Public Service Announcement
Being a pushy bitch and then saying “I’m a mom,” does not excuse you from being a pushy bitch.
The New Chick
Had to tell the new girl that we don’t tell managers what we make behind the bar. She asked me why. I said because they are creepy fucks and its none of their god damn business.
NONE. OF. THEIR. BUSINESS.
Can’t sleep because my knees ache
"Are you getting old?"
No, I just work in a fucking restaurant.
I prefer wearing my work clothes out to bars after my shift so people respect me more
Customer Service Problem #34
Unpleasant customers who complain and say they’d rather go somewhere else.
So a few weeks ago this dude comes in and orders a drink. I didn’t notice he was plastered until he ordered it. It was just a vodka soda so I was like whatever - I made it for him and then closed his card out.
He sits there, staring at his drink, and then picks the lime off the rim and goes “What the fuck is this?”
I was in no mood for bullshit at this point in the evening so naturally I said, “Its a lime.”
He starts going on and on, slurring and cursing about how the lime isn’t “ripe” and he needs a new drink.
And I pretty much said tough shit because the lime wasn’t in his drink. There was nothing wrong with the lime.
Before I got him kicked out he goes “THIS LIME IS SOUR” and my response was “ALL LIMES ARE FUCKING SOUR. THEY’RE FUCKING LIMES.”
Y’all are the worst.
Always with the entitlement bullshit. Always pushy and demanding and fucking obnoxious. Haven’t you been on the planet long enough to know your limit on alcohol intake? I’m 24 and I sure have.
No one wants to see you get up and start dancing and singing to whatever 80’s song the band is playing so please stop.
"I want a ketel one martini, stirred not shaken, very little vermouth. VERY LITTLE VERMOUTH. I want a twist of lime, not lemon. DO NOT SQUEEZE THE LIME IN MY DRINK. Can you handle that? I will send it back!"
Oh will you? Yea, I can handle it, Ace. No you cannot smoke your fucking cigar in the restaurant. No we do not serve espresso. No, your shirt buttons should not be unbuttoned. No, your steak is not undercooked.
Thanks for the $8 tip on your $100 check you pieces of shit.
Let me just say this right now
If you’re gonna call the restaurant up, make a lengthy fucking to-go order, interrupt me from everything I’m doing, make me type it in special for you, make me box it and bag it for you, make me smack glass bottles of mustard into ramekins for you, make me pour drinks for you then have me transfer them to plastic cups, and then you don’t tip me?
I may not have re-filled your fucking diet coke 45 times while you sat here and smeared food all over my bar, but there was labor that went into making sure your 15 orders of wings got put into the right boxes with the right dressings and boxed and bagged. You better throw me a fucking fiver, minimum.