and it all suddenly comes rushing back...
work. oh, sweet work. peaceful kara is missing right now. she is very busy. you have been warned.while i should be thankful for the cash flow and just keep my pie hole shut... THOSE TENNIS PLAYING PEOPLE!!!! weekly, they make the trek from their homes to play tennis near the bar... dear tennis people, hear me now!
*i'm not your pet. contrary to popular belief, snapping and/or whistling at me to get my attention will not make me move faster, nor will it magically disappear the other 10 tables i' am waiting on. i have a name. ask for it. use it.
*i know you have all the Latest Most Trendy tennis playing equipment. i can see it as you haul it through the door after your big match in bags that are larger than you--the big match, by the way, that you somehow played without breaking a sweat in 90 degree weather. your perfectly coifed hairs are all still in place, your make-up flawless. but i digress. you really don't need to heap your goods in the pile along with the luggage of your party of 15 other equally as friendly fellow tennis folk in the middle of the walkway. see those other people at the other tables i need to get to and can't? i didn't think so. and how is it that after i ask politely to pass through, you move back to the same exact spot you were in?
*if you don't know what you want and i say, "i'll give you just a few minutes to look at the (one page) menu" - i mean i'll be back in a few minutes. seriously. the time you spend discussing that volley that saved the world could set me back 20 minutes.
*no, you can't "just have" the drinks on my tray that are meant for another table. i promise i'll bring yours after you order and i ring them in.
*we don't have orange slices. is this really a reason to scream at me? i'll be more than happy to give you a list of things that need screaming about if you so desire...
*we're a restaurant. we sell food. when you order extra food, you are charged for it. that's how it works.
*i know we're on The Plazie, but we only have three wines to choose from. red, white and pink. no need to get pissed when i tell you so. there is always the place next door that will sell you a bottle of water for 12 bucks - and charge you $300 to reserve a table. have at it.
*your wallet sized tip card that breaks down the 10 and 15% tip you should leave for the total of your bill does not take into account the 10 times you've one-stepped me. my brilliant wit. my finely honed serving skills. the 2 minute/two bite check back after i've dropped your food. the refill i got you without your even asking. my smiling, sunny face as you verbally spit on me: "what else do you do besides (long, dramatic pause) this???" it is simply a basis from which to begin, a minimum if you will... i make 3 bucks an hour. my tips are subtracted from that pay. there is no such thing as a paycheck. in fact, i will most likely owe money at the end of the year. i see your wad of hundred dollar bills when you pull your wallet out to pay. in fact, you taking a great amount of care making sure that EVERYONE in the place sees your wad. i think that table upstairs missed it - you should go show them too.
*how is it that my two-year-old has better manners than you? please and thank you and excuse me are very easy things to say. it is called Basic Level Of Respect. here - i'll just help you. when you elbow me, causing me to drop a tray of drinks for the nice people that i have FINALLY been able to get to because you held me at the table for 10 minutes while you tried to decide between the spinach artichoke dip and the grilled chicken salad (should you be naughty?) - excuse me or i'm sorry works nicely in these situations. when you barrel into me with your ginormous bag or orange tanning lotioned body, same deal. when you trip me or shove your chair into me... you get the picture... i think? i hope?
*you voted for bush, didn't you? and would do it again, wouldn't you?
see you next week, tennis people. same bat time, same bat place.
ah, the service industry never does really change...
there.
patience restored.
that's better.
carry on.
note: teeheeeheeeeee
Labels: johnson county, tennis people, work
posted by supergirlest @ Tuesday, May 22, 2007
