The Wait is Not Over

The Wait Is Over

2008-10-28T20:04:00.000-07:00

I am proud to say:

I AM NOT A WAITRESS!!!!

Oh yes, that is fantastic.

For the first time in years, I am not a waitress. Gone are the days of lousy tips and

I did do one thing cool at the Cheesecake Factory (oh PS I worked at the Cheese). The last month I was there, the company organized a Peanut Butter drive to help needy kids. Collectively, we brought more than 43,000 lbs of peanut butter. Cool huh? That's a lot of people who get something to eat now.

The truth about tipping

2008-09-29T13:17:00.000-07:00

How many times have I said how much I hate being a waitress?

My new issue:

Last night I had this great table. They wanted all sorts of refills, their (free) bread wasn't warm enough, they wanted extra sauce for everything, but at least they were nice. At the end of the night the bill came to $120. They left me $4.

That isn't even a 4% tip.

To all you non tippers:

For one thing, you are not the only one who tips badly. For some reason everyone seems to think that servers where I work make lots of money, so the 5% tip they leave on their one table won't make much of a difference. Except that everyone thinks that. So I get to leave with 5% tips on the whole night.

Second, you are not only screwing me over. I, the server, tip out the runners, the bartenders, and the bussers. So that $4 those ghetto people left me is shared in four parts.

Also, the government taxes my tips at 12%. Now, lets do the math. Your bill was $120. If it was $100, your $4 would be a 4% tip. So lets leave it at that you left me less than 4%. 12% of $100 would be $12. So. I have to share that 4% with 3 other people. However, the government is taxing me on at least $8 I didn't make, plus the money I've just tipped out.

I am losing money on your table.

Multiply that by, say, 20 tables a night, conservatively, and you have my predicament.

Not to mention that it costs me $7 a day for the priveledge of parking in order to go to work.

I hate waitressing.

Sick

2008-09-19T09:48:00.000-07:00

A few days ago I got sick. Really sick. Well, not a few days ago. More like two weeks. And I couldn't kick the bug! No matter what I did, I just could not get better.

Here's the conundrum.

So, I think I had strep. Which sucks, by the way. To my readers: Try to never, ever get strep. It sucks donkey cohones. I got sick Wednesday night. Called in sick Thursday. Called in again Friday. Sat at home those two days, in a blanket, trying to make myself better.

Saturday I figured, hey, I've been out two days, I can go back to work now. It's time to make some money. Went to work, couldn't talk. Could hardly keep from coughing (not good when dealing with food). Had to make excuses at all my tables as to why my voice sounded like heck. I'm sure they were all wondering why a sick person was being allowed to serve. Me too.

Sunday I had to work again. Thought I was going to die, again. Couldn't talk, again. Ended up switching my money serving shift with a not money food running shift just so I didn't have to talk so much. My head felt like it had an anvil dropped on it, you know, like a cartoon.

Anyway, I ended up taking more days off and switching for more running shifts. Now, finally, I have my voice back, and it doesn't hurt to swallow. Hooray!

I feel like if I had gone to the doctor this would have all gotten better very shortly. However, I don't have health insurance at the moment. That's because I work as a waitress and don't make enough money to pay for health insurance. But, I couldn't go to the doctor on my own because it's too expensive. Since I wasn't working, I have to worry now about making my rent. No room in there for a $200 doctor visit. How does any of that make sense?

So, I don't have health insurance because I don't make enough money, but I can't pay for a doctor because I don't have enough money.

Aaah. This is a crazy world we live in.

Fred Savage, D. Bryant, and I'm over it

2008-09-05T22:57:00.000-07:00

I AM SO OVER BEING A WAITRESS!!!

It's not even funny anymore.

Here's the deal: I get yelled at every single day, over FOOD. The very same people who drive through Mickey D's and easily put up with lukewarm, spit in food where they forget to put in your fries every third time come into my restaurant on the highest horse. And I am so sick of it.

There are some good points.

The food is yummy (although, as I have discovered, it will actually make you sick if you eat it on your break and then come right back out to work). Our bread is really good... I've probably eaten 100 loaves of it by now.
The people are cool. I mean, none of us wants to be a waitress for life. Everyone is an actor or a singer or a mom or (although there is only one of me) aspiring to a career in charity. We're all just putting up with it because it's so expensive to live in LA, you can't make a living doing retail or any of the other flexible jobs available. So we all get squeezed into a cramped space called a restaurant. No wonder the job market for servers is so competitive here.
I'm making friends! Yay!
The bussers and the kitchen staff like me. This is essential if you want to make any money in this line of work.
I work mostly days. My problems with hating life as a waitress generally come when I have to work at night. When I work at night, I feel like I miss out on all the parts of life that I love, like my boyfriend and my friends. Same on the weekends.

So, it isn't all that bad. And the money is pretty steady. So, you know. It's a job.

Here is what I hate:

I absolutely cannot stand being yelled at for the stupidest of reasons. Now, I know what it's like to have food come out not like you ordered it. That's one thing. If you tell me no lettuce, and it comes out with lettuce, and you're allergic to lettuce, ok. Be mad. I'd be mad too! But if you yell at me for something stupid, I feel justified in yelling back.

For instance: This woman the other day orders a half chicken. You know like those ones you see at Ralphs in the rotisserie thing? Just like that, only we charge like $15. This woman orders an entire half chicken for herself, then, no joke, tells me the chicken breast is too small and she wants another one.

I get variations on this all the time. I had a guy yell at me yesterday for not having the right iced tea. No offense dude, but we have three iced tea options. Three. Don't yell at me if you're too high maintence for my three iced teas.

By the way, I had Fred Savage at my table the other day. Dude, kudos to you. I honestly had no idea who he was at first (I am the WORST with celebrities) and he was so nice. And, his three year old kid was speaking to me in three languages. Dude.

I also had Kobe Bryants cousin come in. Anyone who knows me knows how I love Kobe. LOVE. Like, cried at the Olympics when they won the gold love. See A Picture Book. So, the other day when this dude comes in looking like an exact replica of Mr. Bryant, I freaked out. But I held my cool until he gave me his visa. It said "D. Bryant" and I flipped! I was literally hopping in the back, I was so excited.

Ok, so maybe it's not so bad after all. It's just hard to get yourself psyched up to go serve people food, not knowing if it will get you the places you want to go. However, I am now armed with a new resume and a new attitude, so we'll see! Wish me luck!

Hello Hello

2008-08-25T08:51:00.001-07:00

Whew! Long time no blog. Well. Here's how my waitressing life goes:

Last night there was a bomb scare in the parking lot. A BOMB SCARE. What? This would never happen anywhere but here. So a bunch of angry, frustrated people all come into the restaurant an hour before we close. Ugh.

I had a lady last night order a caesar salad from me. Then ten minutes later she tells me she's allergic to cheese. Of course, her salad has already been made, so I have to get it remade. Then I have to get a manager to sign off on it. Then I order them a cheesecake. Only to find out that our cheesecake is frozen and it's not possible to get them ANYTHING. Great. Then I can't get back into the check because the computer freezes. So I have to get a manager again. And on and on. This is my last table of the night, and by the time I'm done I'm ready to shoot someone.

My breaks always come at the beginning of my shift. I am neither tired or hungry 45 minutes after I start, so I sit in the back twiddling my thumbs for half an hour. Then the long stint from the end of the break to the end of the night starts, and I curse whoever made the break pattern.

There is this weird thing that happens in the kitchen. For some reason, anything that goes on back there inspires singing. I will come by, bump into someone, say I'm sorry, and get a, "it's too late to apologize!" (you know, the song). Someone will yawn while they're getting soda for a table and the runners will all sing, "wake me up before you go go!" And sometimes they even throw some musicals in there. Balancing a tray always gets some "I'm defyyyyyiiiiinnnggg gravity!" And last night for no reason whatsoever there was some South Pacific thrown in the mix.

All in all, it's great. I work every day of my life, but that's better than the two week drought I had at the last place. And in spite of the corporateness we still manage to have a bunch o' fun.

The Adams Family

2008-08-07T20:49:00.000-07:00

Duh duh duh duh...

I noticed earlier today that the name of my new restaurant matches up perfectly with The Adams Family theme song. So all day, I've been running food singing:

They're creepy and they're kooky,
Mysterious and spooky,
They're all together ooky,
The ______ _______

Well except that I didn't know the words. But I was making up random things as I went, so it was fun.

I had this one guy today. Real class act. His daughter was very sweet and very polite, don't know how she came from him. She ordered first, very normally. Then he ordered. He changed his order three times while I was there, then pulled me back to change it a final time. Of course, when he did finally choose an item (fish and chips), he modified it to the point where it was no longer the original item but something completely different (fish and succotash, not fried, with extra fish made two different ways). Which is always fun.

So his order comes, and his side order (the succotash), and the other side order (salad, with extra tomatos and extra carrots), and the two things of extra sauce for the fish and one extra salad dressing. Everything comes out perfectly and he tells me so when I do my two bite check.

One piece of fish later, suddenly the fish tastes like it's the frozen kind, the succotash is cold and the salad is reminiscent of the bagged variety. Of course. But, being a waitress, I have to make him happy.

So I bring him newly made fish. He hates it. He orders chicken fingers, which he realizes finally is the thing he usually gets anyway. He asks for it to be made quickly, since his daughter already has his food.

I'm like, assmunch, your daughter ordered what she wanted like normal people and now she's happy like normal people are here.

I get his chicken fingers going, and get him a new, entirely different kind of salad.

He sends the salad back. It's bitter.

My manager takes him the chicken fingers. He tells the manager that he was confused, and thought that the beer battered fish and chips were the chicken fingers that he's used to ordering (what?). My manager asks if he's had fish and chips before, at which point the guy gets all in a huff and decides that our restaurant isn't up to his standards and he'd like to pay for his daughters food and just leave.

Thankfully, my manager was cool about it. The dude left me like a $6 tip, maybe he felt bad. Just goes to show what kind of clientelle I can look forward to serving. Yay.

The First Day

2008-08-05T22:16:00.000-07:00

My first day as a real waitress!

I passed my test yesterday. At least I think I did. They said they would call me if I failed, and no one called, so.... I passed! My manager told me today that I was the only one in the class who passed, which is funny I think. But they still haven't let me see my test, and being the nerd that I am I'm freaking out that somehow they switched the numbers or something. Until I see it for myself I will be nervous. Jeez. All over a waitressing gig.

Today was my first day all by myself. Yay! It was a relatively easy day actually. Knock on wood that I don't get crazy people tomorrow.

I wish I had some weird, funny story to tell. I don't think I do.

OH WAIT!! DOG CAME IN!

I didn't wait on him and I didn't actually get to meet him, but he came in! That makes me famous vicariously.

Or something.

So, that was my big first day. I had really easy tables, and Dog the Bounty Hunter came in.

More interesting stuff later.

Did You Mean The Fried Balls?

2008-07-29T19:34:00.000-07:00

Ah! My brain hurts!

For the past several days I have been training for this new job of mine. They weren't kidding when they said we would train for two weeks - I've been sitting in a classroom setting for the past four days. I haven't served a single person in the entire first week of training. Instead, I am learning everything about everything. What sauce goes with what kind of roll. The difference between one french bread and the other. Etc, etc, etc.

For instance:

I have to remember the EXACT name of the dish. Including the "The" in the beginning. Which would be fine if there was a "the" in front of everything, but they get tricky on you and only put it in the titles of certain dishes. Some dishes are titled according to what's in them, but some are named after the people who like them, some are named for the restaurant and some are named simply to add as many adjectives (to confuse the wait staff) as possible.

I also have to know which sauces go with what. Of course, there are 7000 sauces, and I have to know them all. Some dishes get one sauce, some two, some four, whatever. I need to describe said sauces and know the ingredients.

I need to know, specifically, how to properly serve iced tea. This includes the exact amount of ice, and three separate choices of action on replenishing the beverage according to strict protocol.

Every time a diner orders something, I need to ask them if they meant what they said, or the other thing that sounds suspiciously like it. Some of our entrees come in salad form, but with the same name. So, "Were you looking for the XXX or the XXX salad?" will be a constant favorite phrase. Sandwiches, appetizers, entrees and salads can all be named deceptively similar, and I need to clarify each time what specifically the diner wanted.

I must know which dishes contain nuts, mushrooms, dairy, or anything else that someone might be allergic to. Of these, I must know which can be substituted, which can be omitted, and which are a pre-set part of the dish and cannot be modified.

It is also important that I place the dishes on the table in an exact manner, presenting one side towards the customer. Oh, but the fun part is, some of the dishes need to be set with a corner facing the diner, some with the round part facing, some with the sauce. These must all be correct.

Oh, and I have specific times in which I need to: 1) greet 2) take orders 3) serve beverages 4) bring appetizers 5) bring entrees 6) refill beverages 7) offer desert 8) return a payment. Not to mention setting the table with necessary accoutrements or making sure napkins are folded.

There will be much more to follow I'm sure. Strangely, as much as I complain, I do like the setup. Clearly it works, the restaurant is constantly teeming. My boyfriend and I always have an awesome experience and constantly want to go back. Once I actually learn everything, I'm sure I will be a seamless part of the team, and I will start to have fun. There is so much to know but I'd rather know it all than be left guessing.

And to my fellow training peeps: There will always be fried balls.

The Dating Game

2008-07-18T09:39:00.000-07:00

Last night we had a very nice lady come into the bar. She was probably thirty something, playing pool, and my only interaction with her was a "thank you" when I asked if she needed anything, so I liked her.

I was surprised to come back ten minutes later and find that she was no longer at my pool table, but cozied up next to a kid at the bar.

Back this up for a moment: she was very nice and I liked her immediately, but this lady also had stressed pink hair and was dressed in something like a muumuu over jeans. The guy she was next to was young twenties and... well, I thought they might be in different leagues.

I was quite confused as I watched this pink haired lady go from the pool table to the bar to lying provocatively on our couch (weird!) to following the young guys out to the patio. I left the patio for a minute, and when I'd returned she had disappeared to I don't know where. I asked the two guys if they needed something, and they started giggling and ordered a kamikaze for "J.J." However, I was specifically to tell the bartender it was for "J.J." and wink when I said it.

Note: bar people can be so odd.

So, true to waitress form, I went back inside and told my bartender that the funny guys outside wanted a kamikaze for J.J., and that I was supposed to wink, and that I didn't get it. To my surprise, my normally calm and collected bartender late 30s male bartender started giggling.

I tell you what, I was really lost.

He sent out the drinks, to J.J. with another wink, and told me to come back when his bar was empty. The only person at the bar was the pink haired lady, who followed me out back to the boys on the patio.

Turns out, the pink haired lady was looking for a guy she met on myspace. They had been internet dating, I think, and they were supposed to meet in person yesterday at our bar. She thought she recognized the young guy from his pictures, but of course it wasn't him. However, the kid decides to play a prank on his friend, and tells the poor lady he's waiting for "J.J." When the friend got there, the lady would not leave his side. For the last hour I was at work, the boys would go outside, she would go outside. They would come inside, she would come inside. All the while finding some way to sit close enough that she was touching "J.J."

It was a little cruel. I hope they found some way to let her down easy.

It was a little funny too :)

A New Job

2008-07-17T11:20:00.000-07:00

Finally, a light at the end of the tunnel!

I got offered a job at another restaurant! It's a little more corporate (ok a lot corporate), but I think I can handle the rigidity. What I am hoping is that the steady stream of diners will mean a steady stream of income.

Cons:

It's corporate
The server attire makes very little sense

I think I can deal with those.

Pros:

It's corporate
Really, really good food
5 table MAX
Shorter shifts
Better tips (keep your fingers crossed!)
I get to wear sneakers

I don't even know what the other pros are yet! Eeeee! I'm really excited about this actually!

Now all I have to do is: 1) Go to orientation, 2) Train for 4 days, 3) Train as a shadow for two weeks, 4) Pass a test and then I'm in! Hooray!

Wish me luck.

Training

2008-07-15T11:32:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I had to train a new waitress.

She is a sweetie. She's got tons of experience, used to doing high volume, learns fast and is primarily a bartender. I think she's from New York. She laughs a lot and smokes and reminds me of the NY stereotype ladies that the Sex and the City girls are friends with.

What I don't understand is the polar opposition of the messages being sent to me by my work.

Thursday: Work for 8 hours, but we're only going to give you two tables.

Saturday: Work for 13 hours. Don't worry about silly things like breaks or lunches. Oh, and while you're at it, do this UFC fight which we will grossly understaff.

Next two weeks: You know what, don't bother. You're not needed.

Monday: What are you doing here? Oh, you're in for Zoe. Well since you're here, I'm going to have the new girl come in and train with you.

Make up your mind people!

I just don't understand. They already have so few hours that I don't get scheduled for two weeks, but they're hiring another girl? And how weird is it that I work almost open to close (which, by the way, they are totally against, because it's overtime), then get nothing, then train?

I guess jobs in Hollywood really are hard to find right now. This poor girl took a gig that won't even be giving her hours for three months.

One Day In Two Weeks

2008-07-10T09:41:00.000-07:00

Two months ago, I mentioned to my work that I was going to be volunteering at a camp for ill kids for a week sometime this summer. I told them that I was flexible on the dates, but if they could let me know what worked best for them soon then I could get a plane ticket and plan and all that jazz.

Of course, they didn't let me know. They kept telling me all the dates that wouldn't work, but nothing about what would.

And now here it is, middle of July, and I have no idea when I'm going.

Here's the really fun thing: I just got my schedule for the next two weeks, and I am scheduled... wait for it.... ONE DAY. One day in 14.

I mean, clearly, they need me. I am in such high demand there that I get one 8hr stint in a two week time period.

Oh, and the really good part is, my scheduling manager is unavailable to talk to. Because SHE is on vacation for the next two weeks. So not only could I not be told ahead of time that this would be the perfect opportunity to go to NY, but now to rub salt on it she's gone.

The fun thing is, I know as soon as she gets back that it will be the same deal. Through no fault of her own. She's a great lady and I love her, but the whole system of _____ needs to be rehauled. Honestly, you couldn't tell me a week ago that I would have no hours?

In other news, I have my third (count them, third) interview at what will hopefully be a much steadier and much more lucrative job. And yes, it will be waitressing.

13 Hours and Counting

2008-07-08T09:21:00.000-07:00

I had one of the longest days of my life on Saturday.

I got my schedule the other night and was quite angry to see that I had been scheduled for one shift in 14 days. ONE!! And, of course, this schedule started the day after I was scheduled for a 12 hour shift. Talk about being last on the totem pole!

My marathon day started with a One Pocket pool tournament. The thing about pool tournaments is that, mostly, the sharks want to focus on pool and nothing else. So after the practice round where they order seemingly endless amounts of coffee and coke, they don't want anything else. And everyone sitting around watching can't be bothered with silly things like waitresses, at least until the lunch rush. So there is a lot of downtime. Not that I'm complaining... the people are always nice, and it's a welcome respite from the crazy over-indulgences of the football crowd.

However, my managers don't seem to understand how this all works. Now, I know it doesn't look good when there are two waitresses standing by the computer watching pool. But when the silverware is full, plates are overstocked, sugar is plentiful and tobascos everywhere have been restocked, sometimes there isn't much else to do. We could go in the back so people didn't see us do nothing, but then we wouldn't be there incase they did need something. Ah yes, catch 22.

My favorite was when me and Zoe were pulled aside to be chastised.... because the kitchen said we were slacking off. No offense, because I love our kitchen staff, but when there's nothing to do those guys dance around to mariachi music and disappear off to the back. They never miss an order and they're not slackers, but I'm just sayin', when there's nothing to do, they are the first to find some fun. It's just that no one sees them.

This was particularly amusing/enraging because in the past 10 minutes Zoe and I had run food for 5 or 6 tables. Our busser was nowhere to be found, and even though it's not our job that food had to get out. Literally two minutes before, Zoe had carried out one of those big trays of 6 plates of food. So when we were being yelled at for slacking, we honestly could not believe our ears.

Later that night, I moved upstairs to work the UFC fight. UFC is always a big deal at my work. But for some reason, there were only two girls scheduled, one seasoned and one not so seasoned. Two girls for hundreds of people. We remedied the situation last minute but were only able to get three girls (luckily we all can handle high volume). It was stupid busy, but we were doing ok for the first part.

I had the back section of course, so I had the furthest to walk. Which meant that I carried a tray of multiple drinks, in order to make less trips. Of course the whole place is full, so I'm walking through going, "Excuse me! Pardon me! Waitress coming through!" which normally gets people to move over. But this is UFC, so a sad minority of people were big angry men with no sense of decency. One man in particular heard me coming, and swung his arms around only to knock the 11 drinks off my tray onto the poor guy sitting below. Now, I had been angry all day, but this was just too much. I nearly snapped at him, but calmed my nerves enough to apologize to the guy sitting and then walk back to the waitress station. One of the other girls watched this all happen, and made a little barricade so people wouldn't bug me for a minute.

When I finally got my anger under control (two seconds, because there was just too much to do) I filled the tray again and walked back towards my section. When I passed, the guy who knocked over my drinks yells, "Hey butterfingers! We need some drinks over here!" To which I smiled and kept walking. When I came back from the round, he reached out to grab my arm and was like, "Seriously, we need some drinks over here." To which I wanted to say, "You can have all the f*ing drinks you spilled" but was too nice to. Or to busy. I'd like to think nice.

Anyway, the day finally ended and I got to go home.

Meth Lady, Chapter 2

2008-07-03T12:01:00.000-07:00

A week or so ago my bar was bought out for the night by BET for a pool tournament / night of festivities. It was my boyfriend's surprise birthday party, which I'd been planning for two months, so I missed it the big bash. I think I'm the only waitress who did... phew! The night sounded EPIC!

Of course, missing the party meant I missed out on some fun stuff. The gratuity, for one thing. Each person working the party received a few hundred dollar gratuity, which would have been nice. Not to mention the tips. And the meeting Paul Pierce and Dwayne Wade and all the other fun peeps who showed up.

And the Meth Lady situation.

How does she always manage to put herself into "situations?"

This particular night, ML somehow stormed through the metal detectors, security guards and ladies with clipboards of invitees, and sat herself down at one of our busiest pool tables. How she avoided detection, I will never know. Eventually, the woman planning the party came to a waitress and pointed out the potential disaster.

The waitress went over to ML and reminded her that this was a private party and that we were closed to the public but she could come back tomorrow. To which ML responded, "No F***ing way! I need to make $100 tonight, and I'm not leaving this table till I make at least $100! I'll grind your bones to make my bread!" Ok I added that last part but it seemed to fit.

Turned out she was serious. She refused to leave and threw a catastrophic fit. In the end, a couple of security guards picked her up and physically removed her from the premises. Needless to say, she is now 86'd. Thank goodness.

The Meth Lady Saga Continues...

A Party

2008-06-28T02:25:00.000-07:00

Tonight I worked a party. I think it was somewhere around 200 people, and it was a hosted bar which means all drinks are free. That always makes for a fun time.

Explain to me how free drinks equals order excessively and leave 3/4 of your drinks full. Similarly, explain how it means, "don't tip your waitress." Well actually most of these people were nice tippers, but there are always those few who think that because the drinks are free that must mean the wait staff... well I don't know what they think actually, but there must be some thought process there. Or maybe not. Maybe that's the whole problem.

So anyway...

This one guy got to the party right when it started, at 8pm. He had one drink, a Corona, at the bar. Then he had one more. The next time I saw him, two big guys were carrying him to one of our couches.

Oh yes. He was that drunk after two beers.

It turned out to be hilarious. Well, not really for him, but for his co-workers. They took about 1000 pictures of him passed out, him with bunny ears, him with other people making funny faces. Won't be great for him in the morning, but it was super funny.

At the end of the night (ie 1:30am, at least 5 hours after passing out) our low-tolerance gentleman was still so drunk that he had to be carried out. Literally. There was no semblance of walking. There were two big guys carrying his arms, and another two carrying his legs. They took him all the way downstairs and laid him on the floor. That was the last that I saw of him. I wish I had taken a picture to display the greatness of the moment.

Subject 1: Meth Lady

2008-06-27T10:12:00.000-07:00

I work at an awesome little sports bar in Hollywood. Lets call it... _______.

At _____, we have all sorts of clientelle. As we are primarily a pool hall, we have our share of pool sharks come in. Some are good at the game. Some are famous. Some are just very rich old men (and ladies) who come to lose money at a pool table. Most of the pool sharks are not actually sharks at all, but just nice people.

Beyond the pool tables, we have the other clientelle.

One such person is Meth Lady. At least I think it's meth. I don't have a lot of experience in that arena, but it's something for sure.

Meth Lady comes in randomly. Sometimes she's there daily. Sometimes we don't see her for a month. But every time she comes in, she orders a half pitcher of water with cherries. Heaven forbid you give her a full pitcher of water. Or the wrong amount of cherries. Although she won't tell you how many cherries she wants exactly, if you give her the wrong amount she will go to the bar and complain about how you didn't get her order right and then stick her hands in the cherry bin and fix it herself. Which scares me, since I doubt she uses hand sanitizer.

Meth Lady is quick to tell the waitresses that she doesn't have the money to tip us, but still expects service. Although I appreciate the honesty, and she is very sweet about it, I find it a little odd that a person would go to a bar to continuously order free water and not tip the waitress. If you were that broke, wouldn't you just go home?

Oh, that's another fun fact. Meth Lady makes her money, I think, by selling clothes out of a garbage bag. The last time she came in she asked me to buy some of her clothes so that she could afford to buy a coffee. Uhm, no.

The other day, Meth Lady came back to the bar at 2am (closing time) to collect her boots. She said one of our waitresses put them in our lockers. First off, this particular waitress happens to avoid Meth Lady like the plague. Second, why would any of us put this lady's shoes in our locker? But, obligingly, my manager went off to find her boots. As she followed him, I learned from the bartender that Meth Lady had been 86'd before, only to be let back in a year or so later by a kind-hearted manager. So, Meth Lady has always been crazy.

Of course, her boots weren't in our locker. Nor were they in the managers office, or behind the bar, or upstairs, or anywhere else Meth Lady thought she might have left them. But as she sent our poor manager scrambling to find them, she decided that it was time to complain to me (why?) about the wait staff.

And so, I sat on a barstool, a caged audience in the middle of a closed bar, receiving the spit of Meth Lady on my face as she rambled on about a bad waitress. I can only think the spit was a kind of benediction for my act of martyrdom. As I listened to her story, I realized she was talking about my best friend at the bar. We'll call her Zoe. For the record, Zoe is a fantastic waitress and an even better friend.

I find out Meth Lady ordered a coffee from Zoe the night before, but refused to pay for it. She was trying to get Zoe to buy some clothes from her. Zoe has no interest in contracting a disease, and so of course wasn't buying. Meth Lady stuck her finger in the coffee, at which point Zoe asked for the $3. Simple, right? Order a coffee, stick your finger in it, pay the tab. Evidently not so when you're on meth. Meth Lady freaked out (and of course spits more in the retelling) and demanded to know why she had to pay for the coffee after simply testing the temperature. After all, she hadn't tasted the coffee yet. Spit, spit, spit.

At this point, fortunately, my manager came to relieve me. I ran away to the bathroom where I thoroughly washed my face and hands, only to go home and shower again. And just incase anyone is wondering, we've fixed the cherry situation, so there is no need to worry about the cherries at ____.

There will be more of Meth Lady.

Shoutout To The Good Ones

2008-06-27T10:08:00.000-07:00

Most of what I write will be about the crazies. That's just because they make the best material. But some of my favorite times at the bar come from my regulars. These are the good guys who come in all the time, know my name, my dog's name, introduce me to their wives, and all that happy stuff.

Some Regulars:

Porter and Souza: Two of my favorite people. These guys drink pitchers of Newcastle, eat more chicken wings and nachos than anyone I know, and are two of the most fun peeps at the bar. I just love these guys. Note that they have come to both my birthday and my boyfriend's birthday. They are just that cool.

Brown: Mr. Brown has a heart of gold. He sits and talks to me about everything from snap turtles to multi-cultural literature. He's given me an open invitation to his house and suggested the most wonderful thai restauraunt. Mr. Brown even introduced me to his wife, a wonderful lady. He's one of those people who brightens up the room every time he walks in.

R.G.: One sweet old guy. I think he used to be a teacher, but had a stroke and now plays pool a lot. He orders salad and breadsticks everyday, and always comes up to the waitress station before he leaves. He's just the sweetest thing.

T. Bell: Mr Bell. The one and only. He loves his wine, ordering it by the bottle when his friends don't buy it for him. Every waitress in the bar loves him. He gives great hugs and he always, always says hi, even if he's in the middle of a game.

Jones: You gotta love Mr. Jones. Another good hugger, and always a smile. He makes a point to say hello no matter how busy it gets in the bar. He asks about our lives and actually remembers. What a sweetheart.

Donald and Keifer: Of no relation to the Sutherlands, although this father and son pair also have the knack of getting more handsome as they age. How do guys do that? They drink guinness, just one each. They are among the favorites of the staff, although it's hard to pick favorites with these guys.

Dempsey: The only regular who understands my love of the Lakers. He might (possibly) love his goose and cranberry more, but I can forgive him for that. Dempsey sent me updates every five minutes when I missed a finals game for a wedding. That's a true fan.

There are more, and I promise to talk about them later. Now I have to get ready for work.

Introduction

2008-06-27T09:41:00.000-07:00

While writing The Caprices of a 20 Something, my blog about everything, it has become clear that some of the best and funniest instances of my 20 something life happen at a bar. I suppose most 20 somethings could say the same thing... at least what they remember of the best and funniest. Unfortunately in my case, I'm not there for the fun. I'm there for the money.

Ah yes, the best and funniest moments come from work. Well, at least some of them. Enough to fill journals and composition notebooks and scripts and even blogs.

Of course, the names will be changed. But I assure you, the actions (however unbelievable) really did happen.