Did I say that out loud?

Sometimes, I lose my filter.
I forget to be polite.
I snap from all the cheap people in this world.

This particularly cheap couple opted for the "waters only, and we'll split a buy one, take one pasta" route.

Awesomesauce.

Oh. Did I mention that they had a $10 off when you spend $30 coupon? So I tell them they haven't spent $30...the pasta deal is $12.95. They order a Rigatoni D, and a Diet Coke.

Their bill?

$32
...which became $22

When I brought out their take-home lasagna he says, "This looks like half a lasagna."

Word Vomit....
"Well, sir. It's a FREE lasagna."
::Big Smile::

Obviously, he tipped me off the $22, and not the originally $32 total:

$3.

It's the little things.

The morning after our holiday party, everyone was pretty out of it hungover.

Luckily, Laila was the opening manager (hooray!) which meant a morning without a shift meeting, eating LOTS of food, and making cotton candy with the party rental from the night before.
While everyone appreciated the chill morning, Homer was still in his usual form...
Non
Stop
Talking!
You can't dare ask a question around him, because he'll go on for hours! And lately, I've been having to close with JUST him at lunch...which means he's my PARTNER. I usually just ignore him and help his tables, because he even talks them to death while others sit waiting.

One of my friends at work (who won Class Clown at "prom" btw) and I love to joke about how we might mess with Homer. Remember when I hid the holiday cards?? That was fun.

This time, I took advantage of Homer's organization methods. Towards the end of a shift, he lays all of his closed checks out on a table in the back room...spread out in order like Solitare. It's actually quite irresponsible because you could easily lose them that way.

So what did I do?

I mixed them up a bit. #43 next to #39, swapped #81 for #125, etc etc etc....
We had a little giggle. It's harmless fun, right??

The show really came later when Homer discovered it, and had the verbal reaction I'd hoped for.

Ahhh, the little things in life.

(Don't feel bad for him. Earlier that day he assumed I had Native American blood because I wore my hair in a braid.)

Awkward Prom 2011

We just had our holiday party at Bloggiano's. Yes, a holiday party in February.

I have managed to work EVERY SINGLE holiday. And to put the icing on my zuccotto cake, I also got scheduled to work the night of the holiday party. Oh, AND the morning after. I win at life.

Here are the Top Ten reasons why our holiday party was so very awkward:

10) It's prom-themed. Didn't we all do that about 10 years ago??

9) It's AT Bloggiano's. With NO booze. By the time I got ready and back there for the party, I was about 10 shots too sober to be there. Everyone had gone out to drink prior.

8) Homer wore his James Brown wig. Every time I saw him come towards me to ask for a dance, I magically heard my name being called from across the room. 

7) The one guy who "didn't take it seriously" and showed up looking like a 'Where's Waldo' hipster edition.

6) The cheesy DJ, who wouldn't play any song we requested. And was about 5 feet tall. I mean, really. We're  having the party AT the restaurant, with no alcohol. We can't afford a good DJ??

5) Our manager dressing up as the High School football coach, running around blowing a whistle at people dancing too close together.

4) The "Prom King" being too wasted to know he won.

3) The fact that the majority of employees in attendance were the Mexican kitchen staff, whose eyes I felt undressing me every time I stepped on the dance floor. They literally stood silently on the perimeter, watching.

2) The girls who decided to be funny and wear 80's prom outfits.

1) After 1.5 hours being there (sober, remember) the party ended. And I went home. Only to be back at work in 9 hours. Why did I bother going??

I guess it made for good writing material, at least.

Thank you, http://awkwardpromcouples.blogspot.com

You guard the door!

Ever since my first walk-out with these assholes:
I Remember What You Look Like!!!

I'm always hesitant when I sense a weird table that might not pay, pull a "hair in the cake" maneuver, or yell at me over nothing to get a free meal.

As soon as I walked past this table at 3:30pm, I knew I was in for trouble. Crazy Lady #1 looked homeless, which is fine with me as long as she can pay for her meal, "Derek" the guy in the middle was mentally challenged, which is also fine, but "Linda," who was in charge of the group freaked me out the most. She started our interaction making it clear that Jesus Loves Me, and proceeded to say my name repeatedly..."It's so beautiful!"

I got the OK for them to do light Family Style, even with only 3 guests. But I was already nervous.

My heart jumped a bit when Crazy told me she was going to the bathroom, but put her napkin over her food and told me not to take it away while she was gone. ...kinda sad, right?

I started to sweat when Derek threw a mini tantrum, and Linda fled the scene on her phone. Umm....Linda??

Then Derek went to the restroom.

OMG they're going to leaveeee! And I'm going to get in trouble!
Linda was gone for about 15 minutes when Crazy started to cry at the table because she had an eyelash in her eye.

Omg. Omg. Omg.... Where's Linda?!?

I run to our Maitre D, who was with me on my first instincts about the table. We get the Asst. Manager who tells us to "guard the door" to make sure they aren't going anywhere without paying.

Ok, now I'm panicking.

After 25 minutes, Linda returns, asking for the bill quickly. I'm not gonna lie, I was wondering if the credit card would go through.

But it did. And she actually left me a huge tip.

My nervous breakdown may not have been worth the $20.

Corporate Cake

Oh, corporate restaurants.

If you're home this evening thinking, "Hmmm I'd LOVE some cake, but I'd prefer to not pay for it..." here's how to make that happen:

• Go to a corporate restaurant. Oh I don't know, maybe Bloggiano's?? 
• Bring your own teabag and ask for hot water. (It's free.)
• Order the chocolate cake.
• Eat half of the cake.
• Tell your server you don't like your cake, even though you've eaten half. 
• Get a manager involved.

Ta-da!

Free Corporate Cake!
I hope you all sense my sarcasm.

Cougar Town

Lately, I've been noticing our restaurant is a prime location for Cougars.
In case you've been living under a rock, I'm not talking about this kind of cougar:

I'm talking Stifler's mom from American Pie...

..Or Demi Moore marrying Ashton Kutcher, 15 years younger than her!

I'm used to the idea of men trading in women for younger models, but at Bloggiano's, it appears the women are the ones out on the prowl, so to speak. Just the other day, I waited on one table where the cougar even asked about an employee who was recently fired. He was notorious for hitting on the cougars that came in.

I felt nauseous serving my most recent cougar with her boy toy. They reminded me of that teacher-student couple so famously captured in Lifetime movies these days. She didn't take her hands off of him for even a moment. She even ordered for him, and told me what kind of things she knows he "likes." Ew.

"He'll have the baked ziti, but go easy on the ricotta because he doesn't like ricotta. You'd like the baked ziti, right baby?" 

Barf.

For dessert, she ordered the profiteroles, which are pastry puffs with ice cream in the middle.

"But can you put the hot fudge on the side. You don't like hot fudge, huh baby?"

Gag.

Once they came out, she asked me for some caramel sauce because he "LOVES" caramel sauce. I had to watch as she basically fed him and made groaning noises of satisfaction.

Sick.

I guess a lot of men in Los Angeles have an Oedipus Complex.

My BFF: The Clorox Bleach Pen

I can't seem to make it through even the slowest of shifts without spilling on myself. Why, oh why do we wear white oxford shirts?? And of course, it is a big no-no to roll up your sleeves a bit. 

So, I've entered into a loving relationship with the Clorox Bleach Pen.

It may sound like a simple pleasure, but I am so thankful for this invention. After a shift, I go home and spot treat the balsamic oil that dripped up my sleeve, the marinara sauce that's somehow ended up on my back, and the oil stains that have accumulated on my stomach. 

It's become my favorite tool of the trade!

But, seriously...how did I get wine here?!?

(Shout out to my nephew, who is the adorable face pictured above, covered in ravioli and marinara sauce! )