On a recent Monday afternoon, in that slow crawl between 2:00 and 4:00pm, I approach Table 13 to deliver my opening spiel. On my left sits a woman, and across from her, her husband. As the woman looks over the bar drink menu, she begins to ask me questions about the different margaritas we have.
Here are her options:
1) the house margarita (on the rocks or frozen),
2) the grande margarita (a larger glass with higher class liquors, still on the rocks or frozen),
3) some sort of flavored version of the first two options,
or 4) a handcrafted specialty margarita (only available on the rocks).
Standard assortment, I might say.
Somehow, this woman does not seem to understand that ALL margaritas have tequila in them.
Lady: *points at a picture* "Can I get tequila in this margarita?"
Me: "Yes, ma'am, all of our margaritas have tequila."
Lady: *points at a different picture* "Well, what about this one? Can I get tequila in this one too?"
Me: "Yes, ma'am, all of our margaritas have tequila."
About five minutes of Alcohol 101 later, she finally decides on the house frozen strawberry margarita. Then she asks for a half-glass of water. Half. Why? I have no flippin' clue. But she also wants a bowl of lemons. (Yay! I love giving guests free lemonade! Not.)
The conversation was tough to struggle through, because on top of her alcohol ignorance, she was having difficulty speaking. Not in a lisp or speech impediment sort of way, but in a FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS GOOD AND HOLY IN THIS WORLD, CAN YOU PLEASE USE A COMPLETE SENTENCE!?! OR BETTER YET, COULD YOU MAYBE EVEN JUST TAKE A HALF-SECOND TO THINK BEFORE YOU OPEN YOUR MOUTH!?! sort of way.
She was so incoherent that, at first, I seriously thought she was already plastered. I dreaded the idea of calling over the manager so that we could refuse to serve her more alcohol.
Then, I observed that her husband's body language was entirely too relaxed for this to be the case. If she was actually drunk and babbling like an idiot in public, he would probably be entertained (I know I would be!) or have some sort of reaction. But no, he was casually reading over the entree menu and texting. And thus I realized something worse -- this level of stupid was not, in fact, drunkenness. It was her normal behavior.
Usually, taking the drink and appetizer orders for a table of two will take about one minute. Tops. This took at least five. Which means my guests at Table 24, whose half-empty glasses I had planned on refreshing when I brought 13's drinks, for the sake of efficiency, are now sitting completely empty. And my guests at 14 are sitting with filled to-go boxes, waiting with waning patience for their checks. Luckily, both tables actually observed me standing at Table 13 the whole time--and not just putzing around--and I had established a good enough report with them that they were still in overall good spirits and left decent tips.
I finally get back into the kitchen. Make the drinks for 13 and 24.. Order the margarita and the appetizer.. Print the check for 14.. Deliver said items. And now we get to the food order.
*deep breath*
Lady: "Okay, hmm. I seem to remember.. Hmm. Okay, I think I want... Don't y'all have, like, a grilled tilapi?"
No, that wasn't a typo. She said "tilapi." As in "tuh-la-pee." Not "tuh-la-pee-uh," like it's supposed to be.
Perhaps she doesn't actually know, just like with the margaritas. I have no place to judge her pronunciation or level of intelligence.....but still, it took all that I had to stifle my laughter.
"Yes, ma'am," I said, "We have this Grilled Tilapia with Mango Salsa," and pointed to the description on the menu.
The description (if any of my guests was to ever actually read the menu) notes that the blackened tilapia and the mango salsa are served with blackened shrimp, all atop a bed of seasoned rice, along with two side dishes--which are listed about 8 or 9 inches to the right of the tilapia's description, along the facing page.
"Yeah, I want that!" she said. "But I don't want no rice."
"Okay, I can tell the cooks not to put any on there for ya."
"Do I get to have a side dish instead?"
"Well, I can take the rice out, but I can't substitute another side dish for it, because the rice is considered just a garnish. Regardless, your entree still comes with two side dishes."
What ensued was an additional five minutes of re-explaining and re-explaining that she only gets two side dishes with her meal, regardless of the presence of rice on her plate, and that a third dish would cost extra. Finally the husband even pipes in, in the hopes of making her understand and expediting the situation. Finally she gets it, and decides she wants carrots and a baked potato.
I order the entrees and bring out the appetizer. The lady loves her margarita and asks for a cup of ice for her half-glass of water. The drinks remain pretty full, so I pretty much ignored that table as much as possible until their entrees were ready. I do my "two minute two bite" check back after the delivery, and all is well. Then a few minutes after that, she calls out to me and waves me down...while I am taking the order of the new guests at Table 14.
[By the way, this is a guaranteed way to make your server hate you]
I complete taking 14's order and walk the three feet over to her table to see what is all of a sudden the matter. With her fork, the lady is moving around the mango salsa with a look of discontent on her face.
"What--what is this?"
"That's the mango salsa, ma'am," I replied.
"Well, what's this yellow stuff?"
"That's mango, ma'am."
"Uh, what's that?"
"It's a fruit?" I stated, incredulously.
Who hasn't heard of a mango?
"Do you not like it?"
"Hmm.. Not really."
"Can I get you something else that you would prefer instead?"
"No, I'll just scrape it off."
Interestingly enough, the woman became increasingly coherent the more she drank, which was a blessing. And they left just over 20% on their tip, which was beautiful :D
[ degreed waitress ]
