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Thursday, February 16, 2012

I Was a Bitchy Teacher

I get a lot of emails and I read every single one because I truly care about everyone who takes the time to write in. (Truth be told, I am desperately needy and the comments and emails fill the empty hole in my ego...) I got an email the other day that took me by surprise. It read:

Hello my name is Andrew and i am also a fellow waiter at every body's neighborhood cracker barrel. I'm compiling a report for a college class about how guests do not know how tip while another class mate is compiling a report against mine in debate class. anyhow all i need is your first and last name to complete the citation for the paper. i promise not solicit this information any further than the paper. thank and i look forward to your response.

sincerely,
Andrew

Okay, anyone who wants to cite this blog for a college essay needs to dig a little deeper for some sources. At least use Wikipedia, for cryin' out loud. Also, Andrew, you might want to check your punctuation and capitalization rules before you submit a paper. If I were to give your email a grade, it would be a C+. I know all about giving grades since I was a substitute teacher at a high school in Western Massachusetts a few years ago(Holla out to Southwick!) Yes, I had the future of our country in the palm of my hand. I was one cool fucking sub. When someone told me they didn't want to do their homework, I told them it was totally acceptable if they didn't want to do it? "Really, Mr. C? I don't have to do it? Cool!" "That's right," I responded. "All homework I give to you is optional. If you choose not to do it, it is your grade that is affected, not mine. I get paid the same whether you do it or not and then you can take it up with your teacher when she gets back." One time, I had to show a movie and I just told the class "if you're gonna sleep during it, please prop yourself up so I at least think you are watching it".

One day I showed up to school and was told I would be the sub for a P.E. class. Anyone who knows me knows how utterly ridiculous that is. When I was in high school myself, I did whatever it took to get out of that shit. One year I worked in the library and another year I worked in the office and my senior year I managed to be the school mascot so that cheerleading class would count as my P.E. credit. Had I a vagina, I would have claimed to have a four year menstrual cramp. The day I was subbing the P.E. class, two girls came up to me when they were supposed to be playing some stupid Frisbee game. "Mr. C., we don't wanna be out here," they whined. "That makes three of us," I said. "No get out there, pull an Olivia Newton-John and get physical." Ten minutes later, another kid yelled out to me to tell them what the score was in the game they were playing that I had never heard of nor was I watching. "Am I supposed to be keeping score?" I yelled back. Apparently, I was. "Oh," I said. "Um, you're tied with three each. Carry on." Someone piped in and said they thought the score was something else. "That's the new score keeper,"I decreed. "Play on!"
The highlight of my subbing career, was when a class walked in and one student said "Aww man, we have a sub" and another student said, "Hey, it's Mr. C. He's cool." Yeah, I was that kind of substitute teacher. Anyway, I wrote Andrew back and told hm that I couldn't give him my real name. I offered a fake one for his use since his teacher is never really going to bother to check all the sources anyway, although a citation from The Bitchy Waiter may raise some eyebrows. If he really wants a great paper, he can click here for essays.

Since I have such vast experience in the teaching profession, maybe I should consider creating a class at the Learning Annex for waiters on how to best utilize their personalities to earn the best possible tips. I could offer educational nuggets like:

  1. When you swipe a credit card, read the name on it so you can acknowledge them personally when you get back to their table. People love that personal shit.
  2. Compliment the behavior of a child at the table even though it just took a dump on the floor. "You have a very well behaved child" is like crack for parents.
  3. If you make a mistake, fess up to it so that your customer will see you as honest and hardworking rather than the bitter self-loathing bitch you truly are.
  4. If you can swing it, leave a round of drinks off the bill and then tell the customer that it was on you because they were the nicest table you had all night. Invariably, they will throw you a few extra bucks and the only one who loses any money is the restaurant itself because you gave away free liquor but who gives a shit about that anyway?
  5. Smile. Even if you have to sew your fucking lips to the your ears, smile because no one wants to see a grumpy ass waiter. Save the scowl for the sidestand and after they leave.

So there you have it. My true gift for teaching shines through even when it comes to discussing the horrible field of waiting tables. But seriously, Andrew, that email you sent me was crap. And I should know, because not only was I a high school teacher, I regularly post stories full of misspellings, bad grammar and poor punctuation.



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8 comments:

Mary A. said...

Servando Puta.

That's the name I woulda given him. I think that means Bitchy Waiter in Spanish. Or something.

HayleyKiah said...

I love number four. Charging alcohol on the house to make yourself a few extra bucks. Genius!!
Your stories always make my day.

NellieVaughn said...

Number four is highly effective. As a waitress, it's what brought in the tips. However, I would never a couple's parenting skills. Their child did not exist to me.

California Girl said...

I thought "puta" was whore. :0

Maria said...

I can totally see you not only as the coolest sub ever, but the one with the best hair.

Anonymous said...

You are great short-story writer. I really enjoy reading your daily travails.

Melo said...

"Camarero Hijueputa"
That's how you can call a Bitchy Waiter in Spanish.

World Famous Dan Shields said...

A way I found to make money when I was working as a cocktail waiter, like an extra five or ten bucks on the night, was to wear a WWJD bracelet.

Christians love that.

Yes Christians drink, think it out kids, Irish Catholics are Christians.