4:45: While perched at the bar next door engaging in some pre-shift drinking, I rationalize that not only should I have another gin martini before work; my sanity demands it.
5:05: Arrive five minutes late because I rationalized yet another gin martini.
5:15: During our pre-shift meeting, we're treated to a visit from a tequila rep who offers everyone a "taste," which is essentially a full shot. Tequila + gin = heeeeey.
5:24: I'm seated with three tables at once: two cranky elderly old bats, a fussy family suffering from extreme entitlement, and a surly group of gays. I sober up and hate everyone. I tell the family I'll be with them shortly and start my other two parties with drinks.
5:26: "JOEY NEEDS HIS SIPPY FILLED WITH MILK," Entitled White Mommy screams at me in baby talk as I'm trying to tell the dinner specials to the gays. I glare daggers through her vacuous soul and continue ignoring her.
5:45: Finally, all food and drink orders are complete for my triple threats. I celebrate the down time by nursing more tequila in a kid's cup.
6:04: Every entree for every single person in my section goes out at the same time. And every single person needs something for his/her meal. Entitled White Mommy says her fish is "a little undercooked and a little overcooked"; the gays need more pita bread; the elderly old bats need a flashlight because they can't see their food. Seconds later, I erupt at the hostess and tell her to NOT seat me again until the escapees from Hell leave my section.
6:43: I got my wish; my first three parties left, and I was enjoying an empty section (even though the restaurant was on a wait, save for the five tables of mine that the terrified hostess wouldn't seat).
6:55: The manager asks the hostess why my section is empty. She tells the truth. I get in trouble via a tedious sit-down in the office.
7:03: I wash down the sit-down with something that's either gin or tequila or both.
7:10: Whereas earlier I was seated with three tables at once, I'm now given all five tables at the same time. I tell each of them that I'm slammed and I'll be with them shortly. I then immediately go check my hair and complexion in the mirror, post a fun selfie on Instagram, and take another swig of gin-quila.
7:47: One of my customers, a stuck-up twat with delusions of being a pop singer, asks why she hasn't received the drink she forgot to order from me. After a few minutes of back and forth, I offer up the manager.
7:55: Sit-down meeting in the manager's office, part deux.
8:30: We officially go off a wait, and I am cut for the evening. I do my sidework and cash-out quickly, and am almost tempted by another gin-quila. Instead, I opt for water, knowing I'll need the hydration for yet another impending day of the same old shit.