But today at work was just so fucking bad that even hours after I came home my brain is just… fried. I can’t focus on a god damned thing. “Relaxing” isn’t helping because I have orders to get out tomorrow and I felt great this morning but nooooooo I agreed to do a half-day at work today and customers are just fucking AWFUL
No, I won’t fucking let you eat here AGAIN today because every fucking time you are here you eat $40 worth of food and then say “oh, I only have $5 today! Whoopsie! Can you just let me pay you later?” and then my idiot boss says “Sure!” and then bitches at me later because the bills are due and we’re short money and shit because he lets your ass do this every fucking week. Well guess what bitch this ain’t AMSCOT, and he ain’t here today so guess who isn’t pulling that trifling shit with me.
And look bitch, the reason you have slow-ass service at your table is because you fucking IGNORED me when I asked what you wanted to drink… right when I seated you. Because you were on your god damned cell phone. I have other tables. If I come back three times but you don’t know what you want because you are on your god damned phone, fucking go somewhere else because someone who PAYS ME can be sitting there.
Cunt, if you come in here and bitch because you don’t like the decor and bitch because you don’t like the smell and then *deign* to eat there and then bitch because of the price, fucking LEAVE. Don’t need yo dolla ho. Don’t order a bunch of shit, ask me if that’s “enough”, and then order more after I done told yo ass you coulda fed like five people on the shit you already GOT, and then invent bugs in it (it’s a damn sesame seed bitch sesame seeds come in black too) because you don’t want to pay for it, demand it be remade while sniping and bitching at us the whole damn time you’re there, and halfway through the roll being remade say you don’t want it remade you want to not pay for it. And repeat this with half of the rest of your damn order. And then want all kinds of drinks and shit to go. And then tip us ONE. DAMN. DOLLAR.
And you assholes. You yuppie hipster fucking sons of dickless goats who come in every fucking week got a million new questions about the SAME MENU that we had LAST week, taking up as much of my time as possible so that I get in trouble with management no matter what (either because I didn’t answer all of your questions, or because I left a table sitting too long because I was answering your litany of questions), before ordering shit we don’t even have on the menu “Yes I’d like the pork fried rice but don’t fry the rice, I just want plain white rice, and don’t use the normal sauce I want this other sauce but on the side. Oh, and also no vegetables, and don’t stir-fry the egg either I just want a whole egg and also …….” FOR EVERY GOD DAMN ITEM and then want your table’s check split all sorts of ways (not by item OR split evenly, some items go on some checks but some items should be split evenly which our computer doesn’t even fucking DO so I have to literally sit there with a calculator in a busy fucking restaurant to figure out your checks manually for each person at your table, then figure out how to get the computer to accept that for inventory purposes, and then run your cards, which loses me EVEN MORE MONEY BECAUSE FUCKING HELLO I HAVE MORE TABLES THAN YOURS ASSHOLE) and then tip 10% or less anyways no matter fucking what. And ON TOP OF ALL THAT you have the nerve to ask for all sorts of discounts and shit because you sat there so long talking afterwards you want half price on all your drinks and shit that you went from lunch straight on into Happy Hour, but you bought all your shit before 3, and it’s now 4:30. And you’re pissed because “well, it’s 4:30 NOW! What’s the difference if we ordered them then or not?” ……. You understand that a restaurant fucking sells FOOD, right? As in, our living and business depends on making money on that food. Dipshit. That’s the fucking difference.
And I swear to god bitch you were sitting RIGHT NEXT TO THEM so I KNOW you could hear them and the ten thousand things they wanted to know about individual ingredients when you ALSO know that I am LITERALLY THE ONLY WAITRESS ON STAFF AND THE MANAGER IS AWAY so do you think you could cut me some fucking slack or maybe speak the fuck up so that I have a way out from having to deal with these people for just a god damn minute and I don’t know, maybe NOT completely stiff me on the tip because it took a minute and a half to extricate myself to get a refill on your 2/3-empty cup?!
And YOU, the massive fucking asshole who comes in and orders $150 worth of food, running me around for literally over a dozen refills (can we PLEASE just buy an extra pitcher for this guy so my kitchen isn’t short one while he’s here?) and piles of extra sauces and all sorts of other shit and then when I SOMEHOW get all this shit out on time and just right, acts like a real Generous Guy by tipping me, no joke, $2.78. Two dollars and seventy eight fucking cents.
I MAKE A DOLLAR FIFTY AN HOUR. WOOOOOOOO $2.78?! HOLY SHIT CALL MY HUSBAND WE’RE RETIRING IN GERMANY WHERE I COULD GET HEALTHCARE TO FIND OUT WHY MY HEART IS FAILING. OH WAIT IT’S PROBABLY BECAUSE I’M UNDER CONSTANT FUCKING STRESS AND AM PROBABLY SOMEWHAT MALNOURISHED AND HAVE PROBLEMS FROM WORKING 12+ HOURS A GOD DAMN DAY FIVE TO SEVEN DAYS A FUCKING WEEK FOR $1.50 AN HOUR PLUS TIPS.
And that’s just the customers. Wait til you get a load of the boss. He’s the real-life PHB from Dilbert. Making life absolutely suck because he has no idea what the fuck is going on, usually screwing us over in the process.