Chances are, if you're taking in air right now, you've either A) worked in the service industry, B) know someone who has, or C) have been served through the service industry. If you meet none of these, you are either A) Joe DiMaggio in the last fifteen years of his life when the only time the stingy bastard left the house was to wash his car by pouring soap on it and driving it in the rain, or B) the fat fuck who was the gluttony victim in Se7en who apparently lived on cases of canned spaghetti and microwave burritos, and never left the house.
I've worked in some form of the service industry for more years than I care to admit, and in the last few years, I've seen samples of incivility and outright rudeness that would cause Emily Post to shamble out her grave Shaun Of The Dead style, just to stick a goddamed fork in her eye hole. To wit:
Well, She's Here To Serve Me
This stunner was uttered by the former Mrs. Rex. We had been dating a couple of months and were in the grocery store checkout line. The checker gave her a big, friendly greeting, and the future Mrs. Rex did not reply. About a minute later, TFMR asked for a pen. We left without TFMR returning the checker's 'have a great day!'
Once outside, I basically said something like What the eff is your problem? Would it have hurt you to be nice to her?
When TFMR informed me that this was a service person, not a friend of hers, I let her in on some of the truths of life she obviously had not picked up, being a 26 year old preschool teacher who had never worked in service.
This probably is that girl's whole gig. 8 hours a day at that fucking register, and probably 90% of customers treat her the way you did. A smile and a 'I'm great, how're YOU?' might have made her day. Treat anyone in that position like that again, and we're done.
The former Mrs. Rex will now chat a waiter's head off about how she like's their haircut, and usually tips 30%, even if the steak is too rare.
What's With Your Eye?
I'm only calm enough to talk about this now, but it only happened a few days ago, and I swear to Jesus and sweet Baby Jesus, I had a brief flash about picking up this customer's steak knife at the table and going all young-Vito-Corleone-on-Don-Ciccio-back-in-the-hometown on this guy's ass.
When I was a little kid, I had no peripheral vision in one of my eyes. Medicine in the early '70's being what it was, they fixed the vision problem, but the surgery left the muscle under my eye a little droopy, and the eye doesn't move quite in sync with the other. We're not talking Marty Feldman ("Damn your eyes!" "Too late!") here, but be a little kid who looks a little different, and see if you aren't a teensy-weensy bit sensitive at the ripe old age of 40.
So, I've got these two customers at my table, and right off I can tell these two are gonna be a challenge. They're both on phones with loud, obnoxious ringtones, they're dressed for a truck pull and are oblivious to the fact that there are other people around them. I take a deep breath and approach the table.
"Hey, how are you folks? My name is.."
"What's with your eye?"
Had my manager just pulled out his fatted man-steak and started working one out in the middle of the kitchen, I could not have been more taken aback.
"I'm sorry?"
"Your eye.. it looks kind of fucked up."
At this point, I can hear Carmine Coppola's strings coming up in the background, and the smell of olive trees in the air.
"Oh.. some minor surgery as a child..."
"You should get that shit fixed, man."
Now, should you think I'm embellishing this for the reader's entertainment, I'll admit; that's some pretty tasty dialogue. Make the guy an Al Qeida foot soldier while yer at it, baby!
Nope. This guy makes Amy's bitch customer in Waiting seem like a Mormon missionary. I felt like Clubber Lang in the second fight in Rocky III. Expect Balboa to come straight ahead swinging, and he's out there doing Sugar Ray Robinson. Totally thrown off my game. I excused myself and had another server take the table. When it came to my manager's attention, he wanted to throw them out. I said it was cool, but it really wasn't.
Why in holy hell would you ask that kind of question, to a total stranger yet, and then follow it up with insensitive comments that make what Don Imus said sound like a glowing eulogy at a state funeral? Jesus Tap Dancing Christ! Suffice to say, I'm now wearing a pair of eyeglasses with plain glass lenses, lest some clueless clod feel the need to blurt out his ignorant, uncivil tripe again.
If You Can't Afford To Tip Right, Eat At Home
I was working with a waitress who was pulling a double. She got this table that was a ton of work. A few kids, constant refills of whatever could be refilled, coupons, substitutions, you name it. So, at the end, she sees them put cash in the bill folder and leave. When she gets to the table, the bill is paid to the cent in the folder, and there is a handful of varied and scattered change.. strewn all over the table.
Well, she was a little frazzled at this point, so I scooped up the change. On top of that a handful of change is really insulting, it came to about 8 percent. Double turds!
Now, tipping is not a right. Yes, most waiters, bartenders and delivery drivers live on their tips. And I can tell you, I bust ass for customers and really appreciate my tips.
I don't know if these people were just unthoughtful, stupid, ignorant or just too busy with themselves to have a little consideration for someone who must've made 15 trips to their table. Either way, the next time? A little advice: If you're going to tip, average service 'merits' 10 percent, great service 15-20. In folding money, if you don't mind. If you can't tip at a bar, go to the liquor store. If you can't tip at a restaurant, eat at home.
There was a movie about a year ago in which all the Mexicans in SoCal disappeared, so no lawns were mowed, no lettuce picked, etc. The news was all over it. What would happen if all the Mexicans disappeared? Insert waiters, delivery drivers, gas station attendants, paperboys, busboys, or cashiers where it says 'Mexicans', and think about that next time you wanna ask a complete stranger about his eye.
I've worked in some form of the service industry for more years than I care to admit, and in the last few years, I've seen samples of incivility and outright rudeness that would cause Emily Post to shamble out her grave Shaun Of The Dead style, just to stick a goddamed fork in her eye hole. To wit:
Well, She's Here To Serve Me
This stunner was uttered by the former Mrs. Rex. We had been dating a couple of months and were in the grocery store checkout line. The checker gave her a big, friendly greeting, and the future Mrs. Rex did not reply. About a minute later, TFMR asked for a pen. We left without TFMR returning the checker's 'have a great day!'
Once outside, I basically said something like What the eff is your problem? Would it have hurt you to be nice to her?
When TFMR informed me that this was a service person, not a friend of hers, I let her in on some of the truths of life she obviously had not picked up, being a 26 year old preschool teacher who had never worked in service.
This probably is that girl's whole gig. 8 hours a day at that fucking register, and probably 90% of customers treat her the way you did. A smile and a 'I'm great, how're YOU?' might have made her day. Treat anyone in that position like that again, and we're done.
The former Mrs. Rex will now chat a waiter's head off about how she like's their haircut, and usually tips 30%, even if the steak is too rare.
What's With Your Eye?
I'm only calm enough to talk about this now, but it only happened a few days ago, and I swear to Jesus and sweet Baby Jesus, I had a brief flash about picking up this customer's steak knife at the table and going all young-Vito-Corleone-on-Don-Ciccio-back-in-the-hometown on this guy's ass.
When I was a little kid, I had no peripheral vision in one of my eyes. Medicine in the early '70's being what it was, they fixed the vision problem, but the surgery left the muscle under my eye a little droopy, and the eye doesn't move quite in sync with the other. We're not talking Marty Feldman ("Damn your eyes!" "Too late!") here, but be a little kid who looks a little different, and see if you aren't a teensy-weensy bit sensitive at the ripe old age of 40.
So, I've got these two customers at my table, and right off I can tell these two are gonna be a challenge. They're both on phones with loud, obnoxious ringtones, they're dressed for a truck pull and are oblivious to the fact that there are other people around them. I take a deep breath and approach the table.
"Hey, how are you folks? My name is.."
"What's with your eye?"
Had my manager just pulled out his fatted man-steak and started working one out in the middle of the kitchen, I could not have been more taken aback.
"I'm sorry?"
"Your eye.. it looks kind of fucked up."
At this point, I can hear Carmine Coppola's strings coming up in the background, and the smell of olive trees in the air.
"Oh.. some minor surgery as a child..."
"You should get that shit fixed, man."
Now, should you think I'm embellishing this for the reader's entertainment, I'll admit; that's some pretty tasty dialogue. Make the guy an Al Qeida foot soldier while yer at it, baby!
Nope. This guy makes Amy's bitch customer in Waiting seem like a Mormon missionary. I felt like Clubber Lang in the second fight in Rocky III. Expect Balboa to come straight ahead swinging, and he's out there doing Sugar Ray Robinson. Totally thrown off my game. I excused myself and had another server take the table. When it came to my manager's attention, he wanted to throw them out. I said it was cool, but it really wasn't.
Why in holy hell would you ask that kind of question, to a total stranger yet, and then follow it up with insensitive comments that make what Don Imus said sound like a glowing eulogy at a state funeral? Jesus Tap Dancing Christ! Suffice to say, I'm now wearing a pair of eyeglasses with plain glass lenses, lest some clueless clod feel the need to blurt out his ignorant, uncivil tripe again.
If You Can't Afford To Tip Right, Eat At Home
I was working with a waitress who was pulling a double. She got this table that was a ton of work. A few kids, constant refills of whatever could be refilled, coupons, substitutions, you name it. So, at the end, she sees them put cash in the bill folder and leave. When she gets to the table, the bill is paid to the cent in the folder, and there is a handful of varied and scattered change.. strewn all over the table.
Well, she was a little frazzled at this point, so I scooped up the change. On top of that a handful of change is really insulting, it came to about 8 percent. Double turds!
Now, tipping is not a right. Yes, most waiters, bartenders and delivery drivers live on their tips. And I can tell you, I bust ass for customers and really appreciate my tips.
I don't know if these people were just unthoughtful, stupid, ignorant or just too busy with themselves to have a little consideration for someone who must've made 15 trips to their table. Either way, the next time? A little advice: If you're going to tip, average service 'merits' 10 percent, great service 15-20. In folding money, if you don't mind. If you can't tip at a bar, go to the liquor store. If you can't tip at a restaurant, eat at home.
There was a movie about a year ago in which all the Mexicans in SoCal disappeared, so no lawns were mowed, no lettuce picked, etc. The news was all over it. What would happen if all the Mexicans disappeared? Insert waiters, delivery drivers, gas station attendants, paperboys, busboys, or cashiers where it says 'Mexicans', and think about that next time you wanna ask a complete stranger about his eye.
2 comments:
Hi... how are you? How is YOUR day going?
is that better?
BTW - I want everyone reading this to know that the MRs. Rex referred to is NOT ME (Rex Ex 1, see prior post).
Thank you.
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