Adventures From Roadhouse, the Restaurant Not the Movie

                          Today I will take a trip back to the days of yore.  A time when I was young, naive, and worked at an even bigger shit hole than I do now, Roadhouse.  Roadhouse had 3 manager/owners.  Two of them were very professional and tried their hardest to keep the business afloat, despite the third owner/manager's shenanigans.  We'll call this hot mess "Myrna".  Myrna was a real class-act.  She married into the family that actually owned the business, but the family let her and her husband's two sisters run Roadhouse.  Whenever I would go to work and see that she was the manager that day, I was immediately in a sour mood.  I knew with her there, all of the manager's duties would fall on me, being the crew-leader.  Even though she was married with two kids, she also had girlfriends.  At the time I worked there, she had two girlfriends.  One of them is a good friend of mine, and I could never understand what my friend saw in Myrna.  My friend is one of the all around best people I've ever met, and Myrna is gutter trash with a bad attitude.  Both of Myrna's girlfriends knew she was married, but had no problems with the husband.  The husband, however, knew nothing about the two girlfriends.  The two girlfriends would constantly fight with each other, though.  When Myrna would be scheduled to work, she would always show up late, like around noon.  She would go straight back to her office with one of her girlfriends and lock the door.  If any of the servers, bartenders, or hosts would need her for anything, I would have to go back to the office and knock on the door.  Without a word, the door would open just a crack.  A hand would appear through the cracked door with the manager's key to the computers.  This was her way of saying to me, "Just deal with it yourself."  So, there I would be, trying to wait tables; keep an eye on all of the servers, hosts, and bartenders; and taking care of managerial duties as well. (i.e. talking to unhappy customers, getting food/drinks fixed that weren't right, adding discounts to tables, settling employee disputes)  She would eventually come out of the office when her girlfriend had to go to work.  She would walk a lap around the restaurant, shaking her surgically enhanced ass, tits, and lips at all the male employees.  After she had shown off, she would grab all of her brown nosing employees that were working, and they would all go sit at the bar and drink, on the clock. By this time, not only do I have to take care of all her responsibilities, but now I have even fewer employees to help share the workload.  What. A. Fucking. Nightmare.

                                I saw Myrna once punch another crew leader in the face for just asking if she could help with a server who had gotten belligerently drunk on the clock.  Myrna got angry because that particular server was one of her ass kissers.

                              Myrna overheard half a conversation one night between two servers on their cigarette breaks.  They were talking about a local doctor being sued for malpractice.  All Myrna heard in her typically inebriated state was the word "sue".  She pulled them inside, screamed at them in front of the entire restaurant, "You're gonna sue me?  This is my restaurant!  If I want to take a shit in the floor, I'll shit in the floor and make you clean it up!".  Then she fired them both without even hearing them out.

                             No one knew this except me at the time, but on top of a husband and two bickering girlfriends, Myrna was also sleeping with one of the local police officers.  She was in the office with him one day, I thought discussing business or security.  I had no idea what was really going on in there.  One of the servers needed her to talk to a table.  Since neither of her girlfriends were there, I didn't bother knocking and just walked in.  There they were, laying across the desk, bumping uglies.  It was like I was frozen.  I wanted to shut the door and run as fast and as far away as possible, but I couldn't move.  I just stood there in shock, mouth agape.  "What the fuck do you think you're doing?  Get! Out! Now!!!" , she shrieked as she threw a stapler in my general direction.  "Uhhh, sorry?" , I said as I backed out of the doorway and shut the door.  I went back out to the dining room, still stunned.  "Well, is Myrna coming out to talk to table 28?", the server asked me.  "uhhhh, no I don't think so.  I mean, she's busy.  I'll take care of it."  I couldn't look at her for weeks.  She never said anything to me about walking into the office without knocking.  I guess for fear that I'd tell her husband, her husband's family, or her two girlfriends.

                        Myrna loved to show off.  Not only did she have surgically enhanced tits, lips, and ass, but she also always wore about a pound of make up on her face.  She would always wear lots of jewelry.  Her clothes were always covered in glitter, sequins, and bedazzling.  Anything to have people look at her.  Any attention was good attention for this woman.  She loved to show off her ridiculous vehicles like a pink Cadillac SUV, a pink and black tiger striped Harley Davidson that I swear she didn't even know how to drive, and a bright yellow Mustang with every bell and whistle they could cram on or in it. She always had her groupies surrounding her, mostly restaurant workers that knew they would get free shit out of her if they sucked her ass.  She would come into at least once a week when she wasn't working and take the days deposit out of the safe to take her pack of followers out to eat, shopping, or to a bar/club.  She also got a weekly paycheck.  Yet, often when I would go to the bank to get my $12 check cashed, there wouldn't be enough in the store's bank account to cash my check.  I would have to drive back to roadhouse and have them get it out of the safe for me.

                         Myrna finally pushed me too far one night when my husband came to pick me up from work.  Him and my son were sitting outside in our vehicle waiting for me.  She saw them out there and told me that they were no longer allowed on the property.  I told her that they never even came inside, that we both worked, and only had one vehicle.  If he didn't drop me off then pick me back up, I wouldn't have a ride.  He worked shorter hours than me, but he's the main bread winner.  He couldn't quit his job just so I could drive myself to and from work.  She said that she didn't care, that it looked bad for someone to just be sitting in their car in the parking lot.  I asked her to explain how it looked bad for my husband to pick me up from work.  She then proceeded to tell me that it looked like he was waiting to sell me drugs.  My own fucking husband?!  He had the baby in the car, for Christ's sake!!!  She went on to say some nonsense about how we were bad parents for letting our son sit in the car, in his car seat, with his dad and wait on me to get off work.  She said a car could have pulled into the lot too fast and hit our vehicle and he could have gotten hurt.  Yeah, that's likely.  About as likely as a gaggle of geese flying out of my ass.  She asked to search my apron.  No problem.  I took it off and handed it to her.  I also went on to bunny ear my pockets, shake out my bra, and then asked her if she wanted to search my purse.  She smugly said, "No, it's fine."  "No, it's not fine.", I said. "You have drug tests sitting right there.  Hand me one and I'll piss in it right now!"  Then she said, "No, that's not necessary"  I knew right then, this wasn't about anything looking bad.  It was her way of exerting her power while trying to embarrass me in front of my co-workers.  "Whatever, just take my cash out.  I'm leaving."  "You can't leave yet.  Your not finished." she said with a smirk on her face.  I'd had enough, "Yes I can, because I quit.  I'm not putting up with someone treating me or my family this way."  I sat my cash out down, then made her count it right then so that she couldn't say later that I'd shorted them.  FUCK YOU, Myrna.

                             Last I heard, their business is still going under.  They would have been long gone if the family didn't have other successful businesses that they didn't let Myrna touch.  They were constantly transferring money from their other businesses to Roadhouse's account just to keep it afloat.  They got in trouble for insurance and tax fraud, so the government seized those other businesses.  Roadhouse is definitely going down now, after years of circling the drain.  I talked to a friend who recently went to work there.  She said that she had worked a double the day before and only walked with $26.  I feel bad for her, even though I felt some morbid joy for Myrna's losses.  Without that money, she won't have her looks, her ridiculous vehicles or clothes, or her "friends".  She's insufferable.  Her groupies are only around for the free shit she was throwing at them.  If there's nothing more to gain, you can bet your bottom dollar she won't see them anymore.  The way I see it, what goes around, comes around.  I hope Myrna gets a big double heaping helping of humble pie.  I'm so glad that I got while the getting was good.  I've moved on to greener pastures, and I couldn't be happier.  Pizza Place might not be perfect, but at least I know where I stand with the people who own it.  I don't have to worry about them deciding they want to show off by treating me like shit, nor do I have to worry about them mixing business with personal shit.  They actually know how to tell the two apart.

Myrna was by far the worst manager or owner I've ever had.  What's your most horrifying manager/owner, manager, or owner story?

A Personal Love Letter to All of the First of the Monthers

Dear First of the Monthers,

          Thank you all for coming to eat at Pizza Place.  I was really excited to have some business today after the last week or so was more dead than the rat that has been rotting in our air vents.  It wasn't until I got a good look at everyone sitting in the dining room that I consciously realized, "Fuck me, it's the first of the  month, God damn it!"  You're much like my Aunt Flo, you visit monthly, annoy me for a week, give me cramps, then disappear.  I loved answering your questions about how much every item on the menu costs.  If you could have just bothered yourself by looking at the menu (just like I did when I didn't know the price of some of the items), you would have known the answer.  Why do it yourself when you have a servant, er, server I mean, to do it for you, right?  I wouldn't want you to strain yourself, precious.  You are so great, I didn't mind standing there for 10 minutes answering your questions then waiting on you to decide when you insisted you were ready.

(Me:"I'll give you a few minutes to decide."

Woman:"No,no,no, don't go anywhere.  We're ready. Ummmm, hmmmm.  Well, I'll have, uhhhhhhh. I've got it.  Ohh wait, I didn't even see over here where it says you have sandwiches too. "

Me:"It's not a problem.  I'll give you just a couple of minutes and I'll be right back to get your...."

Woman:"No, I've got it.  I would like a small pizza with pepperoni."

Me:"Great choice, and what can I get for you, sir?"

Man:"Well, I was wanting pizza, but she got a small one and that's not going to be enough for both of us....uhhhhh, so now I don't know."

Woman:"Well, we can just get a bigger one if that's what you want, honey.  I just thought you were going to get spaghetti.  What other sizes do you have?"

Me:"We also have medium, large, extra large, and our 30" party pizza."

Woman:"Well, what do you want to do honey?  Do you want to get a bigger pizza, or we could keep the small one to share and then get a salad or appetizer or both and share those too."

Man:"I don't know.  It's up to you.  Just get whatever you want.")

                     By this time, I'm about to grab a butter knife off of the table and just start sawing at my neck until I hit the carotid.  I look around and see that almost every other table in the restaurant is seated with other first of the monthers that need waited on.  I was extremely relieved, after some humming and hawing of course, when you finally decided to get a bigger pizza, salad, and an app.  At least I could then move on to the next table that was going to be pretty much just like you.

                      While I was standing there waiting on you to decide, I noticed a few things about you.  You're dirty.  The both of you.  Your hands were black and you had dirt and grease spots all over you like you had been working on vehicles all day.  How can that be when you're receiving welfare or social security?  (No, I'm not just assuming.  I overheard some of their conversation, and they were definitely receiving a government check.)  Even your baby was dirty, just not as scroungy as you.  Also, there was a definite stench of piss wafting around your table.  At first I thought it was the baby's diaper, but then I realized that the smell was far too robust than what a baby would produce.  I do believe, sir and madam, that one of you had pissed yourself.  There's no excuse for that, unless you're wasted or just laughed a little too hard.  How about you take the money from the tip you didn't leave, go to the dollar store, and buy some soap.  What really got to me was that you were using the napkin holder on the table as your own personal tissue box.  Thanks for trumpeting your nose at the table in front of the, albeit few, decent people who had unknowingly came out for lunch on the first of the month.  You all really keep it classy.

                        By the way, that was a really funny game you played with me when I brought out your salad and apps, and then again when I brought out your pizza.  I asked if I could get you anything, and then instead of telling me you wanted 6 extra ranches; more crackers; two extra straws(God knows why); a cup of marinara; four more clean plates (6 total), so that you could each have one for each of the items you ordered;  and two more fresh cups of soda, just in case you might need them.  You had me make 12 trips.  Then you had me do a repeat performance for each of your boxes and to-go cups for the extra sodas you never drank.  Even though I asked if you if you were sure you only needed one box and you said, "Uh, yeah,  one container for....my....salad.".  Thanks for saying that last part slow enough for me to understand.  Those are very complicated words.  I'm only a servant, after all.

                       I longed for you after you left.  I know, you were in a hurry to get to Wallow-Mart to buy the ridiculously expensive things you can't afford, and will be returning/pawning in two weeks anyway.  Lucky for me, I had the explosion of crumbs and snot rags on the table and floor and your unmistakable odor wafting in the air long after you had gone.  Just so you know.  I pretty much repeated this entire letter with almost every one of the other 28 tables that I waited on today.  See you all again tomorrow, and the rest of the week, until Friday when you have ran out of money and are counting out change to me to pay your bill.

                                                           Longing for you already,
                                                                                                  BoW

A Word for the Not So Wise, for Your Cheep Ass

                           I cannot stand for someone to truly believe they deserve something for nothing.  You're not special, bitch.  You are no more special that me, Jane Doe, Joe Blow, or the homeless woman that mutters to herself and growls if anyone gets near her.  Anything that doesn't already come on or with the food you ordered is considered extra.   If you order something EXTRA, then you are going to have to pay EXTRA for it.  If it's just one or two cups of ranch that I can get myself, I won't charge for it.  Unless, of course, my manager happens to be breathing down my neck.  In that case, I will have to charge you.  When it comes down to having to hear you bitch about it for the next 30 minutes until you leave, or having to hear my manager bitching at me about it for the rest of my shift, I'm going to choose pissing you off.  I'm sorry, but that's the way it is.  If you run me to death because your table of 10 needs 5 extra cups of dressing with each salad, and two cups of ranch per person to dip their pizza in, I'm going to charge you for every fucking drop.  My hassle=your cost.  If you want something that I have to get a cook retrieve for me, I will always have to charge you for that.  The cooks are not going to do anything more than their bare-minimum job requirements, so their not looking to do me, or you, any favors.  They're not going to hand over a bread crumb without a ticket.  In order for them to have a ticket with what they need to send out, I have to put that shit into the computer, thus charging you for the item you had wanted.  You would think all of this would be common sense, but, sadly, it is not.  People still become unbelievably irate when they see that $0.30 charge on their bill  for the cup of extra ranch that they ordered themselves.
                                 
                                         Once, about two years ago, a well-known high school teacher and coach in my town came in with his family to eat one night.  Him and his family would always order one large pizza to share for their meal and one large salad to share for their app.  Pretty simple.  The only problem was that they wanted two dressings a piece for each person, but only one salad.  Our large salad is not abnormally big and only comes with two dressings, so they were also getting 6 extra dressings along with the two that come with the salad.  It says in every portion of our menu how much extra dressings, pizza toppings, sauces, cheese, etc. costs.  It's not like I was trying to be sneaky and run his bill up unbeknownst to him.  Unless you're illiterate (and he just may be considering all of the stupid kids that I see coming out of that high school), ignorance is no excuse.  Anyway, I was trying to be nice and only charged him for three instead of the six extra dressings they had eaten.  Everything was great, until the bill came.  He saw the $0.90 charge for extra dressing, and he made a HUGE scene.  The way he acted, you would have thought there was a gratuity for $600.00 on there.  He screamed and yelled, stomped his feet, and got red in the face.  Basically, he looked like a bald, fat two year old throwing a temper tantrum.  And this is some one in charge of molding our youth?  That's it, I'm sending my kids to private school.  There's no way I want this immature piece of mildew getting his hands on my kids.  He wound up wanting the manager.  Of course, Dip Shit wound up taking it off the bill, but told him, "I took it off this time, but next time you'll know so you'll have to pay for it." Yeah, right.

                                  This kind of scene happens more likely than you would think, unless you work in a restaurant.  Just today, a woman called wanting to place an order for her and her co-workers to come in and eat.  She ordered for her co-workers first, then herself.  She wanted a small order of our 3-Layer Breadsticks, and wanted ranch with them.  Pizza sauce normally comes with them.  If they want to substitute the pizza sauce for something else, there's no extra charge.  However, if they want the pizza sauce and another sauce, they're going to have to dig deep in their pockets and pay that darned $0.30.  I know, expensive, right.  How can anyone ever afford that?  When the lady told me she wanted ranch, of course I asked her if she just wanted the ranch or if she wanted pizza sauce and ranch.  Three ranches total.  So I charged her $0.90.  That should not have been a big deal, but it was.  They came in and ate.  When they were ready, I split off their checks and took them their bills.  The lady never said anything about it until she came up to pay.  My manager was standing beside me as a cashed them out.  She asked me why I charged her for the ranch.  "Because, that's what you asked for ma'am.  You said that you wanted pizza sauce and ranch when I took your order over the phone, so I charged you for the ranch.  The small breadsticks only come with one sauce.", I replied.  She scrunched her nose, squinted her eyes, and pursed her lips.  Her face looked like she'd smelled shit.  She then prepared herself to win the award for biggest over-reaction ever and said, "NO, I did NOT!  You are a liar.  I told you I only wanted ranch. Had I known you were going to charge me, I wouldn't have gotten both."  I'm thinking whoa, whoa, lady, calm down. you are getting way to amped up over $0.90.  You contradicted yourself too, by the way.  Which is it? Am I a liar, or did you not know that it would cost you extra for extra ranch?  Before I could say anything, manager stepped in and took off one of the ranches, because either way, she still got two extra.  She seemed happy saving $0.30, whatever.  I'm just thankful that she got the fuck out of there.  I couldn't imagine being such a raving fucking lunatic that $0.30 got my panties all up in a bunch.  Chill the fuck out.  It's just a condiment.

Sticky, Sticky, Grubby Little Fingers

                   Nothing of interest happened again today, not that I'm complaining.  Since nothing pissed me off today, I would like to talk about a very serious problem in the restaurant industry.  Why is it that customers steal?  I know anyone who has ever worked in a restaurant has seen this happen about a gajillion times.  They will take anything they can get their grubby little hands on.  I've seen salt/pepper/parmesan/red pepper shakers, menus, ketchup/mustard/steak sauce bottles, sugar/artificial sweetener packets, sugar caddies, menus, decorations, condiment caddies, and probably a thousand other things I can't think of right now, taken without so mush as a single fuck given to whom their actions might affect.  It doesn't bother me that my fat cat owners have to pay to replace that shit.  They wipe their ass with that.  What bothers me is, when I show up for work every morning, I have to go to every table, take an inventory of what's been lifted the day before, and replace all of that shit!  It's not fun, and takes about an hour to do.  Most of the things, I just have to grab out of the stock room and put back on the tables, but the shakers are a whole different breed of dog.  I have to get the shakers and the lids from two separate places, then get the shit to fill them up from a third and fourth place.  I then have to fill them all up with whatever is appropriate, wipe them down, and finally put them back on the tables.  It's annoying and monotonous, and not how i would choose to start my morning!  Just go to the god damned dollar store, since you're so fucking cheap, and buy your own for only a few cents a piece.  They're not that fucking expensive.  I don't come to your job at the whore house and steal all the condoms from your night stand, so don't come to my place of employment and make my job harder than it already is.  Don't you realize that having to look at you, for 30-45 minutes at a time, is hard enough on me?  Of course you don't, because that would require some empathy.  For example, one night, an old man came out of the bathrooms at Pizza Place as I was coming out of the dining room to the side.  I followed him through the main dining room, walking back to the front of the store.  He didn't know I was behind him.  Right as we passed Table 33, I watched him reach out, grab a parmesan shaker, and shove it into his pocket .  What gall!  He didn't even look around to make sure no one saw him.  He had no shame. He just went back to his family at another table and finished his meal.  He probably stole the shakers off that table too.  My thought?  "God damn it, now I'm going to have to replace that mother fucker.  There goes 5 minutes of my life down the fucking drain.  Thanks, grandpa."

A Walk Down Nightmare Lane

                          Nothing noteworthy happened at work today.  No news is good news, I guess, so I'm going to share with you a story from the vault.  It was about 5 years ago, and I was working at this shitty (even more so than Pizza Place) corporate restaurant with a "roadhouse" theme.  One of the biggest companies in our area was holding a HUGE outdoor concert about 3 miles up the road, as part of a big PR scheme, and they actually had a lot of big names in music scheduled to be there.  They were expecting about 100,000 people to attend.  The brilliant owners of Roadhouse decided since there would be quite a few vendors at the concert, no one would want to come eat at the closest restaurant with booze.  Geniuses right?   The only people the had scheduled for that day,since we'd be soooo dead, was 1 manager, 3 cooks, 1 bartender, 1 host, 1 supervisor(me), and 3 servers. We only had enough servers to open half the restaurant.  We were all working open-close, because we were the only ones who hadn't asked off to go to the concert, and the intelligent owners decided to give the day off to everyone who had asked for it.  As soon as the doors were unlocked, people rushed in.  Not only was the half of the restaurant we had opened full, but every table in the entire store was full.  We couldn't even get the tables cleaned when people left before another one would sit down.  It wasn't just a lunch then dinner rush. The lunch rush started as soon as the doors opened, and it NEVER stopped.  Seriously, every table in the restaurant stayed full until we locked the doors that night.  One of the servers was new, and he just couldn't hack it.  He did it for about 3 hours, then walked out on us.  I can't say I blame him.  He was probably the only smart one that day, because the rest of us stayed.  When he left, the rest of us had to split up his table.  The table I got stuck with was a 6-top.  They had already ordered and received their drinks and app, but he hadn't put in their order, nor could he tell me where he had written their order down at.  At this point, they were almost finished with their app and it was taking at least an hour for anything to come out of the kitchen.  I knew I was in for it.  I took a deep breath and headed over to them.  I said, "Hello, my name is BoW, and I will be taking care of you now.  I am very sorry, but your previous server left without putting your order in.  If you want to go ahead and give me your order, I promise I will get it to you as quickly as possible.  I really am very sorry for this, but I promise I'll take good care of you."  They said they didn't want to wait any longer, which was perfectly understandable, seeing as that jackass left them sitting there for so long without putting their food in, and knowing how long ticket time was.  So I said, "Okay, I completely understand, and once again, I'm VERY sorry about all of this.  I'll just go print your ticket for your drinks and the appetizer you got, and I'll be right back."  I went straight to the computer, pulled up their check, and pressed print.  As the ticket was printing, the manager came up to me and told me they were making their way to the door, and that he thought they were going to leave without paying the ticket.  I really couldn't blame them for wanting to leave without paying, considering how bad their prior server had fucked up.  The problem was that their ticket was now in my name, so I was responsible for it, and Roadhouse had a policy that if a table walked on the bill, the server had to pay their tab.  That's right, the whole ticket, with no discount, was to be paid by the server.  So, I grabbed the check and made a bee line to the front door to try and catch up with them.  I did catch them, right outside the door.  I said, "Excuse me, I've got your ticket for your drinks and appetizer.  The total is $21.77."  The man turned around to face me, he had a toddler on his hip, and it wasn't until just then that I realized how big this man was.  He towered over top of me, and was at least 3 times as wide as I was.  He said, "I'm not paying for that shit!"  I looked up at him, determined not to back down, and said, "I understand that your meal was messed up sir, and I'm very sorry about that, but you did get a perfectly good appetizer and 6 drinks.  The other server is gone, and now I'm the one responsible for your bill.  If you don't pay for it, they're going to make me pay for the food and drinks that you all had."  I was hoping he'd realize he was punishing some one who was innocent and didn't deserve it, but of course not.  He says, "I don't give a damn if you have to pay for it or not!!!"  That did it for me, I was trying to be understanding and extremely polite, but if he didn't give a fuck about me, then I didn't give a fuck about him, his cunting wife, or his ugly as sin kids.  By this time, my manager was standing behind me, and the bartender had saw me running and heard the commotion and he was standing beside me.  The bartender took a step towards them and I said, "That's alright, I'll just call the police on you for stealing!!  We'll get them here and let them sort it out!!"  The huge beast of a man looked at me, his face turning red as a beet.  He literally dropped the toddler onto the ground and said, "Ugly wife, get the kids, I'm beating this bitch's ass!!!"  I turned and ran back into the restaurant faster than I think I've ever ran before, I ran all the way to the back into the kitchen.  I was crying as I told the cooks what had happened.  They all ran out the side door to the front and had him surrounded before he could realize what was going on.  I was terrified.  I stayed in the kitchen.  After looking around and seeing that there was men all around him, he wasn't so tough anymore.  He quietly handed over $22.00 to one of the cooks and took his morbidly obese family home.  He was all eager for a fight when there was only 3 women standing in front of him.  What a coward.  I'll bet he beats on those hideous wife and kids of his.  I know the tab wasn't that much, and had I known I was at risk for physical violence, I would have just sucked it up and paid for it myself.  While every little bit counts for me, no amount of money is worth risking my health and well being.  I was young and never could have imagined that someone would have become so irate over paying a $21.77 bill.  I'm so thankful to now work for a place that understands that, every once in a while, someone is going to dine and ditch.  Hopefully I'll have something more current tomorrow.  I hate reliving the nightmare of working at Roadhouse.

"Super Server" conquers evil villain "Thieving Lard Ass"

                Today was a shit storm on so many levels.  We had a heavy thunderstorm move through our area knocking out power and making people crazy.  The powerless poured into our restaurant like they would never be able to eat again. We even had a wait at one point.  That's right, at the shitty pizza place in a small town, we had a wait.  It is absolutely unheard of, and why anyone would EVER want to wait for the food at Pizza Place, is beyond my comprehension.  Once again it was up to only me and one other waitress to feed the masses.  I think my shitty store manager does this on purpose so that when lunch rush hits, he can take a few of the tables and make some tips.  Not today!!!  Not on my watch!!!! And not ever again!!!  I am fed up!!   I was determined when I entered the door to work this morning that I was not going to let him take a penny out of my pocket.  The lunch rush hit with the force of a tsunami, and after a few (or six) tables a piece, the other waitress said she was too far in the weeds and could not take another one until she got caught up.  I'm sure when lard ass manager heard this, he wet his panties with delight.  So, Dumbass, Greedy, Fuckwad Manager waddles out to the dining room and starts getting drink orders.  I let him do so while I made and ran a few salads and apps to a couple tables.  When he comes back with drink orders in hand, I was waiting for him.  I said with a smile, "I'm caught up now, so i'll take those.", and snatched them out of his hands.  I only had to snatch maybe a couple more drink orders out of his hand before he got the hint.  The only problem was, once he realized I wasn't going to let him steal any of my tips, he refused to help us at all.  The other server and I were getting deeper and deeper in the weeds, but I was determined to make my point.  I was absolutely, under no circumstances, going to let him defeat me.  I didn't care if I had to take every table by myself.  I was going to do it, and do it well.  By having even one complaint, he would have won.  And guess what?  I did it!!  Without having to call on him for ANYTHING!!  Only one of my tables had any complaints, and it was all in their heads.  They were the type of people that were looking for something to complain about as soon as they walked in the door.  I'm not exaggerating, as soon as they walked in I heard the obese ape man grumble, "The Pizza Place in Soandso is sooooo much better than this one."  Whatever, man, if it's soooo much better, then drag your ass to that one and leave me the fuck alone.  There was 6 of them, 5 whores and one ape man.  Every table inn the restaurant was full at that point.  Any normal functioning adult human brain would think,"Hmmm, this place is packed, we might have to wait an extra five minutes on our food since all these other people were smart enough to get here before us.", but no these dipshits expected their entree within 10 minutes of sitting down even though they had all ordered salads AND apps.  After I got their orders, I put them in the computer then dropped their apps.  I then took out their drinks, then their salads and apps along with two other tables that I had picked up at the same time as I had them.  After dropping off the third tables salads and apps, I was on my way to the expo window to pick up the whores and ape man's food when I feel someone grab onto my clothing.  So, I stop and turn around and it's none other than Ape Man himself.  He has this ugly "I smell shit" look on his face and I ask him if there's something I can get for him.  He yells like the Ape Man he is, "I'm not impatient or anything, but is our food going to get here anytime soon?!"  His ticket had only been in for 10 minutes at that point, believe me, I checked.  So I tell him very nicely that I had been on my way to get his food when he stopped me and that he would already have it if he hadn't been so "not impatient".  So I slowly make my way there, since he's sooooo "not impatient".  I make sure to stop at another table close to them that had heard him screaming and apologize for the over grown man child making a scene and ask them if I could get them anything.  They say they're fine and that THEY are sorry that I have to deal with people like that.  I smile and tell them that if they need anything, just let me know.  THEN, I went and got the food for the "not impatient" table.  I deliver it and then ask them if there's anything else I can get for them, they said no, so I continue on.  About five minutes later I hear one of the whores at the "not impatient" table screeching at me, "WAITRESSSSSSSS!!!!", so I reluctantly walk over.  That whore and the whore sitting next to her had ordered a sandwich to split.  Our sandwiches come on oval plates and I had brought them each a round plate with their sandwich that they were splitting.  They had taken their sandwich off the oval plate and they each had a half sandwich sitting in front of them on a round plate when I walked over.  I notice each of their halves of sandwich have about 3-4 bites taken out of them.  Whore #1 tells me there is a hair on her half sandwich.  I look and it is laying perfectly on top of the top piece of bread.  I was thinking, "Are you fucking serious?  You mean to tell me you didn't notice it when you got the sandwich, took it off the original plate, or when you took 3-4 bites of it and it never even fell off the top of the sandwich either?"  Whatever!  I was soo done with them long before this.  I took both plates with both halves of sandwich off the table and told them I'd have it taken off their bill.  I then brought them boxes and the check sans their stupid sandwich.  I was done.  I didn't want to see or hear from them anymore.  When they came up front to pay, they asked for Lard Ass the store manager so I went and got him.  They were mad that their bill wasn't comped over one hair on one half of one sandwich, even though there was 6 salads, 6 apps, and 5 other entrees that were perfectly fine.  Whore #1 seriously told my shit head manager, "Finding that hair on my sandwich ruined the whole dining experience for everyone.", in this really dramatic voice.  He basically told her tough shit and that he had taken the sandwich off, but they were going to have to pay for everything else.  Smartest thing I've ever heard him say in the 3 years I've worked there.  They paid, but weren't happy about it.  My thought, good, maybe they won't come back.  Those people were crazy, and that's not my fault.  The nice table that told me they were sorry I had to deal with people like that left me a $20 tip and it was only a two-top, and the other waitress working with me called me Super Server when recounting the day to second shift.  So seeing as I only had one complaint from people that were clearly out of their minds, I made close to $100 on  a lunch shift including a $20 bill left by a two top, and I took so many tables by myself that it warranted me the title of "Super Server" with little to mostly no help from my thieving, lard ass, douche bag store manager, I deeply believe that I won the battle and live to serve another day!!

Stone Cold Bag of Cunts

             This post is not going to be about me.  My day was wayyy too shitty, and I'm still far too angry over my thieving greedy lard ass manager stealing from me AGAIN for the third day in a row to even begin to recount today's events.  No, no, this day's post will be about a former co-worker of mine, with some bitching about how those of us in the service industry are treated worse than bellybutton lint.  The pizza place I work for delivers.  We had one delivery driver, we'll call him Adam.  He was the best.  Not only did he do his job well (showed up on time, worked late when needed, did everything asked of him, yada yada, blah blah blah, so on and so forth), but he also was ready and able to help out anyone else who happened to need it.  I can safely say he was one of the better employees they had.  You get the point.  He was working a 10 hour shift not long ago, because some one had called off.  Everything was as usual.  He had a delivery, so Adam got the customer's food all gathered up.  He then tucked all of the ordered items safely away in the heated delivery bag that he had been assigned that day.  After that Adam proceeded to call said customer to inform her that her food was ready, and he was on his way with it.  Just for fun, we'll call this said customer Wretched Bitch.  I'm almost positive that's what her name was anyway.   Adam then leaves the store with delivery bag in hand on his way to Wretched Bitch so that she can gobble it all up in one fail swoop and grow her ass a few inches wider.  When Adam arrives at the house, he walks up to the door, food in hand, and knocks on the door.  Wretched Bitch answers.  As I was not present for this interaction, I will describe this conversation as I was told it happened.

Adam:  Hello, my name is Adam from Pizza Place.  I have the food you ordered.  Your total is $33.90.

Wretched Bitch:  Why the hell does it cost so much?!  The special said it was only $27.50!!

Adam:  Yes, ma'am, but that was before you added the extra toppings and before tax.

Wretched Bitch:  Well, I guess I'll pay for it, but you're not getting a tip!!!!

(she then hands Adam the money and demands exact change back, so Adam digs it out of his pocket and hands it to her awaiting grubby shrew hand)

Adam:  Well, that's your choice, I guess, but I don't think that it's fair for you to punish me for something I have no control over.

              Right after Adam said that, that horrible fucking cunt reared back and open hand slapped Adam across his face with all the strength she could muster.  Adam immediately turned around, without saying a word for fear of getting shit canned, or worse, arrested, and walked back to his car.  He got in and drove back to work.  By the time he had gotten back, Wretched Bitch had already called and told our manager that Adam was EXTREMELY rude to her.  Therefore, upon entering the establishment, he was immediately pulled into the office and grilled by our Glorious Leader, dickhead, thieving, lard ass Store Manager.  Adam carefully explained everything that had transpired.  He told him every word exchanged, and about the slap.  Our genius manager then proceeds to fire him anyways for "being rude to a customer."  He then calls Wretched Bitch back to kiss her greasy cottage cheese ass for a bit, then offer her a free meal nest time she orders.  So, my thought is, not only does this horrible excuse for a human being get away with assaulting Pizza Place's  employees, she also gets rewarded for doing as such.  I'm calling bull shit!!  I shutter at the thought that, as an employee in the service industry, we have no rights to defend ourselves against verbal or physical abuse.  We just have to stand there with a blank stare and a fake smile and take anything a "Guest" wants to throw our way for fear of losing our jobs and the way we support ourselves and families.  The shitheads on top of the pyramids don't care.  We are just another number, and there is an endless line of other punching bags they can get to take our place.  I bet Adam wishes he would have just knocked that stinky twat out cold and went home.  I know I would.

Definitely Fed Up!!!

Today was another really busy day, although not quite the shit storm yesterday was.  We got slammed for lunch rush with only me and another server.  The other server had gotten several big tables, but I didn't have any big groups, so I was busy but fine.  The store manager started going to tables before I could get to them and getting their drink orders, but instead of handing them over, he kept them!!  All of them!! Then kept the tips!!  He was running up to them before I could ever get the chance.  It's not like I had left them sitting there either.  He would run up to them as soon as they would walk through the door and follow them to the table so that he could get there first.  He has a new boy toy and I have a feeling that's what behind him turning into this little greedy monster.  If I had any doubts yesterday about going to the owner on him, I absolutely have NONE now.  What a dick head!!!