Customer gets my attention in abrupt, startling way. It’s probably worth mentioning that my server/bartender job was at a wedding facility that purported to cater to classy and upscale wedding guests/customers, but had guests not unlike those at Free Taco Night on Taco Tuesday with a “Me first and the gimme gimme gimmes” with a side of “Phuck yo feelings” type of mentality.
Customer then has a variety of vocal tones and deliveries to choose from when making a request. Customer chooses “Patronizing/Passive Aggressive” from his settings menu.
“Can YOU get me a glass of water? Is that something YOU can do?”
Note: Customer says “YOU” as if I am a mentally impaired trained ape. Wrong again, customer. The mentally impaired trained ape is the person NOT standing and taking your order.
Example: Middle aged mom of a teenage boy selects the “I’m older than you and therefore know so much more about life” vocal tone/delivery from her personal settings menu: “The DJ really needs to eat. Make sure he eats, okay?” This mom, who is in actuality only about 10-11 years older than I am, emphasizes the word “okay” as if I am a six year old child who needs to be redirected into doing my job correctly because it sure looks like after 13 years as a server and being twice her son’s age, I can use some condescending “pointers.” What this woman didn’t know was I teach high school as my second job. I am very likely more educated than she. I eat kids her son’s age for breakfast. But definitely talk to me like I’m even younger and more incompetent than your son. I guess it’s to my detriment that I look very young for my age and was working with mostly teenagers at the time. Oh the sacrifices I make in order to earn extra money in the summer when schools are not in session.
Sidebar: I actually had the DJ’s dinner plate in my hand right as this mom made her “helpful” statement because believe it or not, I am quite capable of carrying out the duties of a job that I’ve been employed since the time her son was shitting his diapers. At least I can find some comfort in not being called a “Fucking idiot” like my 20 year old coworker for making the tragic mistake of pouring a wedding guest iced tea instead of water. Factoid: My fellow server quit immediately after that happened. I guess being called names and not getting tips isn’t everyone’s “cup of tea.” See what I did there?
I am serving wedding cake to customers. I put a slice of chocolate cake in front of ratchet-ass college girl with a high pitched voice not unlike a drunk Minnie Mouse. She tells me (while selecting “Rude Biotch” from her personal delivery settings): “Excuse me. You just set a piece of chocolate cake in front of me.” Startled, I thought maybe that was the rare time I mistook a piece of delicious chocolate cake for a steaming turd. Nope. She just didn’t care for that flavor and felt being passive aggressive was the most effective way to inform me. Well done, Skankzilla.
I think she meant to tell me, “May I have a piece of Red Velvet cake from your next layer instead?” That would have indicated she was in at least some form, a civilized human being. Last time I make that mistake.
Fun fact: All of my customers expect 5 star service and never once leave a tip.
“Phuck yo tip.”
Customers at open bar where alcohol is taken care of all night by host (just not my tip or self esteem): “We’ll have 19 Patron shots.”
Same guests take those shots without leaving a tip then ask, “Now we want 13 more.” Still no tip or even a “Please” or a “Thank you.” I say playfully, “Come on guys, don’t forget your girl” since I have to rely on guests’ generosity or lack thereof to make enough of a living to pay to eat this week. My minimum hourly wage alone just doesn’t quite cut it, unfortunately. Not even in 1957. Instead, I give away $2,500 worth of Top Shelf liquor from the “open bar” and get $3 in tips for the last hour of a grueling 6.5 shift with non- tipping, rude, and demanding bullies. Then some of the customers go behind my back and tell my boss:
“The bartender didn’t smile at us!”
“It’s all YOUR fault!”
As the prolific Snoop Dogg once said, “I don’t love you hoes, I’m out the door.”