Everyone has had one of those days. I feel like working in the service industry, those type of days are unbelievably frequent. I've just gotten home from work, and I'm ashamed to admit. I find myself full of rage. I feel as if I'm about to blow my top in a Mt. St. Helens style explosion. I really try not to bring work home with me. It's not goo for my kids, my husband, or myself. It's just so hard sometimes. That is the reason why I started this blog. My husband says he can tell a major difference. Before I had this blog as an outlet before my frustrations, I would come home steaming from a bad day. I would be snappy and irritable. Not anymore. I can come home from work, shut myself in my bedroom, and type it out. It's as if all my anger and frustrations just flow out of my fingertips and plaster themselves onto this blog in a tangled mess of poor writing and vulgarities.
What has my panties in a bunch today is this bitch that came in right before I was about to leave. She was part of my last table of the day. I was already somewhat aggravated with me being tired because it was my last day of the week. Plus it seemed like every table I had with children spilled whole glasses of soda. There was at least 4 little brats that caused me to get a mop and wet floor sign. After working all week, all I wanted to do was get home and relax. Right before evening shift came in, this god damned bitch showed up. I had to wait on her.
She's not just a random bitch. Her sister waited tables at Pizza Place. The owner suspected the sister of stealing because her cash drawer was always short. The sister was about to be fired, but I guess she got wind of it and quit before they could shit can her. Every time this bitch comes in, she makes a bunch of demands of things she knows we're not allowed to let her have. That way when her server tells her, "I'm sorry, but I'm not allowed to do that.", she can get red faced, scream, and occasionally yell profanities at the server. She's also known to want to speak to Lazylardass to let him know her server was very rude. That way she can try to get free shit or get the server in trouble. There's already a few servers who are not allowed to wait on her because of her complaints. I think they are the lucky ones. I don't know why she's so bitter. It wasn't even her who was going to be fired, it was her sister. Plus, it was over a year ago. Get the fuck over it already.
When she came in today, she wanted the pick up and delivery only special. There's only one problem with that. She was eating in the dining room and the special is for PICK UP AND DELIVERY ONLY. I told her I was sorry, but I wasn't allowed to let her have that in the dining room. Her face started turning red, but she said "FINE!" She ordered a pizza and a salad for her and her two dining companions to share. Then she said she wanted a 2-liter of soda for them to share. 2-liters are also for pick up and delivery only. Personally, I could not give a fuck less if she sits the the dining room, drinks 3 2-liters then buys an extra two to shove up her ass. The boss, however, does care. He says it's not allowed, so I'm going to do what he says. I only have to listen to you bitch for an hour tops, but I have to work all day with him. I told her, "I'm sorry, but I'm not allowed to sell 2-liters in the dining room either." From the way she acted, you would have thought I had insulted her first born. Her face got even more red, her eyes narrowed, and her head spun around. "Are you fucking kidding me? That's so stupid. This place is fucking ridiculous!", she screeched. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I can sell you a pitcher of soda instead.", I replied, trying to remain calm. "Well, no, why the hell would you think I'd want that? I guess I'll just have a water.", she said, her voice getting whinier and whiner with each word. At that point, I just wanted to get away from her before I wrapped my hands around her throat and squeezed with all my might. I got their drinks, took their food out when it was ready, did my check back, got refills, then took them boxes and the check when I figured they would probably be finished. I did the bare minimum. As an insult, when I went to clean the table, she had left two pennies. What she doesn't know is that my kids love when I bring change home for them to put in their piggy banks. So, she inadvertently helped me make my kids happy. The joke is on her. I was secretly hoping she would complain on me so that Lazylardass would tell me I wasn't allowed to wait on her anymore either. Of course she didn't, so it looks like I'm still going to be one of the only ones that gets stuck with her. It really feels like I'm being punished for not getting a complaint about being rude to a customer.
Friday, July 19, 2013
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
Reap What You've Sown
May I just start by saying, "I told you so!!!! I told you so!!!! I'm right and he was wrong. Bwahahaha and Nah Ni Nah Ni Boo Boo." Okay, now that I got that out of the way, I can tell you all what happened last night. Obviously, I was very eager when I got to work this morning to start on my 'I told you so's'. As soon as I walked in, I asked Lazylardass how it went last night. "With what?" he replied. Like he didn't know exactly what I was talking about. Right then, I knew whatever had went on, it was not good. He was obviously trying to avoid having to admit to me he was wrong and I was right. I felt myself grinning. "You know, with the reality show they were filming here last night.", I said trying not to look too eager. Reluctantly, because he knew I'd find out anyway, he proceeded to tell me everything.
It turns out, Lazylardass hadn't even asked the owners permission to let them film. He just told them yes without even mentioning it to the people who actually own the business. The owners son was working last night. When the film crew and everyone else got there, the owner's son called his dad to tell him about it all. The owner wasn't happy, but said that since Lazylardass had already told them yes they could go ahead and film. He made sure to let them know that they were not to film any customers or employees of Pizza Place. They were all sent back to sit in our meeting room where they could be secluded from everyone else.
Everything started out fine enough. Pizza Place is extremely family oriented. Being that we are in the Bible Belt, 'family oriented' means no alcohol. Because there's no alcohol served, Pizza Place has a clientele of mostly families with small children and the elderly. From all accounts, everyone from the reality show were being very pleasant, at first. Then, they started drinking hard liquor that they had smuggled inside via their purses. After that, all hell broke loose. They began arguing loudly amongst each other. Dishes were thrown. Someone even smashed one of the liquor bottles, leaving shards of glass all over the floor for their poor server to clean up. It was a mess. They considered asking them to leave, but didn't because that would have made more drama for their show. Getting kicked out was probably what they had intended anyway. Instead, since the cast is all locals, they were discreetly told they were not welcome back , EVER. Even when the cameras are gone, and their 15 minutes are up, they will not be aloud back on the property of Pizza Place. Wouldn't that be embarrassing 20 years from now when they're in their 40's and told there's going to be a business luncheon at Pizza Place. "Well, sir, I can't." "Why ever not?", asks the boss. "Well, uh, 20 years ago I was part of a reality show that filmed here one night. We treated the place like it was a hotel room and we were The Rolling Stones*. As a result, I have been forever banned from Pizza Place. That, Sir, is the reason I cannot attend the business luncheon."
(*outdated reference, I know. Charlie Sheen probably would have been more relevant, but I just don't really want to give him any notice. I feel like he's a small child whose bad behavior needs to be ignored to show him that is not the proper way to get attention. )
I just love getting to gloat when I am right and my boss turns out to be so horribly wrong. This feeling might be better than cake. Nope, it's not better than cake, but definitely better than pie. It's not like I'm psychic or anything. Anyone with half a brain could tell having them there would turn out bad. The people being filmed are garbage, and reality television in itself is garbage. How Could it have ever turned out good? Laztlardass's excuse? "I was trying to give them the benefit of the doubt." What. A. Moron.
It turns out, Lazylardass hadn't even asked the owners permission to let them film. He just told them yes without even mentioning it to the people who actually own the business. The owners son was working last night. When the film crew and everyone else got there, the owner's son called his dad to tell him about it all. The owner wasn't happy, but said that since Lazylardass had already told them yes they could go ahead and film. He made sure to let them know that they were not to film any customers or employees of Pizza Place. They were all sent back to sit in our meeting room where they could be secluded from everyone else.
Everything started out fine enough. Pizza Place is extremely family oriented. Being that we are in the Bible Belt, 'family oriented' means no alcohol. Because there's no alcohol served, Pizza Place has a clientele of mostly families with small children and the elderly. From all accounts, everyone from the reality show were being very pleasant, at first. Then, they started drinking hard liquor that they had smuggled inside via their purses. After that, all hell broke loose. They began arguing loudly amongst each other. Dishes were thrown. Someone even smashed one of the liquor bottles, leaving shards of glass all over the floor for their poor server to clean up. It was a mess. They considered asking them to leave, but didn't because that would have made more drama for their show. Getting kicked out was probably what they had intended anyway. Instead, since the cast is all locals, they were discreetly told they were not welcome back , EVER. Even when the cameras are gone, and their 15 minutes are up, they will not be aloud back on the property of Pizza Place. Wouldn't that be embarrassing 20 years from now when they're in their 40's and told there's going to be a business luncheon at Pizza Place. "Well, sir, I can't." "Why ever not?", asks the boss. "Well, uh, 20 years ago I was part of a reality show that filmed here one night. We treated the place like it was a hotel room and we were The Rolling Stones*. As a result, I have been forever banned from Pizza Place. That, Sir, is the reason I cannot attend the business luncheon."
(*outdated reference, I know. Charlie Sheen probably would have been more relevant, but I just don't really want to give him any notice. I feel like he's a small child whose bad behavior needs to be ignored to show him that is not the proper way to get attention. )
I just love getting to gloat when I am right and my boss turns out to be so horribly wrong. This feeling might be better than cake. Nope, it's not better than cake, but definitely better than pie. It's not like I'm psychic or anything. Anyone with half a brain could tell having them there would turn out bad. The people being filmed are garbage, and reality television in itself is garbage. How Could it have ever turned out good? Laztlardass's excuse? "I was trying to give them the benefit of the doubt." What. A. Moron.
Monday, July 15, 2013
Reality Show in the Restaurant
Sorry for my hiatus. I know all five or ten of my readers really missed me. There's been a lot of things going on in my personal life. The blog, while a great stress reliever, takes a back seat to all things personal. This blog is not about my personal life, so that's all I have to say about that. Just know that I am back.
I have never been so glad or in such a hurry to leave work as I was today. Don't get me wrong, I am always ecstatic when my shift is over. I usually always do a jig and sing a show tune on my way out the door, but today I was in a particular kind of hurry.
The phone was ringing, so I answered. On the other end of the phone was someone asking for the manager. She said her name was Brianna. I asked her to please hold while I went to find him. I put her on hold and turned to my manager who was actually standing beside me. I told him that someone named Brianna was on the phone asking to speak to him. He said it was probably someone wanting to check on an application, to just tell her that he was busy, and ask if I could take a message. I did as I was told. She actually was not someone wanting a job. She was someone involved in a ridiculous reality show for a major television network. She said that the participants in this reality show were wanting to go out to eat at Pizza Place this evening, but that they needed permission to film there. I took everything down, along with the phone number she gave me.
After I got off the phone with her, I handed the note to the manager along with a warning. "If I were you, I wouldn't let them film here. They're not a documentary, they are a reality show. The people they're filming are scum. They're only out to make us all look like fools to get ratings for their network. I promise, It's a bad idea." Of course, as always, no one listens to me. He completely ignored my warning. He called that woman back and told her they could film there tonight. It was his decision. When that decision blows up in his face, he can't say he wasn't warned. There was nothing I could do about it, except to get out of there as quickly as possible.
I know I post on a public blog, but I really am a private person. I'm content with my life. I don't need fortune or fame to be happy, nor would I want it. I most certainly would not trade my dignity for my 15 minutes, which is exactly what they're doing. They're perpetuating the stereotypes associated with living in Appalachia. If you've read my previous post, you know that really burns my biscuits. I'm really thankful I work day shift, so I don't have to be bothered with it. I do, however, feel bad for the servers that were coming in for evening shift as I was leaving. They were not happy.
I have never been so glad or in such a hurry to leave work as I was today. Don't get me wrong, I am always ecstatic when my shift is over. I usually always do a jig and sing a show tune on my way out the door, but today I was in a particular kind of hurry.
The phone was ringing, so I answered. On the other end of the phone was someone asking for the manager. She said her name was Brianna. I asked her to please hold while I went to find him. I put her on hold and turned to my manager who was actually standing beside me. I told him that someone named Brianna was on the phone asking to speak to him. He said it was probably someone wanting to check on an application, to just tell her that he was busy, and ask if I could take a message. I did as I was told. She actually was not someone wanting a job. She was someone involved in a ridiculous reality show for a major television network. She said that the participants in this reality show were wanting to go out to eat at Pizza Place this evening, but that they needed permission to film there. I took everything down, along with the phone number she gave me.
After I got off the phone with her, I handed the note to the manager along with a warning. "If I were you, I wouldn't let them film here. They're not a documentary, they are a reality show. The people they're filming are scum. They're only out to make us all look like fools to get ratings for their network. I promise, It's a bad idea." Of course, as always, no one listens to me. He completely ignored my warning. He called that woman back and told her they could film there tonight. It was his decision. When that decision blows up in his face, he can't say he wasn't warned. There was nothing I could do about it, except to get out of there as quickly as possible.
I know I post on a public blog, but I really am a private person. I'm content with my life. I don't need fortune or fame to be happy, nor would I want it. I most certainly would not trade my dignity for my 15 minutes, which is exactly what they're doing. They're perpetuating the stereotypes associated with living in Appalachia. If you've read my previous post, you know that really burns my biscuits. I'm really thankful I work day shift, so I don't have to be bothered with it. I do, however, feel bad for the servers that were coming in for evening shift as I was leaving. They were not happy.
Thursday, July 4, 2013
Star Spangled and Yankee Doodled
Let me start off by saying, happy Independence Day to all those in the US. For those of you not in the US, I hope you had a great day. If you're reading this, regardless of where you're at in the world, you have many things for which to be thankful. Be grateful that you are free. You're free to read this poorly put together blog with atrocious writing, for example. Brave men and women have fought and died for your freedom to do so. Take a second today to think about those people. Not only the ones who have died, but also the ones who are on the other side of the world. The ones who are spending today without their friends and family so that the rest of us can continue on with life as we know it.
No matter what goes on today, aggravates you, pisses you off, or gets you down, just stop, take a deep breath, and think of one thing for which you are grateful. If a customer is rude, yells, or cusses at you, don't get upset. Just be grateful that you're not the miserable fucking bitch that she is. If your manager is riding your ass and breathing down your neck, don't get angry. Be thankful that you have a life, and that it doesn't revolve around a shit hole restaurant, unlike your manager. If your co-workers are lazy, backstabbing cunts that make your job harder because they're too busy gossiping to pull their own weight, don't get stressed. Just be appreciative that you're not a self-righteous cunt, who thinks she can do no wrong.
There's plenty to be grateful for today, if you just take a second to think about it. I'm most grateful today for my family, our health, that the evening crew leader called off sick, and that they couldn't find anyone to cover her shift. That forced the store manager, Lazylardass, to have to wait tables this evening, so he wasn't there today while I was working on day shift. I only had to deal with him for the last hour I worked. Those are just a few things. I would have pages and pages full if I were to name everything in which I have to be grateful. For what are you most thankful?
No matter what goes on today, aggravates you, pisses you off, or gets you down, just stop, take a deep breath, and think of one thing for which you are grateful. If a customer is rude, yells, or cusses at you, don't get upset. Just be grateful that you're not the miserable fucking bitch that she is. If your manager is riding your ass and breathing down your neck, don't get angry. Be thankful that you have a life, and that it doesn't revolve around a shit hole restaurant, unlike your manager. If your co-workers are lazy, backstabbing cunts that make your job harder because they're too busy gossiping to pull their own weight, don't get stressed. Just be appreciative that you're not a self-righteous cunt, who thinks she can do no wrong.
There's plenty to be grateful for today, if you just take a second to think about it. I'm most grateful today for my family, our health, that the evening crew leader called off sick, and that they couldn't find anyone to cover her shift. That forced the store manager, Lazylardass, to have to wait tables this evening, so he wasn't there today while I was working on day shift. I only had to deal with him for the last hour I worked. Those are just a few things. I would have pages and pages full if I were to name everything in which I have to be grateful. For what are you most thankful?
Wednesday, July 3, 2013
POS System=Piece of Shit System
We've been having a butt load of problems with the POS system at Pizza Place. It is ridiculous. Let me count the ways.
-It loses orders. One of us will put an order in and it will just disappear into thin air, never to be seen again.
-When some one is putting in a big ticket, the computer can't handle it. The further along they get into the order, the slower it moves.
-When someone pushes the "Finish" button to send an order through. Another screen pops up where the bill can either be paid at that moment or they can press the "pay later" button. If it's a table, they're obviously not already paying for food they haven't gotten yet. The "pay later" button is really tiny. If we touch the "pay later" button too soon or if you don't touch it exactly right in the dead center, it won't send the order through.
-It adds a penny to some people's check, but not others. Don't fucking ask me why. I can't understand that shit at all.
-The caller I.D. doesn't work most of the time. This is a problem because if someone places a prank order from a blocked number, we wouldn't know. (For Example: Hello, this is Seymour Butts. I would like 20 anchovy and pineapple pizzas delivered to the state police station.) The example is pretty obvious. How about if it was Steven Anderson wanting 20 pepperoni pizzas then how would we know it was a prank? The store would just be out the cost of those 20 pizzas.
-We cannot add the gratuity or a discount to a check before it is split. We have to split it first, then add the gratuity or discount or both to each separate ticket. If I have a table of 20 old people and they all need separate checks, then I'm going to have to split it 20 ways. After that I have to go back into each ticket and add gratuity 20 times. I also have to go back into every check again to add 20 senior discounts. It is a time suck.
-Online ordering never works. Pizza Place has been trying to get online ordering up and running for the last 3 1/2 years I've been working there. They finally got it working and advertised that shit all over the place before they got all the bugs worked out. Every time someone goes to their website and places their order online, it adds $24,000 to their check. They will come to pick up their $13.00 pizza, and the POS will show they owe $24,013.00. Unless that pizza comes with a brand new vehicle or is topped with about 3 carats of diamonds, then that is an outrageous price.
Just today I had a family of three who were apparently on their way to a funeral. They ordered their drinks but weren't ready to order. The man was a Pepsi drinker. The thought of drinking Coke was more than he could bear, so he ordered a lemonade. He sent his lemonade back three times for being "too strong"(what a pussy), all the while refusing to order their food. The third lemonade I took out was actually half lemonade and half water. "Whoa! This is still really strong. I guess I'll just have a Coke instead. *dramatic sigh*" I took him the Coke, and asked if they were ready to order. They weren't because the wife needed to go use the bathroom. I went and asked again when I saw her back at the table. They still weren't ready because the teenage son had decided he needed to use the bathroom. Whatever. When I saw him get back to the table, I went over to try again. Hallelujah and praise the Lord, they were finally fucking ready, just shy of my 100th birthday. The had officially been sitting there for 30 minutes when I walked straight from their table to the computer and put in their order. 10 minutes later, the man walked up to me and asked when their food was going to be ready because they had to get to a funeral. Even though their ticket had only been in for a few minutes, I went to the kitchen to check. His ticket wasn't hanging in the kitchen. "Ohhh fuck, not this guy. Please don't fuck up on these people!! They're annoying in the best of situations. They are going to go god damned ballistic if I give them an actual reason to complain.", I thought as I walked over to the POS. I pulled up the screen that should have had their order on it. It was nowhere. It had been devoured by the computer, just like many orders before it. I yelled at the cooks to make the order on the fly. I then took a deep breath, put on my best fake smile, and headed back out to give him the bad news. I told him that I couldn't find his ticket anywhere, but that I could have it made with a rush on it, and if I did that, then his food would be out in about 7 minutes. He blew his top. He told me again that he had to be at a funeral and to "just forget about it". Had he let me get it made for him on the fly, his ticket time would only have been about 17 minutes. He would have waited that long anyway, even if the POS hadn't eaten his order. I ran back to the kitchen to tell the cooks to put a stop on that order. When I came back out of the kitchen, Mr. Difficult was standing in front of me along with his whole Difficult family. They said they needed to pay for their drinks. I told them not to worry about it, since they didn't get to eat. I apologized to them. That's when Mrs. Difficult decided it was a good idea to scream in my face that they had been there for 45 minutes and it was my fault that they wouldn't get to eat until 6:00pm that evening. Whatever. They had been there for 45 minutes, but they waited 30 of that before they even ordered anything. Plus, if they had just waited the 7 minutes for me to get it made, they would have already gotten their food before Mrs. Difficult was screaming in my face. I just smiled and apologized. Normally I would get mad, but these people were so transparent. They were upset over losing someone. They needed a punching bag to take out their anger and sadness. Who better than a server who's not aloud to push back? Even if the POS hadn't fucked up, they would have found something to scream at me about.
-It loses orders. One of us will put an order in and it will just disappear into thin air, never to be seen again.
-When some one is putting in a big ticket, the computer can't handle it. The further along they get into the order, the slower it moves.
-When someone pushes the "Finish" button to send an order through. Another screen pops up where the bill can either be paid at that moment or they can press the "pay later" button. If it's a table, they're obviously not already paying for food they haven't gotten yet. The "pay later" button is really tiny. If we touch the "pay later" button too soon or if you don't touch it exactly right in the dead center, it won't send the order through.
-It adds a penny to some people's check, but not others. Don't fucking ask me why. I can't understand that shit at all.
-The caller I.D. doesn't work most of the time. This is a problem because if someone places a prank order from a blocked number, we wouldn't know. (For Example: Hello, this is Seymour Butts. I would like 20 anchovy and pineapple pizzas delivered to the state police station.) The example is pretty obvious. How about if it was Steven Anderson wanting 20 pepperoni pizzas then how would we know it was a prank? The store would just be out the cost of those 20 pizzas.
-We cannot add the gratuity or a discount to a check before it is split. We have to split it first, then add the gratuity or discount or both to each separate ticket. If I have a table of 20 old people and they all need separate checks, then I'm going to have to split it 20 ways. After that I have to go back into each ticket and add gratuity 20 times. I also have to go back into every check again to add 20 senior discounts. It is a time suck.
-Online ordering never works. Pizza Place has been trying to get online ordering up and running for the last 3 1/2 years I've been working there. They finally got it working and advertised that shit all over the place before they got all the bugs worked out. Every time someone goes to their website and places their order online, it adds $24,000 to their check. They will come to pick up their $13.00 pizza, and the POS will show they owe $24,013.00. Unless that pizza comes with a brand new vehicle or is topped with about 3 carats of diamonds, then that is an outrageous price.
Just today I had a family of three who were apparently on their way to a funeral. They ordered their drinks but weren't ready to order. The man was a Pepsi drinker. The thought of drinking Coke was more than he could bear, so he ordered a lemonade. He sent his lemonade back three times for being "too strong"(what a pussy), all the while refusing to order their food. The third lemonade I took out was actually half lemonade and half water. "Whoa! This is still really strong. I guess I'll just have a Coke instead. *dramatic sigh*" I took him the Coke, and asked if they were ready to order. They weren't because the wife needed to go use the bathroom. I went and asked again when I saw her back at the table. They still weren't ready because the teenage son had decided he needed to use the bathroom. Whatever. When I saw him get back to the table, I went over to try again. Hallelujah and praise the Lord, they were finally fucking ready, just shy of my 100th birthday. The had officially been sitting there for 30 minutes when I walked straight from their table to the computer and put in their order. 10 minutes later, the man walked up to me and asked when their food was going to be ready because they had to get to a funeral. Even though their ticket had only been in for a few minutes, I went to the kitchen to check. His ticket wasn't hanging in the kitchen. "Ohhh fuck, not this guy. Please don't fuck up on these people!! They're annoying in the best of situations. They are going to go god damned ballistic if I give them an actual reason to complain.", I thought as I walked over to the POS. I pulled up the screen that should have had their order on it. It was nowhere. It had been devoured by the computer, just like many orders before it. I yelled at the cooks to make the order on the fly. I then took a deep breath, put on my best fake smile, and headed back out to give him the bad news. I told him that I couldn't find his ticket anywhere, but that I could have it made with a rush on it, and if I did that, then his food would be out in about 7 minutes. He blew his top. He told me again that he had to be at a funeral and to "just forget about it". Had he let me get it made for him on the fly, his ticket time would only have been about 17 minutes. He would have waited that long anyway, even if the POS hadn't eaten his order. I ran back to the kitchen to tell the cooks to put a stop on that order. When I came back out of the kitchen, Mr. Difficult was standing in front of me along with his whole Difficult family. They said they needed to pay for their drinks. I told them not to worry about it, since they didn't get to eat. I apologized to them. That's when Mrs. Difficult decided it was a good idea to scream in my face that they had been there for 45 minutes and it was my fault that they wouldn't get to eat until 6:00pm that evening. Whatever. They had been there for 45 minutes, but they waited 30 of that before they even ordered anything. Plus, if they had just waited the 7 minutes for me to get it made, they would have already gotten their food before Mrs. Difficult was screaming in my face. I just smiled and apologized. Normally I would get mad, but these people were so transparent. They were upset over losing someone. They needed a punching bag to take out their anger and sadness. Who better than a server who's not aloud to push back? Even if the POS hadn't fucked up, they would have found something to scream at me about.
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
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?
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?
Monday, July 1, 2013
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
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
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