New Job, New Blog. Sob.

So, honestly this job isn't that new. I've been drink bitch and dishwasher, and hell, even tablewipe at this establishment for oh.... about a year. Maybe a bit longer. But I'd only do it once a week for dinner service, and really, it wasn't that busy.

Well, this year, with one of our servers off in "Oklahoma" (kudos to those of you who got the reference), and another on "permanent vacation", I got picked to be a waitress. Hell yeah. 

So I've been working here for about... oh... three weeks. I got trained in about two shifts, and got most everything down in about three. Other than the occasional bit of bitching by my boss (who is probably slinging hash that day to give our adorable little short order cook a break), I'm doing pretty good.

But, after only working at this greasy spoon for like 12 shifts, I've had some weird stuff happen. Like the guy I like to call "Sexual Harassment Panda"

Sexual Harassment Panda is a spry old bastard with a brain-to-mouth filter that is LONG overdue for a changing. The first day I opened the restaurant I became his favorite, if only because I was young and had *gasp* breasts! It now seems to be a running gag with him to ask me to brush up against him, which I can handle. No biggie. I can ignore his crap for .02 seconds a day. Its when he asked me for a side order of "waitress between the sheets" that I got pissed off. It wouldn't be as bad if it wasn't for the fact that this guy is in the restaurant every day for 1-2 hours at a time, downing coffee like there isn't gonna be another pot in about 2 minutes, and wiggling his cup at me like the dick has palsy. And he tips 50 cents. Every day. Every. Single. Day.  Sob.

Then there was first day when I called a guy "Miss" by accident as I thought about serving the chick behind him coffee. He didn't like that. I get that. I don't like it when I get called a dude or whatever. No big deal. I apologize.

Next time I pass by, he calls me sir. I laugh and tell him it isn't the first time someone's mistaken me for a guy (I can look like I have no tits in a sweatshirt and baggy pants. I swear). He goes "I can't imagine how." And then stares at my breasts. EYES ARE UP HERE, THANKS.

One more before I post, because well, I'm lazy. 4 TOP THAT REFUSES TO TIP. 

This one happened to me today. I got a four top. Middle aged male, middle aged female, younger woman, younger man and a munchkin that's probably about 2. At first, I'm okay with these people. It's been slow all day. Larger tables mean bigger tips. Hooray.

I knew this wasn't going to go well when the middle aged woman asked for Decaf coffee "not too weak, not too strong." I stand there and wonder "Uh, do all the restaurants make you your own pot of decaf exactly to your liking? No? Thought so" as the others rattle off their drink orders. Three waters and a Coffee. Cool. At least the others are low-maintenance. I meander off to take a few other table's drink orders and come back with the three aguas and the red-brown swill we call decaf (yes, it really does shine red in sunlight. Its creepy). At this point, they want to order. Warning sign number two occurred at this point: She asked for her eggs "like, not scrambled. I want them cooked on one side, then flipped and cooked for another minute". This is about the time when I wondered why a 40-something woman couldn't remember that this type of egg is called "Over-easy". I decipher the rest of the orders for the group and shuffle off to turn in their order. A few refills of Decaf later, the young man asks if we have Cappuccino. All I could think is "dude, this isn't Starbucks." I should add that this restaurant's main specialty is dirt-cheap food. Like, full plate of food for $3 cheap. There is no way in hell my boss would drop like $100 for a cappuccino machine when he won't even fix our coffee makers on a regular basis. I tell him nope, we don't have cappuccino here. Then, he wants to know if we have those fancy-schmancy vanilla creamers. Once again, we're not starbucks. We're a hash-slinging, coffee pouring, breakfast serving greasy spoon. We don't HAVE your fancy creamers here, Damnit!

I tell him no, we don't have those either. At this point he asks if he gets a cup of coffee, are the refills free? Cue my head wanting to hit the table repeatedly. We're a breakfast joint with a zillion old people here. Trust me, they wouldn't be here if the coffees weren't bottomless. He finally decides he'll have a cup of coffee, and Oh! He'd like an order of toast. I ask him if he wants white or wheat. He goes "the brown kind." ........ So you want wheat toast then? "No, I want white bread, but toasted." This man was OLDER than me! 

So, finally I get out all the food orders for this table. Middle Aged woman is bitchy because her eggs are a bit overdone. K. Fine. So I get her new ones. They're Ok, and she goes back to nomming on bacon and whatever the hell else she ordered. In the next 30 mintutes or so, I know checked on them at least 5 times, refilling coffee, taking plates away, clearing what I could. Check goes down, I wander off as they get ready to pay and leave. My coworker gets 'em at the register as I play soda-jockey for a few other tables. I go and clear the table after they leave and lo-and-behold, 35 cent tip. $30-something check, 35 cent tip.

I talk to my coworker to see if maybe they handed her cash for me, as many regulars happen to do that. Nope. Apparently they told her that indeed, did not leave me a tip, as they didn't have enough money to do so. She also said that the man paying had plenty of money in his wallet, and really, he was just being an asshole.

Sob. I just ran my ass off for you and your "white toast is brown" son-in-law or whatever, and you pay me 35 cents? Bite me. Seriously.

I'm done ranting for the day.