Pissed OFF!
So I waited on some asshole tonight who pissed me off to the point where I came THISCLOSE to hitting him in his face with his menu. As I took it from him, I lifted it right past his face and over his head- as I rolled my eyes in plain view of his friends. Why? You ask… Because he was a fucking douche.
Here’s my thing: As a patron in the restaurant where I work, I am your server. I am not, however, your BITCH. I choose to be a server. I have the schedule that I want and I make good money. I love working with the public; I’m good at it. If you’ve read my blog before, you know that I can be quite witty. (HA!) I am also very friendly and outgoing… in real life. I love meeting and interacting with new people. I want your experience with me to be fun and memorable. I was a bartender for MANY years- which I loved, but grew tired of… So now I’m a “server”. And while I still have the love for the job… my love for assholes has grown thin.
It’s par for the course to entertain an asshole or two; I’m used to that. But tonight’s douche pissed me off to the point where the Mexican/Apache Indian in me could not be held back. I was so pissed off by the way he spoke to me that I had to involve a manger in transferring him to another server. He (manager) ok’d it with a quickness because he’s seen me in rare form, and knew that it was the best thing to do- considering how pissed off I was. While I like to think of myself as an educated, public-friendly individual… I have been known to be quite violent when it comes to people who upset me enough. And I am proud to say that in 18 years in the restaurant/bar business, I’ve only physically injured one patron. (The rest were on my time.)
So the new server, Jenn, took over and Douche was just as rude to her. He even asked her if she was “nicer than the last one”. (Yeah- he meant ME.) And even went as far as to “inform” her that he could have both our jobs. Yeah…. He actually said that. As if it were true. It wasn’t. The only way he could pull that off is if he bought the company. Good luck asshole. It’s world-wide. And I rock at what I do.
That was my night. Completely kick-ass fabulous until I met Mr. King Douche Bag. Who is very lucky that I transferred him before I punched him in the throat and ended his love affair with oxygen. I hate to advocate violence- but being what I am made of… it’s in my genes. And I’ve NEVER been afraid to use it. But on another note…
I own my super cute car, carry one of several gorgeous Coach bags (I also have a killer Prada), wear designer clothes, have an iPhone, and and am capable of hacking you and your computer with just a few keystrokes….
I’m not beneith you because I am your server. I am probably smarter and better dressed than you, outside of my job. (If you’re an asshole.)
I will do everything I can to make your experience fabulous. I want you to be happy. I want you to come back. But if you disrespect me, I will not tolerate it. I’m no one’s bitch. Perhaps there are some 20 year old white girls who will put up with your shit, but this 34 year old Mexican will not.
I just hope I see him out somewhere… so that I can give him a new respect for the people who wait on him. He pissed me off that much.
P.S. If you’re a 20-something white girl… don’t hate-mail me. I’m just sayin’.
Peace and RESPECT YOUR SERVERS!
Edit: I just read this again and it made me cringe a little so I’d like to offer this piece of advice (and insight, interestingly enough): Don’t blog when you’re mad and full of beer. That is all.
