A Letter From Your Friendly Waitress

-Dear restaurant customer/fresh food consumer-

If I didn't like your friend who's nice to me, I wouldn't still be a server after a year and a half. I appreciate your friend and others who don't think that their heart is going to fall out of their chest if there's a pen-sized dot of pink on their choice sirloin. I'm also quite fond of those guests who do not attempt to make me contemplate murder because they have one-thousandth of an ounce less alfredo sauce than they prefer to have on their chicken pasta. Also, I don't mind people who understand that it is not a contest to see who can drink the most Mountain Dew's in five minutes. (If you can down 5 in 5 minutes, you're hardly a hero. In fact, you're a severe pain in the ass and you'll only wet the bed). For the rest of you (those of you who I refer to by names I wouldn't say in front of my mother if I were paid to),
I have some things I would like to say:

-If you're drunk, don't tell me that you are every ten minutes. I'm aware. Being too intoxicated to determine the bathroom from the kitchen does not give you permission to treat me like I'm your personal nurse and low-paid mother. I give you booze, you give me money. We do not have a relationship beyond that.

-If you ask for a refill, drink at least half of it to humor me.

-If your friend (sitting right beside you) asks me for more crackers and a glass of water, and you also want several crackers and a glass of water, say, "Me too." It's easy, try it out. Doing so will save me more time than you could learn how to value and will prevent you from becoming an icon of severe annoyance.

-If you need more than fifty-five sides of ranch, you should get tested for unhealthy infatuation with salad dressings. Plus, your body will not last longer than next Tuesday. With this, keep in mind that I am a server (as in "general-everything we have in the restaurant-server, not "dressing attendant").

-When you change your mind four times, you cannot expect me to get your order completely accurate.

-What goes through your mind when you decide to put your body-acid-colored, saliva-saturated, germ-infested wad of bubble gum (that is the size of my face) underneath the nice wood of our sanitary tables? Is that satisfying for you? Is there a reason the napkins on the table are not worthy of your waste? How do you fit that much gum in your mouth? Do you realize that we have a day set aside for cleaning up your gum? That's right, Tuesday nights are scrape sugary-rubber off the bottom of the tables-night. We wouldn't need scrape sugary-rubber off-night if you understood the procedure for waste removal.

-If you pooped in the toilet, flush. Good boy.

If we have had a ten minute discussion about the pros and cons of ribeye steak and have come to the conclusion that it is indeed a particularly fatty chunk of meat, do you understand why I am frustrated when you attempt to get a discount on the ribeye you ordered which was “mostly gristle and I just couldn’t finish it.”

-If you bring twenty-seven friends with you to dinner, consider the fact that getting change for twenty-seven bills that are all paid in cash is quite impossible. If it is feasible, it is still impossible to keep all of those coins and bills separated. I do not have 27 hands. I don't even have 27 fingers. If you complain about the time duration that it takes to get you twenty-seven sets of change, I will beat you over the head twenty-seven times with the heaviest dish I can find.

-When you come in and order food fifteen minutes before we are planning to close, keep in mind that every employee in the restaurant hates you. One of them is bound to do something to your food.

-I am not your babysitter. If you would like to take one sip every fifteen minutes from your 32 oz. glass of beer that I gave you five minutes before closing time, please buy beer at a liquor store and sit in the comfort of your own home. I can't leave until you leave. Again, I am not a babysitter.

-If I walk past your table (obviously staring at you) 10 times in the course of five minutes (and ask every other time if you need anything else) -OR- if I ask if you want a refill or desert more than once after you're done eating, that means LEAVE ALREADY.

-Two pennies is not a tip. Neither is 75 cents. In fact, if you're going to leave less than 10 percent, don't bother. I'm gonna be pissed either way.

-If you're going to be cruel, be cruel the whole time I'm serving you. Nothing's more infuriating than a nice couple who says thank you many times, tells you the food was excellent, complements you on your pretty name, and doesn't complain at all-then stiffs you with no tip whatsoever on a seventy-dollar tab. I've had this happen. My boss had to hold me back so I wouldn't chase you down with steak knives. And so, if you're going to be mean, be continually mean. That way I don't consider you angels and go out of my way to give you every extra napkin and condiment you need.

-I like kids. But try to keep yours from using the carpet as a table. Also, be creative and come up with a new activity, instead of the same old dump-all-the-sugar-packets-onto-the-floor routine. We have crayons and activity sheets.

-When I say "We have Pepsi Products," don't say, "I'll have a Diet Coke." That only proves that you weren't listening to me and you're an idiot. If you get pissy 'cuz you can't have Coke, don't berate me. I'm not in charge of pop selection. And if I was, I wouldn't take your opinion into consideration. (With this beverage dilemma in mind, it is further proof you are ignoring me when you ask what else there is to drink after I listed every domestic tap, flavor of lemonade, types of iced tea, and juice options that we have.)

-Do not. Absolutely DO NOT ask me what the "soup of the day" is more than once after I told you. One repeat is a free-bee. Two or more is inhumane.

Well, that's all I can think of for now, but I'm sure I'll come up with more things that I don't like about you. I'm not a pessimist; I'm just honest. Thanks for coming in! Have a great night!