Back from oblivion.

I have never ever gone this long without writing.  Over a month! Holy crapsticks, batman!  I apologize. I'm going to try to get back on track of updating this twice a week. We'll see.  In my defense, I have been sick for the entire month of November. No joke. I started feeling poorly the day after Halloween, and it developed into what was most likely pneumonia.  I'm  mostly recovered but still hacking every now and then. Please note that it is now November 18th.  And yes, I realize my last entry was October 8th. So what I was doing in October those three weeks before I got sick, I have no idea. I'm sure it was something extremely cool and social though, and certainly not me sitting around watching every available episode of Top Model on Hulu starting with Season 1.

Anyway. Still kicking it at the Uptown Restaurant, though I don't know for how much longer since they've just announced they're closing indefinitely in January.  In any case, it does sound like I got out of the Cafe just in time, as I've been hearing horror stories about how psychotic it's getting.

Anyway. Some random thoughts in general regarding the industry, before we get into Roasting stories.

I'm at the point where I just want to laugh at people who order Budweiser. Especially the place I'm currently working at. It's this gorgeous, secluded, somewhat finer dining place in the middle of the park....and you want BUDWEISER??

I also laugh at people who want "white zinfandel," but I'm pretty sure everybody does that.

Not a whole lot of  "crazy" has been happening at the Uptown Restaurant, aside from when we host weddings and you get a lot of drunk weirdos.  I remember one a couple weeks ago where half the family was from Staten Island and trying to act classier than they actually were. That was fun.  That and another wedding a week or so later where a guy promptly inhaled his fish within the first two minutes, then asked if he could also have a steak...just if I had any "extras lying around."  Of course. I always have extra steaks lying around. Piles and piles of extra steaks.  Dumbass.

On a side note, my friend Kathryn sent me this image several weeks ago, and I kept meaning to post it on here and never did.

This is true no matter where you work. Granted, I could tell you horror stories about brunch at the Cafe, and brunch at the Uptown Restaurant is still a million times better, but it's still brunch.  People at brunch are horrible. They're nastier than people during the week, and even more demanding. And I'll never understand it.  Unless you're in a service related job, Saturday is your day off. What the hell are you doing? Why are you in a bad mood? Calm the fuck down!

Anyway. I think that about does it for "current" stories. Let's get into some old school Roasting Lore.

January 15, 2012

"You order an apple at this place, and it comes with a pig!"

--man at table 30

Honestly, I have no idea what this means, whose table this was, or what the hell this guy was talking about.  I'm incredibly confused by all of it.  Also, The Cafe certainly isn't a fancy place, and in over four years of working there I don't know that we ever served roast pigs.  I mean....we didn't serve shit on a plate or anything, but we certainly weren't on the fine dining end of things.

Moving on to a much more exciting story.

January 16, 2012.

"A woman comes into a busy brunch (MLK Day) with a Bud Light can in hand. Obviously drunk and maybe a little crazy too. She asks for some hot water to put in her Ramen cup-of-soup. I say no, and she leaves in a huff. She comes back and wants to order eggs. I send her to the bar where she orders and then walks back over to me, gives me the receipt and tells me she doesn't have enough money, says sorry and leaves!"

And that, my friends is why I do not miss the Upper West Side at all.  UWSiders are kind of crazy in general, but I will say that the Cafe was definitely a magnet for a certain type of person. It probably also didn't help that we were across the street from a methadone clinic.

Winding up with one more quick anecdote:

January 20, 2012

"What gauge of plastic is the menu?"

And THAT is the kind of shit I dealt with five days a week for four years.  Part of me misses the crazy, but part of me is glad I don't have to worry about keeping my subconscious eye-rolls in check.

Til next time!

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!

Old stories and new stories

   I'd apologize for not updating this blog in over a week, but I've been busy with the new job, and a new improv class, and driving people's pets to Ohio and stuff. Seriously. I lead a very exciting and fulfilling life.
I went by the Cafe last Sunday to pick up my final check and found out they were featuring this as a special:

I'd like to say that everything has gone to hell in my absence, but really....shit like this has always happened.  Because nobody really gives a fuck.  Lame shanks are lame, bro. It's just how it is.

I have a couple stories from the new Uptown Restaurant, though none so exciting as anything that ever happened at The Cafe.

Mainly, Tuesday night I waited on Dr Ruth, who to my great surprise was actually still alive. She's batshit as fuck but in the best way possible. She also came equipped with a handbag stuffed with "Sex for Dummies" key chains  and proceeded to hand them out to everybody in the damn restaurant.  Seriously.  When I first greeted her she asked me if I could make her plain pasta, and when I said I was pretty sure we could but I would have to check, she said "I am Dr Ruth. I will give you sex for dummies key chain." Okay then.

I also somehow wound up with two key chains, so now I have obviously have to wear them as earrings.

We're also selling pie that saves kids or some bullshit.  I keep forgetting what the thingy actually is, but all the proceeds for this pie that we sell goes to like, starving children and crap. Which is cool. It also makes me want to tell people that if they by any desert other than pie a child will die a horrible death.  

Because I'm an asshole.

Anyway. I  continue to sift through years of backlog and look at hilarious stories of Roasts of Yore.

Apparently at one point we were keeping a running tally of which busboy could break the most glassware in a single shift.  I don't remember who the fuck Mohammed was, but apparently he broke a shit ton of glasses. I imagine he's somewhere else breaking large amounts of glass on a much grander scale.  

Oh and then there was this:

Jan 2, 2012

Old man eats oatmeal with a fork. I show him the spoon I've brought, and he continues eating oatmeal with his fork.

Yes, that happened to me.  And weirdly enough, that's the kind of shit I miss and don't miss at the same time. Weird fuckers eating oatmeal with forks.

In the meantime, I shall continue to sell life saving pie, and revel in the lack of complaints that creme brulee "tastes like burnt cream" Yes, that actually happened.

Hopefully I'll return later this week with more stories. Lord knows I have plenty left.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

    I guess now that it's officially over, I should probably announce that after a little over 4 years, I finally left The Cafe. I got a job bartending and serving at a nice restaurant uptown and  for the most part I've really been enjoying it.  Of course, you'll find assholes anywhere. You know, like the women I waited on Monday. I made the mistake of saying "good morning" to them at 12:00PM and they smirked at me as though I were and idiot and said, "Actually it's noon."  Dear god, I'm so sorry I offended you poor women. Please accept my most humble of apologies and bend over so I can kiss your ass. God, you're wonderful.

That being said, for the most part it's relatively tame. I shall be continuing this blog documenting stories from the past four years at The Cafe, as I was there for so long and started this blog less than six months ago.

Gratifying tidbit from my second to last shift:

(After telling my regulars the following day would be my last day)
"Wow! I guess this is our last time here then !"

BOOM! IN YOUR FACE MOTHERFUCKERS!
(To be clear, the aforementioned motherfuckers would be some colleagues giving me trouble at work, and not the regulars, who were actually quite delightful.)

Also, I left a surprise in the break room for my friends:

Why yes, I did hang my uniform shirt from the ceiling panel. 

Alright. Now that housekeeping is taken care of, let's catch up on some old school Roasting updates.

Dec 7, 2011

"Hi Sir! One or two today?"

"One or two WHAT?"

"Uh....people"

*blank stare*

I remember that guy. He sat himself at a two top, so I went over with two menus and attempted to inquire as to whether he'd be a part of one or two. Obviously I should have used smaller words, or pantomime, or maybe finger puppets.  I love it when I ask people questions that are so simple like "would you like a beverage?" or "are you ready?" and they stare at me like I've grown another head. It's kind of great.

Dec 8, 2011

After pouring a bar guest a new glass of wine she looks up and asks, "Are you going to charge me for that?" SERIOUSLY? Of course I am not to mention that even if I didn't you would still only leave me two dollars.

This is another great one. I love how this bitch was just acting like my bartender was forcing wine on her.  She wouldn't have poured another glass unless you ordered another. And...fun fact guys....if you order something you pay for it. Stunning concept, I know.

Anyway, I'm sure I will have a few stories here and there at the new place, but The Cafe was such a weird fucking place to work, and I have so many stories, that for now I'm going to keep this blog exclusively dedicated to my time there. If you can think of anything you'd like me to write about, suggestions are also always welcome. Keep reading!

Self seating, special milk pitchers, tiny pieces of steak, and so much more.

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.