McDonald's/Road Rage

Have we all seen this crazy fucking McDonald's addict who loses her shit when she finds out she can't get McNuggets? Supposebly, she was there before 10:30 in the morning and they were only serving breakfast. Well, this ho wasn't going to have that. She briefly considered filling out a comment card and then calling the McDonald's customer service hot line, but then she decided it would be better if she just out out of her car and started beating the shit out of the drive thru window clerk.

I have never had the misfortune of working in fast food. There was a summer after college where I made daily trips to Burger King and Dairy Queen (the royal "we") when I probably should have been put on their payroll, but never have I been officially. With my vast food service experience, if I ever take a foray into fast food, I would probably shoot right up the corporate ladder and be a shift leader immediately. Anyhoo, back to the video. This bitch is crazy for McNuggets but that McDonald's worker is ready for the fight. I particularly like when she grabs that trick's hair and tries to detach it from her head. And then they get the manager up in there too to fight the good fight. Out of everything though, the best part of the video is when she finally flees the scene and the next car drives like nothing happened up and is all, "Can I get a number two combo please? Super size me." The worst part of the video? No audio. In my mind, it goes something like this:

Driver: I want McNuggets.
McD's: We ain't got those. How 'bout a McGriddle?
Driver: I want McNuggets.
McD's: We ain't got those right now. How 'bout a hashbrown?
Driver: Don't make me cut you.
McD's: How 'bout a McMuffin?
Driver: I am gonna kick you ass bitch.
McD's: Manager! Manager!
Driver: (beating her) I'm gonna kick your ass, bitch. I want fucking McNuggets.
McD's: Bitch, I got your hair now, what you gonna do now, huh? What chu gonna do?
Driver: I'm gonna smash the fucking window with my hand and if I can't do that, I'm gonna get in my car and find something else to smash it with. Arrrg!
McD's: How 'bout an apple pie?
Driver: Arrg! (smashes window and drives away)
McD's: Thank you and have a nice day.

Anyone here work at McDonald's and care to share your viewpoint?


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Dear Bitchy Waiter

Dear Bitchy Waiter,
I need your advice. I have just left my usual spot after receiving half-ass drinks all night from the bartender with the lovely face and ample bosom. After asking to cash out she proceeded to wait on many male patrons and when she finally returned to me with my card and receipt she popped attitude. Should I have clotheslined her like I wanted to?

~Donda

Dear Donda,
I can see how tempting it would have been to wait for this bartender's shift to end, follow her home in order to learn her address and then head over to 7-11 for a carton of eggs to pelt her house with. Very tempting indeed. I do not recommend ever doing this no matter how much fun it would be and how many wonderful memories you would have for the rest of your life. (And on a side note, an open apology to Mrs. Deheul, my 12th grade drama teacher: I'm sorry I pelted your house with eggs even though it was really fun and I am still carrying around those memories from that magical evening.) Donda, you should just let this girl be. We all know she was spending all her attention on the men folk because her big titties were going to help her get bigger tips. Can't says I blame her. I guess she didn't feel like it was worth it to pay attention to you even though there was a hefty Double D tip in it for her. What goes around comes around. Just last week I ate dinner at a bar and the hot young (male) bartender kept ignoring me as he poured attention on all the single ladies. Fine, whatever. But when he gave me my check, the dumbass had forgotten to ring in all four of my cocktails. They were $11.50 each. He fucked up because he was too busy with the hos he thought would tip him more. Did I tell him? Nope. It's happened to all of us. I left him a 30% tip on what he did charge me but it could have been so much more. Never fear. The bartender that dissed you will have her chance at getting dissed in return.

Love,
The Bitchy Waiter

Rise and Shine, Bitchy Waiter

Oh it's so early for me to be up. How do people wake up at the crack of ass to serve breakfast? Not being a morning person (or afternoon person and not so much of a night person either) getting up before 7:30 AM is one tough cookie. My alarm went off this morrow at precisely 7:30 AM so that I could get to my job o' the day which is selling jewelry at a Gift Fair. (Don't ask, but I will be selling pottery for the next four days...). When I venture out my door at this ungodly hour what shall I see? Milkmen and paper delivery boys? Roosters walking around saying, "cock a doodle doo, bitch, it's early" and farmers off to milk cows? Will the air be fresher as the gentle fresh breeze of the new day whispers sweet nothings to me? Will I finally meet the morning shift of homeless people? Will I get a seat on the goddamn 7 train? I dunno what the world is like at this time.

I lived with a friend (hey Kimmy!) who used to serve the early breakfast shift every day. She rolled her ass outta bed at something like 4:30 every morning. The only good thing about it was she was done with work at 11:00 right when I was waking up and it always made me so jealous. And then the tables turned around at night when it was only 8:00 and she was having to go to bed before Melrose Place (the original one with Dr. Kimberly Shaw) even started. Life ain't easy for us mornin' risers. It just ain't. And what time did you get your ass up today?

Knit One, Pearl Two

I went out to dinner Thursday night for some much needed organic hamburger action and Berry Cosmos. I chowed down on that burger but used a fork and knife because I am so dainty and shit. Sitting at the bar and scanning the room to check out all the servers and pity them because they were at work and having to drink their Berry Cosmos out of paper cups hidden behind computers while I drank mine out in the open, my gaze fell upon a nine-top that was seated a few tables away. The woman at the end of the table appeared to be knitting. I was all, "who the fuck is knitting in a restaurant?" when I realized the answer was the other eight people she was sitting with. These bitches was all having a freaking knitting circle at the restaurant. They weren't even old ladies, although that would have only made a little bit more sense. These women were in their late 20's/early 30's and knit one pearl two-in' all over the place. Allow me to correct myself. There were eight ladies knitting and one man knitting. The man really fit in with his handlebar mustache and big gold hoop earring. Was this a bad dream? Was I really seeing a man with a handlebar mustache knitting while I am sitting a few feet away in a reasonably hip restaurant and having a cocktail?

When the waiter came out with their food he was forced to wait a couple of minutes while they slowly put away their yarn and needles and finished up the row they were each working on. Now I am not a mind reader, but I am pretty sure that the waiter was thinking, "Hurry up and put your shit away so I can put down your goddamn food. What the fuck are you doing here anyway? You're in a freakin' knitting circle. Shouldn't you be at a retirement home or in 1940?" Again, I am not psychic, but I got that vibe from the airwaves. They finally cleared away their crafts and stared eating. Well, all except for Handlebar Harry. He kept knitting. I guess it was imperative that he finished his masterpiece sofa throw right then and there and food be damned! Eventually, he ate a little bit, but you could see in his eyes that he would rather be knitting. As the rest of the table finished their food and the waiter cleared the table, the knitting came out again.

Perhaps this is the new social thing. Did I miss the mass Facebook message that told me that knitting in large groups at public places is cool? If so, I will jump right on board with it because I desperately seek attention. The next time I go to brunch, I will be taking all my scrapbooking supplies. Mimosas and crafts. What can be better?

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Foreigners Don't Tip

Let me start out by apologizing to anyone who may be from Europe or some other country where it is not customary to tip your server. But some of you suck. In this country, we tip.

I went to work last night assuming the good mood from the night before would just carry over to the next day. Working in a performance space, the type of show is what affects the audiences and therefore my tips. Last night's was some French/Brazilian/New York World Music kinda shit. His fans were really into it, but there were a few things they were not into at all: making reservations, showing up on time, manners or tipping. We had reservations for 17 people which is easy for one person to handle. By the time the show was over, they had mushroomed to 40 people which is very difficult for one person to handle. If these bitches had made a reservation, then we would have had two servers on. Over half of them showed up after the show had started making it really impossible to keep a routine. They dragged in ten or fifteen minutes into the performance. I assume they were still on European time or something, but I thought the time difference was a few hours or something, not 15 minutes. Of course they were all rude when they got there because they were already missing some of the show like it's my goddamn fault they were late. And they could not grasp the two drink minimum concept. I ended up putting a lot of $5.00 minimum charges all over the fucking place. Here is the conversation I had with booth 6 which had two minimum charges on it:

Foreigner: Err, pardon me, but what is this ten dollar charge here?
Bitchy Waiter: We have a two drink minimum as we told you at the beginning of the show so I had to add the minimum charge.
Foreigner: But we had two drinks, a seltzer and a Cabernet
Bitchy Waiter: Sir, it's two drinks per person, not per table.
Foreigner: (grumble, grumble, grumble)

Does this dude really think that's gonna fly with me? So if I crammed eight people into the booth, he thinks they could just get two drinks, a straw and call it day? No, asshole, that would be 16 drinks. Of course, he didn't tip me.

Booth 3: Three girl with last names that had no vowels in them. Their check was $137 and they wanted to split it three ways with three separate cards. Apparently they really like that number because each of them only left me $3.00. Crap bitches.

Table #14: The man was fasting for Ramadan and could not even drink water. We were cool with that and I didn't charge him even the minimum charge since it's for religion and all. His friend though had only one glass of wine so she got one minimum charge. He was not pleased but she wasn't fasting, right? No, she wasn't. Their bill was about $35. They left me three bucks.

At the end of the night, I hated everyone there. The performer gave me a copy of his CD when he left. Like that would make up for the three twenty dollars bills I was making that night even though I was non-stop in the weeds the whole night. A CD. That's just great. Who the hell even buys CD's anymore? I'll regift it the next time I am forced to be in some lame ass Secret Santa drawing.

Foreigners: please tip at least 15% or you perpetuate the stereotype and we continue to hate waiting on you.

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My First Day Back Didn't Suck

Last night was my first shift back to work and taking drinks to people in return for tips. Nine whole weeks have passed since I have handled any cocktail that wasn't my own and I managed to get through the night without forgetting that the martini was for table 6 and not for me. I think it was the afterglow of my hero mixed with a healthy dose of mood stabilizers that allowed me to get through the night. I was in a good mood, but don't get me wrong. I ain't saying that I had rainbows shooting out of my ass and I was tiptoeing through any fucking tulips or anything, but things were smooth. It's almost like the customers knew it was my first day back and they all took a chill pill before sitting in my station. I was prepared to pull a "See Ya' later, Steven Slater" if somebody gave the crusty eye. Taking a cue from Mr. Jet Blue, I went in prepared for an emergency exit. My evacuation slide wouldn't have been as fancy as his of course since I had to make it with things I could find in and around my home. I MacGyvered an emergency evacuation slide using an an air pump, duct tape, Aqua Net hairspray cans and a Slip 'n Slide. It was then then crammed into a My Little Pony backpack. I also had a Cosmo in a canteen that I would crack open as I slid down. Wearing that shit all night was a wee bit cumbersome but it seemed necessary. You, know, for emergencies.

At the end of the night I was impressed with myself that the ripcord (made out of shoestrings and Silly Bandz)) never got pulled, when all of a sudden I looked into the room and saw some people who had let their Welcome Wagon coupon expire. The show had been over for almost half an hour and all of my sidework was done but these five people thought they had already gone home and were sitting in their living room chatting it up. I stood nearby shooting evil eyes and imaginary hippo farts at them when a co-worker asked me if I wanted a glass of wine. Immediately, I ceased to give a shit about the lollygaggers and ran to the bar where my chardonnay/pinot/blanc/whatever waited for me. By the time I slurped it up, the table had left.

Survived day one of actual work. Not too shabby.


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Waitress of the Sky Loses It, Becomes God

By now you may have heard of my hero of all heroes who decided that he needed Calgon to take his ass away immediately. A Jet Blue fight attendant had words with a passenger who started to remove his luggage from the overhead bin before the aircraft had come to a complete and final stop. The Waitress of the Sky known as Steven Slater told the douchedbag customer to sit his ass down since the captain had presumably not turned off the fasten your seat belts sign. Of course the customer was full of self importance and ignored the rules. When his luggage hit the steward(ess) on the head, all hell broke loose up in that cabin. According to legend, (because this is what it will always be to me, just like Paul Bunyan and his Big Blue Ox), my hero went up to the PA system and cursed this bitch out and then said that twenty years in the airline business was enough. He grabbed a beer, said, "It's been great" and then made the coolest and bitchiest exit ever in the history of quiting a job. He activated the emergency slide and slid his ass outta there and drove his ass home. Steven: next time you do this call me. I will come and get you in a white stretch limo and there will be buckets of champagne chilling in the back seat. The floorboard will be covered with rose petals and Queen will be singing "We Are the Champions" as we motor out of JFK in style. All service employees will salute you as we make our way to the Canyon of Heroes for your ticker fuckin' tape parade.

I have quit jobs before but this air hostess knows how to do it right. In the future when I decide to leave a job, the bar has been set so incredibly high by this modern day customer service hero that it may be impossible to surpass. As I face my first day back to waiting tables after a nine week hiatus, I am considering bringing my own emergency evacuation slide with me to work. I want one real bad. I can see it now. As I stand over booth five waiting for an ancient old lady to decide if she wants sparkling water, flat water or to just give up on living altogether, I pull the rip cord and grab a Cosmo. As the slide opens in a matter of seconds the sheer force of it knocks the old lady back into 1922. She then orders a Sarsaparilla float and starts to do the Charleston as I slide my ass outta there and live happily ever after. This, unlike our Steven Slater who was arrested a short while later and may have to go to jail for his drama queen ways. I doubt it though. I think any judge would be like "A for effort, but don't you do it again. Now get outta here, you crazy kid and don't let me catch you in here again." He probably lost his job for this stunt but I say write a book about it and sell the movie rights to Lifetime or Logo. Or at the very least, become a Deity so I have someone to pray to every night.

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