Ren Fairs, Star Trek, and a visit from the DBG

I suck at updating. I am the worst in the history of things ever. I'm also the worst at putting my laundry away. I've had clean laundry sitting on my bed for a week. Because...well mostly just because I suck at life.

So about a week and a half ago, there was a Sunday Medieval Festival in the park. Apparently the park does this every year. And I'm pretty sure I knew about it, because I remember one time I was going to the A and this dude with a tail was coming out of the elevator and I was like wtf is that shit?

Anyway. It's that time of year again. And my New Uptown Restaurant that I work at now had a special medieval menu (read: sausages and pretzels) and we all had to dress up, which basically meant the girls wore long skirts and the one guy with shoulder length hair wore it down instead of in a ponytail. We classy.

Anyway, to be honest I was expecting a lot of this sort of thing :

Because this is the extent of my ren fair knowledge. 

Oh, and as a bonus, THIS EXISTS:

RUB A DUB DUB

Yup. Some guy made a re-mix of that dude going rub a dub dub. I swear, sometimes I just love the internet. So, so much.

Anyway. All the freaks were out. But, you know, whatever. It's their special day. Let em be. The thing I couldn't get behind were the random  weirdos  who  just  took the occasion to dress as whatever weird fucking shit they wanted. Like, there was a chick dressed as some kind of moulin rouge/french prostitute/can-can dancer thing.  That was weird.  Even weirder, however, were the two dudes sitting at the bar in full on Star Trek uniforms.

Exactly

Then, to cap off that day, who the fuck should show up but Douchey Bar Guy. I don't even know what the fuck he was doing there. He lives on the UWS near The Cafe.  He shouldn't be so far uptown, he shouldn't be up in my hood, and he certainly shouldn't be all up in my zone in my new workplace. That was just friggin wonderful. And of course his horrible satan child was with him.  Luckily I was legit busy and didn't really have a chance to say more than "hello."

I have to emphasize though, that this all occurred on a very weird, random day.  On the whole, Uptown Restaurant is a million times better and easier than The Cafe.  That said, two days ago a woman attempted to follow me into the kitchen because if her friend didn't get a hamburger immediately he'd "go into a coma." 

Please, tell me more things I totally care about.

Of course that all happened more than once at The Cafe. The "coma" part.  I may already have written about this on here, but at one point a crazy old man told my friend the hostess that he needed his food RIGHT NOW BECAUSE DIABETES. Then the food came and it was a waffle that he proceeded to douse in maple syrup.  Ruh roh.  There were also people constantly trying to enter the kitchen, though I think part of that was them just looking for the bathroom.  I always wanted to say, "Bitch, do you SEE a toilet back here?  Wanna crap in that bus tub? Be my guest!"  One time a guy actually came back into the wait station though, and when I tried to direct him to the bathroom he told me he "needed salads" and proceeded to stick his face in the window and look through the food. WHAT IS THAT. GO AWAY.

But enough of that nonsense. We've got Roasting Backlog to do!

January 12, 2012

Woman: I'll have a carafe of cotes du rhone.

Me: I'm so sorry. I'm out of cotes du rhone. Can I get you a different red?

Man: Okay, we'll just have a bottle of the cotes du rhone.

January 15, 2012

First table of the day. Table 45 brought their own maple syrup. It's organic!

Shit like that was  always happening at The Cafe. People were always constantly wanting me to microwave the maple syrup. Which...who gives a fuck? I could understand if it was refrigerated or something, but it's room temperature. It's not cold enough to alter the temperature of your food. So basically...No. No I won't do that. Eat a dick.

One more story for the day:

January 22, 2012

So...this scuzzy guy came in and told the hostess he was a casting director for a modeling agency, and he needed models to go to some church on Amsterdam. When none of the waitresses went with him he started soliciting my tables.

I remember this! If I recall correctly, it was already during kind of a busy brunch, and this guy that looked like a bum came in and started asking us all if we could model for him. And he was creepy. Like...picture some sleazeball pervert trying to pick up girls outside the Port Authority and lure them back to his "studio," after which they mysteriously disappear in a Lifetime Original Movie type scenario.  It was that kind of guy. I think I was eventually the one who got him to go away, mainly because I'm kind of scary and I very rarely showered before a brunch shift, because what's the point if you'll smell like eggs by 8 AM anyway.  So, you know. I'm good for protecting the pretty people and chasing off the scary dudes.

I swear on the newest episodes of all my favorite shows that I will update this more often. I SWEAR.

Keep reading

I still have so many roasting stories.

Yo internet! Here's a fun fact. It has now been a month....a whole MONTH since I left The Cafe!

omigod I know. I can't believe it either.

Haven't had much going on at the new gig, but there's going to be a medieval fair in the park on Saturday, so I'm sure all the code 3 whackadoos will be out, and I'll have some fun stories to share. Also, we're going to be selling turkey legs. Because nothing says class like turkey legs. We're encouraged to come in costume, but really, like I have money to go buy beer wench paraphernalia. I think not.

Okay. More stories

"January 7, 2012
Some lady called around 10 and wanted to make a 13 person "reservation" for noon

--I'm just gonna break in with some personal thoughts here.  The Cafe does not, and has never taken reservations.  No matter how many times we would explain this to people they would say things like, "well...what if we have a group" and "we're coming from far away" and "the attorney general wants to sit there."  Now really. I don't give a flying shit who you are. We don't take reservations, so fuck the hell off. But I digress.

She also wanted to order at that time (10 AM) and have the food ready exactly at noon. Uh...no. So ten people came in at noon, said they only had 30 minutes, then ordered steak sandwiches. And they wanted a free dessert "for a birthday." FUCK NO."

I'm not doing that.

Okay, so let's be real here kids. Unless you are going to a fast food place, there's no way in hell you're getting in and out at lunch in 30 minutes. Also, STEAK?! Fucking steak sandwiches! Do you know that meat has to cook? I mean do you? MEAT HAS TO COOK. Fun facts. Yeah...you're all a pain in my ass, but maybe if you ordered omelettes and salads I could get you in and out quick. STEAK SANDWICHES?! Fuck you. And you. And the eco-friendly adult scooter you rode in on.

Also...free dessert? NO. This is not a goddamn TGIFridays.

Please note: I worked at a TGIFridays for 3.5 years and found it lovely. 

But this is NYC. So no you can't have a "birthday dessert." You can buy a dessert and I will make them put a candle in it to shut you the fuck up. That is all.

Anyway. On to yet another story, also from 1/7/2012

Table 41- "Can I get a flashlight?! I lost the cap of my tooth!"

I don't recognize the handwriting on this one, so I don't know who wrote this, but honestly I'm just confused. Why do you need a flashlight? Are you going to open your mouth like a gaping chasm of doom and make me look in there? What is that? Who are you? I DON'T UNDERSTAND.  I do remember one time this lady came in at like 8 in the morning and demanded to look through ALL the garbage cans because she may have left her teeth in the bathroom the previous night.  And you know. sympathy for the dentures and all, but how did you leave WITHOUT YOUR DAMN TEETH the previous night? Isn't that something you kind of miss?

Bitches are insane. So glad I'm not working on the UWS anymore. And really, it hasn't been the same since Matt Damon moved to California.

I'm sure I'll encounter at least one or two ren fair loonies on Sunday though. And I just can't wait.

UPDATE!!

Addendum to the "tooth cap" story. One of my former co-workers has just informed me that they were working the night of the tooth cap incident and sent me a message with more detail:

"Love your blog. I worked the night of "lost the cap of my tooth". Next to 41 mice/roaches were running in and out by the heater pipe, remember? We were afraid that we will find animals instead of the fuckin' tooth! And there it was. The tooth cap on the floor! I couldn't believe it."

And there you have it.

dirty socks and creepy bread

Holy crap! Can it really have been almost two weeks since I've updated this blog? In my defense, I've been super busy doing important things and being important and stuff. Or...y'know...waiting tables.

The time must be going somewhere though because I haven't done laundry in almost a month, and I'm starting to run out of options.

I was going to update last Saturday, but I had to go to a crazy lamesauce wedding where they spent the entire ceremony warning the newlyweds about the "lure of the devil." So that was fun.

Some of my old regulars from the Cafe found me on Facebook, and according to everybody the entire place sucks balls now, and honestly who's going to tell all the crazy stories, if I'm not there to document them?  Luckily we're not even close to finished.

January 3, 2012

"Can I get the account, please?"

Apparently, this customer meant "the check." People are friggin weird.

January 4, 2012

"Tonight somebody came up to me and told me that somebody else had left their gloves next to the window. They were socks. Worn, dirty, SOCKS.."

Honestly, I don't even understand this bullshit, because this crap happened in January, which means either they changed their socks at the restaurant, or just took off socks at the restaurant and then....walked out into the winter? What the fuck? Who are you?  I bet you have foot herpes or corns or warts or something. Leaving nasty ass socks all over the place.


January 6, 2012

Table 17 brought their own bread and asked Meredith to make it into a sandwich.

NO. Just, NO.

And honestly, that wasn't the last time that happened.  A few weeks before I quit the cafe some crazy lady brought her own bread for me to toast.  WHY?!? Why would you do that?  First of all, it's just a dumb stupid awful pain in the ass thing that you should never ever do....but also, isn't it like, against health code to bring in outside food? I don't know where the fuck your food has been. Maybe that bread was just in your pants. I don't know!  Of course at that place, it was God forbid we ever say "no" to one of the precious UWSiders, so of course I'll take your bread and lovingly toast it with golden sunshine rays straight from the eyes of the baby jeebus.

One of the things I love about my new place is that people can't order anything that's not on the menu. And for the most part, the guests are pretty decent.

Of course, today I had a septuagenarian guy ask me if I'm a swimmer because he lives in a complex with a giant indoor pool and he wants to me to know I'm always welcome. So, you know , that's fun.

I promise myself to update this  more frequently. I've also been promising myself that I'll do the laundry, and that has yet to happen. 

One of these days. It'll happen!

Love to say "you've gotta be fuckin kidding me"

Hello internet!  I've been a bit MIA the past couple weeks due to working every day until going out of town, and then you know....actually going out of town.  And, well I love writing this shit but I'm sure as hell not going to update my blog via smartphone.  Way too much work, too much potential for typos, and anyway I was too busy living it up in my hometown, The Rubber City (that's rubber as in tires btw, though rubber as in condoms would be way sexier.)

I have to say, going back to my hometown and seeing how other restaurants are run, and speaking to Akron waiter friends, it once again occurred to me how goddamn weird my job is.  Not to say that it was always easy working at the chain restaurant but problems were pretty "normal" as far as problems go.....shitty tippers, unruly prom kids, drunks at the bar, Lebron being a non-tipping classless asswipe.  The rest of the time it could be a hell of a lot of fun.

I do love my job at the Cafe despite all the weirdness, but it really is filled to the brim with insanity.  Anyway.  We have a policy at work called "Love to say Yes." It's a pretty straightforward spin on "the customer is always right."  Basically, do whatever you can to accommodate. And, in the most basic sense, I do support this.  My job is to make sure that my guests have a good experience. It actually benefits me for my guests to have a good experience. If my guests have a good experience they will tip well, come back, and maybe even compliment me to my boss.  If my guests have a shitty experience, they won't tip, they'll demand free shit, they'll complain and they might yelp me.  I have never actually tried to make somebody have a bad experience.  Yet the entitlement in the neighborhood is off the charts, and often "love to say yes" just turns into "bend over and take it."

Way back when we first instituted "Love to Say Yes" as a rule back in January 2012, a co-worker of mine drew up this response in the notebook.

And honestly it's not too far from the truth. Everybody has gotten so chicken shit and paranoid about what crazy bullshit these nut bags may post on yelp, that they've taken to bending over backwards to please these people.

Here are some things people have asked me over the years:

Can you butter my toast in the kitchen?

Can you cut my food up in little pieces?

Can I have hummus instead of salad dressing?

Can I have pancakes instead of toast?

The list goes on and on. One time I had a woman who wasn't even my table flag me down and demand that I open her butter packets for her.

Which....just. How helpless are you? There's actually a guy who comes in who either has an artificial arm, or just a non-functioning arm, and he somehow manages to cut his own food and spread butter on his toast. If he can do it, so can you.

One time I had a guy demand that I have the kitchen hand make a custom sauce from scratch for his mussels, because he didn't like the sauce we offered. I made the mistake of saying no and he complained to the manager about what a horrible rude excuse for a human being I am. And honestly, I kind of am a horrible excuse for a human being, but not because of refusal to hand make mussels sauces.

The problem is that these people are so used to having everything exactly as they ask for it, that they actually don't know how to respond when any minor conflict may arise. Last week we had a woman come in who asked about a cocktail we featured last summer.  I recognized the name of the cocktail but couldn't recall the ingredients off of the top of my head.  I told the woman this and she started to tear up. Actual tears were dripping down her face.  And I kept telling her that if she could tell me the ingredients, we'd probably be able to make it for her. But the level of distress was unreal.

My former co-worker once told me he had a theory about Upper West Siders:

You could take them out of the neighborhood, drop them anywhere on earth, and they'd all look around horrified and say "What?! I have to wipe my own ass?!"

Yep. That pretty much sums it up.

Weekend Update: Blasts from the Past

Once again, I've proved myself horribly incompetent and for the second week in a row failed to write a Flashback Friday entry on an actual Friday.  Anyway, I've been delving into the Notebook of Roastings Past and reminiscing about things that happened a few years ago.

Like this delightful gem:

"Today I found a cheese sandwich sitting on a chair by the coat closet."

This was actually me. Like I've said before, the old journal that I get a lot of my old school postings from was a communal employee journal for a while, but the cheese sandwich thing actually happened to me.  I'm pretty sure it was a brunch shift, because that's when all the weirdos come out of the woodwork more than usual.  Anyway, I happened to look over towards the supply closet/bathroom area, and sitting on an extra chair was a plastic baggie containing a cheese sandwich. And I was just like....

Seriously. Bitches be leaving cheese sandwiches everywhere. Who the hell do you people think you are? I mean really.

I'll never understand people who bring extra food to a restaurant.  I mean....our purpose is to have food for you.  Do you think you'll get trapped in here and we'll run out of food and you'll need your cheese sandwich to survive? But then....if that's the case you should take better care of it and not be leaving it on random chairs by the bathroom.

I also had somebody pull out a pizza once, and just start eating it at one of the outside tables.  I didn't really know what to do, because it was after they'd already ordered a bunch of food. I just thought it was really fucking weird that they didn't like....finish eating at our restaurant and then go to a pizza restaurant or something.  Actually I can't remember if they ate the pizza pre or post brunch.  Maybe they brought it with them ahead of time because they were SO STARVING that they needed to eat a pizza while they waited for their eggs. Or something.

Speaking of fun food items, let's kick it back old school to the days of misspelled specials.  We used to have an adorable little Israeli manager.  And seriously, she was fun and I miss her, but her spelling was atrocious.
This was often listed as our soup of the day

I don't know how many times I had to explain to her that we don't want people to think our food will make them "leaky" this happened time and time again.  I think at one point we also had "Pumpkin Brisket" (bisque) soup and "Butternotscoth" cookies. I don't know what the hell a Butternotscoth is, but to me it sounds like some kind of freaky character from The Dark Crystal. 

These days there are less misspellings on the menu, and less weird random food items to be found, and I'm not sure if that makes me happy or sad.    

The weird shit keeps it all interesting, that's for damn sure.