Another Saturday night in this hell-hole restaurant. 9:45 and I get a three top, almost an hour before we close, and I was just about to leave.
A mother, and her two early-twenty-year-old daughters sit down.
The mom orders an Amaretto Sour. The first daughter orders a cranberry juice. The second daughter says she needs a minute to mull it over.
I go grab their drinks from the other side of the restaurant, and come back, the other daughter in position 2 says, “Which is better, the Manhattan or the Hardy Pace?”
As a server, position one is the first position on the left of the table, then it goes to two, the one beside them, three, four, etc. This is how everyone knows what you are eating, where to serve it, and if you change seats. God save your soul if you do.
“Definitely the Hardy pace,” I said, honestly, I can’t even remember what’s in the two drinks I just want these bitches to hurry the fuck up.
“Ok I’ll have that.”
The mother asks, “Can we have some of that Asian bread?”
“Um, excuse me?” I looked at her as if she was stupid. “The Artesian bread?” I asked questionably.
“Yes can we have some of that, please?”
“Is it gluten free?” the mother asks.
I thought she was joking, so I looked at her again as if she was fucking stupid, “Um… no.”
“Oh well my daughter can’t have it then.”
“Its OK mom, you guys can still eat it,” position one says.
“OK we will have some of the bread, and how are these lettuce wraps? They say they have gluten in them.”
“Yes mam they do, they have soy, so they are not gluten free.”
The mom looks at the gluten free daughter in position one and says, “Well, it’s not bread.”
The daughter says, “It’s ok, it’ll be fine. We can get them.”
So many people walk into restaurants and claim they have an allergy to something
these days, especially with all the trends going on. I have. I hate onions, so I say I have an allergy.
An educated restaurant staff knows some things are not true. This is the difference between a 10% fast-food/Applebee’s tip and a 20% fine-dining tip.
We know ingredients, preparations, allergies. We know what wine to recommend, what food you will like, how to accommodate your high- maintenance ass. It may not be a college education, but it is certainly an education, a trick of the trade, and if it weren’t for us, you might die on the table from a nut allergy.
I had a lady call in one day for a to-go order in the middle of the lunch rush at
“Um do you have anything that is not made with mammals? I’m allergic to mammals”
“Um excuse me?” I said, thinking it was a prank call.
“Um, yeah, I have an allergy to mammals and I just don’t want to order something that will make me have a reaction.”
“OK mam… well a mammal will be cooking your food for you is that OK? Because a mammal will also be serving it to you.”
Eventually the bitch ordered her food with no hesitations.
I went and grabbed the Hardy Pace for the girl and rushed back, “I put your lettuce wraps in, but I just want to let you know that if you really do have an allergy to gluten, there is a lot of it in the lettuce wraps because of the soy sauce, and I am told to inform you that you should not eat them.”
“Ok thank you,” gluten-free-position-one says, adding, “Can I have some ice for my juice.”
“Sure I’ll go grab it,”
I walk all the way back to the back, grab the ice, and come back to the table.
“Oh can I have a straw as well?” Gluten-free-position-one says.
I force a smile, “Sure I’ll grab you one on my way back. Are you guys ready to order, or do you have any questions?”
Gluten-free-position-one asks, “Yes what are the FrItes on the steak frites”
I corrected her, “Frites are the French word for fries. Pomme Frites equals French fries.”
“Oh well I can’t have them, they aren’t gluten free.”
I roll my eyes, while the daughter sitting next to her, points to the menu in front of position one and says, “Yes it is gluten free.”
“Well just in case can I please have the mashed potatoes instead.”
“Sure. How would you like your steak cooked?”
“Well done.” She said.
Of fucking course you fucking would you basic bitch.