To date, I've seen you and your child at my restaurant 6 times, always on a Wednesday, since you come on that day on purpose so you can get the half priced waffles. Why, then, must I always explain the deal to you? Yes, you get waffles for $7 instead of $14. Just like last week. And the week before. Nothing has changed.
(Source: flossingwhiledrunk)
If you chose to pay attention when you walked in the door, instead of being overly loud and letting your kid out of her stroller to run amok as you putz around picking a table, you would notice the mad scrambling by all of the servers when we recognize you. FYI, we're all fighting over who DOESN'T have to wait on you. That's how annoying you are.
As we're fighting it out, you finally pick a table, one that isn't supposed to have a highchair put next to it but we put it there anyway because it isn't worth the hassle of trying to get you to move somewhere else. I'm the unlucky one today so I set down the highchair and try to covertly remove the sugar and trivia card caddies from the table being stopped by you exclaiming, "Oh, leave those! My daughter likes to play with them". I just internally sigh.
You order your waffles, trying to convince me that you should get half priced bacon to go with your half priced waffles because you're ordering them together. I remind you, yet again, that that's not how it works. You order the well-done french fries, with no salt, that you always get with your waffles and I walk away.
As soon as I get to the computer, I hear a glass sugar caddy smash to the floor. One down, one to go. Just like last week. And the week before. Nothing has changed.
A few minutes later, your food comes out. Waffles with melted butter (which we don't normally do but today you requested it so I got it from the back just for you), fruit compute on the side and your well-done saltless french fries. You pour the butter over your waffles, take a bite and declare them uneatable. The butter is disgusting and now your waffles are ruined. You need new ones. Also, these ones looked a little soggy. Make sure the next ones are more well done.
I take those away, apologizing (though I don't really mean it) and go back to the kitchen to get you new ones. The cooks already have them in the waffle iron before I can send the remake ticket because I warned them you were here and they know you go through at least 2 sets of waffles on every visit.
I bring out the new ones and you look at them, telling me that now your fries are now cold because you had to wait for your waffles. I know arguing with you is just a waste of my time so, even though you ate half of them already, I go to get you new ones.
I come back to the table with the fries to be told by you that the new waffles are too burned (they aren't). I try to tell you that you said well done but you assure me that well done doesn't mean burned. I go to get you a third set of waffles and the kitchen staff starts cussing when the ticket comes through.
Third set of waffles comes up and, coming out of the kitchen, I'm greeted by the sound of the trivia card caddy hitting the floor. Amazingly, it only brakes in two pieces so I am able to pick it up after putting the waffles on the table with unmelted, but not cold butter. These ones are, finally, to your liking. Though to me, they look the same as the 2nd set.
So, finally, you're ready to leave. Your bill for 3 sets of waffles, 2 sets of french fries, 2 glass sugar caddies, about 5 additional grey hairs on my head and 2 hours of my life that I can never get back: $11.62. My tip: $1.
"Everything was great!" you say, putting your poor daughter back in her stroller. I'm just trying to get rid of you I hold the door open and tell you to have a great night (I don't really mean this either).
Finally, you're gone and I quietly go into the kitchen, out the back door and sit in the cold for a few minutes, not talking to anyone. Just like last week. And the week before. Nothing ever changes.
Someone please let me out of this time loop,
