School of Hard Knocks

It's a good idea to try not to get inside the head of the people you are waiting on. If there were one piece of advice I would give a fledgling server (other than GET OUT NOW!) that would be it. That and the only equation that a server needs:
                                      quality of service ≠ good tip
 I repeat: do NOT try to get in their heads. And do not allow them to get into yours. There must be a psychic wall of separation. Once in a while you will encounter a wiseguy and challenging as it is you must maintain a professional demeanor. Take my advice, I'm not using it.

The other night I had the misfortune of waiting on a couple that was, contrary to all logic, on  a date at the Fajita Factory- possibly the least romantic venue since the pit in Silence of the Lambs.

Here it is made of Lego's. Thanks internet. And-WTF?

 But there they were, and it was one of those blokes whose solution to pattern baldness is shaving and waxing his head. That works for Bruce Willis. And only Bruce Willis. Try saying "Yippie ki yay, motherfucker!" and see if it sounds badass. It doesn't. Bruce Willis has powers other men lack, among them looking cool with a shiny bald dome head.

We at the Fajita Factory are forced to introduce ourselves and our 'zone partner' (don't you just love corporate America? So inventive!) during the greet. I do this and Ersatz Bruce Willis asks gamely (as 75% of them do) that "It takes two of you to wait on us?". After my veritable seizure of laughter and much wiping of tears of joy at his cleverness I respond, "Haven't you heard-it's the new economy. Two people have to share one job."

"Wow! You've got an answer for everything don't you? What is E=MC²?"
And so on. After some banter in which he doggedly refuses to get to the point and just order food he hits me with this beloved and well worn old saw:
 "You're really smart! Did you go to college?"

I just stare at him.

How is it possible that this Ersatz Bruce Willis doesn't understand how insulting it is to assume that because  I am waiting on him that I wouldn't have heard of the Theory of Relativity? Or that I didn't go to college. I know lots of brilliant philosophers and historians that sling pizza and beer.

"I didn't go to college actually. I hate school."

He just gapes at me. Literally.
"But...you're SO intelligent!" And I cannot stress enough to you, dear reader how thoroughly, unabashedly shocked at this fact dumbshit Ersatz Bruce Willis is. Like anyone could be educated without college (Abraham Lincoln) or that someone with a functioning mind would be waiting tables. Perhaps I should be doing something more dignified like politics or applying my laser like intellect at an office job putting cover sheets on the TPS reports?

Only 14 more years of this and I can pay off those student loans!

"What are you doing here?" he sputters.

I'm waiting for my Genius Grant from the John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation, that's what.

Tea Time

Friday night brings a slightly different crowd. It's the "♫ I got a li'l change in my pocket goin' jing a ling a ling ♫" crowd. That's right. Payday. Time to treat the clan to a fancy dinner at the Fajita Factory.

My favorite table this evening was a family of paint chip eaters that took exception to our methods of brewing sweet tea. If you are reading this and you don't live in the Deep South you may be fortunate enough to be unaware of the unique importance of sweet tea in the Holy Trinity of the South. One day I'll get around to chronicling this. Actually, I can do this right now. It goes like this:

"Every knee shall bow"

                

  

Jesus Christ/Johnny Van Zant

Elvis drinks this in heaven with General Lee

   


 Wow that was easier than I      thought.










 The conversation went like this:

Bubba: "I want something else to drink. Your sweet tea is nasty."

Me: "Oh? Is there something wrong with it?"

Bubba: "It's nasty."

Me: "I haven't had any complaints about it tonight."

Bubba: "It tastes nasty."

Me: "Hm. Well, I can get you something else, but I'm wondering if there's something wrong with it so I can    troubleshoot it. How does it taste?"

Bubba: "Nasty."

Me: "Is there another adjective you might be able to use to describe it?"

Bubba stares at me. I am beginning to get used to being stared at by my tables now.

Bubba: "Taste it. It tastes nasty."

Me: "It wouldn't help if I tasted it, I don't ever drink the stuff. I wouldn't know what it's supposed to taste like."

I may as well have said I only drink the blood of orange kittens. More staring. And why does he just keep saying nasty??

Bubba: "Do ya'll put bakin' soda in it?"

Me: "No."

Bubba: "Ya'll need to put bakin' soda in it. That makes it taste good. It...makes...it..uhh."

Bubba has gone and used up all his words.

Me: "It neutralizes some of the tannic acid and makes it less bitter?"
I'm honestly trying to help here.

Bubba's cousin declares: "It just ain't sweet enough!"


There you have it: the definition of 'nasty'.

Have A Drink On Me

Sometimes the sheer animal stupidity of people is too much to let pass without comment.

Last night I was waiting on a table of assorted hayseeds who were gathered together at the Fajita Factory for what I can only assume was a mini family reunion/pre incestuous group sex dinner. They obviously didn't get out much, and judging by the number of offspring present apparently didn't get the memo that people that devoid of any positive attributes should limit their reproduction to...say...zero.
After a chaotic dinner in which the senior hayseed mysteriously found it necessary to inform me repeatedly that he was 'from Georgia' they settled in for a marathon conversation about banjos and Nascar or whatever.
I was sweeping the appalling mess of nacho chips, goldfish crackers and powdered baby formula packets (only the finest chemical cocktails for the infants in the 'Burbs; Jesus doesn't like to see women nursing babies, it's pornographic) when Pa did the unthinkable. He came and found me with an urgency that would suggest the table was on fire. I hate it when they come looking for you. The absolute worst is when they wander into  the kitchen. The only time it's acceptable for some customer to wander into the kitchen is to inform everyone there was a zombie army gathering out in the parking lot, or a demon dog backing a nerdy accountant into the window.

"Ok. Who brought the dog?"

Not because they need more honey mustard. Anyway, here is the script of what happened next:

Pa: "Din't you  see me waving at you? I was doing this."(pantomimes very dramatic waving)

Remember this is the same guy that told me like 4 times he was from Georgia. For some reason.

Me: "Um, no actually. This sweeping is some difficult stuff that requires razor sharp focus and all of my mental ability."

Pa: "She needs you." (points to the table)

When I get to the table she is quite perturbed and snaps at me
Ma: "Can I git more drink?"
This is not really a question, and the tone would be more appropriate if she were saying something like 'I just kilt yer best hog, Hatfield!'

I look at the table and point to a full, frosty glass of coke sitting right in front of her next to her empty glass.
Me: "How about right there? Is that one going to work for you?"

She stares at it for a second and (I swear to God this is all true) says, pointing to Cletus "that's his." Except his is pronounced 'hee-is'.

Me: " No, he is drinking a Diet Coke. That is your Coke."
She is really incensed about my dogged refusal to be the one in the wrong here. Apparently.
Refusing to give it up she turns on Cletus.
Ma: "Is that yer drink rat theyur?"
Cletus: "Yeah."
Ma: "Are yew drankin' Diet Coke?"
Cletus (getting uncomfortable now) " Uh huh."

She looks at me. I look at her. She says, angrily, "Well I din't know yew brought a new one. You din't say nothin'."
Me: "Right. Usually I have this bell I ring when I bring drinks and I announce it like (ringing invisible bell) 'Hear Ye, Hear Ye, I bring a new drink for Milady'. But I left it at home today. Sorry about that."
They're all staring at me now. I think they're actually wondering if I do have a bell, and if it's shiny.

I polish it every night.