Some People Shouldn’t Be Out Among Other People

, , , , , | Right | September 9, 2019

(At the restaurant where I work, there is a server who used to work at a different restaurant chain. He had regulars there who were really strange, and he tells me about them when he first starts working at my restaurant. I guess I don’t fully believe him until a group of three people — I assume a husband, wife, and maybe adult son — comes in. They request the aforementioned server. They’re very quiet people, and the woman has a dopey smile on her face. Her clothes have stuff all over them, which I can only assume is a mixture of food and bodily fluids. Her husband only responds to any questions I ask in grunts and groans, though he will use words when speaking to his wife and son. The son is obviously mentally handicapped, so I have nothing bad to say about him, because I don’t discriminate against the mentally disabled. However, his parents are honestly just weird.)

Me: “Hey, [Server], I sat you at table 72. These people are kind of weird, though.”

Server: *his face completely falls* “Oh, God, no.”

(It turns out they were his regulars at his old job. I worked there for about two years, and until the server left to work in a state penitentiary, this group came in every Wednesday wanting to sit with him. Some things I caught them doing were chewing up their food and spitting it into napkins as if that was all they wanted, farting loudly with no excuses or apologies, asking other hosts if they would be willing to change their son’s diaper, bringing cans of soda into the restaurant — we have soda! — but not drinking them and instead pouring them into our live plants outside, and worst of all, the woman would walk to the bathroom and on her way there she would take food off of dirty tables. Yes, this was food that another customer had bought and was sometimes half-eaten. She just walked by, grabbed half a steak with her bare hands, and ate it on the way to the bathroom. Apparently, when they came in to the server’s old job, they were told he’d moved to this new restaurant, so they followed him. And since my restaurant is much more expensive than the previous one, they yelled at the server until he gave them his employee discount. Not even the right one! Employee’s family and friends discount is 50% off two meals, 33% off three, 25% off four or more. They should have gotten 33% off, but they yelled until all three of them were crying so he would give them the full 50%, which almost got him fired. Luckily, he worked there for a year before he left. They’d come in and ask for him and I had the satisfaction to tell them he no longer worked there. They’d just get quiet and shuffle out but still try again the next week, as if he might suddenly work there again.)

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No Protection From Bad Customers

, , , | Right | September 9, 2019

(I’m a host at a steakhouse. There was some previous trouble in the night involving the cops and some employees, so some policemen are in the parking lot of our store speaking with said employees. It is almost closing time at this point, and the closing servers and managers all stay around to watch it all go down through a window in the front of the store. There are only a few customers left, one of whom is sitting on the opposite side of the restaurant that we are on. She flags down a manager.)

Customer: “What the h*** is going on? Your employees are staring out the window. I’m scared!”

Manager: “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m not sure what’s going on. They seem to be interested in something outside. I assure you there is nothing to be scared about.”

Customer: “I see a police car.”

Manager: “Yes, I see it, too.”

(The lady pauses, expecting something.)

Manager: “I’m happy that you aren’t just seeing things. If you need anything else, let me know.”

(The woman obviously doesn’t like this response. I go into the kitchen for something and am walking back to the front, where the employee crowd is, and I happen to pass the table with the lady. She points to me.)

Customer: “She should be doing her job!”

Manager: “What is she doing right now?”

Customer: “Going up front!”

Manager: “To the host stand?”

(The customer nods.)

Manager: “The host is going to the host stand. What am I missing here?”

(She realizes her stupidity, but she’s not done being mad.)

Customer: “I demand all my food free because I feel unsafe in your restaurant.”

Manager: “Ma’am, there are cops here. That should make you feel safer. They’re here to protect people, aren’t they?”

Customer: *grunts* “Your employees around the window make me feel unsafe.”

Manager: “Well, I’d be happy to walk you out of the store if you feel that something is unsafe between this table and your car.”

(My manager is a huge man, very intimidating, by the way.)

Customer: *scoffs* “My husband can protect me, thank you very much.”

Manager: “You have protection. No need to be scared. Have a nice night.”

(It was a weird story that he retold. He’s my least favorite manager, but I always enjoyed that he never takes crap from customers. And, if you were wondering, the employees in question were let go, so the cops had left by this point. She was literally upset over nothing.)

 

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Dining And Dashing To Conclusions

, , , , , , | Working | September 9, 2019

(I am an off-duty police officer, treating a friend to lunch at a place owned by a famous local chef with amazing reviews that has the best burgers I’ve had in a long time. It isn’t busy so we have our waitress’s full attention. She is talkative, she makes jokes, she’s quick with our drinks and taking our order, and she brings our order as soon as it is sent out; all around she’s the PERFECT waitress. She comes around a few times to check on us, but then she just stops coming by our section after a group of young college guys walks in. I don’t know if she knows them or what but she never leaves their side, laughing and carrying on with them. After waiting fifteen minutes for her to bring our bill, we ask another server:)

Other Server: “As I am not your waitress I can’t, but I’ll tell your waitress.”

(Another ten minutes pass by and still no waitress; it is now getting close to 2:30 pm and I need to be home by three to greet my daughters after they get off the school bus.)

Me: “Let’s just leave the money on the table.”

(We look up the menu online and total up our order, including drinks, taxes, and even a tip, writing everything down on a piece of paper with a note explaining our situation. We even leave a little extra to cover anything we forgot, and my official LEO business card which says my police department, full name and badge number, phone number, and email. For some reason, and I’m glad he does, my friend decides to record a video; he turns the camera to the table taking a video of the note, our makeshift bill, and the full money amount. We walk out the door towards our vehicle with him still recording. As we are walking out the door, the waitress and the owner/chef come running out the door screaming.)

Waitress: “STOP! WE’VE CALLED THE POLICE ON YOU! STAY HERE UNTIL THEY GET HERE! NOBODY DINES AND DASHES ON MY WATCH! IT COMES OUT OF MY PAY!”

Me: “But we have paid.”

Owner: “With who?”

Me: “We left payment on the table.”

(We all walk back inside to the still-cluttered table to show him the $60 cash with the note showing our $42 tally and then what we left.)

Owner: “Why didn’t you wait for your waitress to bring you an official bill?”

(Before I can say anything, my friend, who doesn’t like confrontation but has had enough with being made to wait, speaks up.)

Friend: “We waited for over twenty minutes for her to bring our bill. We even told another waitress—” *points towards the waitress cleaning a nearby table* “—that we wanted our bill.”

(The other server confirms this and says she told our waitress we were waiting for it and that our waitress said she’d take it over in a minute.)

Friend: “But instead of bringing us our bill your waitress decided she would continue to flirt with that group—” *points to group of six guys at a table nearby* “—and refill their drinks twice. As soon as they walked in, she completely ignored us, never offered to refill our drinks, asked if were done to clear the table, or gave us our bill, so we took it upon ourselves to look up your menu online and tally our total and just leave it on the table with the handwritten bill with an $18 tip. He even left his LEO card with his information! I don’t know about those guys, but he needs to get home to his daughters and I need to pick up my wife, so we don’t have all day to just sit around waiting for her to decide which guy she wanted to sleep with.”

(The owner’s mouth is open, slowly gulping like a fish, and turns to look towards the waitress, who looks like she wants to be anywhere else but there at that very moment.)

Owner: “This is the third time you’ve been accused of ignoring customers to hang out with guys from your school, and then you took it a step further and accused them of stealing without even checking the table first!” *turns back to us* “Gentlemen, I am sorry for any inconvenience my former server has caused you. I promise you that this will never ever happen again as she will no longer be working here. Please accept my most sincere apology and accept a $20 gift card for each of you for a future visit and take your money back as the meal is on the house.”

Me: “Thank you, but that is not necessary. The burgers and fries were amazing and we ate them, so we want to pay.”

(I don’t fault the restaurant, just the waitress! We will still go back!)

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Here We Pokémon Go Again, Part 42

, , , , , , | Working | September 5, 2019

(While managers usually schedule our breaks, there’s some flexibility. My coworker comes on the radio to ask about it.)

Coworker: “Hey, [Manager], when’s my break?”

Manager: “It’s at [time].”

Coworker: “Can I take it earlier?”

Manager: “Uh, I guess so. What’s up?”

Coworker: “There’s an event going on in Pokémon Go…”

Manager: *sighs* “All right, go take your break…”

Related:
Here We Pokémon Go Again, Part 41
Here We Pokémon Go Again, Part 40
Here We Pokémon Go Again, Part 39
Here We Pokémon Go Again, Part 38

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Will Drop You Like A Sack Of Hot Pre-Sliced Potatoes

, , , | Right | September 3, 2019

(I am taking drive-thru orders. A customer pulls up and places her order for chicken nuggets. I ask if she wants fries with that; instead, she asks for a whole potato. At first I think she is joking because I’ve had similar orders followed by “just kidding.” But after I ask if I heard her right and she confirms that I did, I explain that we don’t have whole potatoes, but that she can order fries, instead. She immediately pulls around without another word into the speaker. I wait for about five seconds for her to come around, thinking, “Surely she’s not ignorant enough to think that we actually sell whole potatoes.” When she pulls around she makes sure to correct this thought of mine.)

Customer: “What do you mean, you don’t sell potatoes? How the h*** do you sell french fries and not have whole potatoes?”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we have our fries pre-sliced, packaged, and sent directly to our distributors, and then to our restaurant. Since nothing else we have is pure potato, we have no whole potatoes that we keep around at the store. Would you like me to get you a different side with your nuggets, like a side salad?”

Customer: “Listen, dumba**, I know you may not understand basic things and that’s why you’re working at a fast food place, but I need you to go to the back, get me a potato, and bring it back to me free of charge since you’ve ruined my visit. Have one of your managers hold your hand for you if you can’t figure it out.”

Me: *my patience tested* “Ma’am, would you like to speak to one of my managers? I believe they could help you better.”

Customer: “Never mind. I’ll just go get one from [Competitor] across the street.” *drives off*

(I told my manager on shift what had happened, and she nearly pissed herself. I’ve had a lot of strange requests, but the one that stuck out to me was this situation, mostly because I was called so many names in such little time for such a dumb reason. I just hope that the other place got her potato for her.)

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