Stupid Things Customer Say/Do at the Host Stand

“Do you know where your restroom is?” Wtf is the proper answer to this? It is essentially  asking if I personally know the exact location of the restroom. The answer is a simple “yes” or “no,” not directions to the restroom.

Walk up to the host stand and say, “My husband just came in here....” or “Did you just seat a guy that walked in?” Ok, the person who you are meeting arrived before you. We do not know you, we do not know who you are meeting, and we do not magically know who your husband is because we do not have hosting superpowers. 

Tell the hosts, “Can you tell my friend that we’re over here?” No. We don’t know who your friend is, and we’re too lazy to write down the name. Besides, I’m not your personal secretary. Track her down yourself.

Say, “My party’s not here, so I’m just gonna go to the bar/use the restroom.” We don’t care. Do whatever the fuck you want while you’re waiting. We don’t need to know. Just occupy yourself and don’t talk to us.

“They got seated before us!” Yes, they did get seated before you. You are a party of five and I sat them at a two top. The table was open, and I’m not going to discriminate and make them wait to sit after you because they are a smaller group.

Ignore everything hosts say. For example, hosts say, “Hi, how are you today?” Customer holds up fingers and says, “Two.” We don’t need you to hold up your fingers, and that’s not what we asked, asshole.

Respond to greetings incorrectly. Host: “Hi, how are you?” Customer: “I’m just going to the bar.” 

Say, "We're just here for dessert." We don't care, and it's all on the same menu. It is not crucial information.

Fail to inform hosts of actually number in party. People tend to forget that they have small children until they are seated. The usual excuse is, “Well, they’re not eating.” No, they’re not ordering off the menu but they take up space and require boosters and highchairs. Now I have to find a new table to accommodate you, and you realize your own stupidity and take it out on us.

Male patrons will inform female hosts that the restrooms are dirty, and female patrons will do the same with male bussers. Being female, I don’t often visit the men’s restroom, so why would you expect me to go in and there clean it? Go tell a guy because we’re not using it, so we don’t care.

Order drinks when we seat you. We're not servers, and we're not going to get your drinks or place your order.

Complain on the way out. Hosts have absolutely nothing to do with how your meal was. Tell the server so something can be done instead of being a pussy and trying to get a last word in.

“We’ve been waiting for an hour!” No, you haven’t. Everything is done by computer. We know exactly what time you checked in, what we quoted you, and can track how long you will be at your table. I will use this information to correct you.

Seat themselves. How fucking stupid are you?

Pay at the host stand. This is insulting. We are not a white trash coffee shop.

Say, “We just left the tip on the table.” Yes, that is part of the standard dining procedure.

Take pictures of the lobby (usually done by Asian tourists).

To-Go Order Behaviors

For some reason unbeknownst to me, people who are otherwise very intelligent and/or highly educated act like complete idiots when placing to-go orders. They ask the stupidest questions and will often display signs of complete and utter confusion. Here are some common behaviors:

* A guest will walk up to the front desk of the restaurant and ask to pick up their to-go order. There is usually a large, conspicuous sign that labels the takeout counter, which is NEVER at the front desk. The front desk is for taking names and seating people, not handling to-go orders.

* After placing an order, guests will say, "This is to-go." Yes, this is a to-go counter, and we package food to-go. That is what we do. You do not have to clarify.

* Whenever there is a display case, guests will ooh and ah over the desserts and ask if they are fresh. No, you idiot. They are usually displays, and if they are not, we are not going to put old and rotting food out. Then they will ask how much each one is, until the cashier finally points out that there is a large sign that lists prices. Then the guest will act embarrassed, as they should, and continue to ask about prices. 

* People will walk up to the front desk and ask for a menu. The host will give them a menu, and then they will say, "Oh, no, one for to-go orders." This baffles me. The menus we give guests who dine in are exactly the same as the disposable take-out menus that we give guests to take. The only difference is that the take-out menus do not include alcohol, for obvious reasons. Never have I worked at any restaurant where the kitchen offers only certain food for dine-in only or for take-out only. People do not seem to grasp this concept.

* Oftentimes guests will ask how long to-go orders take before placing them. I usually explain that it depends on what you order; salads are usually quick but if you want a well-done burger or steak it will take longer. The average is about 15 to 20 minutes. The reaction is usually "Really? Even to-go?" with a sarcastic twist of the head. Yes, really. It doesn't matter if you are eating the food in the restaurant or somewhere else. It takes the same amount of time to cook it regardless of where you eat it.

* For restaurants that offer curbside service, people will always ask, "Well, is curbside faster than if I come in?" This question is similar to the one above. Again, it takes the same amount of time to cook the order regardless of where you pick it up. The only difference is that instead of you walking from the curbside parking spot to the restaurant, the cashier is walking from the restaurant to the curbside parking spot.

* Curbside pick-up is offered for guest convenience. Yes, we understand that sometimes you would prefer to stay in your car rather than come into the restaurant, and that is why we offer it. But we cannot bring your food to your car if we do not know that you have arrived to pick it up. There is usually a sign on the curbside parking spot that clearly states "Call this number when you have arrived." This is because the cashier cannot actually see the curbside parking because of the set-up of the restaurant. In other words, if you don't call, how the fuck do we know you're here? People will pull up to the curbside parking spot, turn off their engine, and wait, completely ignoring the sign. Then they will get mad because nobody came out to their car, and when we ask, "Did you call to let us know you were here?", they will realize how stupid they are. Usually they will lie and insist that they called, or say that nobody told them to call. Fucking dumbasses.

* After receiving orders, guests will go through their bag to inspect their food and exclaim, "Well, I guess when you get it to-go it's not as big as when you get it in the restaurant!" Again, similar situation. Dinners are portioned and are the same size regardless of where you eat it. We use different shapes and sizes of plates and position food in such a way that it fills the plate and looks fuller. All take-out containers are the same size, so food looks different when it is in a large, shallow container. When children are about seven to eight years old, they begin to learn that volumes remain constant when shapes change. When they become adults and place take-out orders, they suddenly forget this concept.

* People will call when they get home and complain that their food is cold. Yes, it probably is. When you get it in the restaurant, it comes to your table and you eat it immediately while it is hot. When you order something to-go, you usually drive home and settle in before eating it. Take-out containers are made to keep food hot for about two hours, but if you don't eat your food as soon as it comes out of the kitchen, then yes you idiot, it will be cold.

* Restaurants try not to waste and give away items that the guests do not always need, so we often ask the guest if they need napkins and utensils before automatically placing them in the bag. That way, if a guest who is going straight home and would prefer to use his own silverware, he may do so without having to dispose of unneeded plastic utensils. Some people don't get this. They will say, "Um, yeah, how else am I supposed to eat it?" I usually respond with, "Oh, well I wasn't sure if you were heading home or going somewhere where you don't have silverware." Then they will think about it for a second and realize that I am the smart one, not them.

* Curbside spots are specifically for to-go guests only, usually with a 10-minute limit. People often think that they can get away with parking in a curbside spot and come dine in for two hours or leave their car there while they shop. For restaurants located in malls, curbside parking abuse is problematic for employees. Guests will bitch at us when the curbside spots are full, and we will have to explain that other guests have ordered to-go as well. Guests usually do not understand this, and will look around the lobby and say that there isn't even anybody here. Yeah, probably not, because waiting for a to-go order is boring, so people who are waiting are probably walking around the mall, using the restroom, or sitting at the bar having a drink. For those who park in the curbside and stay for extended periods of time, I usually call mall security and have them towed. I take much pleasure in this, especially when the guest comes in yelling and I explain that we have no control over the parking lot, mall security manages it and will tow cars that are parked in spaces that are marked "10 minute parking." This usually ends up with a call to corporate and a guest who is pissed off because he knows he fucked up and he can't win.

* The best thing about to-gos is that you get a lot of crazies. Here are a few of my favorites:

  A lady called and requested pasta with absolutely no sauce. Apparently what she meant but did not say was that she wanted her pasta dry, with the sauce on the side. Upon arriving home and discovering that there was no sauce in her order, as she specifically requested, she called and asked to speak to a manager. She said that she got no sauce, and that it was her birthday, and because we messed up her order, we completely ruined her birthday. If your birthday can be ruined because of your own stupidity, then your life is really sad. 

  A man came in and started yelling at the cashier because we did not have his order. I intervened so the cashier would not become upset and started asking him questions about his order. After listening to him yell at me for several minutes, I called the other location located across town. They had his order. Of course, this was my fault so he yelled at me for not clarifying which location it was and stormed out.

  Another idiot came in and yelled at me because the cashier did not have his order. I apologized and asked if he could tell me what he ordered so I could find out if maybe we had accidently put it under the wrong name. He listed several items that we do not make. I said, "Did you call The Shitshow to place your order or did you call The Cheap Italian Place?" The man immediately shut up, looked around, and said, "What restaurant is this?" I said, "This is The Shitshow, but I can show you where The Cheap Italian Place is. It's two restaurants down." He threw his hands up and yelled "Fuck!" loud enough for the whole restaurant to hear it. He turned to walk out the door and I couldn't resist following him and pointing out where the other restaurant was. Several employees laughed. He never came in again.

  A black guy who looked like he just got out of jail, changed clothes, and headed to the mall came to pick up an order. Being black, he of course wanted his steak well-done. He asked me how much the steaks weigh, and I replied that they are 12 ounces. He took his order and came back about an hour later. He told me that his steak was not 12 ounces. I asked what he meant and he said, "You said it was 12 ounces. I weighed it and it's only 9. I want my money back." I tried to explain that 12 ounces is the weight before cooking and once it is cooked, it loses some of the juice so it will weigh less, especially if it is well-done. He said, "Well, I weighed it, and it's not 12 ounces." I looked at him suspiciously and said, "You weighed it? How did you weigh it?" He said, "Well, I got a scale." I feigned curiosity and asked what kind of scale. He said, "Well I weigh weed with it, so I checked to make sure the steak was 12 ounces." I contemplated whether I should refund his money or ask him how much for an eighth. I decided it was best to just tell him to leave and not come back.

Afterthought: Being a manager does not just mean I babysit adult employees, I babysit customers too. Some people need to have someone hold their hand and walk them through the procedure of visiting a restaurant, and some are just so stupid that they should not be given driver's licenses which allow them to travel to a restaurant. If you are that much of an idiot, I WILL subtly but politely make sure you know it.

Hiding in the Office

Manager are like police officers; we're always around when you don't want us to be, and if you really need one, you can't find one. Our favorite hiding spot is the office. Here are the top 10 reasons why I ignore staff when they knock on the door:

10. I'm actually trying to work, and there's another manager on the floor.

 9. I know there's another manager on the floor, and I'm being lazy.

 8. I'm having a disciplinary discussion with an employee.

 7. I'm making a personal phone call, texting, or playing games.

 6. I need to grab more cocaine, Adderall, or other substance to enhance my performance and improve my mood.

 5. I can see who it is on the camera and don't want to deal with them.

 4. I'm with another manager talking shit about employees.

 3. I'm going through the surveillance videos to see what I can use against someone.

 2. I'm looking at porn on my iPhone.

 1. I just farted.

Salad Bars Are Not Two For the Price of One

My first official job after graduating college was managing at Marie Callender's for a measly salary. I have no shame in revealing the real name of the restaurant because they are now bankrupt, still owe me money, and fucked me over many times. Anyways, Marie's was basically a glorified coffee shop that sold pies. Most of the clientele were white trash hicks and ghetto Mexicans. 

One night one of my Mexican servers, Willie, came to me and complained about two women in his section. He said that they only ordered one salad bar plate and were sharing. He suspected that because they were Mexican, they were cheap and were trying to get two for the price of one. The menu clearly states that the salad bar is per person, and each person consuming any salad bar products will be charged the full price. 

I told him to charge for two salad bars before giving them the bill. He said, "Well, Mexicans always leave bad tips, even though I'm Mexican and I speak Spanish to them. They're not gonna tip me anyway so I hope they get mad."

Willie's suspicions were correct. Upon reviewing the bill the two women immediately asked to speak to a manager. I smiled, stood up straight, and confidently walked over to their table.

Me:  "Hi, my name's Jessica, I came over because Willie said you had a concern about the bill. Can you tell me what happened?"

Ghetto Bitch #1: "Yeah, I ordered the salad bar and he charged us for two."

Ghetto Bitch #2: "And then I had a little bite of her salad, so he's trying to tell me that he has to charge me."

Me: "I'm sorry if there's any confusion, but the salad bar is a per person charge. We don't allow sharing."

GB #2: "Well that's really stupid, because I only had dessert and just tasted her salad. He's acting like I ate a bunch and I'm lying."

Me: "Actually, I'm sorry but I saw you both of you fill your plates at least twice. You both had a full salad bar, so I have to charge for two."

GB #1: "This is bullshit! We're not fucking lying! You swear like we're just trying to get something for free! I'm never coming back here again!"

Me: "I'm sorry, ladies. Please pay your bill and don't come back in here again. You're no longer welcome in here."

I walked away briskly and stood at the host stand so I could make sure they did not leave without paying. Several minutes later, they walked out with their arms full of take-out containers. I gave them a smug smile and thanked them for coming. One of them flipped me off.

I went back to find Willie and ask what happened. He said that they told him that if they had to pay, they wanted to-go containers so they could take stuff home. They filled several boxes and stormed out.

Willie and I had a good laugh and then I asked what they tipped. He said he didn't know so we walked over to their table. They paid with a credit card and scribbled an obscenity over the tip line. There was a single penny left on the table, along with a white to-go box with an elaborate drawing of an uncircumcised penis with some hairy balls on it.

I saved the box and a copy of the credit card slip with the woman's name on it, just in case they called back to complain. They didn't and they never came back. Victory was mine.

The Infamous Jambalaya Shirt Button

The story of the Infamous Jambalaya Shirt Button is by far one of my favorites to tell.

One of the first things I do when starting at a new restaurant is introduce myself to all the employees and try to learn everyone's name. I had recently started at The Shitshow, a high-volume upscale casual dining restaurant in the San Francisco Bay Area. At the end of my mid-shift I walked down the cooks line to say hi to a few cooks I had not met yet. I had unfortunate timing and walked past the fry station right when one of the cooks decided it would be funny to throw buffalo sauce at another cook. I was caught in the crossfire and now had buffalo sauce all over my pale blue dress shirt.

Because it was the end of my shift and an old shirt, I didn't stress over it. I was about to leave anyway so I went into the office, removed my shirt, and put on a sweatshirt. The other managers came in to laugh at me. I looked down at my soiled shirt and had a great idea. I thought it would be funny for Dan, a short, fat, Asian man, to put on my shirt. He weighed at least 100 pounds more than I did. So Dan puts on my shirt, succeeds in buttoning a few buttons, and starts flexing like a bodybuilder.

The hilarity was too much for us to share alone. We walked out onto the servers line so all the employees could get a good laugh. The GM was gone for the day, so we were in the clear. Dan is flexing and striking poses and starts an uproar in the kitchen. Suddenly, mid-flex, a shirt button pops off and flies into the abyss that is the cooks line. He and I frantically search through pans and drawers of food, but to no avail. We even emptied the fryers and found no shirt button.

I finally looked at Dan and said, "Fuck it, I'm off. Your shift now, your problem," and peaced out. The next day I came in for my closing shift and opened the manager e-mails. A guest had called the night before and said he had found a shirt button in his Jambalaya that he had ordered to-go. Dan had taken the call, and had acted as if it was finding a button in a to-go order was impossible. He even went so far as accusing the guest of trying to lie to get something for free, and insisted on the guest bringing in the shirt button if he wanted a refund. Dan was my idol and hero at this moment in time. The guest ended up writing to corporate and our GM and Area Director of Operations were contacted.

After reading the e-mail I immediately ran to look for Dan but my GM, Mark, found me first. He pulled Dan and I into the office and forced us to tell him what really happened. We weren't gonna lie. We told Mark the whole story while he tried to hold back a smile. Afterwards we all burst into laughter and Dan told us that if we're going to fuck around, at least do it in the office. He called the ADO and explained that he had spoken to all managers during that shift and none of us knew why that had happened. He called the guest back and basically told him to fuck off, don't call us again, and not to come in to the restaurant.  

I love my job.

Facebooking at restaurants

Something I don't understand and subsequently find annoying is Facebook behavior at restaurants. While 100% of the population uses it (about 25% adamantly deny it), it seems like 110% of Facebook users find it necessary to not only "check in" to a restaurant and tag all their friends, they insist on oohing and aahing over their food and using Instagram to upload photos, so their entire network of online friends are aware of what they are having for dinner. 

Reasons why documenting your restaurant experience on Facebook is stupid:

1. Nobody cares about what you are eating or drinking. When I constantly see people put pictures of alcoholic beverages on Facebook, I assume those people are alcoholics. Also, seeing non-professional photos of food that are not display models like they are on menus is disgusting. When someone posts a photo of a ginormous plate of nachos, they are also advertising the fact that they are going to have horrendous gas and probably blow up the restaurant bathroom later. Too much information.

2. Checking in is stupid. Ok, I will admit that I do it sometimes as well, but all Facebook is, is an online beauty pageant or popularity contest. Advertising the fact that you are at a restaurant hanging out with all of your friends is stupid. What happened to actually hanging out with people and enjoying each other's company without concern of how your online persona is perceived? Who gives a fuck?

3. Cell phones at the dinner table are just plain rude. When I go out to dinner, I expect my dining companions to pay attention to me and the others at the table, not their phones. Playing on your phone indicates boredom and is a non-verbal way of saying you are not enjoying my company. It also provides a distraction when the wait staff is trying to serve you. Put your phone away or go fuck yourself.

4. Taking a million pictures is beyond annoying. This offense is particularly prevalent among young girls. Young female teenagers and adults get dressed up really fancy to go somewhere where normal people know it is acceptable to wear flip flops. Groups of girls have to take a million pictures before committing to actually sit down at their table, and this is not only annoying because they ask employees to take pictures of them but because what they need to do is sit the fuck down so they can eat, pay, and get out. This is a restaurant, not a photo shoot. People are here because they want to eat, not to wait forever because some stupid fucks need to photograph themselves out with friends and update their Facebook profiles. 

Bottom line:  If you want to document you restaurant experience, take a few pics and post them later. You are probably going to go home and check to see how many people "liked" your status anyway, and stalk your ex's profile to make sure they know that you are out and having a good time without them. Get a life. 

Welcome fellow restaurant bitches!

Hello to all servers, managers, bartenders, hosts, and other restaurant slaves. I am starting this new blog to express the many frustrations of working in customer service, particularly in restaurants. I am currently a manager at an upscale, fast-paced casual dining concept. To protect the restaurant's identity and privacy, let's call it The Clusterfuck. I chose this name because basically that's how I feel working on a Friday or Saturday night. 

A little about me...I am a young-looking, 30-year-old female. These two physical attributes have brought me many challenges and grief, which I will get to later. I have worked in restaurants since I was 16 and have done everything...serve, host, bartend, cook, bus, wash dishes, you name it, I've done it. I started managing at 23. If you think serving sucks, try being a manager. We basically run an adult daycare, with many of the adults being older than us. I have many rants, stories, and opinions that I hope you will find entertaining. Enjoy!