Whether you're a server, polite restaurant diner, or newbie to venturing out into public, keep these 26 facts and tips in mind, and we'll all leave the restaurant happy, and alive.
A is for artichoke dip. My restaurant is a Mexican restaurant. We don't have artichoke dip. You keep asking, and I keep telling you each week, "No, we don't have artichoke dip." Time to take your fat ass out of my booth and to the frozen food section of your local grocery store. They have frozen artichoke dip from TGI Friday's. You get your dip. I don't have to smell you. Everyone wins.
B is for Botox. You've had too much of it. So bat your store-bought lashes all you want, because the only guy taking you home will be Henry, and that's to his cardboard box after he's done digging through our Dumpster for day-old tortillas.
C is for chips and salsa. And I'll refill them at my convenience, not yours.
D is for "Don't forget, I want dressing on the side." I heard you the first three times. No need to remind me. You're not giving me the clearance code to the Pentagon. You're saying you want your Ranch in a cup. I get it. Now go lick yourself clean.
E is for "Every time I come here, they mess up my order." Color me progressive, but if I have just one bad experience at a restaurant, I don't perpetually return in hopes that maybe this time around they'll get it right. You deserve your multiple bad experiences and a raging case of Eczema.
F is for free refills. They're free, not frequent.
G is for guacamole. You're from Glendale, not Guadalajara. So stop making "guacamole" the one word you pronounce with a tacky Mexican accent.
H is for Hostess. I'm a server. We have entirely different job tasks and skill sets. So don't approach me while I'm taking an order to let me know that you need a table. I'll refer you to a furniture store.
I is for "I don't mean to be difficult." That's like me saying "I don't mean to be a complete bitch." We're both lying, and we know it.
J is for Jagermeister. If you merely mention the word, I will hurl all over your table as memories of Junior year coming flooding back to me. Please, I beg you, don't order Jagermeister while I'm in the building, let alone at your table.
K is for kids. Unless you can prove they're mine, I won't tolerate yours. Besides, they look like extras from Village of the Damned.
L is for lovers. They belong in bedrooms, not booths. So let's take this skin-revealing sex buffet to a place more worthy of its consummation, like a Motel 6 or a Sizzler bathroom.
M is for Mexican food. In this kooky, elaborate scheme of the restaurant's to make money, we offer Mexican food because we are a Mexican restaurant. So, you saying "I don't like Mexican food" is like me going into a whore house and saying "I don't like hiding the sausage." You're in the wrong place. Asking me if we have pasta? Nope, that's Italian. Calamari? Mediterranean. Pizza? Mostly Italian. Salmon? Sea food. I suggest you consult the menu, or try a place with which you're more familiar that better suits your complex taste. Like a vending machine.
So many other words people always go out of their way to mispronounce. Also work in Mexican restaurant. Can't STAND "Kessa-deeya" or "Anchy-ladaz." So lame.
Posted by: Kevin C | May 17, 2011 at 12:24 PM
Excellent !
I am coming to LA soon and when I do I will where you work and for all the spiteful, nasty things you'd like to say to your customers, I will yell for you!
Including at your effing boss.
Posted by: ubermouth | May 16, 2011 at 05:06 PM
I really like your blog best. you rock,...keep em coming.
former food whore
Posted by: mb | May 16, 2011 at 04:02 PM
I don't know what restaurant YOU work in, but the kids in my section never seem that docile!!!
Posted by: Megan | May 16, 2011 at 07:40 AM
you've outdone yourself, Chase! Thanks for making my day....
Posted by: Angela | May 16, 2011 at 05:37 AM
L made me laugh--there's this couple at my place. God help you if they sit in your booth, because they will be there for 3 hours, making out the whole time. We call them 'the Hickies', because that is what they give each other...and they don't give a damn if they give them to each other right in front of you, as you are holding back tears, and trying to take their order. It's only a matter of time until these idiots go all the way in someone's section.
Posted by: Rachel | May 13, 2011 at 08:01 PM
I think this is one of your best yet!
Love,
Dad
Posted by: Anonymous | May 13, 2011 at 06:19 PM
BOOK BOOK BOOK BOOK BOOK BOOK BOOK BOOK BOOK!!!
Posted by: Tyler | May 13, 2011 at 05:44 PM
looove it! I am a server too, and this just completely hits the jackpot. hilarious!
Posted by: Urte | May 13, 2011 at 05:03 PM
"K is for kids. Unless you can prove they're mine, I won't tolerate yours." Love it!
Posted by: Milia | May 13, 2011 at 04:39 PM
"So don't approach me while I'm taking an order to let me know that you need a table. I'll refer you to a furniture store."
HA!! What I wouldn't give to be within earshot of THAT sort of exchange.
When I am in a restaurant, I wait patiently to be seated, even if this means that I stand there, waiting to be noticed, for several long minutes; they always eventually notice me, and I don't make a big deal of the wait. Who cares, anyway? Restaurants do us all a favour by ensuring that we don't have to do our own cooking, and that's their only role (NOT in extending some ill-conceived notion of "me-first" entitlement and instant gratification). AND, I always tip at least 20%--it just seems like the considerate thing to do. I mean, would YOU want to trade places with the waiter and juggle all that he has to juggle? No? Well, then--don't be so damned stingy.
Posted by: Jet | May 13, 2011 at 04:33 PM
LOL @ hiding the sausage...
Posted by: Chris | May 13, 2011 at 02:07 PM
I look forward to Bitter Waiter's 1, 2, 3's...
Posted by: Christie | May 13, 2011 at 01:17 PM