Hi Internet! It's been a week since I blogged, but it feels like forever. Anyway. I'd just like to take this moment to point out what a horrible asshole thing it is to seat yourself in a restaurant that has a hostess. It happens all the time at The Cafe and usually it's either:
1) People seat themselves on the patio and then look confused and panicky when somebody doesn't come out to wipe their ass within 30 seconds
or
2) People who come in the door, blow past the hostess, and choose their own table while the hostess runs to catch up. Even better than those who self seat are those who self seat and then move because omigod that table was horrible how do you expect me to sit there.
Quite honestly, I have been known to "punish" self seaters by pretending not to notice them and then acting completely surprised when they finally catch my eye by waving insanely. "Oh, I'm so sorry! Did you seat yourself? We normally seat our guests, so that must be why I didn't notice you!"
Basically, self seating at a restaurant with a host is like busting into somebody's house without knocking and ignoring them while you try out their furniture. On a related note: STOP MOVING THE CHAIRS AROUND. All the chairs are the same. fuck off.
A few weird things happened this past week. My co-worker came back to the wait station last Sunday and told me that her table had requested the kitchen cut up her steak for her because it would be "too much work." I looked at the table in question, expecting to see some 1-top old woman with arthritis, and instead saw an able bodied group of 20 somethings drinking mimosas. Obviously.
Oh and then I also waited on a pair of women who ordered some coffee and tea, and THIS bullshit conversation happened:
Tea Drinker: I need milk
Coffee Drinker: Oh, you can have mine! I drink coffee black, so I won't use this at all.
Tea Drinker: No, I can't use that. I need my own.
I actually don't understand what you mean..
See this is the kind of shit that gets me in trouble because I actually get really confused by nonsensical requests and kind of stand there with this "wait....what did you just say?" look on my face. Because...I can't believe separate milk creamers actually matter. Seriously. Somebody please explain to me why that matters. I'll give you five dollars if you can give me a good reason. Keep in mind that the milk pitcher that the first lady offered to the second lady was completely untouched and had just been placed on the table. I just....can't with that bullshit.
Of course, none of this previous nonsense mattered by Thursday when this showed up outside work:
Yup kids. It's the weed mobile. Selling supposedly weed infused lollipops.
Delicious candies.
So of course our morning shift was derailed by sending the hostess out to acquire weed lollipops. Who the fuck knows if they're legit or not. One of my co-workers ate one and said they were fine, but not very strong. I have a couple but haven't tried them yet. That would be a fucking brilliant scam though. Buy a truck, pimp it out with artwork, and sell generic drug store suckers for five bucks a pop. I mean, hell that thing would pay for itself in a day. I shall keep you posted on the effects or non-effects of said weed lollipops. For science purposes obviously.
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