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Tuesday, December 13, 2011

No Campers Allowed

Dear Campers,

First, let me apologize if you are not keen on being called "campers." Perhaps you would prefer to be called squatters or better yet "the bitches who sat at my prime booth all night long and drank coffee refills and didn't let me turn over my table so I can make some fucking money." Is that better? Okay, now that we have that cleared up, let's get to the business at hand.
Move on! I get that you haven't seen each other in over ten years and that you have a lot to catch up on, what with one you of getting your nursing degree and falling in love with a doctor who isn't interested in you, but can you discuss that someplace else other than my station? Maybe a park bench, a bar, the mall or better yet one of your own fucking homes, because booth #3 is meant to be rotated throughout the night. I do not want to have some nursing rag and her best friend sitting there all night showing pictures to each other on their iPads. Yes, your Labradoodle is adorable, but get out.

You see, if it's just the two of you and you each order one Caesar salad (to share, with the dressing on the side and not too may croutons but extra cheese) and then you each get a roasted chicken breast entree and then two cups of coffee, that does not entitle you to stay there all night. Your check may be about $40 and you may leave me eight dollars but if you stay there all night, no one else is going to tip me off of that booth. I essentially lose money because you needed to talk about how much you mean to each other even though you let ten years slip by without so much as a Christmas card.

Yes, it is very interesting for me to hear about your six year old son who is reading at a fifth grade level, but every story you tell about that brat is another dollar out of my pocket. Three hours at one booth is as unacceptable as that Kate Gosselin hairdo you both had. And as for you, Nurse-in Love-With Doctor, he might be more interested in you if you could wash off that stench of desperation wafting off your Mom Jeans. On second thought, it might just be the Mom Jeans. Maybe
Pajama Jeans will snare that doctor you love so much. Everyone knows doctors like women who wear Pajama Jeans, you dumb bitch. Duh.

The point is, I need to have multiple people sit at my tables in order for me to make money. Basically, you are leasing that table and after you finish your second cup of coffee ("with a little decaf in it, please"), your lease is up. You need to pay your check and go or start over with another appetizer. Got it? I could have had that four-top sit there who was celebrating a birthday and ordered two bottles of wines, four apps, four entrees and four desserts, but no. They went to another station because you wanted another cup of coffee to sip as you talked about how much fun it was to live in the dorms and cook Ramen Noodles in a hot pot.

Please keep this in mind the next time you are in a restaurant. You are not just tipping on the food total, but also on how much time you were there. I only make money if I serve a lot of people. Thanks for reading and I really loved the way one of you signed your credit card slip; dotting the eye with a heart is so precious.

The Bitchy Waiter

p.s. Nurse Rag, if you are doing Secret Santa at the hospital, you should totally buy the doctor a
Snuggie even if you didn't draw his name. Everyone knows that the way to a doctor's heart is through a Snuggie, you dumb bitch. Duh.

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DonnaNewsom said...

The only way I like campers is if I'm absolutely overloaded and couldn't take a new table if I tried. Then there's the people who drink up a $150 tab between three people, that's OK too... I work in a sports bar, so there can be a table basically taking up half of your section (we get enormous sections) with a 15 top for a four hour game.... hell, as long as the drink, and tip accordingly, I'm not gonna complain. But two people taking up a table on a busy shift for several hours and only tipping according to the check total.... not very polite at all!

Mary A. said...

If you really want to marry a doctor, get a boob job and some liposuction. Then once you are married you can worry about all the money he spends even though he still owes $100K in student loans, is upside down on your ugly McMansion and makes you drive a volvo.

Maria said...

Doctors don't marry nurses, they marry much younger trophy wives (that, as Mary A. so astutely pointed out, have had boob jobs and liposuction). Duh!

Practical Parsimony said...

It's too bad there is not some sort of protocol where you can "evict" people after a certain length of time.

Andrea said...

How had they not kept in touch over the past 10 years? That is what Facebook is for, duh! If they had iPads then surely they could have been poking each other back and forth all this time....fuckers...

Caveman said...

We all hate campers. Great article. I would love to hear the dumb bitches responses if somehow they read your post.

Anonymous said...

I had someone (A couple on a first date) self seat themselves at my money table-a 6 top, on a Saturday night. Sat there for 2.5 hours and left $9.00 on $74.99 bill. Kiss my A**:).

Anonymous said...

This is one of those things that people who have never worked as a server absolutely do not understand. It's been years since my serving days, but I can still recall the frustration when campers would take over a prime table on a weekend night causing a pretty big loss of income for the week. To this day, when dining out with friends or coworkers who want to linger and chat, I will tell them our turn is up and we need to leave. When I explain why, some of them are still clueless and think it's their right to sit there as long as they want. I won't dine out with those people after tjat!

Anonymous said...

Agree with your article. My husband and I go out quite a bit and we "camp" for 2 hours, sometimes more. We ALWAYS tip for the table time. $10/hour tip, NO LESS! and more if our bill is large. Just being Christian and fair.