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(OOC: I don’t know what’s going on, but tumblr’s straight tweaking for me right now and I don’t know why because it was working JUST FINE earlier and during the whole of yesterday! But idk, maybe there’s server problems idk. Anyway I’m gonna go bed and hope it works fine again in the morning! Goodnight!)
(OOC: Also, dunno if this is gonna post or not so if it posts, then it posts!)
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what a miserable ass horrible fucking week it has been. like 5 women murdered locally this week alone. been raining all damn week. roads are flooded. work is slow, not making as much money. every single customer that comes in has been a fucking asshole idiot. and then I’ve got fucking asshole coworkers. and not just the typical assholes but I’m stuck with a fucking scary ass motherfucker making a point to harass me consistently. and my check hasn’t came. I’m told to email the owner, she basically emailed me back that it’s not her problem. I have over $800 missing and it’s not her fucking problem. what the actual fuck is this?
A server came up to me and asked, "Hey, can we take <item> out of <dish>?"
The item in question has been on the menu for six months. He has sold dozens, if not hundreds, of these in the past six months. It is coming off of the menu on Tuesday. And he still doesn't know it.
So I told him, Of course you can take that out.
You can't take that item out.
Chef yelled at him.
Learn the fucking menu, my dude.
Server rings in a gnocchi with pesto. Okay, no big deal. We had that on our lunch menu in the last update, we still have gnocchi, we still have pesto; it's not going to get all of the various add-ins that it previously had, but it'll still be gnocchi with pesto.
Except.
The server then brings it back to the window, and says that she didn't want that. He had heard, "Gnocchi with pesto sauce"; what the customer had said was, "Gnocchi with pasta sauce".
What the actual, literal, genuine fuck is "pasta sauce"? ALL of these sauces on our menu are pasta sauce! Bolognese is a "Pasta sauce". Vodka sauce is a "Pasta sauce". all'Amtriciana is a "Pasta sauce". One of the managers went to the table to ask her what it was she was hoping to get.
Marinara. She meant marinara. She didn't know that "marinara" was a word, or that it meant "tomato sauce". Despite, you know, it already being on the menu. And despite her table getting an appetizer that came with marinara.
"Pasta sauce". Tell you what: We're going to cook off some pasta, put it through the robot-coupe until it's the consistence of a sauce, and then toss some gnocchi in that for you.
"Pasta sauce". Fuck off.
Until you work in a restaurant, you never realize just how many literal, honest-to-goodness alcoholics there are in the world.
The restaurant closes between lunch and dinner, but the bar remains open; this is ostensibly so that all the old Italians can come in and get a coffee. But what happens, especially on the weekends: The restaurant opens for dinner at 4:30. People will have a 4:30 reservation. They will arrive at the restaurant early, maybe ten minutes or so. And their first instinct is, "Let's sit at the bar, and start ordering drinks at 4:25 for our 4:30 reservation". Because the idea that the might have to wait ten whole minutes before they can start pouring booze into themselves is so horrible that they don't even want to contemplate it.
Or: Occasionally, we will host wine dinners in the banquet spaces. We had one last week. Five courses, seven glasses of wine. And after the event ended at about 8:30, I'd say about 20-25% of the people who attended the event came into the restaurant and sat at the bar and started ordering cocktails. They had just had roughly the equivalent of two bottles of wine, per person, in about two hours, but no, that wasn't nearly enough. These are genuine "you have a problem" people.
(And, of course, this is to say nothing of the service staff. You ever eaten out at a restaurant? I guarantee that at least one person involved in the preparation or service of your food was three sheets to the wind.)
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What the fuck happened tonight.
We did almost 350 covers, on a fucking Wednesday. There are Fridays and Saturdays where we do not do those kinds of numbers. There was a period in the middle there where we ran out of menus to give to tables. I was 25-30 tickets deep for almost an hour.
Today, right off the bat, I got double-sat, each table being a couple with a very small child. And less than ten minutes later, as I'm still trying to wrangle drinks and bread and tell my tables about the specials, one of the hostesses asks me, "Hey, are you okay if we seat you your six-top right now?"
I said, "Since when has anyone not being ready to get sat again ever stopped you?"
Well, I guess that the hostesses decided to declare war on me for that comment, because for the rest of the day, I got nothing but foreigners and small children in my section.
"Is your salmon farm-raised or wild?"
Ma'am, wild-caught salmon costs between $30 and $40 a pound. The fact that we can sell you salmon for the price that we do should be all the answer that you need.
