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Friday, November 5, 2010

Pickles Aren't An Appropriate Side For Wings

Tonight I was serving two college aged girls. Now I don't like to judge people on appearance (I do like to judge people on anything!...) but I could tell right away that these two were not going to be good tippers. The special on Thursday night is very cheap wings, so their ticket amount was going to be small anyway.

Everything goes smoothly except for the fact that I forgot to bring one of the girls out her side of pickles. Seriously? Who goes to a restaurant and gets a side of pickles. She wasn't even eating anything that went with pickles. She had wings. Bitch just wanted to eat some frickin' pickles. I say go to Shmal-Mart and buy yourself a whole jar of pickles. It'll last longer and you won't have to come sit in my section and annoy me.

Pickles aside...

I swiped her credit card after she gave it to me. Common practice. The first card she gave me was denied (I always get a small amount of sick pleasure when this happens) so she had to give me another one. I ran that one through and it was accepted. I turned the card over as I usually do, and saw that it had 'See ID' signed onto the back. I promptly took her card back and asked her for her ID.

'Why didn't you ask me for it before it was ran?' She demanded, tilting her head to the side and pursing her lips.

'Um, because I don't look at them until I get to the computer,' I replied with a slight raise of my eyebrow and thick ooze of sarcasm running down my voice.

'Well what IF my card was stolen'?' She batted back at me.

'Well then we would void off the amount.'

I grabbed her friend's card and asked to see her ID before I swiped the card, thinking that this would make bitchzilla happy. It didn't. When I came back to the table I guess she just hadn't quite had enough of the conversation because she started speaking to me again.

'Well, I think that your practice isn't right! What if my card had been stolen?!' Lips pursed, head looking like the string that was connecting it to the floor was being reeled tighter.

I sighed, loudly, hoping that she would hear me. 'Then we would void it off and it wouldn't be charged to your card. Well, you ladies have a good night!' and I twirled myself around and never looked back at their table.

They didn't tip me. What a surprise.

*Also, as a side note, my roommate got off work after I did and told me this story.

We were really busy and a table asked her for a rasberry lemonade. No big deal. She had about eight tables total at this time, so the request became a fleeting thought in her head, meaning it fleeted right out of her head as soon as they asked for it.

Again, no big deal. She went to the table several times and asked if they needed anything else (once even specifying if they needed anything else to drink). They said no.

When they had left she went back to the table to find a note written on their discarded receipt.

You never brought me my lemonade. Jerk.

Note that Jerk was a sentence by itself.

Wow....   Was the lemonade really that detrimental to your happiness in life?

Maybe you're the jerk, Shmupplebees customer. Maybe you're the jerk.

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