(this entry is a part of my super-neglected ‘Monday story-time’ collection)
For those of you who have ever worked in a restaurant (especially a chain restaurant), you can agree with me that the hours of 3-4:30 are the slowest hours of the day.
I don’t know why, but the average American does not eat between 3-4:30. It’s kinda weird, really; 3:30 is on of my favorite times of day.
Anyways, it is at this boring hour that our kitchen managers allow us to eat lunch. And a couple of weeks ago, I decided to pretend like I don’t have to be in a bikini in a couple of weeks and had a generous helping of extra-crispy french fries for with my lunch (mmmmmmm). French fries are my Kryptonite. Well, anything salty really: chips, onion rings, brie, saltines, salted lemons, salt. And the fries at my work are really quite delicious. It had to be done.
So the other day, it’s about 3 pm at work and I’m smashing a bowl of fries. I finish the fries when a friend of mine informs me that I have just been ‘sat’ with a table of 2. Perfect! I take a swig of my freshly-brewed ice-tea, make some joke about how this will be the table that leaves me a hundred-thousand dollar tip, and off I go.
Now as I’m over at the table, I can tel that these people are a bit unorthodox. The man was wayyyyy to excited to hear about our specials, and his wife looked like she had just woken up from a 40 year slumber…But mind you, when you are waiting tables, it’s almost like you’re on stage. People are staring at you, listening to your sentences, hoping you mess up so they can tell their children “see honey, that’s why you want to go to college and get a real job”. And i know this, I’ve done the waiting tables gig long enough. The thing with me is I really don’t care anymore. (Are you happy? did everything go as planned? cool, then tip me 20% and get out of my life) This may sound cold, but its all true I promise.
So as I’m featuring this table, i know that I’ve got this in the bag. I’m featuring, explaining our delicious hamburger special when…
that’s funny. It almost felt like something just came flying out of my mouth? I keep talking and look down, only to find a chunk of half-chewed french fry on my customer’s hand. HOLY SHIT.
So my mind is racing, right. I mean, this whole thing lasted no longer than 30 seconds, but I felt like I had spent an eternity in purgatory. Then the guest lifts his other hand ever-so-gently, grabs a cocktail napkin, and wipes my once-delicious french-fry off of his hand, all the while making direct eye contact with me. SO.FREAKING.AWKWARD.
I know what you’re thinking. ‘oh my god, what did you do, what did you do?’ Well, I did what any grown woman would do, I walked away and pretended nothing ever happened. He never said anything, but we both knew what happened.
Go ahead, say something. you look crazy and I’ll deny it.
When waitresses strike back.