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Drunk Assholes… aka: the bane of my existence.

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I turned 39 this year. I’m too damn old to be waiting tables. When I read The Bitchy Waiter on Facebook and see posts from shitty tippers screaming that we should get “real jobs”… sometimes I agree with them.

I don’t love it…. but I don’t hate it. There are faaaaaar worse things I could do for less money and longer hours. That said, we take a serious amount of abuse before we ruffle any feathers. People treat restaurant servers, abominably. The behavior we see on a weekly basis, would scare teachers, and that’s saying something.

We see problems walk in the door, regularly. Tonight was no exception.

A bubbly blonde brought a birthday cake in before we were open, and asked me to put it in the cooler until they came in for dinner. No problem. It happens a lot and we’re happy to accommodate a birthday. She told us they’d be kayaking in for dinner, and so there was a sailboat on the cake.

?

I should have recognized that as the first sign. I didn’t . We didn’t see them until late enough in the evening that we’d begun to wonder if the strange sailboat birthday cake had been abandoned.

If only.

They stomped in an around 8:30 and ordered a bottle of wine. Instantly we realized… She’s a laugher. Not a single soul on the patio missed her joyous cacophony. Unfortunately, my large table of foreign exchange students and host families were just introducing themselves for the first time, when her drunk idiot husband decided to perform a river-dance. He made sure to get up and dance a full circle around our patio, so nobody missed his fabulous experience, either.

It’s truly amazing to me, that two people can ruin a good time for 40 strangers, in minutes. The only thing that mystifies me more, is how oblivious they always are to their negative effect.

The idiot makes his way to the bathroom, with a multitude of attempts to clear the doorway and avoid the table of people within a few feet of his path. He’s blinking slowly, grinning and shuffling his way past me, when he stops.

I- Bathroom.

J- Straight through and to your right.

I- That way or that way?

If you are middle aged and do not know your right from your left, I am cutting you off. You can hate me. You can call me any name in the book. I have been called all of them by customers who should not continue to be served. They always come back, and they never apologize.

Our manager went to talk to SuperNasty, his caustic wife. She told her she understood they were having a good time and was happy to help that continue, but they needed to keep it to their table.

Supernasty started to walk around to the other tables to apologize.

That’s always fun.

This is the biggest problem with drunk assholes. They’re completely oblivious, and absolutely certain that everyone loves them. Worst combination, ever. It’s even worse when they start to actually confront the anonymous strangers that hate them. That makes my job so much more exciting.

These two are offending the masses and throwing fuel on the fire.

I hear her snub her server.

SN- So why do you have a problem with a good time around here?

Well that’s a fun question to answer when you really just want to know what they want to eat..

It devolved from there. It always does when a spoiled brat doesn’t get her way, or is confronted about her behavior.  There’s really no other way to slice it. For whatever reason, and ladies, I’m looking at you, some women feel incredibly empowered to be demanding, rude, condescending and insulting when you are either unable or unwilling to meet their outlandish demands.

She went to complain about who knows what and couldn’t be anything more than offended. She was just plain rude with two glasses of wine on board. SuperNasty stomped back and glared at me.

SN- Get me my fucking bill, without the food.

She stared at the hostess.

SN- And get my fucking cake.

Which is when I realize who she is. The lady who was kayaking over.

LMFAO. Hell yeah I’ll get her that cake.

She continued to berate one of the teenaged bussers, until our beloved boss comped their entire experience, and asked them not to return.

They gladly took their food to go… without paying for it and after shitting all over everyone in their vicinity. I was so bummed for my poor server friend who had to deal with them firsthand all night… but as I was leaving a little after them, I realized the wind had picked up.

They deserved every crashing wave, and I’d love to give them a birthday wish.

Dear Drunk Idiot & SuperNasty,

I hope you had an awesome kayak home after your free amazing birthday party with us. I hope your free food was delicious. I hope the sailboat cake was every bit of lemony heaven the grocery store label stated it would be. I hope the evening was worth what you cost those around you. The paying customers.

I hope your hangover is legendary and your shame, bone deep. I hope you wake up, look in the mirror, and wonder where to begin in apologizing. I hope you were experimenting with drugs and spend the next week searching for the perfect flowers and chocolate to adequately convey your horror and regret at such terrible and uncharacteristic behavior.

Unfortunately, I know that’s delusional. You’re going to wake up offended, with your deluded head, pounding. You’re going to blame the untouched food and smashed sailboat cake, on us. You’ll call a few people, who’ll call a few people… and those people will come in for dinner more often because they’re guaranteed you wont be there. #truth

You kept saying “I’m going to remember this” and all I sincerely hope you do. I wrote this, just in case you don’t. It helps us remember that when one person systematically abuses every single employee, whether associated with the table or not, you (unfortunately) stand out. Most people are nice… but some people are like you.

How bout we start fresh? You sober up, get some shopping done and work on your speech. We’re open late tomorrow, so come on by whenever. You can apologize to us as a group, or individually if you prefer.

Oh and… they make bras for strapless dresses now.

xo J

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