'Giving back my paycheck'
There I was. In a position where I need an income boost. So, I boost away and return to the place I previously left behind. And volunteer to work a banquet. Wedding party for fifty. I get stuck doing it alone. Which is not a big deal unless ofcourse anybody needs a water refill. I tack on the gratuitity which was a very weak 150 bucks. (these days I can make that off of a ten top.) The old man takes the check. comments on the half price white zinfadel price his wife ordered. Yes, it's embarrassing but I have at one time or another served white zinfadel. and adds his 'tip' which by the way ended up being a little under ten percent. I take this as a 'thanks for the extra cash yes I know I brought your grandson crayons and walked around your granddaughters playing jacks all night long'.
Enter the purple haired bedazzled sweatshirt wife asking if she can see the check. Its still in my apron. I hand it to her and she comments on the gratuity. Something along the lines of 'isn't this already included?' I say yes, I thought he was adding to the minimum gratuity for these kinds of events. She says fine. I walk off happy that I managed to clear over two hundred bucks.
The next day i'm pulled into the management office. Told that the lady came back a few hours before and wanted to 'take back' my tip. Uh no. But the managers gave her back the extra tip that they now wanted me to return to them. Well, that's enough for me. I don't think so. It's my money. It became my money as soon as a signature confirming that the total on the check was accurate. I'm not returning buyers remorse. Quitting time.
The second I like to call...
THE REALLY FUNNY BOSS
Now, my first mistake was thinking that I can pick up a lunch shift a few blocks away from my main gig. The idea was that they're both very close together. I forget the part where chefs are competitive. They don't like new or old competition and don't like treading on each others toes. My mistake.
The new in town restaurant. A little bistro designed in the fashion of a very nice hospital cafeteria wasn't to my taste but it was convenient. The fun part is the really funny owners. The chef was a cocky little man we'll call Justin. Actually his name really was Justin except he expected you to call him 'chef' saying good morning followed by any other variation and he would look up as though lost and confused maybe hiding out in some remote cabin in Antartica wondering what you could possibly have said. His wife, a very efficient hostess was now running the FOH and she was funny! the job sucked. Wanna know the difference between a bistro and a diner? A bistro calls mayonaise aioli. All of the silverware, glassware and plates were purchased from Ikea.
So, there I am. Waiting on 'friends of the owners' I hate that. It's like having a shotgun pressing into the side of your head. These guys were funny too! ordering two sides of fries and going through about a twelve pack of beer. Loud, obnoxious drunks. Did I mention it was two in the afternoon? At the end of their unhappy hour they tell another really funny joke. Give the bill to Keila. She'll take care of it.
I'm at the printer getting their check Keila comes up to me and asks how her friends were doing. I say fine but they said you're paying? she takes the bill from me and on the bottom writes
fuck off. I stutter say that i'm not comfortable with the profanity she says fine. takes the check back and writes
love keila on the bottom of the check. hands it back to me. Tells me to deliver it and waits to make sure I do. I drop the check. Run away and return to my station a few minutes later to take care of the other six tables I have. And there is the chef, keila and the four top the chef was sitting on a nearby table and they were all laughing at how uncomfortable they made the snobby fine dining waitress. I finished my tables took my money and left.
The third I like to call
I'm sorry it's inconvenient but...
At nineteen I moved to San Diego. and took a graveyard shift at a diner right next to the naval base. I can go on and on about how much that sucked but the reality is that when twenty year olds get drunk at the strip bar and then go down the road for pancakes and to grope the waitress, follow her into the restroom and dry storage, sit on her car to get her attention, take off their shirts to show off new tattoos all the while tipping like crap.
My grandmother died. I know that that doesn't seem like a big deal to most. But to me it was one of the worst times in my life. I had relocated to be near her. It was the last few days. the night before she died i get a phone call that made my aunts look at me dissapointed that I would even have my phone with me. I go into the hospital corridor pick up the phone and there's the manager saying that 'I know you're going through an ordeal right now but if it wouldn't be too much trouble could you please work tonight from nine to about four. I'll even let you go home early if were not busy. I mean your grandmother will be sleeping anyway right? I'm sorry if it's inconvenient but I need somebody'
Enough said.
The last I'd like to call..
You thought you could say what to me?
At eighteen I had a new job in a very small diner in a very small town. The owners were great. A little rough around the edges but fun people. There guests were interesting. To say that it was redneck bible belt country was an understatement. The month of December I was given four bibles as tips.
We'll call guy number one Davey. Who after I had been waiting on him for a few months told me to turn around rubbed both of his hands up and down me from neck to knees and said very loudly.. 'WOW! I thought your back would be wet'.
The next guy we'll call George. He was very kind. After my sunday shift I had a habit of sitting at the end of the bar and getting my reading done for my English class before my classes started on Monday. He came over to my side of the bar, sat down next to me and wanted me to know that he 'Didn't mind where my family came from or how they got here. He liked that I was a hard worker, and that I spoke english so well and that I was smart enough to be going to the University'.
my best friend is half mexican. We have been friends since we were twelve. She came into my work to have a sandwich and to catch up. The table sitting next to her got up a few minutes later after listening to her speak to her dad on her cell phone in spanish. They started screaming that if we were going to allow 'those kinds of people' in here they were never coming back.
There were also the odd jokes about my swimming, catholic, how come I didn't have atleast three kids and how long it would take me to find a husband in college.
By the way.. I'm not hispanic. Latin heritage yes but i'm pretty damn American.
Those are my top picks. Let's hear from you? what are your top 'I quit!' picks.
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