Weekend of the Stoopid

It's been like Day of the Locust, only without Karen Black or crazy-ass Donald Sutherland. And, it's been three days, not one. A very busy weekend at work...Here's a few stoopids to give you an idea:

Friday Lunch: family of 4 enter the restaurant already in a frothing dither, looking around frantically for a "good" place to sit 2 adults and 2 kids. Problem - every seat they liked was already occupied with other diners only recently seated. Other alternatives offered which they countered and it went back and forth for a few minutes.  Finally, I told them if they truly wanted any of the tables deemed "best" they would have about a half hour wait. The woman screamed to no one in particular, "I can't believe I have to sit where I don't want to sit." Then hubby pipes up with, "you know I spend about a thousand bucks a year in this place and you're making a bad call." (I have never laid eyes on these nutjobs in my life) So, I say, "sorry, but you can take one of the other tables offered, or wait for one you really want." Both let out a scream of something incoherent and the kids began to cry as they were yanked out the door. The other diners told me they were glad the nutjobs went elsewhere, that they were rude and an accident waiting to happen.  I was grateful for their support.

Saturday Lunch: Party of 6 knocking back pitchers of margaritas decide to order lunch after one pitcher. After taking their initial order each and every time the server approached the table any one of the 6 had another request. One would ask for water - the server would comply and return with a glass of water at which time another one would ask for something else and when that was delivered, another would ask for another water...you get the pattern here? They ran the poor server ragged. But the real insult was that on a $170.00 tab, they left an $8.00 tip.  Clearly, they were not a whiz at math. Should have been $34 to $40 bucks, at least.

Two women were seated in the section of one our best servers and seemed to be having a great time with their margaritas and lunch; when paying their check, however, one became indignant announcing to me that she had the worst meal of her life and the server was so rude that she was "stiffing" him and would never return to the restaurant.  Close examination of the scene of the crime revealed 3 plates completely clean - no un-eaten food. Oh, the worst meal ever, huh? We don't need your business, lady.

Sunday Lunch:Party of 8  (three in hi-chairs) clearly not ready for prime-time in public with their little darlings. As the darlings threw food everywhere from their seated positions in those chairs, the parents and grandparents laughed and clapped hands at the spectacle. Wait. The best was yet to come. The little ones realizing that showing off for grandma had its rewards, all stood up in the hi-chairs and danced to the music on the sound system, then, as their food arrived remained standing bending over to pick up a piece of (whatever), take a bite, then toss it to the floor. (At least not to other diners.) Many of those nearby diners were not pleased, so I approached the group and announced (in my big boy voice) that the kids must be seated and remain so for the rest of the meal.  Grandma was not amused and the darlings chose that moment to begin wailing in protest. I was not moved.  One by one the darlings were taken outside to be calmed down (not easy in 95' heat) but it worked. Quiet became the norm at that table.  As the offending group left the restaurant, diners in the immediate area broke into applause. Now that says a lot. And as those diners left they complemented me on the intervention.

But, I've saved the best (worst?) for last.  As regular readers know, I do not work the dinner shift and this story came to me from the owner and his front-end assistant when I arrived at work on Saturday morning. Behold!

Friday Dinner: Family right up front by the open doors to the street with many other diners next to, or near them when the mother decides to change her baby's diaper on the table.  You read that right  ON. THE. TABLE. Neighboring diners freaked (it was a poo-diaper, after all) and the boss almost went into cardiac arrest. WTF were they thinking? We have 2 changing tables - one in each restroom, so there is no excuse (aside from laziness) for that kind of behavior and disregard for the comfort of others.

You just can't make this stuff up.  Still, I love my job. There is never a dull moment.

I am smelling olives at this very moment, and just in time. Cheers!

And so it goes.
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