Momnesia

This is a story about how I can make any bad situation EVEN WORSE NO KIDDING DO NOT COME TO ME FOR COMFORT. You will only suffer more.

My friend, Lance, died this week. His wife, Sarah, has been taking it hard. I wanted to be there for her at the memorial service. Scott picked me up at 11 a.m., one hour before the service. We had a quick two-shot-of-courage at Applebee's (Thanks, Rico!) before heading to the funeral home. We have 10 minutes to get there.

Long ago, in a restaurant far away...

Carol and I are bartending. We have a friendly, rivalrous banter going on. It keeps us occupied, mentally, while working. I love Carol to death. Today, the beer cooler is broken. It annoys our guests, but they're good-natured about it.

Guest: Can I get another warm beer?
Just then, Carol walks up from the back with beers for restocking. She hands him one as I laugh at his question.
Carol: There you go. Much fresher than anything she'll give you.
Me: Right. Thanks, Carol.
The guest takes a sip and grins.
Guest: Colder, too.
Me: That's because she chipped it out of her icy heart.
The guest chokes on his beer. Carol whirls around.
Carol: What?!
Me (innocently): Nothing!

The phone rings.

Scott: You're beautiful.

Talking about my nephew, who Marvin hasn't seen for a couple of years...



Me: Yeah, so he's a little crackhead 6-year-old.
Marvin: Wow, he's six, now?
Me: Yep.
Marvin: I bet he's tall.
Me: He is!
Marvin: I bet he's taller than I am.
Me: Marvin, he's six. We're not feeding him human growth hormone sandwiches.

Me (groggily): Hello?

Me: Hello?

Previously, in Stacey's life (fade from black): Stacey was sick on Monday. Chris refused to help her, but promised to stop by on Tuesday. He didn't. Stacey decided to break up with him, based on his lack of caring when she was too sick to take care of herself. We rejoin the program on Wednesday of the same week...

Let's start the new year off with a training lesson. Read and learn.

What took you so long to get our drinks?

If you ordered tea or coffee, I probably had to brew it because the other servers were having personal conversations that rendered them unable to work. If you ordered a bar drink, I probably had to wait for the bartenders to finish their personal conversations before they would make the drink. If you ordered a soda, I may have had to change the syrup. All of this assumes that there were clean glasses and ice available at the serving station. I may also have had to get those before I could make your drinks.

We’re starving: when will our food be ready?

Your well-done steaks are still going to take the requisite 20 minutes to cook. Yes, 20 minutes. Even if you didn't order something well-done, all food is cook to order... plus time for personal conversations by the line cooks.

It don’t take that long at home.

Doesn’t. And of course it does if you do it our way. First, you would begin by marinating your steaks for 72 hours. Second, you have to wait for the grill to heat up. And third, we don’t cook them ahead of time. If you want to argue, I’ll get the cook and the manager.

Why is my food cold?

It was hot when I brought it. You were too busy running your big fat mouth to eat it.

Don’t you know that you’re not supposed to charge me for my soda if I buy a bar drink?

No. I don’t know that.

A tip? Why should I be responsible for paying your salary?

You aren’t responsible for paying my salary. I’m not a salaried employee. Servers are paid $2.13 an hour for their time. Now, that isn’t your responsibility, either. But the facts of the matter are these: 1) If the restaurant industry were to pay its servers the regular minimum wage, they would not take a loss to their profits. They would pass that increase on to the consumer. 2) A more than 50% increase in hourly wages (and the taxation and accounting headaches that come with it) means at least a 30% increase in menu prices. You only pay half that in a tip. 3) If you are using a service, you should pay for it. Otherwise, go somewhere where that cost is not added in, like, say: WENDY’S.

I never tip more than $2. Why should I?

That’s a good question. Allow me to tell you: Servers are taxed at 8% on the amount they sell, not the amount they actually make in tips. So, if your bill is $100, and you leave $2, that’s only a 2% tip. That means the additional 6% has to come out of my pocket. Effectively, I’m buying a portion of your meal for you. If you could at least tip me 8% so that I break even, I’d appreciate it. Thanks so fucking much.

Why do we have to go through the hostess stand? I see empty tables over there/
Why can’t we sit at that table? It’s empty.

People, this is not a new system. But, since you seem to have been raised on Mars, allow me to explain. 1) There is what’s called a “rotation” in seating at a restaurant, so that people don’t duke it out over tables like they do parking spaces, and so that each of the servers get a fair shake at making money. 2) Not everyone has the same needs. That couple wants a table in nonsmoking because they’re meeting another person who is in a wheelchair and has a respiratory illness. That person wants a quiet corner to himself because his wife recently died. That is a party of 25, and we need to reserve tables adjacent to one another until enough tables are empty that we can seat them all at once. The hostesses, ideally, can coordinate meeting all of those needs so that everything runs smoothly. Apparently, they haven't communicated this to you.

Why is the wait so long?

Many factors can push a wait longer. The kitchen could be running slowly due to short-staffing or – usually – due to hangovers. The floor may be short-staffed of servers, so that it’s difficult to take care of everyone quickly. There could be large party taking up many tables so that we can’t seat others at those tables. Large parties also tend to want to “camp” and socialize, so we can’t turn those tables as quickly as usual. But speaking of camping, think of the last time you ate out. How long did you stay? At least an hour, probably. Did you hang out at your table and socialize afterward? Pretty fucking likely. Sometimes tables just won’t get up from their chairs and go so that we can seat you. Finally, sometimes, outside factors slow down the restaurant so that things don’t move as quickly: equipment (ice machine, dishwasher, grill) could break; employee injuries can affect service speed; demand could be unusually high. But, usually, it’s the very people complaining about the wait that screw up the wait. Is that your kid running around getting in everyone’s way? Why does that server have to say, “Excuse me” four times before someone steps aside so that she can walk through the lobby with her guests’ food? How long did you wait to order after sitting down at your table? Usually – although not always – it’s the customers who make it hard on themselves.

Why is this charge on my ticket?

Beverage – Because you ordered it, and you drank it.
Entrée/Appetizer/Dessert – Because you ordered it, and you ate it.

Can I get some bread/peanuts to go?

Yes, but I’ll have to charge you for it.

Why? It’s all-you-can-eat!

So, eat it.

But, I’m too full.

So, you can’t eat it?

No.

Well, there you go. You’ve eaten all you can eat.

Can you take this off my ticket? I didn’t like it/I couldn’t finish it.

If you didn't like it, then why did you eat it? I asked you three times if everything was okay, and if I could get you anything. You said: “Everything is fine.” So, no. I can’t take this off your ticket. If you can't finish it, then take it home. You're the one who ate his weight in bread.

Will you take a check?

Will you get real?

I can’t afford this. What happens if I don’t pay?

You see that cop over there? He’ll arrest you.

For what?!

For theft by taking. And, hopefully, stupidity, cheapness, and generally being an asshole.

You seem pretty smart; why didn’t you ever go to college?

Thanks so much; I did. The market took a hit after 9/11, the area is economically depressed, and I work 75 hours a week so that makes job hunting kind of a hobby, and not the singular goal in my life.

Me (pulling my car up to the Jiffy Lube): Hi! I just need an oil change today.
Mechanic (nodding): Does Jan still work there?
Me (looking around to see if he's talking to me): What?
Mechanic (pointing to my work t-shirt): Does Jan still work there?
Me (smiling): Of course. She's been there for years.
Mechanic (taking my keys): Does Desiree still work there?
Me: Um... oh, yeah. She does.
Mechanic (filling out the form): Does Daniel still work there?
Me (shrugging): Which Daniel?
Mechanic (pausing to look at me): Daniel.
Me: Which Daniel?
Mechanic (looking at me like I'm stupid): DANIEL Daniel.
Me (giving up because I want my car in a hurry): Oh. THAT Daniel. No.
Mechanic: He doesn't?
Me: No.
Mechanic: You sure?
Me (Good lord. No, I'm not sure): Pretty sure...
Mechanic: How sure?
Me (0% sure): 87% sure?
Mechanic (stopping to look at my face. He thinks I'm fucking with him. I think it's the other way around): 87 %... That's not very sure.
Me (getting annoyed. Did he quit taking math in the third grade?): It's mostly sure.
Mechanic (shaking his head): It's pretty sure.

There is a moment of silence. I can't figure out: 1) how this conversation got started; 2) why it continues; 3) how to get out of it.

Me (I also want my car in one piece): Well, sorry I can't more certain. I haven't seen him around for awhile though.
Mechanic (suspiciously): Well, maybe you're just working different times.
Me (Geez, I didn't realize you were dating): Maybe so. How long have you known Daniel?
Mechanic (shrugging and giving the keys to another mechanic): I don't know him. Just curious.

???!!!