#table 42

PLACING AN ORDER TOGO - Want to make it easy on your server on the other end of the phone or looking at your order when it pops up on the monitor online? I’m sure you do!       If calling it in, be polite and speak clearly. The server is taking your call in the middle of the lunch rush in a loud kitchen. Give them clarity, and your order will be just fine.      If placing an order online, have as few of modifications as possible - modifications are anything from “extra sauce” to “no marinara sauce, sub salsa, no sour cream, light seasoning on the steak” - your server is probably squinting at a screen above their natural eye level, and it is increasingly harder to read your mods the more you add. They’ll do it, but don’t be too upset if they missed one.

ON BIG ORDERS, TYPICALLY ANYTHING MORE THAN FOUR ENTREES: Some doctor offices and lawyer firms like to order several people all at once. That’s fine and all, just call it in at least an hour or two in advance, and give the server a little longer than the estimate to get it together.      If they say 45 minutes, they really mean an hour. If they say 20 minutes, they really mean 30 minutes. Most of the time, they’re secretly hoping you’re late to pick it up so they have more time to gather all the little things you need for seven people all asking for extra sauces, no bleu cheese, ranch instead of honey mustard. It can be a lot of things to remember and get right, so please have patience.      WRITING NAMES ON THE BOXES TAKES TIME AND IT WILL MAKE YOUR ORDER TAKE LONGER AS A GENERAL RULE AS THEY MAKE SURE JANET KNOWS HER SALAD FROM MARTHA’S SALAD, EVEN IF THEY LITERALLY ORDERED THE SAME THING.

ASKING FOR DISCOUNTS - Got a coupon? Mention it at the beginning of your order. That might determine how they have to enter it into the computer, or have a manager discount it at a certain point. Mentioning it sooner makes it easier for them to react to and have it applied accordingly.

WHEN IT COMES TO FREE STUFF YOU DIDN’T INITIALLY ORDER AND THEN ADD ON AT THE END: Such as asking for a drink when you didn’t order one and getting mad if they ring you up for it... please don’t do that.  Please. It is a horribly awkward situation for your togo server, as they don’t want to ring you but they kind of have to and they don’t want to face your wrath because you have to pay for something when they totally want to just give you the drink most of the time. Which leads us to...

IF YOU ASK FOR IT, EXPECT TO PAY FOR IT.  Your to-go specialist isn’t paid enough to deal with the ear chewings on inventory if their boss finds out they gave you extra rolls when you weren’t charged for them. Those loaded mashed potatoes you ordered may not actually have loaded as an option for them in the computer, and they have to do some wonky computer trick that charges you 0.99 because you asked for it and they gave it to you.      Sometimes only a certain amount of sauce comes with a thing, and if you ask for extra, you will get charged.      If you ask for a sauce that doesn’t normally come with the thing you’re ordering, you will be charged.       Extra sauce is usually charged, and if a place doesn’t charge you for extra consider it lucky.

CHARGING YOU FOR THINGS YOU ASK FOR IS BECAUSE OF MANAGEMENT, NOT BECAUSE THEY DON’T LIKE YOU OR BECAUSE THEY DON’T WANT TO GIVE YOU WHAT YOU ASKED FOR, JUST SO YOU KNOW. If someone you know thinks this way, please show them this content so they can read it from someone livin’ the life on the other side. I don’t mind getting extra stuff for people, but it causes me anxiety when it’s a certain type of thing I have to put in the computer or the kitchen won’t handle it at all.

LET THE SERVER FINISH THEIR SPIEL. Hey, maybe someone never taught you right and you literally don’t know any better, but just to let you know now: cutting people off when they’re in the middle of speaking is rude and an awful thing to do to anyone!  This counts for to-go people too! Let them finish what they’re saying! Yes, you may have heard it a thousand times. Yes, you may even know what they’re going to say because you’re a regular and you know the script. Yes, they have to introduce themselves and the place you’re calling, and yes they have to rattle off to you to have a nice day and so on, but let them finish! It is so rude to have this conversation:

[AFTER THEY HAVE TOLD ME WHAT THEY WANTED] ME: Alright, that will be about 15-20 minutes, and I will se -- RUDE MOTHERFUCKER: OKAY GREAT.

*CLICK*

and you’re me, and you’re just like, BRO I WASN’T FINISHED TALKING YOU PIECE OF WET FUCK and suddenly I am less motivated to make sure your order is correct or go the extra mile for you in any way because you were such a rude, inconsiderate phone call.

Sometimes you don’t even get that much and they hang up on you before you can even tell them where to go to pick it up. That’s significant because some places have special pick-up counters or windows you have to navigate to deeper into the establishment.

They posted the schedule on Friday. I wrote it down, like I always do, and I check it again typically after every shift to double-check what time I come in on my next shift.

So when I got the call, I was pretty fucking shocked. Why now? WHY NOW? WHEN IT'S BEEN 7-8 MONTHS SINCE I'VE ESTABLISHED THOSE TWO DAYS OFF??

And, in my act of stubbornness and standing my ground, I told them I was not coming in because I DO NOT WORK ON TUESDAYS AND WEDNESDAYS.

I REFUSE.

That's my only time to have life outside of work, you know, when I'm able to run errands, clean house, do the bills, go grocery shopping, and hang out with my nerd friends. It's my days of personal peace and laziness otherwise, so they can fuck-off.

I figured it was a mistake on the floor plan or something, so I told them I was not coming in.

Then, about three minutes after I made an angry Facebook status about how I DO NOT WORK ON TUESDAYS AND WEDNESDAYS because I DO NOT WORK ON TUESDAYS AND WEDNESDAYS, I get a call from the manager working last night -- the same manager that does the schedule.

She then proceeds to bitch me out over the phone about how she's "nice enough to give people the time-off and availability" they request, that she "doesn't have to" do any of the scheduling stuff they request, that it's my responsibility to check my schedule and that she expected me "... of all people to be an adult about this." 

She then backtracked and went on about how it was a mistake but that I should have came in anyway. AND THAT IT'S MY FAULT.

I DIDN'T EVEN FUCKING KNOW I WAS SUPPOSED TO COME IN, AND FIRST OF ALL, WHY SHOULD I STILL COME IN IF IT'S MY AVAILABILITY THAT I CAN NOT WORK THOSE DAYS??

I worked Monday, and nothing seemed different to me. 

And the fucking thing is, they've argued with me before about how adamant I am about NOT working those days. They badgered me repeatedly with questions of "But why? Why those days? Why can't you take a different day off every now and then?" 

I answered, "Personal reasons."

AND THEY STILL ASKED ME, PRAY TELL, WHAT THOSE PERSONAL REASONS ARE, and why every week, and why it doesn't change, and yadda yadda yadda. My managers are hardasses about the scheduling business in general, and believe that if you don't have school or another job, then you are required to have an open availability.

The thing about all this shit? They are the least flexible when it comes to scheduling, and I don't understand why. They have plenty of people, most of the time, and it's ridiculous. 

Oh, and if you have another job?

Pray to all the gods that your other job doesn't have a schedule conflict with OC, because OC has stated that THEY DON'T WORK AROUND THE OTHER JOB'S SCHEDULE, THEY HAVE TO WORK AROUND THEIRS, AND YOU CAN'T TAKE SUNDAYS OFF UNLESS IT'S FOR RELIGIOUS REASONS.

Why are they so confrontational about scheduling? And yes, these are direct quotes from two different managers. 

Because of these new developments, I've decided that perhaps it's time to finally give OC the shiny steel-toed boot to the ballsack.

I've been severely unhappy with all the bullshit, not just the management red flags but also the hour and a half of sidework that's only 2.00 dollars worth of hourly pay since I no longer take tables during that time.  I've talked to several other servers at four different chain restaurants much like mine, and they all don't have nearly as much sidework as we do. They also make way more money than I do, and have less bullshit in general to put up with, according to them.

You guys who have been following my [WAITRESS RANT]s from the beginning, even before they were officially announced and tagged, know that I have gone through various phases of loving and hating my job in a normal cycle of ups and downs employment will sometimes bring you. But  the negatives are starting to outweigh the positives, even if the money is consistent-ish and I love working with 70% of my co-workers and management. 

The thing that irritates me? We have enough servers we all could work single shifts and have everything covered. So why in the hell am I actually scheduled to be a double, me and two other people? I mean, I was going to pick it up anyway -- that's not the point of this rant -- but why me? There's a chick that wants to pick up, but they won't let her have my shift -- not that I was getting rid of it, but the fact is the schedule FOR THIS ONE DAY is set in stone. 

They don't want people switching, and no calling out unless you are dying.  What excuse did they give her?

"You're not a strong enough server to work for her," the service manager told her.

What. What. WAIT.

I don't consider myself a particularly strong server. I think I'm more mid-range -- I may not be able to run two 8-tops at the same time, but I can turn and burn 2-tops all night. I may not be a party person -- someone who can take care of 20+ people on their own with ease -- but I've done it, with some struggling.

So, for them to put me as a double on Valentine's Day? They must think I'm stronger than I think I am. 

That's a nice thought.

Or, they're willing to sacrifice me to the heart-shaped gods so they can turn some serious profit while I'm getting 2-and-3-dollar-ed to death. Yes, couples can be shitty tippers, especially if they're of the high school senior variety. And my feet will be killing me, my head will be aching as bad as my ankles and knees. I'll be mentally and physically exhausted, ran ragged and weepy, and I'll have 70 bucks to show for it. Seriously. No.

Either I'm strong enough to handle this and be okay, or I'm weak enough that they decided I could be the scapegoat.

Anyway, I'm heading to bed finally. The melatonin pill and my sleepy time tea have done their job of making me feel the sleep coming on.

She has thoughts, feelings, opinions, a past, an id, an ego, a super ego, personality. She's human, like you. She's as varied as any other person you'll meet, and her job requires her to be pleasant to complete strangers seated in her section.

You are seated with her one night, a busy Friday. She has three other tables besides you, but you don't know which ones. Nor do you care. All you care about is getting fed in a timely matter, no problems, no issues, no hiccups or bugs or glitches in the system. You want excellent service, excellent food, and an excellent time out with your significant other.

So she comes up to the table, tells you her name, puts down the little cocktail napkins and asks how you're doing tonight a cheery voice. You mumble a canned response, and tell her sweet tea with lemon.

She scribbles down your sweet tea order and your girlfriend/boyfriend's request for a Pepsi with a peppy "Absolutely! Coming right up!" and sashays away behind the kitchen doors a few feet behind your booth.

You roll your eyes inwardly. She's insufferable, but you don't feel like going anywhere else tonight, so you deal with it.

You flip through the plastic pages of your menu, more out of habit than decision-making. You already know what you want. You've been here enough times to know what you like, how you like it. Your SO picks out an entree, and now you two are sitting there wondering where the hell your server went.

In reality, it's only been three minutes, but to you -- the impatient diner on a Friday night -- it's closer to fifteen minutes.

In the back, she's scooping ice into 16 oz glasses before preparing your basket of rolls.  

You think she's just standing around the water cooler, shooting the shit. You start getting angry. Why the hell hasn't she popped up yet? 

She has your things on a small tray, and you're mentally calculating just how little of a tip you're going to leave her.

She finally arrives with your beverages and rolls, cheerfully setting them on the table, before asking if you're ready to order or does she need to give you more time.

You force yourself not to blink at her with disgust at her stupidity. She really can't see that you're done looking at the menu? On top of being slow on her feet, if she brain-damaged too? 

You're getting grumpy and cram a roll in your mouth before even answering her question. 

She's got her pen and paper out, ready to jot down your order, and you're considering eating another roll before ordering just to piss her off.

Because you're that much of an asshole tonight. Because you had a bad day at work, and your doctor's appointment was expensive and made you late for your date, plus your SO is annoyed that they've been waiting over half an hour before you even showed up at the door. Because of these things, your mood has taken a turn for the worse and all you really want is to get your food in your gut and have the rest of the world leave you alone.

So you order your food first, and eat your third roll. Before she gets your SO's order, you demand that she bring out more rolls.

She smiles brightly at your rudeness. "Of course. They're going fast this evening, but I'll do my best to hunt some down for you."

You mentally deduct another dollar from her tip because you hate waiting for things, and dammit why are they running out of rolls on a night like this. It's not their first rodeo -- what the hell. They should be overstocked on fresh rolls, and now they're making you wait. 

She gets your SO's order, gathers the menus, and let's you know if you need anything else, just to let you know.

You honestly just want to forget the whole evening, but she's about to put in the order and try to get you more rolls, so you decide to ride it out.

Your SO is pissed off at you. Dammit, you forgot what day it was. You don't remember what your celebrating. You honestly thought it was just your average Friday night outing. But you can tell that you're missing something because conversation is terse and you both say no more than five words apiece.

Your server returns briefly to drop off a side caesar with extra dressing, more rolls, and your bowl of soup.

You don't bother saying thank you before you're dumping salt and pepper into your soup.

She stands around for a second, smiling as she tells you your order is in and if there's anything else you need.

You barely mumble a respond in your spoonful of cheesy potato soup.

She beams, tells you to enjoy before she disappears to take care of her other tables. You were so focused on yourself, you didn't bother really looking around you and taking in the fact that you're seated in a booth in the bar and that all the other tables are taken. 

You didn't catch her name. Not that you care.

What you do care is if you're going to end up waiting on your food for a while or if she actually remembered to put the order in right away.

-x-

She refills your tea and refreshes your SO's pepsi moments before the food comes out.

Twenty-three minutes.You know because you timed it from the time she dropped off your soup. 

There goes another dollar. Seconds become pennies at this point.

Before you can ask, she's brought ketchup and extra napkins. 

You decide that earned a couple of bucks.

As peppy as she has been since you sat down, she asks if there's anything else you need. You're biting down into your burger and suddenly annoyance springs up in your chest, but you just nod and she's on her way elsewhere.

A few minutes later, she checks on you. You find yourself annoyed once more, but you let it go and tell her everything's fine. Even though it's not. She forgot to bring your mayo for your fries. 

You didn't bother asking because she's supposed to remember these things. She also didn't ask if you wanted more rolls. You don't, but she should still ask because you think that's part of her job.

You say nothing to her. 

She smiles and gives a thumbs-up before continuing to care for her other guests.

Your SO mutters something about you flirting with the waitress, and you know that's bullshit. You're barely interacting with her. You're barely interacting with anybody during dinner, your eyes absentmindedly glued to the football game on the TV over your SO's shoulder. You don't even like sports -- you just like the visual excuse to not be social more than absolutely necessary.

-x-

The rest of dinner is uneventful. You've managed to piss off your SO even more, and your apathy has reached its peak for the evening. Your server returns just in time to clear your dishes and present the check, after asking if you wanted dessert. No. 

You just want to get the hell out.

You pay the bill with wad of messy bills and shove the check book into her hands while she's stacking plates on her left arm. You tell her no change, and she happily tells you good night and to enjoy the rest of your weekend.

Whatever. You blow her off, no response. Your SO is glaring at her, then glares at you, and you'e ready to just get in the car and leave the damn place already. 

Your server is clearing the table behind you when you guys finally get up to leave. She's already seen the tip you left her, and you know it's bad, but you don't care. You haven't truly cared about anything this entire meal.

She tells you once again thank you and to have a good night.

You and your SO say nothing to her and leave the establishment, thinking nothing about what just happened.

-x-

The whole time your server took care of you, she was smiling and happy and pleasant. She spoke clearly, took care of things in a timely matter, and overall was polite and accommodating. All you saw of her was the peppy happiness that grated on your nerves. All you saw was how she did her job and all you wanted was to eat and go home.

What you didn't know was that the entire time she took care of you, once she disappeared behind the kitchen door to get things or check on the ETA of other people's food, she completely changed. She wasn't so demure -- she was making dirty jokes with the food runner and laughing at her friend's dumb dance in the middle of the alley.

She's cursing and vulgar. Her sense of humor is darker in places than most, and she's recalling a grotesque nature story to her general manager who just laughs and calls her weird.

And then she gets the salads, soups, and rolls for two tables and heads out the door. On the floor, she's polite and professional. Like a switch, the dark and dirty parts of her personality flick off and she's back into her server mode. She is nothing but a glimmering soul ready to serve your whims and help you have an amazing dining experience. When you're finished, she'll carry your plates into the dish pit behind those magical kitchen doors.

Flick goes the switch.

Someone asks her about her sex life loudly in the dish pit. She's dumping cold rolls and watered down strawberry lemonades while she talks about her latest lay, and how he called her his ex's name when he came and then cried the entire time. THE ENTIRE TIME, not even just the after-sex cuddles part.

The other server laughs. Your server laughs, and then her hand slips and an oval plate shatters on the floor by her feet.

She's saying "fucking hell" to herself a few times as she sweeps it up.

Standing by the POS computer moments later, she flips through her server book to see what she needed for her tables. Side of ranch. Another diet Dr.Pepper. A bleu cheese wedge salad. Slice of Apple pie. Extra napkins. 

She's collects all these things on a tray while thinking about her favorite sex position and which one she's gonna be in later tonight. Maybe her legs over her head, or doggy style, or in the shower, she thinks as the salad and saute guy is fixing her wedge. She thinks about how she can't wait to see this new guy later tonight, not even just about the sex.

She's going through the kitchen doors. FLICK.

She's greeting her new table after dropping off all the things the others needed. It's a standard table, nothing difficult. She takes care of it, no sweat. 

Takes orders. Put them in the computer. Check on the other tables. Back to the kitchen.

FLICK.

Dick jokes. Hugs her fellow servers. Slaps another server on the ass because it's fun. Prints a check. Boxes a slice of pie. She ducks behind the wall and sends a quick of text. Makes plans to go bar hopping tonight. Another server slaps her ass in return, and they laugh.

This is her, being herself around her co-workers.

This is her, if she's not secretly bitching about you. Yes, you, the one she just took care of at table 94. You, who just left her 2 dollars on a 30-dollar check. She smiled at you and gave you good service, and then turned around and once her switch flicked, she was ranting about how much of an asshole you were to her while she was nothing but nice.

She isn't nice all the time, but you wouldn't know that.