Ask The Waitress!: An Evening Of One Acts

Question: By having breasts, are you trying to sleep with your guests?
Answer: No. Asshole.

Ladies: I don't want to sleep with your charming boyfriend who wears his baseball cap backwards inside a restaurant, hasn't showered in a few days, and won't stop staring at my chest. If you choose to date such a disrespectful lowlife, that is your choice and your problem. Stop treating me like I'm going to pounce on him the second you deign to look up at me instead of muttering into your menu.

Gentlemen: You are not in a strip club. You are not even in Hooters. I am not bartending in a tube top, where I choose my outfit. I'm wearing a freaking polo shirt, and yeah whatever I have big boobs. If you look once because whoa, unexpected! Fine. If you at least try to check them out while I'm not looking, well first of all, a lot of you really suck at being sneaky although you obviously don't realize this. But at least that shows effort. If you, however, direct your entire order to my breasts while leering and giving me a knowing smile? You are an unequivocal misogynistic asshole, and I feel sorry for whatever girl who's dumb enough to sleep with you. Breasts are sexual, but if they're not fake, they're not on purpose. They don't make me more likely to tear your clothes off and have my way with you at table 45. So cut it out before I have an "accident" with your food.



Question: Should I read the menu's actual words?
Answer: Yes, that would be awesome.

People. I don't expect you to memorize the menu the way I have, but it's really annoying when the details of what you are getting into are clearly laid out before you and you don't bother to look at them. If you order your steak and then I ask about your sides and you are all "Oh I get a side dish with that" about things with the same level of shock as if I'd just told you that you are the father of my child? Well, that is really annoying.

You know what's even more annoying than my having to recite words that are right in front of you? Having to repeat it 27 times for all the veddy veddy important people at the table who cannot be arsed to pipe down while the server is reciting things for them. If other people have ordered before you, yet you find the words "Baked potato, sweet potato, garlic roasted mashed potatoes, French fries, rice, or vegetable?" directed at you? Well, three things: 1) You don't GET to hear about the mushrooms and onions. 2) I hate you. 3) If I didn't hate you, I wouldn't have told you about the vegetable.

And finally. I CANNOT BRING YOU A BLOOMIN' ONION!!! STOP POINTING AT THE MENU AND ASKING FOR A BLOOMIN' ONION!!! FOR FUCK'S SAKE!!!

(It's called the Boulder Blossom and I understand that may be nitpicky, but it just makes you look really dumb to point to words and say completely different ones. Plus, people say "Bloomin' Onion" like they're comedians all of a sudden.)



Question: Is the food ready?
Answer: Yes, yes it is, I just thought it would be really funny to hide it from you.

When your food is ready, it will be brought to your table. If you feel that it is taking too long, especially if you have to be somewhere eventually which I must stress does NOT include having to be somewhere in like seven minutes, because we are not McDonald's despite all evidence to the contrary as provided by spineless parents who bring outside food to their tables so their precious darlings get their proper daily supply of deadly chemicals all the better to fatten up their kids but that is another blog for another day. In the meantime. If you think you have waited more than a reasonable length of time for your meals? Tell me. Don't ask if the food's ready. Don't make "jokes" about having to catch the fish or wrangle the cattle. And finally, don't expect your meals to be ready in nine minutes on a packed Saturday night. I mean, please, go to Red Lobster, where you are lucky to get your food in 45 minutes! Then you'll know what waiting REALLY feels like!

Also, something I didn't know about but was discussing with a hostess last night. Using diabetes to cut the line is really gross. I care a lot about diabetics, between Stacey McGill, my highschool boyfriend Jon, and Shelby. Seriously though. I know what it's like. Jon had juvenile onset too, way scarier than type II. But you know what? He was aware of his condition, and prepared accordingly. We never slept together so we went to a lot of restaurants. Never once did he use his medical condition to get preferential treatment. He traveled with supplies and was careful with his insulin, and if worse came to worst, got juice from the bar. To use diabetes as a means to cut the line on a busy Saturday night is just insulting to all the people managing the disease maturely and responsibly.






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