Stories of a Disgruntled Waiter (Part 1)

by Hate Fest on November 25, 2008

Throughout my six years as a waiter in a high class restaurant, I've had to deal with every type of character you can imagine. There's people ranging from king jew, who feels like he owns the restaurant and complains about thinks like "Theres not enough cinnamon in the raisin bread" (which happens to be free), to the masculine wife who orders for her husband AND cuts his steak for him, to the human ken doll, who wears under armor out to a restaurant. There are hundreds more characters who I may delve into in the future, but for today, I think I'd like my focus on just how much of a dick I am, and why I, like most other waiters are probably pieces of shit not worthy of that 12% tip you left thinking you're impressing your bitch of a date (yes we talk about her tits in the kitchen).¼div>‚ I am an asshole waiter. Well, was, and may be again in the future if my asshole ways carry on into my post graduate career search. Why am I an asshole you may ask? It's not like I ever spit in anyones food, or jacked up their tab, or took their key off the valet hook and stole their gps while they were eating (right?). It's because myself, along with my fellow friends and waitstaff like to make fun of you, your disabled grandmother, your girlfriend, or whatever else, while you're trying to enjoy your meal. Here are two examples to gain interest.

‚ I'm probably going to go to hell for this one, which involves a set of regulars that come into the restaurant. This set of regulars consists of an older man who accompanies his two elderly parents out to dinner on a weekly basis. Seems normal enough, except for his mother suffers from a severe shaking disorder which is either a.) too much coffee, b) post traumatic stress syndrome, c) a serious cocaine problem, or d) Parkinson's Disease. I think we all know where this one is going. Anyways, the people are nice enough, but the fucking son and husband are so concerned with not letting her know her disease is apparent, that they ignore her banging on the plate with her fucking fork and knife like shes dropping the beat for a rap battle. Instead of ignoring this, my co workers an I have dubbed this fine specimen, DJ Grandma. DJ grandma drops the funkiest beats, and with each given day the tempo increases. At first we were able to freestyle over it in the back corner, but at this point all we can do is drop a couple skat verses.¼/div>

‚ Unfortunately, DJ Grandma is not the only old woman who has passed under the condesending eyes of judgement also known as your friendly drink waiter: Enter Darth Grandma. Darth Grandma probably liked to smoke while burning trash in her backyard in Jersey while growing up, so its no surprise that at the ripe age of 80 (ish?) that she is now breathing only with the aide of an oxygen tank. A better man would bow his head in respect and would pour a whiskey old fashioned into the old broads I.V., but not this guy. Myself and the other waiters make a point of walking past the table whenever one of our members of the rebel alliance are waiting on her making comments like"use the force", and introducing ourselves with names like Han, and Luke. It's so funny how they totally don't get how we're comparing her life threatening ailment to Lord Vader. Maybe it's time for grandma to go down with the death star.¼/div>

‚ Anyway's this is just a small look into the life of a disgruntled waiter. Maybe I'm pissed because I'm waiting tables with a $200,000 degree, or maybe I'm just one of the finest haters this planet has to offer. Either way, I know my lack of employment will allow me to share a fresh round of wait hate soon enough.¼/div>

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