This literally just happened....

I’m cut for the night and minding my own business, sweeping my section.

A lady walks over to me from the next section over…

Lady: Could you get me a to-go box for my son’s food?

[ I cannot see her son’s plate from here. ]
Me: Sure! Would you like a large box or a small one?

Lady: Just large enough to put his food in.

Me [ What I wanted to say] : Well, no fuckin duh, lady. Now does he have a lot of food or just a little bit?

Me [ what I actually said ] : Of course, ma’am!

I brought her a large one with a large smile.

[ degreed waitress ]

To-Go Tips Galore! -- Tip #7

Okay, so I put you on hold. I realize neither of us wants that. But let's take a second, shall we? Let's think about why. Why did I put you on hold?

The answer really is quite simple  -- Now's not a good time to talk.
 

To-Go Tips Galore! Tip #7: If you want your food, then stay on the line.
 
This is a concept I've touched on before in a previous To-Go Tips Galore! post, but it certainly needs repeating.
 
I only have one computer, you know. I share that computer with my other bartenders. If one of them is ordering food or processing a payment for another guest, I have to wait to use the computer.
 
Please, dear caller, allow me to take two or three minutes to get some other things settled for the people standing directly in front of me, and then you can have all of my attention.
 
I promise I will come back to you.
  
I have two phone lines, and most of the time during the weekend rush, both of them are ringing simultaneously. I could very well be answering a to-go call on the other line while you're on hold.
 
I answer the calls in the order in which they came. So when you decide you've waited long enough, hang up and call back, guess what you've done? You've put yourself at the end of the line again. You're likely going back on hold to wait out a few more minutes.

Together, my fellow bartenders and I are processing the pickup and placement of to-go orders by the people standing right in front of us, serving food and drinks to the bar guests, making drinks the servers have ordered for the restaurant, and acting as our own bar-back, in addition to answering the two to-go phone lines.

And the last thing I, or my bar guests, could possibly want to hear while doing all of this is that God-forsakenly-annoying riiiiiiiiiiiing BEEP BEEP of the to-go lines. Putting a caller on hold solidifies his/her place in line while silencing that haunting noise.
 

[ Side note: a bar guest the other day had the gall to ask us if we could silence the phone ringer. It took everything within me to not retort, "And how do you expect us to answer the phone if no one knows it's ringing?" ]

Now if you've been on hold for ten minutes -- which is extremely rare [ and far more rare than the guests claim is occurring ] -- then, yes,  hanging up and calling back is a good idea, because I have likely forgotten about you in my scurrying about. That's my bad. But seriously, don't yell at me. You chose to call in at 7pm on a Saturday night, or at 12:30 on a Friday afternoon, and so you have to deal with the consequences: longer wait times. What did you think I was doing? Just sitting around, twiddling my thumbs, hoping and wishing that you -- yes, you! -- would deign to call me so that I would finally, finally have something to do??

I cannot tell you how many people offhandedly comment upon arrival, "Well, I was gonna complain about how long you had me on hold for, but then I got here and saw how busy y'all are! I don't know you keep up with all this!"

So what now, you self-entitled jerk? In yo' face!
Maybe you should get your panties untwisted and you won't be so insufferably impatient!
Stand there in awe at my epic multitasking skills!
Revel in amazement at the sheer volume of sales I am conducting by the minute.
Realize that you are significantly less important to me than you had initially presumed.
And be patient in that line 'til it's your turn for my attention.

So there.
:)
 
[ photo credit ]

 
 
Sometimes, our situation is exacerbated when we are extremely busy by the management blocking off one of our to-go lines to help save the kitchen from going down in flames. When the cooks are slammed with the food orders for hundreds of people actually seated in restaurant, adding five or six orders every three minutes or so for someone who's not even here yet can be the straw that breaks the camel's back. My standard, and fairly accurate, "15-20 minutes" quote time becomes "20-25 minutes." But this means that now I have only one to-go line. So if I'm talking to someone on that line, or someone is on hold, then no one else can place any to-go orders. Sure this kills my potential for tips from the lost to-go orders and can irritate some guests, but it maintains the kitchen's ability to function, which, from what I can tell, is pretty darn critical for a restaurant to operate.

This is yet another reason for you to stay on the line! Again, if I put you on hold, I'm coming back! There are anywhere from one to four bartenders working at any given moment, so if none of us can get to you at that precise moment you call, please be patient. My restaurant as a corporation technically does not support the to-go operation, but is forced to tolerate it, meaning that we don't have a designated to-go person. As in, on weekend evening shifts, we have four bartenders: one up to his neck in drink orders for the whole restaurant while two more are drowning in to-go orders, and the fourth is generally acting as the assistant, the "go fer" running the errands the other three need to stay afloat. And somehow between the four of us, we manage to serve our fifteen or so bar-top guests. Despite the corporate anti to-go stance, our store's to-go sales constitute 15% of the entire restaurant's sales. We would not even remotely need a fourth, or even a third, bartender on weekend nights if we had a smaller to-go operation. Even other stores in our chain here in the area would be crippled by the sheer volume of to-go orders that we handle routinely. We have a lot going on.

tl;dr: BE PATIENT, YOU IMPATIENT, ENTITLED JERKWAD. YOUR TIME WILL COME.

[ photo credit ]

 

[ degreed waitress ]

To-Go Tips Galore! -- Tip #6

I'm sure we've all looked at a restaurant's menu and found that *one* entrée that you would just love to get...... if it didn't have mushrooms.... or pineapples... or peanuts... whatever the case may be.

Perhaps you're allergic to the item. Perhaps you just plain don't like it.

Perhaps you're vegetarian and need to find a dish without any meat. Perhaps you're super vegetarian and need to find a dish without any chicken broth, bacon grease, or meat-related bases or flavors.

Some dishes you would need to avoid completely because they can't be modified in the way you would want. Some dishes can be modified easily, simply by clearly communicating your wants and needs to your server.

Whatever the case may be, it is your right and privilege to ask these questions of your server. It is the server's responsibility to know the answer. Or, if he doesn't know it immediately and with complete certainty, it is his responsibility to get the answer to you as soon as possible.

But here's the catch... ask informed questions. Asking vague questions gets you nowhere. Asking informed questions gets you answers.

There is a key difference between asking your server something completely vague, "What's good here?" and asking something slightly more specific, "What's your favorite dish?" The more specific, the better: "What's your favorite dish with grilled chicken?" Bingo. Get ready for a good conversation on the dinners available with grilled chicken, as well as a personalized recommendation.

The more information your server has about your food interests, the better he can tailor his suggestions to you. That is a key part of the service he provides in being a waiter. He can't help a customer pick a meal nearly as adequately without some cooperation from the customer herself. Otherwise, he's just going to resort to promoting the special of that day or week regardless of how much it would interest you, simply 'cause management told him to promote it -- or bribed him to, by means of competitions and prizes.

The question-asking scenarios get a little rougher when there's a pair of telephones in between the customer and the server, though. Usually that's 'cause the customer hasn't looked at a menu anytime recently [ but I've discussed this before ]...

To-Go Tips Galore! #6: Ask informed questions.

Here's a bright idea..... THINK!!!

[ photo credit ]

Regardless of the situation, I once again implore customers, especially those who place to-go orders via phone, to please take a few minutes to prepare your order -- including your questions -- before picking up the phone.

Want some [ unfortunately ] real examples from my daily experiences?

** "Uhh, yeah, hey, can I get a chicken salad?" is NOT acceptable.
[ All entrée salads have chicken on them. Unless specifically ordered otherwise. ]

** "What kind of chicken salads y'all got?" is NOT acceptable.
[ Same reason applies. Plus, If you just waited nearly five minutes on hold to talk to me, you can safely assume that I am busy helping other people. So why the hell would you think it's okay to ask me to explain the menu to you? ]

** "What sides y'all have?" is NOT acceptable.
[ With our recent new menu rollout, I now have nearly two dozen side dish options, including the price upgrade options. And the number of sides you get -- not to mention the prices -- varies depending on the category of entrées and sides selected. You're just going to order Fries and Broccoli Cheese Casserole anyway, so quit wasting my time asking me to list them all. ]

** "What is the size difference between the lunch and dinner portions of catfish?" IS acceptable.
[ One fillet versus two fillets. ]

** "Is the bourbon glaze spicy?" IS acceptable.
[ And no, it is not. It is, however, totally awesome. ]

** "Is it possible to add an extra breast of grilled chicken to that Alfredo pasta?" IS acceptable.
[ And yes, it is possible. Only $1.99 more. ]

** "What does the 'loaded' for your 'loaded baked potato' mean?" IS acceptable.
[ Butter, cheese, and sour cream. "No ma'am, no chives... No, we don't even have chives, ma'am... There won't be any chives on your baked potato whatsoever... No chives, I got it." ] 

** "What do you mean 'loaded' don' come wit' bacon bits?! You serious I gotta pay 79 sint fo' bacon? Das crazy. Everywhurr else put bacon on dey potatoes! Nu-uh, I ain't payin' no extra fo' bacon bits!" IS NOT ACCEPTABLE.
[ If you want free bacon on your baked potato, go to a restaurant with bacon as part of their 'loaded.' *cough*Chili's*cough* Have fun making up for it by paying more for any of their entrées than you would have for any of ours. ]


[ degreed waitress ]

Exciting news!

To the few of you who care,
 
I have launched a Confessions of a Degreed Waitress Tumblr account.
 
Y'all should totally check it out.... or better yet, follow me!



Here's my first post:



When people find out I've been waiting tables with a college degree for two years

 


[ degreed waitress ]

To-Go Tips Galore! -- Tip #5

Again with the [ not so ] common sense.

To-Go Tips Galore! Tip #5: Pick up the menu. Before you pick up the phone.

Oh, and read it, too.

I've given this example before, but asking me for a side of macaroni and cheese when that side is listed absolutely nowhere on our menu is just plain stupid.

[ There is a rare exception to this statement: If you know -- and you know for absolute certain -- that there is a "secret menu item" -- an item regularly served yet not listed on the menu -- then you may, of course, order this item. ]

Telling me you want "that baked fish plate" is not only as far from helpful as you could possibly be, it is also a guaranteed way to make me hate you. I do not want to play "20 Questions" over the phone, but I swear people MUST think that I do because I have this exact conversation almost word-for-word at least three times a week:

Me -- How may I help you?
Caller -- I wanna get that baked fish plate.
Me -- We actually don't bake our fish. We have grilled and fried, though.
Caller -- Grilled, then.
Me -- Okay, well we have salmon, catfish, tilapia, and shrimp. Which would you like?
Caller -- I don't 'member which one it was, but it was grilled and on, like, a bed of rice.
Me -- Well, we actually serve each of them that way, but--
Caller -- Oh, hmm, well I guess, hmm, yeah, you can get me the grilled catfish.
Me -- Would you like the lunch or dinner portion?
Caller -- Dinner.
Me -- And would you like that with lemon pepper seasoning or blackened with Cajun spices? [ awkward silence of decision making ] Or perhaps one fillet of each?
Caller -- Blackened.
Me -- Okay, and what will your sides be?
Caller -- How many ya'get?
Me -- Two.
Caller -- Umm, I guess, hmm, I guess you can get me some fries. And what other sides y'all got?
Me -- [ lists over 15 side dish options ]
Caller -- I guess, get me some macaroni and cheese.



I die a little inside with each occurrence of this conversation.

[ photo credit ]

99% of the time, I am far too busy to spend two full minutes going back and forth on one entrée. Just do me a favor, pretty please? [ It's super easy, I promise ]

READ. THE. MENU.

Guess what?! It's even online!

That way, you can tell me very succinctly that you'd like the "Dinner portion of the Blackened Catfish with sides of x and y."

And guess what?! Now I don't hate you!

See how much easier that was?!?


[ degreed waitress ]

Wait, when did jalapenos turn into sexism?

Around 3:45 on Wednesday, a server brings a stack of boxes down to the to-go end of my bar. One of the side house salads fell off the stack, spilling rabbit food onto the floor area just in front of the sink and trash can. He apologizes and says he's going to get a new salad and help clean up the fallen one. [ wanna guess which task he didn't do? ...P.S. either way, your guess is right.]

[ photo credit ]

Around 3:50, a man walks in and sits down in the to-go area. In fact, his spot at the bar is directly over the sink.  I'll call him Statler. [ The resemblance was uncanny! No, seriously! If that Muppet were human... ] Statler is oozing discontent from every pore, and I am not looking forward to whatever interaction is to come. He tells me he'll be placing a to-go order, and that he needs a menu. As he glances over it, I continue to tidy up and wipe down any surface I can reach.

A few minutes later, Statler says he's ready to order -- every guest's favorite lie. We only make it to the second item -- the Trio Sampler appetizer -- before he has to look at the menu again to actually choose the items that would make up the trio. Yeah. "Ready," my ass.

He looks down and furrows his brow in decision-making. This decision should take 10 seconds max. But no, apparently this is some sort of critical ordeal that must be reasoned out thoroughly. After about 20 seconds of standing there in awkward mutual silence, I am quite tempted to walk off and just leave him to his thoughts. Let him call me over when he's actually ready. But there's no way of doing that without appearing rude. Sigh. Looks like I get to just stand here. Awkwardly waiting. Knowing Raymond will walk in any moment. And all I want to do is get things clean for him.


[ photo credit ]

"I know!" my brain exclaims, "I'll clean up this lettuce! Cleaning without walking away -- excellent! self-five!*" I squat down pick up most of the lettuce, stand up, and drop them leaf things into the trash can. I squat back down to pick up the rest of the tidbits, when lo and behold! he's finally ready. Ugh, awkward timing.

"Okay! What can I get ya?" I ask from the ground. I finally finished picking up all the lettuce, threw it away, and washed my hands in the sink while he anwered my question. He lists his choices, tell me he wants no jalapenos anywhere on or near his nachos, and then lists all the dipping sauces he wants. Yay for full and complete orders! :) I dry my hands, place the order, and bring him a complimentary glass of sweet tea while waits. 

About those jalapenos, though.... guess what button I completely forgot to press?

** ding ding ding, we have a winner!

Well, technically I did press the "no jalapenos" button. But there were so many other modifications that the guy made, and the Squirrel [ our computer system ] was being so, well, squirrely [ per usual ] that I had to delete and re-do several of the modifiers so many times that, by the third go-round, I didn't notice that I'd inadvertently left off the jalapeno directive.

I thought nothing of it again until about 15 minutes later [ about 4:10pm ] as I opened the box in front of the guest to show him the finished product.

"Oh, no! Jalapenos! I am so sorry. I'll go get this fixed right now."

I picked up the box, grabbed the order's ticket, and started towards the kitchen. I snuck a look at the ticket to see if the mistake was my fault or the kitchen's. The words "no jalapenos" were nowhere to be found. Damn. It was mine.

"Wait," he snapped. "I don't want them to just take off the jalapenos 'cause it'll still have the hot on there."

In my head, I totally snickered. First of all, "hot" isn't a noun. Secondly, how intolerant to jalapenos ARE you? These really aren't that hot. But, hey, in his defense, he is old and white. Also in his defense, I did say "I'll go get these fixed." My words did not adequately reveal my plan of action -- whether I would have the cooks simply pick off the jalapenos or have the cooks completely restart the nachos.

"Oh no, sir," I corrected. "I'm going to have them make fresh nachos for you."

"Well, how long is that gonna take?"

"Only a few minutes."

Since it is well enough after 4 o'clock, it would actually take less time to make the nachos the second time around than it did the first time; 4pm is the clock-in time for the first wave of PM shift cooks and by now they've completed their shift change and are settled into position. Prior to that -- as when I first placed Statler's order -- there are only 2 cooks left from the AM shift, so things take just a few minutes longer. But of course I didn't get the opportunity to explain that the recooking would take far less time than the original cooking.

[ Also, about this time, Raymond appeared behind the bar out of freakin' nowhere, till and towels in hand. Damn. I am so not ready for him. ]

"No, no. It's going to take too long. The rest of the order is going to get cold!" Statler protested. "I want the whole thing remade."

My face dropped and my eyebrows shot up. I put the box of nachos down on top of the other three boxes of food and braced myself against the bar. "You want us to remake the entire order, not just the nachos?" I repeated slowly. Not gonna lie, I had a little attitude in my voice. Somehow I held myself back from blurting out, "IT'S TO-GO FOOD, DUDE. IT'S GOING TO BE COLD ONCE YOU GET TO WHEREVER YOU'RE GOING ANYWAYS." Yay for self-restraint!

"Yes, I want you to remake the order," he repeated.

"Alright --" I quickly snatched up the entire stack of food. "-- I'll go throw all of this away for ya," I snapped at him through a thin veil of politeness. I turned and walked away, only getting about two steps away before he stopped me, "Now, you wait a second. I wanna talk to your manager. Bring him over for me." He motions towards Raymond who is completely oblivious to my situation, as he is currently in his I-need-45-minutes-of-silence-when-I-first-walk-in-to-my-shift bubble, an is walking away from the bar and towards the kitchen. "Hah!" I thought. "He thinks Ray is a manager. Can't he see that Ray is wearing the exactly the same uniform I am?" Whatever.

"Sure, I'll get a manager," I actually said. And resumed walking.

The only "manager" available at the time was Jackie, a Floorwalker. [ A Floorwalker is an experienced and trusted server promoted to assist the management on a shift-by-shift basis. Floorwalkers dress professionally like a real manager, interact with guests as if they are a real manager, and essentially act as the bosses' filter, as they have the authority to handle the more minor issues ]. Luckily, Statler won't know that Jackie isn't a real manager. I explained the situation to her -- including the fact that the error was my fault and that I gave Statler an inappropriate amount of attitude. Jackie set out to handle my mess, and I instructed the cooks to start again on the order with no jalapenos whatsoever.

I avoided the conversation between the two of them so that I could cool myself down a bit and focus on the rest of my cleaning. Plus, Statler stood up to tower over Jackie when she approached -- between his height [ and her lack thereof ], his attitude, and his overall demeanor, he looked quite formidable. Throughout the conversation, Jackie's face showed a mix of helpless and flabbergasted, with a side of trying-to-maintain-her-composure; I couldn't help but wonder what was being said. Ten minutes later, and Statler's food finished before he did. Raymond silently bagged up the boxes, and watched as Statler left. Luckily, Jackie filled me in on what I'd missed.

He told her everything she already knew about the situation -- the jalapenos, the attitude. He also mentioned that he thought that I'd been washing my hands in a dirty sink because he saw the lettuce on my hands. *false* Furthermore, he claimed he was afraid to get his order remade because he didn't want us to mess with his food. He thought that I would spit in his food before I walked out of the kitchen. *also false*

The conversation quickly changed course, though, when Statler exclaimed that "Ever since she [ motioning towards me ] and that big one [ referring to one of my bartender friends Sybil, another thick white girl like myself..... but taller and thicker ] started working back there, this bar has "gone to shit." *definitely false* He continued with more rather sexist comments for the majority of the conversation, all leading up to his final statement, "I don't know why they let you people behind the bar anyways!" -- complete with a condescending sneer and a direct point towards Jackie's chest.

The entire time, Jackie was trying ineffectively to get a word in edgewise. Each attempt of "Sir--," "I underst--," "Well--," "I apologize--," etc. was interrupted with the next part of his tirade or with an even more infuriated, "No you do NOT understand! How can you? You keep interrupting me! You're not even listening to what I am saying. This is not how you talk to a customer." He trampled all over her, then took his fresh food and left the restaurant without paying. [ Jackie's exact words? "Basically I just bent over and took it." ]

Jackie trudged jaw-dropped back to the office and related the story to our Kitchen Manager Melissa and myself. Melissa became infuriated when she heard the story. Forget about Melissa's perfect blond hair -- with her fire, I'd swear she was a natural redhead like me. I seriously would have paid money to see her talk to Statler. But, alas. Her outburst was only for our ears.

"Why didn't you stand up to him, Jackie?!? You don't have to let him talk to you like that! Oh, I wish I had been the one who talked to him. I would have given him a piece of my mind!"

Jackie mumbled and bumbled something about "didn't know we could talk back to a customer..."

Melissa is pacing the three square feet of open space in the office. "We have the right to refuse service to anyone. And when someone makes a personal attack against our employees, I don't think we should take that! ...I mean, seriously, half of our bartenders are female. You're a female. Most of the other Floorwalkers are female. Three out of our five managers -- including our General Manager -- are female! We need to stand up to that kind of shit! I would have told him that if he can't be respectful, then he should take his sexist business elsewhere, that he and his money were no longer welcome in our restaurant!"

Jackie blinked as if she were about to crumble under her guilt of not having stood up for me. And for all of us.

Naturally, I turned to my phone and posted a snarky Facebook status:
"Didn't realize that I was born with the wrong genitalia to be competent behind a bar. Whoops. My bad."

My favorite responses?
"What dude goes to a bar to get waited on by a dude?"
followed by, "It's not like we're stirring the drinks with our junk..."

*le sigh* What an ordeal. I don't even know what to make of it all.


[ degreed waitress ]

To-Go Tips Galore! -- Tip #4

I *thought* that this would be common sense. I forgot that common sense just isn't common. smh.

To-Go Tips Galore! Tip #4: Know who you're ordering for. Before you place an order.

It's dinner rush on Friday night.

You have just called my restaurant, and the new sixteen-year-old hostess at the front who can't be bothered with walking guests to their tables because she might ruin her makeup, so she just stands there answering the phone has just transferred your to-go phone call to me at the to-go area [ aka the bar ].

I'm in the middle of helping at least one or two or seven other guests at this time, so after about a minute or two of listening to the annoying as hell riiiiiiiiiiiing BEEP BEEP signifying that the Queen of England [ or whoever you think you are ] is waiting to talk to me, I will finally answer the phone with the cheerful, albeit slightly rushed greeting, "[ my restaurant ] To-Go, please hold," press the hold button, and put down the phone so fast that I have no idea if you've even heard me or not. [ okay, okay... sometimes I stay on the line long enough to utter a pleasant thank you. ]

My next task is to navigate to a stopping point in the pickup and placement of orders by the people standing right in front of me [ not to mention serving food and drinks to the bar guests, making drinks the servers have ordered for the rest of the restaurant, answering the OTHER to-go phone line, and being my own bar-back, etc. ] and get back to your call. Usually I can get to the phone within 2 - 3 minutes. Sometimes though, it's five minutes... and no, I'm not proud of that, but there ya go.

Now I finally give you my time. I pick up your phone line and greet with you an actually genuine "Thank you so much for holding. My name is [ degreed waitress ]. How may I help you?"

It is now your time to speak.

I give you all my [ largely ] undivided attention, and you give me all the food orders you could possibly imagine. All the menu-related questions you hold. All the special modifications you need. All the extra dressings your little heart desires. All the separate check specifications. Bring it. I'm ready. Anything else to clog your arteries, Your Highness? My time is yours.

It is NOT, however, the time for you to start figuring out who will be eating.


[ photo credit ]

Don't waste my time making me listen to you ask your cousin, your auntie, your nana, your friend, your baby daddy, or [ God forbid ] your four-year-old world's-least-intelligent kid if they want anything to eat from our restaurant tonight. You had plenty of time to assemble everyone's orders while you were on hold. And even more time before you picked up that phone.

So, please, make everyone's life a little easier and take a few minutes to find out who is hungry before you call me.


[ degreed waitress ]

To-Go Tips Galore! -- Tip #3

The to-go food ordering process can be a complex relationship at times, but believe me -- all it takes is a little trust.

If I can manage to trust that you -- a complete stranger -- will actually show up to claim your order like you say you will, thus ensuring that the time and effort put forth both by myself and by the entire kitchen staff [ not to mention the restaurant's food, and therefore money ] aren't completely wasted, then you should be able to trust that I actually know the menu of my own restaurant.

Apparently, many customers hold so tightly to their motto, "The customer is always right," that it somehow supersedes all logic, and it miraculously still applies when they are not even inside the restaurant, have not yet even become customers, and are not in possession of any reading materials [ i.e. menus ] -- whether in print or online -- which would spell out how to become a customer. 

Since I becoming a to-go order processor [ aka bartender ], I have been surprised on a daily basis at how easily upset and offended the to-go callers can be at the revelation of little tidbits of menu information. They routinely argue with me about anything and everything remotely contrary to their preconceived notions of what our restaurant serves. 

This leads me to today's tip...

To-Go Tips Galore! Tip #3: Trust the person taking your order.

**If I tell you the entrée comes with one side dish, not two, then the entrée comes with one side dish, not two.
[ Choose just one or pay for the second. It's that easy, really. ]

**If I tell you that we don't serve mac 'n' cheese, then we don't serve mac 'n' cheese.
[ You're going to pass Boston Market on the way here, so why don't you just stop there instead, yeah? ]

**If I tell you that we can't take the onions out of the chicken tortilla soup, then we can't take the onions out of the chicken tortilla soup. 
[ Besides, do you really want us fishing around inside your bowl of soup, picking out the bits of chopped onion one-by-one, all by hand? I don't think so. Oh wait, you didn't actually think that our made-from-scratch soup is made one bowl at a time, did you? That's just cute. ]

**If I tell you that we stopped serving half-orders of onion rings over a year ago, then we stopped selling half-orders over a year ago.
[ And by "stopped serving" them, I don't just mean, "The managers said 'no,' but don't worry, random customer, I'm totally going to break the rules just for you." I mean, I don't have even the ability to order them anymore. The button itself is no longer existent. Therefore, NO you did NOT get a half-order here "just last week." Unless you went to a different branch. And that branch would have to be a franchise, not corporate, because that change was corporate-wide. And the nearest franchise-owned restaurant in our chain is a couple hundred miles away. So if you were there last week, then yeah, you probably did get the half-order of onion rings when you ordered them. But if you were here, like you're so adamantly insisting, then no, you did not get them last week, and no, you will not get them this week. So please stop arguing with me. ]

**If I -- and the menu -- tell you that all things labeled "chicken tenders" are fried chicken tenders and all things labeled "grilled chicken breasts" are grilled chicken breasts, then guess what? That's how it is. "Chicken Tenders" are not grilled, and "chicken breasts" are not fried.
[ I know, I know, it's all so confusing. It's like the restaurant should just make a detailed list of what's in every single entrée and make it easily accessible by putting that list on every single table and in front of every single guest..... ]


Essentially what it comes down to is this...

I had to prove thorough knowledge of our menu in order to complete training and even be allowed to work here.

I have worked here, serving food from this menu, nearly every day for the past two years.

I have eaten here, eating food from this menu, nearly every day for the past two years.

I have trained dozens of new hires to become excellent servers, and that includes teaching them the details of this menu.

Let's just say I know the menu.

Therefore,

**If I make a menu-related comment, then please assume it to be fact. Do not argue, as you will only make yourself look stupid.

Unless, of course, that was your original intent. Then, by all means, go right ahead.

Either way, thank you for unintentionally gifting me the subsequent momentary feeling of intellectual superiority. That's the chicken [ tortilla ] soup for my soul.


[ degreed waitress ]

To-Go Tips Galore! -- Tip #2

What is your name?
[ degreed waitress ]

What is your quest?
To eradicate to-go food ordering stupidity.

What is your favorite color?
Teal! No, green! No! Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!!

To-Go Tips Galore! Tip #2: Pay attention to what the person taking your order is saying.

I answered your call pleasantly, saying "[ my restaurant ] To-Go, thank you for holding. Can I get the name for your order please?"



What is your name?

[ photo credit ]

Guess what?! I didn't just say that same spiel for the seventy-third time tonight just for giggles and grins. No, there's actually a reason! I need your name first. So when you ignore my question and shoot off three or four rapid-fire orders all the while I'm trying to sneak in a repeat of the question, "Hold on a moment, ma'am, can I get your name please?" then you have the audacity to rudely snap "No! I'm not finished yet!" and keep ordering... then you have NO right to be pissed off when I politely state, "I'm sorry ma'am, but I can't take your order until I have your name." A super offended "Excuse me?" is NOT called for, but luckily you've finally shut up long enough for me to explain, "My computer system won't allow me to start a food order without a name for the order. Which is why I asked you for your name first. So what name can I put your order under?"
 
By the way, lady, in those few moments of deafening silence, I could just hear you shrink in embarrassment. And I kinda enjoyed it. So, uh, thanks for that ;)
 
[ p.s. Thanks also for sending your son to pick up the food. He's always really nice and tips really well. ]


[ degreed waitress ]

To-Go Tips Galore! -- Tip #1

As I have recently stated, the vast majority of my job as a bartender is, in fact, handling all to-go orders instead of handling bar drinks.

Through these interactions, it has come to my attention that very few people know how to navigate the to-go food waters smoothly, which has inspired me to compile an ever-growing list of suggestions for anyone who engages in to-go food transactions.

Most people who read these might actually glean something worthwhile from this series.

The rest of you, however, can celebrate that your common sense and basic intelligence sets you apart from the hordes of idiots I have to deal with each day. Therefore, y'all can read these posts for the sadly humorous interactions with some of those not-as-intellectually-blessed.

Regardless of where you fit into all this, my To-Go Tips Galore! shall be broken into multiple posts so as to save your lovely eyes from exhaustion. And so we begin!

To-Go Tips Galore! Tip #1: Know what restaurant you're calling.

Ordering the Crispy Chicken Crispers is a fantastic idea! ...that is, if you're calling Chili's. I do not (have never, nor will ever) work at Chili's. Do not use Chili's terminology when you're placing an order with me, an employee of the restaurant that is not only around the corner from Chili's, but also is it's direct competitor.

[ photo credit ]

And when I clarify with you, "Oh, you mean the Chicken Tender Platter? The Crispers are at Chili's." please do NOT disregard my statement and just continue, "Yeah, well, I want the Crispy Chicken Crispers." If you are in a Chili's mindset when you come into my restaurant, then nothing we serve you will be what you expected, and you are less likely to be pleased. And theoretically we aim to please.

Furthermore, if the restaurant you are calling is part of a chain, please make sure that the branch you call and the branch you show up to are the same one. I don't want your five boxes of unclaimed food cluttering up my counter for three hours before we have to throw it away and thus severely damage our food costs any more than you want to show up and discover that your food is, in fact, not ready so you have to sit there waiting for it to be made and thus eliminating the advantage of calling ahead. In short, don't waste everyone else's time and money just because you're too stupid to do a simple Google search.


[ degreed waitress ]

"Sometimes, on Sunday mornings...

...I listen to gangster rap before work just so that I can be prepared for the customers we're gonna have."

-- "Eloise"

That is some sage advice, my friend.


[ degreed waitress ]

Not even those napkins are gonna clean up this mess

Saturday night, bartending, I got into it with a guest over napkins. Yeah. Napkins.

Here's how the interactions should have gone down if the guest in question wasn't a rude, entitled meaniehead:

Me -- Hi, what can I get for you?
Guest -- I'd like a mango margarita, please.
Me -- Sure! Would you like any salt or sugar on the rim?
Guest -- Salt, please.
Me -- Alright, will do! *makes and serves the margarita*
Guest [ two minutes later ] -- Could I get some napkins please? Some of the margarita overflowed, and it's made a bit of a mess.
Me -- *hands her three Bevnaps* Here ya go.
Guest -- Thank you.
Me -- My pleasure.
Guest [ two minutes later ] -- I don't really like this. Could I get a different drink please?
Me -- Sure, what can I get for you instead?
Guest -- A strawberry margarita, please?

...blah blah blah, et cetera, et cetera...

Yeah, none of that "please" and "thank you" stuff actually happened. I'm sure common courtesy and manners would be far too much to ask of this woman.



[ photo credit ]

Instead, here's how it actually went down:

Well, just kidding. First let me offer a little background to help set the scene. The majority of my work as a bartender isn't actually tending bar; it's handling to-go orders. Also, our bartenders have adopted the habit of opening each box in front of the guest, showing them the food to ensure the order's accuracy, and then running back to the kitchen for the 3 ranches, 1 gravy, and 2 honey mustards that the guest KNEW they'd need but didn't have the decency to request over the phone so that they'd be with the order in the first place and not waste any more of anyone's time. This makes the to-go operation much lengthier, but it is worthwhile, as our kitchen often leaves off side salads, dessert accoutrements, etc.

And now, the story:

The guest sat down by herself on the side of the bar where we handle our to-go orders. Sybil, one of my fellow bartenders, greeted the lady, "Hi, what can I do for you?" Her response? Nothing. She was so zoned out, she didn't even look up or realize she had been addressed. In such a case as this (or when a guest is on the phone), we just wait a few minutes and try then. So five minutes later, Sybil asks me to greet her. "She completely ignored me when I tried. Maybe she'll pay attention now."

Given her proximity to the to-go area, and the fact that the five people near her were all waiting to pick up their to-go orders, and the fact that a large tray with about three orders had just arrived at my counter, I assumed she might be waiting on a to-go order.

Me -- Hi, are you waiting on to-go order?
Guest -- I'm waiting, but I haven't placed an order.
Me -- Okay, so you still need to place your to-go order? Do you need a menu?
Guest -- I'm not doing a to-go order [ I can practically hear her eyes rolling ]. I'm waiting on a table, and I want a drink.
Me -- Okay, do you need a drink menu?
Guest -- No. I know what I want. I want a mango margarita.

Fast forward to the delivery of her margarita. I immediately proceed to do a show-and-tell of the to-go order for the guest seated directly next to her. In between box one and box two, she interrupts me: "Excuse me, I need some napkins." Annoyed at the interruption for something so minor, I walk over to my cart o' supplies, get three Bevnaps, and hand them to her. A minute later, I'm almost done with showing his order, when she interrupts me again: "I need more napkins." "Okay! One moment." At this point I have my hands full of boxes to take back to kitchen to get the missing salad and bread. I am not about to reward her with immediate napkins again for after interrupting me again. So instead I go get the missing items and am back within a minute, picking up more napkins on the way. Once his order is done, though, more attitude sets in.

Guest -- I don't really like this drink.
Me -- Okay, what can I get for you instead?
Guest -- It's just nasty. The flavor just isn't right. *she goes on and on*
Me [ patience waning ] -- Okay, what can I get for you instead?
Guest -- Strawberry margarita.

I silently make and deliver the new margarita, and proceed to help other to-go guests. Not five minutes later, this second margarita is "nasty" too.

Guest -- I don't like it. The flavor is nasty. It tastes just like the first one.
Me -- Ah, well, we actually use the same margarita mix for all of our frozen margaritas. I just added the strawberry flavor to the glass this time instead of adding the mango flavor like last time.
Guest -- Oh, so all you do is just put some flavor in the glass?

Plus, does she honestly expect that a restaurant as cheap as ours,
with a house margarita for THREE DOLLARS AND FIFTY CENTS
is seriously going to have premade flavored margaritas?
That is just terrible business sense.
Or maybe I'm the only one with a BBA around here?

Me [ what I was thinking ] -- Isn't that what I just said?
Me [ what I actually said ] -- Yes ma'am. [ Mind you, being seated at the bar, she had full visibility of the process of pumping syrup into a schooner and then filling it with frozen margarita. Both times. But once again, attentiveness apparently just is not her strong suit. ]
Guest -- It just tastes sour. It is not sweet at all. It's just alcohol and sour-tasting.
Me [ what I was thinking ] -- Yeah, it should. Because those are the exact ingredients: alcohol and sour mix.
Me [ what I actually said ] -- Yeah, there's a lot of alcohol in there. And the lime flavor of our Sweet and Sour mix will give it that slightly sour taste--
Guest [ interrupting, as usual, but this time with an increased level of attitude ] -- I know what's in a margarita. I drink margaritas all the time. This is just nasty. It is not sweet at all. I don't taste the flavor AT ALL.
Me -- Would you like some extra strawberry syrup? That should sweeten it up more for you.
Guest -- Yeah. *rolls eyes*

I bring her a lowball glass filled with double the amount of syrup that's already in her margarita and set it down next to her drink. My to-go phone is ringing, so I turn around to answer it. My back is towards my guests, but as I am now facing a wall full of mirrors, I see the lady stir the syrup into the margarita. The genius had only taken a few drinks beforehand, so now she's overflowing the margarita onto the bar, making an even bigger mess than she'd made with the mango one.

What I saw next was the final straw for my patience with this lady. I saw her get up, walk ten feet over towards my cart o' supplies, REACH OVER MY BAR, pick up my basket of napkins, take the napkins out of the basket [ thus HANDLING ALL OF THEM ], and take an inch-and-a-half stack for herself before putting the napkins back where they belonged.

Oh hell no.

Luckily, the to-go phone order was short, because I hung up, whipped around before she had made it back to her seat, and snapped at her:

Me -- Excuse me? You could have asked.
Guest -- Well, I needed more napkins.
Me -- You could have asked.
Guest -- Well, you didn't bring me the napkins I needed.
Me -- I'm sorry you already used up all the ones I already brought you, but you could have asked for more. We keep our supplies behind the bar for a reason -- we have to maintain the cleanliness of our supplies. We can't have guests just touching everything, okay? Don't. touch. our. stuff.

I felt the finality of my words emanating from my backbone, a body part I did not seem to possess before I started bartending. I felt my stomach knotting up in the effort to restrain my voice from yelling at her, although my voice was definitely raised. I felt my face flushing redder than my hair, realizing that every single guest at the bar top, in the to-go area, and at the tall tables nearest our bar was turning ever so attentively back and forth between the two of us like it was the Wimbledon finals. I felt comforted, though, that none of those onlookers seemed remotely offended by my actions. It seemed that I would escape this situation without further incident.

I walked off, taking a deep breath to calm myself, and proceeded to get back to my job. She nursed that margarita for the next hour before laying out her money; all the while, I was my normal cheerful, peppy self as I handled the to-go orders right next to her. I consciously overdid my friendliness as if it were a lethal weapon -- See? Everyone else is a decent human being, and I love to serve them. You, lady, are just a rude, entitled meaniehead, so you don't get any good service from now on.

Guess what? She didn't tip. But I didn't need to tell you that for you to know she wouldn't tip. But whatever, I didn't care. She didn't say another word to anyone, even in the payment process. I cheerfully handed her change with a "Here ya go!" and watched it all go into her purse, of course.

This whole interaction really irked me though. I dwelled on it for the rest of the weekend, actually. I kinda wish she had escalated it so I could just throw it back in her face. Put her in her place. All that jazz. Next time, though, I'll be ready...

Me [ in the hypothetical future repeat of this situation ] -- Ma'am, as a bartender and food server, I am legally bound to protect the health and safety of the guests in this restaurant by ensuring that all supplies are kept clean. That means that no guests are allowed to touch what is in the kitchen or behind the bar, because, quite frankly, ma'am, I don't know when you last washed your hands or if you've recently been exposed to some illness or disease. So here you go. *hand her the entire stack of napkins* These are yours now. You've touched them, so now I can't serve them to anyone else.

BAM!

A little over the top? Definitely.
Effective in curtailing an unsafe behavior? Probably.
Gonna get me fired? Maybe.

Hah. Until then, [ degreed waitress ] shall continue protecting her napkins :)


[ degreed waitress ]