I’ll Have My Steak Done All Of The Above

, , , | Right | September 13, 2017

(I am working a woman’s 60th birthday at an upscale catering hall, taking dinner orders from my tables.)

Customer: “Filet mignon, medium rare-well.”

Me: “Medium well?”

Customer: *in the most hoity-toity voice imaginable* “Medium rare-welllll.”

(The woman is looking at me like I’m stupid, and I have little-to-no patience, so due to process of elimination, I jot down “MR” for medium rare and move on. [Looking back, I should have just put medium.] After the dinner orders come out, she runs up to me, and aggressively grabs my arm.)

Customer: “My steak is not cooked enough! It has pink!”

Me: “I’m sorry about that. I’m pretty sure you requested medium rare.”

Customer: “Medium rare-well!”

Me: “There is no such thing as medium rare-well, ma’am. I guess what you are requesting is a medium steak. I’m sorry about that, I’ll put it back on the fire.”

Customer: *scoffs*

(I take the steak back into the kitchen.)

Me: *to chef* “Is there any such thing as a medium rare-well steak? Am I missing something?”

Chef: “Nope.”

Has Beef With Your Steak

| SA, Australia | Right | August 29, 2016

(I am a waitress at a very busy Italian wedding. When we start serving the main course, we do the bridal and parent tables first, then we start at table one and work through to the last table. I’m going out to table six with five plates. As I cross the ballroom, one of the guests unexpectedly grabs my arm, nearly causing me to drop a plate.)

Guest: *pointing to one plate* “What’s that, the steak?”

Me: *very aware that seconds are ticking by and stopping to chat will mess up the entire flow of staff* “Yes, sir, the scotch fillet.”

Guest: “Ah, yes, that’s mine.”

(There were two options for the main course: steak or chicken. We had over 100 steak orders.)

Me: “Sorry, sir, these are going to another table. But I can promise that your meal will be ready very soon.”

Guest: “But that’s mine! I’ve been waiting fifteen minutes!”

(We hadn’t even been serving mains for fifteen minutes. I quickly apologise and go to drop the meals at the correct table. On the way back I hear him talking to his friend:)

Guest: “Can you believe it? That idiot waitress gave my meal to someone else!”

(I went back into the kitchen and the entire wait staff had a good laugh about it. Some people are so oblivious!)

Finger-Lickin’ Crazy

| Seattle, WA, USA | Right | July 11, 2016

Me: “Thank you for calling [Company]. How can I help you?”

Customer: “Yes, I’d like to place an order.”

Me: “Okay, what can I get for you?”

Customer: “I would like two orders of the fried chicken, one order of mashed potatoes, and two orders of the corn on the cob.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, we actually don’t carry any of these items. We only have sandwiches and salads.”

Customer: “This is [Company], right?”

Me: “Yes, it is.”

Customer: “Well, what am I supposed to do now?”

Me: “Call KFC?”

There Is No Spoon

, | Sydney, NSW, Australia | Working | June 9, 2016

(I work in the bistro side of a kitchen that caters for both a small everyday bistro and large-scale functions. Frequently, the bistro is dead quiet, so my coworkers and myself will busy ourselves helping the chefs prepare function food. On this particular day, the chef has a pot of salted caramel sauce on the stove. I and three coworkers have gathered around, and are making various moaning noises as the chef stirs it.)

Me: “Oh, god. Oh wow.”

Coworker #1: “Oh, my.”

Coworker #2: “Hnnnggg…”

Coworker #3: “PLEASE just inject it straight into my veins!”

(The chef, who is quite used to our hovering and moaning over various delicious foods, laughs and takes the pot off the stove to pour it into a storage container. My coworkers and I, saddened by the loss of the delicious sauce, disperse. I move into the wash-up area to start clearing some dishes.)

Chef: *brings the pot in, gives me a stern but playful look, then leaves*

(I turn to pull the next load out of the dishwasher, which turns out to be – cutlery. I eye off one of the spoons, then look at the pot, then back to the spoons.)

Chef: *walks in a few seconds later with another pot* “[My Name]! Seriously?!”

Me: *with my third spoonful of salted caramel sauce halfway to my mouth* “THERE WERE SPOONS! What was I supposed to do?!”

Controlling And Out Of Control

| Norway | Working | December 24, 2015

(I’m a waitress at a small banqueting firm. It is the last party before Christmas, so we were all a bit stressed out. Another one of the waitresses working today, senior to me, usually likes to be in control and give orders. When I take drink orders I make a numbered list to make sure I remember all of it. Back in the kitchen there was a general chart of the seatings, named and numbered. Here we write down all drink orders so that we can be sure to get the correct payment from everyone at the end. I go back to the (stressed out) kitchen to align my list with the general chart:)

Me: “This is the list of drinks from my guests. I’ll get them all out before I align it with the chart.”

Senior Waitress: “No, give the list here, and I’ll align it while you get drinks out.”

(I give her the list and proceed to getting the first drinks and serve them. Getting back I look at the chart and notice that my list is written “upside down” from it, since I started taking orders at the bottom of the tables, and she didn’t realize this.)

Me: “Oh, it’s the other way around. That drink goes with him:” *points at the bottom of the chart* “Not her:” *points at the top of the chart, where she put it*

Senior Waitress: *looking flustered and puzzled* “But you wrote [number] by that drink, and that number is at the top, not the bottom.”

Me: “Yeah, I started my numbering at the bottom of the tables because I didn’t realize this, but you can just start at the bottom of the chart, so that number three on my list is number [third from the bottom] on the chart.”

Senior Waitress: *still flustered, doesn’t seem to understand* “Well, this is just confusing. You should have written the names instead of your own numbers.”

Me: “Yes, I’m sorry about that. Do you want me to take over and align it instead? I know exactly who got what.”

Senior Waitress: “No, you go finish serving the drinks.”

(I went out with a few more drinks, and when I got back she was still struggling with the list and chart. I offered again to do it, but she refused to let me. This continued several more times, but even though she got increasingly frustrated she wouldn’t let me take over. I couldn’t do anything other than pointing out the mistakes every time I walked past – she just didn’t get it. In the end we finally got it all right, but it took way longer than needed. Some people are a little too fond of being in control, even when they’re not…)

Page 1/3123
Next »