Hell hath no fury like a pregnant woman kept waiting.
In the midst of a hellaciously busy Friday night, a night normally reserved for people celebrating parole or honing their dine-and-dash skills, I was sat with a party of eight uppity soccer moms and their comatose, latently homosexual husbands.
Two of the four moms were pregnant, and each of the women spoke with the same condescending cadence:
"Ooooh, Liiiiiiiiisa! Your arms are so tooooooooned for a pregnant woman!!!"
"Ooooh, Kristieeeeeeee! I love your HAIR CUT!!!"
"Ooooh, Waiteeeeeer, I'll have more I-C-E-D T-E-A- please!!!"
I found them tolerable only because they were all so heavily medicated (as was I, thank Christ). I could have stripped down to a leather harness and some indiscreetly placed feathers, and as long as I had a pitcher of iced tea and salsa refills, these ladies would continue to beam at me as if I were a retarded child selling candy bars.
When it came time to order, each lady checked in to see what the other was ordering.
"Ooooh, Liiiiiiisa! Tamales? Oh maybe I'll do that!"
"Ooooh, Kristieeeeeeee! Spinach IN-CHA-LAH-DAS? That sounds so Mexican!"
"Ooooh, Waiteeeeeer, what are those thingies that come on that sizzling skillet looking thing, with the peppers and WALK-OH-MOE-LAY? Yummy!"
I turned in the food order and a brought by another round of iced teas.
"You are so helpful!!!!!!!!!!!" Lisa squealed. "You're the best little waiter we've ever had here!"
"Golly, thanks!!!!!!!" I said.
Not two minutes later I brought another salsa refill.
"ANY IDEA WHAT'S TAKING OUR FOOD SO FUCKING LONG?" Lisa asked. It was dark in the restaurant, but I swear I saw her head do a 360 and her eyes change to red.
"I'm sure it will be a few more minutes," I said calmly.
"WHAT???" Kristie bellowed.
"I'm sure it will be a few more..." I began.
"I HEARD YOU THE FIRST TIME!!" She responded.
With that, I sprinted to the kitchen. Those Stepford soccer moms were really starting to scare the shit out of me.
"Where's the food for table 32????" I asked the manager.
"Huh?" he asked as if he'd just woken up from anesthesia.
"Table 32? Food? Need me to draw an illustration?"
"Ohhhh yeah," he remembered. "We lost a bunch of order tickets when the printer ran out of paper."
"Soooooo, you all haven't even started the food for table 32?" I asked.
"We don't even have an order for table 32."
"Did it dawn on you in your infinite wisdom to maybe ask each of us servers if we had any oustanding orders after the kitchen printer broke?????"
"Ehhhh...ehhhhhhhhhhhh," he replied.
I returned to the estrogen den with the bad news. I hadn't been this nervous since telling the angry customers at my high school Disney Store job that we'd run out of Timon and Pumba Beanie Babies.
"They LOST our order?" Kristie screamed.
Lisa started to cry. An angry cry, which really freaked me out.
"Oh now that's just ABTHURD!!" hollered one of the homosexual husbands.
"You are WITHOUT A DOUBT, the SINGLE MOST INCOMPETENT waiter I've EVER had! And I used to eat at COUNTRY KITCHEN!!!!!!" Kristie informed me. "WE'RE LEAVING!"
"But..." one of the husbands began to protest.
"NOW!" Lisa and Kristie said in unison.
The group of eight left abruptly.
And like clockwork, the food runners arrived with the entrees not 30 seconds later.
That story made me queasey just thinking about it....sorry, dude.....hopefully they NEVER return....
Posted by: Dani Marten | November 17, 2011 at 11:41 AM
There's really no fine line between a pregnant woman and a crazy pregnant woman, I'm afraid.
Posted by: chris | October 01, 2011 at 08:04 AM
Ugh--I have to second Gabby. Those bitches drive me nuts. I feel that they have lived in their pampered little worlds ever since they married into money right outside of high school, and have no grasp of reality anymore.
And your manager is seriously a moron. What the heck was he hoping for, for all his servers to sense that their orders had been lost and come to him?
Posted by: Rachel | September 30, 2011 at 03:26 PM
Finally! A comment from you in the comments section. And a bitchy one! Yay!!!!!
PS - for the person talking about how proud you are of the restaurant where you work? No one cares. We don't read this blog because we can relate to people who are happy at restaurants. Bitter Waiter is venting. Clearly the blog is lost on you. Go away.
Posted by: Asa | September 30, 2011 at 02:10 PM
Wow, Putti, congratulations. I know my readers and I take great comfort in the fact that your restaurant is better than mine. I strongly encourage you to start a similar blog, given your eloquent wit and hilarious self-righteousness.
Posted by: Bitter Waiter | September 30, 2011 at 10:53 AM
Wow your mgr sucks and customer service is dead where you work I'm just glad I work in a good restaurant with people who take pride in what they do
Posted by: Concerned | September 30, 2011 at 10:35 AM
A retarded child selling candy bars
You're evil, I love it!
Posted by: Naughty Waitress | September 30, 2011 at 08:50 AM
If there were ever a pack of humans - if you can call them that - that I cannot stand the most, it is the pony tail crew. Yup the roving suburban pack of bitches that can be eyed a mile away, the same shade of blond or brunette, same length of pony tail poking through a ball cap bedazzled with their first initial, ignoring their children, berating their husbands, admiring their newest wedding diamond upgrades, all the while complaining how tired they are from doing nothing all day, while the nanny is worthless, the cleaning lady is terrible, and the gardener sucks. Their OB's should do the world a favor and tie their tubes when they give birth.
Posted by: Gabby | September 30, 2011 at 08:50 AM