If there's one thing I know at the restaurant, it's the menu. Not because I care or because I find the food the least bit appetizing, but because the more I know about the menu, the more attitude I can give customers when they question me.
"I thought these enchy-ladas came with sour cream..."
"Doesn't say that in the menu."
"Where's my side salad? This sandwich is supposed to come with a side salad?"
"Doesn't say that in the menu."
"Why don't you ever smile?"
"Doesn't say that in the menu."
A few nights ago I waited on a loud, middle-aged Jewish woman and her timid husband. I anticipated trouble when, after I said, "Hello, how are you this evening?" she replied with a peremptory "Carne asada."
"Don't you even want to look at the menu?" her husband asked.
"Carne. Asada."
"How would you like that cooked," I asked.
"No red."
"Medium well? Well done?"
"No. Red."
I took her diminutive hubby's order and turned the requests into the kitchen.
When the food arrived, the beef-eating bitch flagged me down with the utmost urgency, casting her hands in the air as if disspelling a demon in a tabernacle.
"This.............isn't carne asada. I ordered CARNE ASADA!"
I stared blankly at her plate, which included a 14 oz ribeye, cooked well done, covered with a red chile sauce. It was textbook carne asada in all its greasy glory.
"What did you have in mind for 'carne asada?'" I asked.
"UHHMMMM...CARNE ASADA?"
"Helpful. Care to elaborate?"
"CARNE ASADA! Strips of steak! It says that in your menu!"
Considering that Bubeleh didn't even open her menu, I said:
"That's odd, because I could have sworn the menu says that our carne asada is prepared as a traditional ribeye, not served in strips. Would you like the fajitas instead?"
"FAJITAS!"
I took her declaration as a yes and returned minutes later with the very traditional steak fajitas.
"THIS ISN'T CARNE ASADA EITHER!"
"Correct! I thought we agreed on the fajitas."
"Listen, honey, I don't want to make your job anymore DIFFICULT than it apparently is, but when I say carne asada...I mean....strips of ribeye....topped with a red sauce...and served on a plate with beans and rice. Do you understand what I mean by CARNE ASADA?"
I paused.
"Ohhh, yes! Now I see the problem. You're used to the TACO BELL version of carne asada. We don't really have any drive-thru friendly food here."
The poor husband stifled a chuckle, much to the chagrin of his Hassidic honey.
Naturally, a manager was involved, both to school her in the ways of our kitchen and to reprimand me for insulting the clientele. I offered my most sincere apologies.
The husband paid and left a generous tip. It doesn't happen often, but sometimes people in the restaurant enjoy a little bitter waiter in person. Especially when fighting the lethal triumvirate of rudeness, stupidity and obesity.
lol...I know I'm just now reading this post from almost 2 years ago..but I think I was there that night and it was quite amusing!
Posted by: Lindsey | September 20, 2010 at 05:09 PM
haha chase, you're hilarious man, still same old chase from cpk days!
Posted by: james An | November 13, 2008 at 01:35 AM
Hah...I love how I was present during this scene... oh, and also the time the manager says, "Quick, Joey, you take those customers before he gets his ass fired."
Wow...how much I love you...
Posted by: Jenny your lover | October 24, 2008 at 08:37 PM
I only wish I'd had a better viewpoint of this as it all went down...still, it was great fun to witness the Bitter Waiter in action!
Posted by: Clare | October 24, 2008 at 12:56 PM
Honey, I think it's time to graduate to an upscale restaurant. Of course it's all the same bullshit so we'll all still get our giggles here from you, but you could make more $$$ and conceivably not deal with so many freakshows.
Posted by: carol | October 23, 2008 at 09:37 AM