I’ve been a server for a little over a year now. Sadly, my last day wasn’t much different from the other couple of hundred I’ve worked.

Except for the fact that I started taking a shot every twenty minutes starting on my first table at 4:34pm, mind you (thanks Jessica L. from California). Oh, and thanks Marybeth for driving me to and from work in the event that I blacked out on my last day and needed a ride home.

Because of the alcohol in my system, around 6pm (six shots in) I feigned gay at my fifth table (thank you, FulMinty…I also tried your “jazz hands” and “spirit fingers” suggestions).

It was right around this time that my boss April saw what I was doing with the vodka and used phrases like “oh, hell no” and “put that back in your fucking car”. What are you gonna do, fire me, April?

Before my buzz wore off, (thanks to Katrina Troy) I sad the word “meow” a good forty-nine times at a table before I gave them their check. (Number fifty was “Have a great night meow.”)

After that, things got a little busy and my head started to hurt. A lot. I suppose that’s what happens after a dozen shots over the course of three or so hours. A big thanks goes out to an unnamed co-worker who got me shots to keep me a little buzzed and stave off the headache until I was off work.

From there on out, I stopped taking shots and started just taking in the whole night. This was gonna be my last night at the only job I’ve ever looked forward to going to some nights. For the most part there are some very decent people that work there and I have incredibly fond memories of that place.

These are the people that have Volleyball Mondays on the beach. These are the managers that will understand when you’re not “feeling well” on a Sunday morning. They are also the managers that will understand if you’re truly sick, get over-stressed on finals week or have an unexpected date with a girl you’ve been fawning over for months and just now worked up the courage to ask out and she unexpectedly said yes.

These are also the people that will hold special places in my heart. Each and every one of them. I could write stories for days about each of them and every single one would be a riot.

Maybe I’ll write a book some day. Hopefully it’ll be better than this garbage.

See y’all in a month. I’ve got plenty of stories on the backburner. And with more time to write them, they’ll be better than ever.

If you’re ever in St. Augustine, Florida, drop me an email and I’ll take you for sushi. It’s the place between Hooters and Johnny Carinos on 312.

P.S. While I’m in North Carolina with my band, you’re more than welcome to share your stories and experiences in the restaurant industry on my Myspace or Facebook.

Have a nice rest of the night. Meow.

Firstly, I’d like to say that I am very grateful for all the suggestions my readers have emailed me. Tonight will be a night to remember.

Secondly, because I only have the weekend left, I have found that it is rather easy to be short with people that deserve it. For example, a table with two twenty-something girls at it:

Me: “Hey, my name is Ryan. Can I get you all something to drink?”
Girl 1: “Sure, I’ll have a Diet Coke.”
Me: “And for you, ma’am?”
Girl 2: (On the phone. Oblivious to what’s going on.)
Me: “…”
Girl 1: “I’m sorry about her. Jennifer, what do you want to drink?”
Girl 2: “Oh…umm…I haven’t even looked at the menu yet.” (Back to talking on the phone.)
Me: “I can just bring her a Diet Coke too.”
Girl 1: “Thanks.”

Before I continue this story, what is it with you fuckers (mostly women, but it’s some men too) and talking on the phone when your server comes and greets your table? You’re either ignorant of the fact that he’s trying to do his job and that his job is very hard (especially at 6:30pm on a Friday night) or you just don’t care. Either way, you’re a dumbass, so I guess it doesn’t matter.

Anyway, I come back to the table with two Diet Coke’s in hand.

Girl 2: “Ummm…I didn’t want a Diet Coke. I wanted a Sweet Tea.”

Now, I could have gotten mad. I could’ve gotten royally pissed. I probably should have to teach this girl not to fuck with people that could potentially shit in her appetizer.

But I didn’t.

I simply pulled out my own cell phone, opened it up and feigned a conversation.

Girl 2: “Uh…excuse me?”
Me: “Oh, what? Sorry? Excuse me? I couldn’t hear you. I was on my cell phone.”

(I return to a table with their cash change in one of those tip trays.)

Man: “Hey, can we have some to-go cups for our Sweet Tea’s before we go?”
Me: “Sure.”

(I come back with to-go cups and notice there is no money left in the little tip tray.)

Me: “Hey, guys. Was there anything wrong with the food or the service tonight?”
Man: “No. Why?”
Me: “Oh…well…”
Man: “We don’t tip that often.”
Woman: “Yea.”
Me: “What?”
Man: “We don’t really tip all that often.”
Me: “Well, then I don’t give out to-go cups all that often.”

(I take the to-go cups. Bam.)

Me: “Hey, guys. My name is Ryan. Just to let you know, we no longer have the Early Bird Special that we used to have. It’s now Terriyaki Beef and Chicken with rice, vegetables and noodles for $13.95 until 6pm.”
Woman: “But we came just for the Early Bird!”
Me: “You came just for the three dollars off every meal?”
Woman: “Yes! What would you say if I said we were going to leave this instant?”
Me: “Have a nice night?”

They ended up staying, ordering 100 bucks worth of food and tipping me 20 dollars. Eat it.