In a brilliant display of “business genius” (his words, not mine) my boss, Jay, decided that for Valentine’s Day he would jack up the prices on every single meal and appetizer.

This in itself isn’t such a bad thing. A lot of restaurants raise the prices of some or all of their meals to accomodate for the many couples who are going to stay regardless of a couple of bucks because 1) the boyfriend doesn’t want to look cheap and 2) they don’t want to sit and wait at another restaurant for 30 to 45 minutes.

But, what REALLY pissed me off last night was the fact that:

1. Most of our meals were not available for the night: Remember that salmon story a few days ago? It’s because we were only serving a couple of entrees and since fish takes a little longer to cook, Jay decided he wanted quantity over quality.

2. The prices weren’t jacked up more than a LITTLE BIT: The prices were higher by an average of five to ten dollars on each meal. For example, a “Steak and Shrimp” usually sells for about $17.95. On Valentine’s Day, it was $23.95. And no, you don’t get more food. It’s just the Valentine’s Day Special, people! There was also a “Dinner For Two” that sold for $79.95. The food that came in that would sell for about 40 bucks on a normal night.

3. Even if there were only two people in the restaurant, they couldn’t share a meal: Usually, this is the policy, but management is lax when it’s slow. Not tonight. Not on the most romantic night of the year when sharing a meal intimately should be frickin’ ENCOURAGED!

The worst part is, because of all these “improvements”, my tips were much lower than usual and my complaints and bitchy customers were much higher. Imagine that! People are upset that we have a limited menu that is priced higher just for the HELL OF IT BEING VALENTINE’S DAY! Who would’ve thunk it!?

So Happy Valentine’s Day, Jay. I made a lot less money than I would have had you just not messed with the frickin’ menu at all!

A woman came in last night obviously pregnant and obviously ready to jump down my throat if I didn’t do EVERYTHING the way she wanted. You don’t want seeds in your lemon wedge? Sure thing. No pimento in the olive? Absolutely.

Her: “Yes, I’d like the Salmon Dinner.”
Me: “I’m very sorry, ma’am, but we don’t have salmon tonight. May I suggest the…”
Her: “I drove all the way from Buffalo, New York [over 1,000 miles from us] for this and you’re saying you’re out of salmon!?”
Me: “You drove all the way from Buffalo?”
Her: “Yes. I did.”
Me: “For [the name of our restaurant]?”
Her: “Yes. I did.”
Me: “Well, I’m really very sorry, but…”
Her: “I’m not having anything.”
Me: “Okay. [Looking at man next to her] What can I get you for di…”
Her: “EXCUSE ME!?”
Me: “Ummm…”
Her: “You’re just going to skip right…I mean…that’s IT! I’ve HAD IT!”
Guy Next To Her: “Oh man.”
Me: “Wow.”
Woman Across The Table: [Laughing hysterically]

I have honestly never seen ANYONE blow a gasket like this woman did. I tried to explain to her that because it was Valentine’s Day, we had a revised menu. (I neglected to tell her that the revised menu is what most people came for and that she was the ONLY person I served all night that wanted salmon.)

At the end of the meal, because she was a party of six or more, I was able to automatically “grat” them for 18%, meaning that I automatically put a tip on of 18% and they had no choice but to pay it.

She tried to weasel out of it by saying that she and her husband (the guy sitting next to her) were on a seperate ticket. I apologized, split up the ticket and STILL GAVE THE BITCH AN 18% TIP. Doesn’t matter how many are on each ticket. Just how many are in the party.

Boy was her face red. Almost as red as the salmon that we weren’t serving last night.

Violets are blue.
Sugar is sweet,
And if one more cheap-ass adult comes in asking for a kid’s meal because they’re “not all that hungry”, I’m going to rip their frickin’ head off.

Not hungry? Our restaurant is a hell of a place to come! I’m not really in the mood for salt, so I’ll go to the beach. I don’t really care for water, so I’ll take a swim. NOT HUNGRY? LET’S GO TO THE RESTAURANT, KIDS!

Last week, a woman and her family of seven decided to get exceedingly drunk at my restaurant. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem as I can squeeze quite a bit of money out of drunk couples and/or families but they 1) had their small child with them (and even I find that a bit irresponsible and 2) the child was screaming because the family was yelling, arguing and laughing.

The father was a complete jackass too. When he wasn’t complaining that the sweet tea was too sweet, he was complaining that the unsweet tea was too unsweet. Then he bitched at me for not having Splenda and only having Sweet and Low. Listen, pal. Both have sacchrin. Both are giving you cancer before I buy my first house. Do us all a favor and keel over already. They’ll have all the Splenda you need in the eighth circle of Hell (the level of Hell for sugar substitutes). When he finally got a drink he liked (vodka on the rocks), he was too busy complaining about the appetizers to enjoy his one-way ticket to deep-seeded alcoholism coupled with a round-trip ticket to therapy for his two kids as they saw him act like a drunk in public.

Him: “I’d like a seaweed salad with pieces of octopus on top.”
Me: “Sure thing.”
(A few minutes later, I bring him a seaweed salad with pieces of octopus on it).
Him: “What is this?”
Me: “A seaweed salad with pieces of octopus on top.”
Him: “I guess I just didn’t envision it would like this.”
Me: “Like what?”
Him: “Like THIS!”
Me: “Like a seaweed salad with pieces of octopus on top?”
Him: “Yea!”
Me: “Oh. Well, sorry for the misunderstanding.”

Their entire meal came to over $200. And they were the kind of drunk that confuses “bills” with “pieces of paper with suggestions that are optional to follow on how much the restaurant would like you to pay for all the food you just ate”. I was afraid they’d miscount their cash in the check booklet, so I scooped it up before they were out the door and made sure it was all in there.

It was and I was about to go to my next table when the mother came up to me with some pearls of wisdom:

Her: “You know…you just…you made me very uncomfortable just now.”
Me: “What? When?”
Her: “Just now.”
Me: “Oh. Ummm…by doing what?”
Her: “By picking up the check before we were out the door. I’m very big on customer service and it was very rude of you to do that.”

What I wanted to say:
Me: “Yea, I guess you’re right. And just a little tip. I’m big on children’s services and noticed you were getting fucked-in-half drunk with your family and thought you might like to know that you’re only furthering the seed of alcoholism in you and your kids with that kind of behavior. That, and your nipple’s showing.”

What I did say:
Me: “Sorry. I’ll do better next time.”

Go fuck yourself, San Diego.