arrogant customers

I have been training on the bar for the last couple of weeks so it's been a while since my last blog.
Being on bar has so far been uneventful mainly because I've been on quiet nights and seeing as I'm new to everything, I have remained super cautious. But I probably will have a disaster story prepared after Friday night, my first "real" bar shift, and one of the two busiest nights of the week. Blending cocktails without the blender's lid securely in place? Could happen. Breaking wine glasses from shoving the dishwashing tray into the machine to fiercely? Could happen. I'll keep you posted.

I did pick up a server shift this week though (I must have been momentarily drunk or something to agree picking up a fifth shift this week when I have exams around the corner) on Monday. Being the Queens Birthday we opened during lunch. I rolled up hungover and tired, hoping that the equally hungover folk of where I live (you see all ages out the night before a public holiday... and I mean all ages) would assume everything was going to be closed. I was wrong.

We were reasonably busy, and by reasonably I mean, it might rival a sunday lunch or a thursday night or something, so nothing we couldn't handle. But one table I had to deal with made me loose my nut on what would otherwise have been a successful shift.

We have this regular that comes in about monthly. I always end up serving him and I don't enjoy it. He usually comes in with one or more arrogant rich, but stupid friends. They are the kind of guys that call their mates "gay" or "pussy" for not ordering a steak. They get drunk and rowdy, order craploads of food and talk over booths to other tables and whenever I ask a question they respond with some sort of wisecrack that I usually fail to recognise as a joke because I am usually too swamped to even care. So this guy, we call him "corona guy" came in with three people I didnt recognise. First of all they had to wait for ages to get service because a payment took about fifteen minutes for me to take because of the stupid eftpos machines and I had three other tables demanding my attention. Not really my fault. So I tried to make everything perfect for them so I wouldn't have to deal with this guys crap.

I took all their order and asked corona guy what he would like to drink by saying "Are you going to order another drink mate?" I tend to pick and choose who I call "mate" and who I call "sir" based on their appearance, company and the way they talk to me. This guy wears a hoodie and regularly drops the c-bomb. He was most certainly not a "sir". So I called him "mate" and that really got him going. Everytime I asked a question it was "Ohh maaattteeee... I'll have a diet coke maaaattttteeee" in a really biting, sarcastic tone. I wanted to run away from the table then and there. I had been nothing but polite and he already took a jab at me.

Everything was going smoothly until their steaks came out. I could go into the details of what caused this massive earth shattering screw up, but we would be here forever. Basically the kitchen manager, "Sam" gave me pretty much the entirely wrong meal in the wrong order. Not only did the two guys who ordered filets get cheap shitty sirloins, but everything was either undercooked or overcooked. It was horrendous. And I knew I was going to cop it... even though it wasn't my fault. It was horrible. My manager forced me to run the food, check on the food and apologise for the mistake. So I had to go back to this table, the table where the guy had been having a go at me all day long, three times. All the while this was happening, my other tables were being ignored. One of my tables who had the bill even left, and seeing as I couldn't take the payment (because I was trying to make sense of this massive screw up in the kitchen) I had no idea where the $250 they owed me had gone. It was a shitty shitty day.

Sam the kitchen manager thought it was funny that I was so stressed out. So next time two arrongant customers get served up well done sirloins instead of the medium filets they asked for. I am going to make personally leave the kitchen and explain to the table why there was a mistake. And next time the guy comes in I am not going to serve him. And if I drop his food off at the table and he asks for anything, even if its tomato sauce... I'm just going to "forget about" it. I know its not much, but its my way of protesting.

I just really wanted to vent.

J