So It IS The Parent’s Fault. I’ve Always Wondered.
Last night at work, there was this little douchebag kid who looked like he’d been home schooled by an equally douche-y mom. (Not to say home schooled kids are bad as I have really good friends who were home schooled from kindergarten to 5th or 6th grade and they’re cool as hell…they’re all just much paler than the rest of my friends).
Anyway, this kid had little to no social skills and went absolutely crazy when he downed his first soda. Does anyone remember in “The Simpsons” when Bart gives Flanders’ kids some pixie sticks and they taste sugar for the first time? That’s what this kid was like. Except it wasn’t a cartoon and I couldn’t punch this kid in the face like Homer does to Flanders. Frickin’ cartoons.
A little background before I go on: At our restaurant, the chefs come out to the tables and grill right in front of you. We only had two chefs last night to cook for the tables and there were three servers, each with one table. You do the frickin’ math.
And guess who was odd man out? Yea. Me.
So they’re waiting, and I’m apologizing to everyone at the table about the wait and explaining the situation when this kid, out of nowhere, looks me square in the eye and asks:
Him: “Yes. Waiter. When exactly will our chef be coming out?”
Me: “Oh, well…I’m sorry, but like I said…there’s only two chefs and as you can see, there’s three…”
Him: “I didn’t ask for excuses.”
Me: “Excuse me?”
Him: “Are we going to have to cook this meal ourselves?”
I look at the mom, but she has a look on her face like she agrees with this little punk. Well screw her too. This kid couldn’t have been older than eight years old. I’m not gonna take crap from someone a decade and a half younger than me.
Me: “Ma’am…”
Her: “When is our chef coming out?”
Me: “Goodbye.”
Life Lesson #1: Talking back is a frickin’ learned behavior. And it seems this kid his had fill of homework from his overly-snarky mother.
After the chef came out and the kid had eaten his fill, he asked for another soda. The mom didn’t want him having sugar or caffeine, so she asked he have a Diet Coke. After emptying about six packets of sugar into that kid’s cup, I gladly obliged.
March 14th, 2008 at 7:50
Wow.
“I didn’t ask for excuses”. I would have loved to ask them if they put themselves in your shoes, what response they would give to the same question. One that wasn’t “an excuse”.
Look, your chef is right over there cooking, when you see him finish, that’s when your chef will be coming!!
If they were having to wait a super long time, I can understand frustration, but take it up with the manager or owner for scheduling things that way, don’t give the waiter grief about it like they control it.
March 14th, 2008 at 9:00
I work in a bar. We serve food, but there is absolutely nothing about our place that says “Welcome, Kids!” unless you count the booze, smoky haze, and sorority girls in short skirts and non-existant tops.
We actually had a family with two very young girls in last night, they couldn’t have been older than 5 or 6. One of them kept crying and screaming. I looked up to see an irate father coming towards me. His complaint? The guys at the table next to them looked at the little girl and told her “No crying in the bar.” He wanted me to speak to the guys. Instead, I reinforced that this was a bar and the guy had a point.
They left shortly thereafter, and said they would not be back. I just waved.
March 14th, 2008 at 5:54
I once had this guy come in to a previous bar that I worked at and wanted that ONE LAST SHOT. Every bartender has that ass at the end of the night that wants that ONE LAST SHOT. Well we were clearly closing by the emptying of bodies toward the door and the lights were at their brightest. Everyone else took the hint or it could have been the DJ saying “Thank you very much ladies and gentleman, drive home safe and GET THE FUCK OUT!” But I could see how it gets confused. Anyway this guy wanted the last shot and would not leave me alone about it. By the way this guy was so shitfaced he thought the small amount of spittle on his shirt was sexy. After arguing with him for a few moments I gave in.
Me: “Fine!”
Him: A look of victory washed over his face as he dropped his head like the whole ordeal had exhausted him.
So I turn around and bend down to our well to reach for a “bottle.” Note to everyone: Keep your eyes on the bartender. I proceed to give him the shot.
Me: ” It’s on the house man. I can’t ring it in cause my manager will see what time it was rang in and then he’ll have my ass. Enjoy
He picks up the shot. I move out of the way. He tilts his head back and downs the shot. I smile and wait. He immediately spit the shot back out into the air and all over himself.
Him: “What the fuck was that?!”
Me: “It was a get the fuck out of my bar shot!!”
Ingredients: Windex, Tabasco, Spit and a booger for a garnish.
March 14th, 2008 at 11:51
Man, after being AWOL for a while, you are CATCHING UP! I miss a few days, and you’ve done another dump of customer perfidy. Thanks, and I gotta get my lips around the fire hose!