Today was rough. Long. Annoying. (Oh yeah, did I say before that I hate waiting tables?? If I didn't, I'm saying it now...) I picked up this morning, and I've decided after today (and last week) that I do NOT like Saturday doubles. Yes, I made decent money, but I really worked hard...unlike some. The thing with Saturday doubles is that cuts never go up. The MOD lets two people (depending on business) go on break at a time (if they are doubles), but we come on 20 - 30 min later and jump back into the steady day--it's almost like the food I inhaled during that time didn't even make it to my stomach before I was running outside to smoke.
Even though tonight wasn't CRAZY busy, it was steady, so cuts didn't go up until 9:45/10:00 (the dining room closes at 10:30). I still had two tables at that time, and then I saw that we had 110 roll-ups! I was there until 11, I think--so officially a thirteen hour day. (I debated about picking up a shift tomorrow morning, and after typing that, I think I'll take the day off.)
Today started off smoothly, then around 2 or so, I started getting cranky and antsy, hungry and annoyed (just being pissy), but tables were alright.
Oh, I had this one table at lunch who looked like trouble from the start, but whatever...the benefit of the doubt, right?? So, I greet them and find out that they live about an hour or so away and come up to the "city"periodically, so they've never been to our restaurant...great. So, I schmooze and try to sell some stuff. I give them time, and at this point, I have a good rapport with them and I think they're okay...they're just a little weird. So, fine. I bring out their food and when I do the check back, the man suddenly turns into the Funny Man with All the Jokes (please sense the sarcasm!)--"Oh, this is awful!" he says. I ask his wife how she's enjoying her meal; she seems sweet, and probably gets overshadowed by her Hilarious Husband. So, as I'm bussing the table behind his, he's asking me questions about the restaurant, all the while reminding me how terrible the food is (me, I'm trying to find funny comments to use, but it gets to the point when I realize that this man is only funny to himself, and I don't really need to humor him because he's doing a fine job on his own). When I drop the check, I always say (which I'm trying to change), "I'll take care of the bill for you whenever you're ready." or something to that affect. And of course this man says, "Oh, honey, she says she'll take care of the check! This is great! Makes up for that awful meal." I wanted to kick him in the face. I smile and say, "Oh, you'll be back!" His wife smiles and winks, but says nothing. I think at one point she gave her hubby a flirty smack--as if that could stop his hilarity.
So, as they are getting up from the table, I am standing there saying "Goodbye" and "I'll see you soon!" Shit like that, and this man, this un-funny, fucking weird, John Deere hat-wearing, old joke-using, down-state man tries to HUG me! You don't touch me!
Granted, there are times when I tap a guest or place my hand on their shoulder to guide them out of the way for the steaming hot plate coming right for their face, but YOU DON'T HUG YOUR WAITRESS!!!!!! (loved regulars excluded!) I gracefully turned, nearly with my back to him (as if I were letting him by), so he could only put his hands on my shoulders, but he definitely tried for the all-on HUG! What the fuck? Where am I?
So the rest of lunch was fine, and I went on break around 3, and when I came back on, my head was really somewhere else. There was a good three hours of the night shift that I felt like I was walking around in a fog...I wasn't in the weeds, but I just felt...off. I was forgetting shit, fucking shit up, and just not being the great waitress I know I can be.
It happens...we all do it...no matter how long we've waited tables. Sometimes your groove just isn't there and you fuck shit up. Well, I made two of the dumbest mistakes EVER tonight. I'm sure I'll hear shit for it next week...I'm such an idiot.
So, these two things happened within 20 minutes of each other...the tables were there at the same time.
So, 104 orders a melon margarita...at the same time, one of my most favorite co-workers walks out (fired/quit)! So, needless to say, I'm distracted. I walk to the bar, pick up the margarita and take it to the table. I guess five or so minutes after I drop that margarita, I'm taking 101's drink order, and I head for the computer. Before I reach the computer, a co-worker asks me if the melon marg sitting at the bar is mine--I immediately look at my table and slap my head--I took the wrong fucking margarita to my table! Doh! I CAN'T believe I did that! Who am I? Oh, I'm your waitress?? I should know what the fuck I'm doing, right? Nope, not tonight, folks. Well, because I had to deal with the margarita situation, I totally forgot what 101 ordered (for some reason only wrote down two of the four drinks), so I had to guess what the other two guests ordered: I guessed diet and iced tea...yeah, let's try diet and a fucking beer! "Hello, my name is Stupid Fucking Idiot, I'll be fucking up your order this evening and trying to joke about it so you still tip me! What can I fuck up for you tonight??"
Where am I???
Finally home...almost comfortable...and totally exhausted.
Off tomorrow...Lunch Monday.