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Friday, January 14, 2011

A Response To Deuchebaggery

Dear New followers (and old followers),

HELLO!!! (dorky wave)

I love you! (cheesy lovey-dovey-I-just-got-my-first-high-school-boyfriend smile)

Thank you for following me and for leaving me comments. I love comments. I read them while my boyfriend peers over my shoulder to see what I'm doing, then rolls his eyes when he sees that I'm looking at Blogger again. I'm surprised he still asks what I'm giggling at when I squeal in glee everytime I see that someone has written another one. Because. It's. Always. For. The. Same. Reason. People really just don't learn. That whole learning by repetition thing? Total crap-o-la (singsong voice).

I was going to write this post last night, but I was so angry the the whiskey went down a bit faster smoother than it normally does, and pretty soon I didn't want to do anything but watch the Comedy Central Roast of Dennis Leary. Eh. It was kind of one of those things where the funny moments are spaced out just close enough together to keep you from changing the channel.

But today I am whiskey/Dennis Leary free so I am going to tell you about the evil evil evil evil (evil) table I had last night.

It was a table of eight, and things were going well for awhile. By well, I mean kind of mediocre. Just another table. Then, as always, it starts with one guy. It's always the one guy who ruins any situation, and last night that guy was the birthday boy. At one point I go to pick up his empty beer glass (of which he had had many already) and he asks:

Is there a refill on this?

Yes, sir. I reply. It's coming from the bar.

At which point he tells me:

Well. It would be really HANDY (emphasize handy. Now raise the end of it so that it kind of sounds like a question)

Let's try this again:

Well. It would be really HANDY it you could bring another one before you take the empty glass away.

Oh, golly gee sir, I didn't realize your alcoholism was so bad that you suffer an instantaneous withdrawal if you don't even have the presence of a beer glass in front of you. Please, have a coupon and a brochure for AA.

They finished their meal and we sang Happy Birthday to Mr. Bud Light. Turns out he's the same age that I am about to be. Unfortunately for him, he looks a good five years older than I do. Maybe that's because I don't drink twenty beers as an appetizer.

Here's where the twist comes in.

Mr. Bud Light wants to stay and have more beers after they pay.

Breathe. I know, it's a shocker.

Everything goes the same as before, except the only food was the three baskets of chips and salsa I put at their table hoping they could use it to sober up a bit. Some people join the party, and some people leave. They keep ordering more beers, and keep moving around to the point that I'm pretty sure I gave them the right tickets.

At one point I realize that one of the guys had left without paying. His ticket was only about ten bucks, but you better believe my ass wasn't paying for it. I inform the group that was still left of this and one drunk drunk drunk guy says he'll pick it up. He takes that ticket and his own ticket. To no surprise of mine, they order more beers, so I switch out the tickets, including the one that belongs to drunk drunk drunk guy. They all pay, and ddd (it's getting to be too much to type out) guy gives me just the ticket for himself, and a twenty.

Are you sure you don't want change?!?!?! His mom's shrilly voice screeches out to him,

He didn't want change, on his nineteen-and-something dollar ticket. Woo. Big spender. Thanks asshole.

Now, there was Mr. Bud Light Birthday Boy and the spare ticket left to pay. I took the credit card of Mr. Bud Light and informed the table that the ticket needs to be paid.

I already paid it. Slurred DDD guy.

No, you paid yours.

At this point we start going around in circles about him saying he picked up both tabs and me telling him he only paid his.

But you brought me a new ticket and I paid it.

I told him that, yes, I had brought him a new ticket but that was for his tab since the other ticket was still on the table. I had even printed a new copy and brought it to the table by this point. Wasn't that nice of me?

By this point the entire table is arguing with me and looking at me like I am trying to tell them that God is really a llama that lives in a field of cotton candy.

I tell them at least four times that I can get the manager if they want because I have NO control over the situation. Finally I just kind of walk away to let them figure it out for themselves. I bring back the credit card receipt for Mr. Bud Light, and DDD guy thrusts the spare ticket at me with a ten and says:

Here! Before you fuck this up. He emphasized this as if I had just screwed up their entire dining experience to the point that he would burst into an uncontrollable fit of tears the moment he stepped into another restaurant.

Since I couldn't do anything last night except scream the story to my manager with a breaking voice, Here is my reply to DDD guy.

Dear Drunk Drunk Drunk guy,

I'm sorry that you are so insecure that you have to treat people like dog-shit when you know they can't say anything back to you. It's really not your fault. I know that you feel bad about yourself because you don't have the looks or charm to make up for the fact that you have a tiny penis. But being a fat deuchebag isn't all that bad. You can be the funny friend if you can learn to properly make jokes. Even better, you can be that guy that your friend really doesn't like, but keeps around to make himself seem that much more attractive to the ladies. It's like community service, you're helping average-looking people get laid too; just not yourself. I'm sorry you can't find anyone except hookers to have sex with you. But the bright side is that even though you can't see your penis, due to muscle memory your hand can find it every time, so you can still get your cookies.


P.S. - Go fuck yourself. You're the only one who will.


  1. I hate douche bags. Especially drunk ones.

  2. Well...Have yourself a nice weekend.


  3. Hi Kara,

    As someone who spent quite a number of years as a waiter and a bartender, I can say that I must have served that same table seven thousand times. I think they must travel all over the planet to harass serving people.

    One wonders, do they get together afterward and say, "How many people did YOU make cry today? I scored seven!"

    Anyhow, Thanks for the vent. You turned something bad into something good. Awesome. (Do you feel better?)

    But hey, it could be worse. You could be a cook. I did that too. I think, as a profession, those poor souls must have a higher incidence of psychosis and and a lower average IQ than...

    Never mind. I'm starting to vent. It's all in the past. The future is beautiful.

    Latest: It's Not About Me

  4. lookit you with your posse!

    DDD is a total azzhole.

    you rock girly girl!

    i thingk i need adnather beerl...

    bruce johnson jadip
    stupid stuff i see and hear
    Bruce’s guy book
    the guy book
    Dreamodel Guy

  5. Yet another reason I could never work in the food service industry.

    I'm so sorry you have to put up with shit like that.

  6. @ Oilfield: Me too! These were definitely drunk assholes. They sucked.

    @Fijufic: I'm staying at home tonight, so I will.

    @Richard: I think they actually have bi-annual conventions for that.

    @ Bruce: Just another step closer to getting Tucker the chew toy of his dreams.

    @ Jessica: Be thankful. The cash tips are like little bribes to keep us coming back for the next shift.

  7. hahaha I LOVE the letter!! I just can't believe people treat servers in such a way!

  8. I think that the drunk guy really deserved that letter you wrote him. You should find him and deliver it. and then run.

  9. The roast of David Hasselhoff was freakin incredible, you gotta check it out. I lol'd like crazy. Thanks for your comment, I too agree that bullets other than patriotic star shapes can suck it.

  10. haha nothing good can come from drinking Bud Light

  11. Hahaha and that's the reason why I'm not ever going to work at a restaurant. I can't stand working with people. Sorry that happened.

  12. I would put that bunch in the "Douche Nozzle" category. Worse than a "Douchebag" but not quite as bad as a "Douche Watermelon"

    Douche Watermelon status arrives when your daughter's boyfriend breaks up with her and tells her he slept with her best friend (and it was true)....Now that guy is a "Douche Watermelon"...

  13. I don't know if this helps, but I can't tell you how much respect I have for you and others that are employed as servers. When I needed a "day job" when I was an actress, I waited tables for exactly ONE summer, COMPLETELY sucked (because I couldn't handle douches like this one you describe), and instead got a temp job in an office, for much less pay. I HATE that these people treated you like this.

  14. you know what really rocks!

    kicking a drunkass butlite drinker in the nutsack...


    when you get an award!

    so stop on by the evil twin site and pick up some lovin'

    tucker says woof...which means high, er uh hi!

    bruce johnson jadip
    stupid stuff i see and hear
    Bruce’s guy book
    the guy book
    Dreamodel Guy

  15. Douchebags are the meat with which tacos should be made. Mmm...tacos. So glad I'm not a server. I don't do well with bullshit.

  16. Oooo to have as much patience as you! I think I would have had to bang their heads together - HARD!

  17. I'd last about 10 seconds in your line of work before I choked someone the hell out. Kudos to you.

  18. great post found your blog via bruce

  19. Good lord! What an assholio.

  20. Brilliant on the "oh golly gee" remark. I couldn't have said it better myself. I really couldn't. I was two tables away, complaining about how far away the bathroom was while pissing myself.


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