tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73592908489163652552012-01-26T11:47:14.111-08:00between the click of the light and the start of the dreamnickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09556502448718602520noreply@blogger.comBlogger11100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7359290848916365255.post-32864066766248346722011-07-18T20:29:00.000-07:002011-07-18T20:31:43.908-07:00People, I need to speak about something.

<br /><br />I wait tables. This is how I make my living. I am, I think, pretty good at it. Dining in my section means you will receive stellar technical service (yes, there is such a thing as technique), outstanding food and wine knowledge, charm, wit, my big smile and an all-around wonderful experience. And then. . .you need to get the fuck out.<br /><br />

All due respect, but the restaurant I work at is not your goddamn dining room. And I have no problem with anyone consuming bottle after bottle after bottle of wine over 3 and a half hours and 5 courses, their voices gradually getting louder and more boistrous before taking over the room completely (provided they tip well, of course). I do have a problem with the following:<br /><br />

Last night, my final table of the evening (a money-making 6 top) finished their entrees at 10:10pm. This is pretty early for a server to be done on a Friday night, so I'm thinking they'll order dessert and pay their check while I do my closing sidework and cash out the support staff, and I'll breeze out of Maria's Cafe at 10:45pm, head to the Lakeshore with the hopes of actually hanging out with my best friend, Will, for the first time in 2 months. In short, I was thinking I'd actually do something on a Friday night. This is not what happened. Instead, these 3 couples ordered one dessert and sat at my goddamn table until 12:15 in the morning. Let me make this perfectly clear: it took my table a full two hours to eat dessert, pay their check and leave. I guess this wouldn't be so bad except in the two hours I waited, I turned down 4 new tables that walked in (thinking I was leaving early) and the money that followed. If these people were sensitive, if they looked beyond their own tiny little world, if they stopped for a second to consider that sitting at a table in a restaurant for two hours after you are finished (without ordering anything else) is actually quite rude, it actually borders on loitering, maybe they would have thrown me an extra $50 on top of the 18% gratuity (which has happened before, and I'm a total whore so I would have taken it). But these people were assholes, they have no sense of etiquette, and if I ever see them again, I will fucking destroy them.

<br /><br />Thank you for your time.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7359290848916365255-3286406676624834672?l=thealicevariations.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09556502448718602520noreply@blogger.com0