is. We do not have t-bone steak. As I said, I can bring you a –”
“Listen you little dictator. I will not have you tell me what I can and cannot eat and when.” Who said anything about when? “I want a steak and that is all there is too it or I will never eat here again. I will make other plans for tonight as well if the service remains this bad.”
“Yes sir, feel free to make plans elsewhere.”
I take the orders for the rest of the table, and then go back to the computer. Old man runs up to the manager. I really don’t care. If he has terrible things to say about me, then so be it. I don’t need him or his money.
My manager tells me he has eaten here before and is always an old jack-ass and not to worry about him. To me, this is a license to have a good time.
I go back to his table:
“Sir, have you made a decision or will you be sitting on the sidelines tonight?”
“I will have the fish. Rare.”
“Sir, there is a sushi bar next door.”
“I said rare!”
“Yes sir, but if you become ill from eating rare fish, please do not blame us.”
I go back to the computer: Fish, well done.
Three women ask for more “sauce.” They don’t tell me which sauce they want, so I ask “which sauce are you referring to?” “You know, sauce. What are you, stupid?”
“No, ma’am, I simply need to know which sauce you want. If you insist on calling me names, I will not bring you the sauce.”
The woman points. She wants vinaigrette dressing.
I go to the back and bring one vinaigrette dressing.
“Do you have another one?”
“No, no I do not.” I walk away and ignore them for a good 20 minutes.
The food runners/bus boys deliver the food and the waitress in training volunteers to sell them another bottle of wine, which they accept. The plates are removed and dessert is ordered. I made a point of getting the order while old-man was in the bathroom. No dessert for the foggey.
As I go back to the computer, the bar tender tells me that one of the men at the table - the other old man - ordered a bottle of wine at the bar. I go to the table to verify that the bar tender brought and opened his wine and he tells me, “yes and I paid for it at the bar. I shall ask them sir.” “What! You don’t believe me. Don’t be an ass hole.” “Sir, please don’t use that kind of language. I am here to make you night enjoyable, not be subject to humiliation.” Hmmm… that just sounds too fishy for me.
I go to the bar tender and ask “Did the man in the blue shirt at table XX pay for his wine here? Or did he want me to put it on his bill?”
Bartender: “No, he did not pay here.”
I put the wine on his bill. If he wants to argue when the bill comes out, fine. But I’ll let him think he scammed us out of a chardonnay for the time being… As they ate their food, I made a point to check on my other tables, refill water and smile and laugh — but ignore this 10-top from hell.
I split the check 6 ways, and in doing so I add 18% to each check. After all, it is a 10-top. So, 10 people spent $700. That should be a good $120 or so for my troubles. Fair is fair. Rules are rules. Fuck you ten top.
Each of the bitches pays except one. She said to me that $24.03 (18% of her bill) is too much gratuity and she has never paid that much in tips before in her life. I explain I do not have the authority to remove this from the bill and there is not much I can do about it without the manager, and it might take upwards of 30 minutes to get her to fix the bill, if in fact she agrees to break the policy.”
The woman, with a devilish look on her face says “I am in a hurry” and makes a shoo-shoo motion with her hands. I reply, “Ma’am, if you feel you do not need to tip, in the future, I will not wait on you and I will not hurry with your bill. You will have to wait and I am sorry if that is inconvenient for you. You have been nothing but inconvenient for me.” I really don’t care if I tell her off or lose her business.
I reply that because she was in a table 10, the tip is added into her bill and that is our policy. She complains and tells me that she is only in a party of two. After all, she is simply paying for herself and her husband (The wine scammer, by the way).
I explain this problem to the manager who tells me that she has pulled this before, trying to get out of paying for her bill a few weeks earlier on the grounds that she did not like her food - this despite her finishing her plate. The manager, who is as mild-mannered as a person can be replies “She’s just a bitch and a pain in the ass. I don’t care if she ever eats here again. We don’t need her business.”
The manager comes back and tells me the woman now feels she should get a 50% discount on her ticket because she did not enjoy the food and should not have to pay gratuities. The manager, no fuming, takes the gratuity off of her bill and taks on a $15.00 corking fee to the wine (which, by the way is on the menu if a table of 10 only orders wine.) She tells me to keep the corking fee as a tip.
I go back to her table, sans ticket book, with her bill. The woman is dancing on the dance floor, and, in front of everyone else at her table, I place her check deep inside her dessert, a slice of cake, with a fork. In other words, I have wedged an 8″x 2″ sheet of paper into her cake - which by the way, I expect her to pay for. If she claims I did it, I will simply deny it. She has no credibility with the manager, and I think she might actually find the situation somewhat humorous. The woman pays cash and leaves a $5.00 tip on her now $165.00 bill - hence, I made $20 off of her.
One the way out, old man tells me how terrible our service and food is and that he might not come back. “Well sir, it sounds like everyone wins. Have a good weekend anyway.”
The gay man, who had a bill of $84, including a $12 gratuity was a bit embarrassed. He left $45.00 on top of the $12.00. Later, he ordered two shots for him and a friend - $14.50 — and tipped $10.00 on the bill.
Around midnight, my favorite costumers arrived. They simply ordered a cheap bottle of sparking wine. I brought them some bread and cookies and corked their bottle, always making sure their glasses were full and pulling out their chairs when they got up to dance. They only spent $32.00, and the $8.00 tip, although my smallest of the night, was the most appreciated. It is always wonderful after a long busy day to see a friendly face. They walked in, shook my hand, and asked for my section. With the all of the name calling and other mishaps of the night, a friendly face makes the night feel better.
In other news, the new guy I hate was yelled at by the owner for being rude to costumers. He was so rude a table walked out on him and another complained and complained. It turns out, he told the table to “fuck off.” I have served that table before. I found them to be very sweet and easy going people. The manager took $25.00 off their bill and explained to new guy that the costumers’ needs come first: It turns out the dispute was over their beverages. They wanted refills and the new guy replied that he was too busy. They explained that they would simply like a water refill to go with their expensive $100 wine and that his reply was inappropriate. He replied with “fuck off.” This is good. He may be his own worst enemy.
In all, I did not get home until 4:00 am - a 13 hour day, However, the $300.00 pay-day made it worth while.
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Co-Workers, Managers | 
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Posted by willworkfortips
www.tonydine.blogspot.com ) has posted about teachers being the worst tippers. Moreover, anyone who reads Ribeye’s Blog ( http://www.ragingserver.com/ ) knows he follows the poor tipping habits of blacks.
