Work Hard, Play Hard? But, all on one bill…

It’s been another interesting week in my world, filled with the usual, and the unusual.

First, a word about our European friends: Those of us in the food service industry have our stereotypes, and Europeans fall in the “get away from me” category. Because the food at my particular establishment has European influences, and could be described as Euro-Fusion, we do get many through the doors.

The other night, I had a European one top. This particular fellow was a scruffy, 60-something year old man. He walks in at about 5:00 p.m., an hour before prime-time. He choses a table in a dark corner of the empty restaurant, as if to get away from the non-existent crowds, and make me navigate the entire empty restaurant to get to him.

The man orders an iced-tea - simple enough, and would like a bowl of olives. But, he does not want any old bowl of olives…

Old Man: “I vant a bull of oleefs. Bus, let me ask-a-you: Are zey the natural kind?”

Me: “Well, I’m not sure. What do you mean by natural?”

Old Man: “Do zey comes with daz sids?”

Me: “Sids - sir?”

Old Man: “Yes. Sids in ze mivvle.”

Me: “Oh! Seeds in the middle! Yes sir, they are pitted olives.”

So, I bring the man a bowl with about 12 olives - green - with pits - from the bar… The old man finishes them and pours the juice into his tea. I suppose he wanted a dirty iced tea up with a lemon…

Old Man: “Ze oleefs vere ok, but zey were not natural.”

Me: “Did they taste alright to you? The only other olives we have are turned into pastes by the chief for cooking, and unfortunately I do not have access to them, but I can see what I can do, if you would like, sir.”

Old Man: “Vell, I dunt know. But zey vere nut natural.”

Me: “Honestly, sir, they come from a jar.”

Old Man: “You only leef once. I’ll take anuber bull.”

Me: “Yes sir.”

As the place filled up, the old man quietly ate his seafood dinner … for 2.5 hours… His bill came to $39 and he left a 50-spot and told me to keep the change. Nice enough man, but I have never had anyone so interested in olives before…

—————–

Today at lunch, some sort of women’s association decided to have lunch at our restaurant. They called two days in advance and reserved a table for 11. The women, all middle aged with an old-foggey mixed in the bunch arrive at the same time and are escorted to their table.

They arrive one by one and begin to chit-chat, dissecting everything from our lighting, menu font, chair foam thickness and my tie.

Just as everyone is seated, a 12th individual arrives. The busboys and I busily make room for her by adding a table on to their already elongated 3-table chain-link.

Two women order wine, some others iced tea. I bring them their drinks while they devour the bread and butter as if they had not eaten in weeks.

Finally, it comes time to order. Despite 11 women ravenously devouring five baskets of bread, upon ordering, all but 4 order egregiously cheap lunches. Two only order a bowl of $7.50 soup and water. Finally, the salads arrive for 4 of the women (the four who ordered actual lunches, not just a few side items). The other women bitched that they wanted salad and it’s not right for me to serve some people salad but not others.

Two women comment that the salads do not taste right. “Is there a problem?” I ask. “Yes, it tastes too fresh…” Well, we all know where this is heading. Sorry, we don’t use preservatives. So, the women dump salt on their salad to remind them of Applebea’s of McDonald’s or some other processed food factory. The soup was too hot (ugh!) and the wine glasses too heavy (???) and the door is ugly, can we change the color of the glass from clear to “something pastel?” Yes, this is in my control. I am also asked if I will give them a group discount (we do have group discounts on parties of 30 or more without alcohol and 20 or more if they are ordering from the bar, but not for 12, sorry). “But we have 20 people in our club!” Well, where are they?

Meanwhile, Miss Piggy, eater of 2 baskets of bread, while ordering a second glass of wine and taking her first bite of salad looks up and says, “Would you ladies like a salad? I am sure he can bring more out.”

I remind the women only full lunches come with salad, but I can have more made rather quickly for $6 each. The women look like they have just witnessed a ghost walk in the restaurant and decline the offer.

Two other women order wine and the meal is served. I notice one women did not receive food - I check back to the expo and notice that it is empty. I run out to her and apologize… her meal is taking longer than expected to cook..blah blah blah. Her table mate explains that she is very very hungry and wants it now - Sure, I would be happy to serve her raw meat. No, really, I would!

The chief cries out a certain expletive and the meal is delivered about 7 minutes late. Miss Piggy, now on her third wine, is finished with her lamb and sampling other dishes. With a mouth full of food she asks for SEPARATE CHECKS!!!!!

***NOTE: Separate checks are the worst thing EVER to ask for when eating out. I would rather follow you to the bathroom and wipe your ass than split your check. It takes too much time and effort.

I explained to the women that the policy, as it is written on the menu, is that I cannot split a check more than 2-ways, but I would be happy to run multiple credit cards for various amounts.

No. They each wanted their own itemized bill.

“Sorry, but —” My manager interrupts. “Of course, we would be happy to split the ticket any way you would like.”

Fuck me.

Just as Miss Piggy thanks the manager for the separate checks, a 4 top of some of my best and most loyal costumers sit down, asking for my section. They walked in off the street a few weeks ago and have been coming to us about once per week either for dinner or lunch since. They are two couples who tip well and are very friendly.

I great them and have a busboy take their drink orders. I apologize that the table next-door is giving me the run around, and I might be planted at the computer for about 10 minutes. If they need anything, let someone know and I will bring it for them, and I will send out an appetizer on the house for the inconvenience (I am allowed to comp so much food per day for to compensate for these situations - usually about $20 - $30 per $1,000 in sales). Usually, I don’t use these comps, but for loyal costumers (2x/week + and 19% + tippers), I will often send out a free desert or small appetizer just because… You spend $7.00 and you make a lot more in return - business is business.

After some time, I split their check. The 12 women spent a whopping $190.00 and leave me a collective $28.18 - three of whom tipped me in change - one left $2.84 in coinage. Think of all the sodas and candy bars I can buy from machines this weekend!!

The women, of course, complained that it look me 16 minutes to divide the checks. I explain what splitting checks entails and why it takes so long, and thus why we have our policy. I explain we made an exeption, but understand the amount of time needed to split checks is why our policy exists as it does.

“But, it’s all computerized.” One woman reminds me. The concept is lost on her.

————–

After work today, I decided to go on an excursion.

A friend of mine told me about snuff he uses for work. It’s small, minty and spitless. Because busy nights hinder one’s ability to engage in nicotine goodness, especially when it is needed the most, I decided this might be a worthwhile use of my money.

The first 3 gas stations did not carry it. So, Hell bent to find this stuff, I decided to hit up every store in sight. 19th time is a charm…

And now to enjoy my evening off…