I waited tables for more years than I care to admit (20), in
a variety of restaurants. Every server has the group of people they hate to
wait on. For the most part, you know as soon as you walk up to the table what
kind of tip you’re going to receive. Of course there are surprises. The
restaurant industry is filled with nothing, if not surprises. There is one
group, however, that never fails to disappoint. They are the Ranch Monsters.
What is a Ranch Monster? If you’re not a server, you
probably don’t know this is a thing. If you’ve waited tables for more than a
weekend, however, you know very well who I’m talking about. Ranch Monsters are
overweight, mean bitches that I’m convinced exist solely to walk into your
restaurant just to keep your self-esteem in check.
Let me be clear before we begin- no bitch on earth is fatter
or meaner than I am. I have no problem with people of any size. I offer this
information strictly to aid in the identification of Ranch Monsters. They are
overweight and can be identified by their scowl that greets you as you walk to
their table. Her order is predictable. If she is dining with her parents, she
will order a well-done steak. If she is out with a young man, she will order the
least expensive thing on the menu, as she will be paying. If they are out in a
group together, immediately leave the restaurant and find gainful employment
elsewhere.
After giving you her order, she will complete your
transaction by saying, “And I’m going to need a LOT of Ranch dressing to go
with that.” Of course you do, Madam. I’ll roll the trough on out to your table
and slop you shortly.
Nothing will please the Ranch Monster. The food will not be
prepared properly. The service is the worst she’s ever had. The music is too loud
or too quiet. Goldilocks would tell this bitch to get over herself. And, of
course, it goes without saying that there will be no tip. Consider yourself
fortunate if you are able to get through the meal without her calling the
manager over to insist that you should be fired for lingering too long with her
6th refill of diet coke.
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22 comments:
I'm shy.
Bravo!! Of course I know your feelings on Ranch because *coughs* I know where your blog is. I often order Ranch because the other choices are uninspired and Ranch is a sure thing. However, I really try to be respectful of wait staff, always, and I tip well for good service. (I tip 20% for ordinary service). If a restaurant has something different on their list of salad dressing choices - like Caramel Vinaigrette - I'll always go with that. Otherwise I'm one of those Ranch people. I never order extra though.
Ranch monsters are everywhere. When I worked at the grocery store's deli, we ran out of ranch dressing for the salad bar. The look on my supervisors face when I told her we were out. Like the world was coming to an end. Had it been honey dijon or blue cheese, no big deal, but all hell breaks loose when you have a bunch of sad looking zombie like customers hovering aimless around the salad bar having a hard time processing the fact that they can't drown their greens in the coveted white nectar.
Sure you are, granny.
I have this fat bearded chick and her fat bearded mother who come and sit at the bar where I work. She originally opened the restaurant five years ago, so "she knows what it's like." Mind you, I don't know her. I have four years of tenure at my restaurant, but she was long gone by the time I started. The annoying wenches are hella needy, can't ask for everything at once, change their order after it has been submitted to the kitchen, and total ranch monsters. The mother regularly orders a full rack of ribs (for freaking LUNCH,) and 86's the BBQ. What does she get in place of the barbecue? Ranch. Ranch that she puts on her ribs. On her broccoli. On her mashed potatoes. She literally goes through two eight ounce bowls of ranch and takes another to go. That is over three cups of ranch dressing people. That is drinking ranch dressing like coffee. And the tip, since she "knows what it's like?" There bill is usually around $60, and I get a great big ole $5. Thanks for less than ten percent, whore.
I used to work at an Asian restaurant inside a moderately priced department store in San Francisco. Being that we gave Shmacy's employees a discount, we'd get a lot of them.
There was one Ranch Monster that would be there about every other day. Overweight, never happy, but he thought very well of himself.
Now this restaurant, while it mainly served Asian dishes, it also had hamburgers and pizzas. This Ranch Monster always ordered a pepperoni pizza. We all knew he was on his lunch break. Our pizzas were made to order. At least 15 minutes from being ordered to being delivered. He'd always act like the wait was the worst part of his day.
Anyway, to the point. He would always ask for ranch dressing. We never had, nor advertised, that we had ranch dressing. But he'd ask for it anyway. After the 4th or 5th time, I finally told him that there was a salad bar across the room that would give him ranch. He never asked for it again.
I no longer work for Shmacy's, and I hope his Chanel selling fat ass chokes on the stupid pizza.
Ranch monsters are also known as Spring1.
Lovin' it, atheist granny.
My name is Angie....and I'm a ranch monster.
I kid, I'm not a ranch monster, but I do enjoy a ranch dressing from time to time. Some are better than others. I'd die first, before I'd treat a server this way. I read something one time, confirming my suspicions: You can tell a lot about a person, by the way they treat the waiter.
I want what I want, and when servers are impatient, it really ruins my meal. So, I want dressing. Yes, where is my silverware? In the meantime, I wait ten minutes with food in front of me, and have no utensils. Where is the butter I ordered for my bread? The bread is cold by the time I get butter. I have not had a water/tea refill since it has been over 20 minutes I have seen my server. And, I am choking.My chicken fingers were bitter from the burned grease and a little too black. Now, I am told that they will all be singed tonight, that's the way they are, tonight.
I eat chicken of some sort because I gave up after 20 years of ordering steak well-done and asking for no pink. Well, it seems the cook knows how to annoy me. So, I eat chicken in some form, all because the waiter does not feel like assuring I get no pink meat. One time, my steak and whole plate was removed and did not return until everyone else had finished eating. Nothing on the plate was fit to eat, and my hypoglycemic condition left me with a headache for the rest of the evening.
Really, I am just about to decide to never go out to eat again.
LOL...I hav Ranch dressing at home. BW complains with intertaining humor.
I am beginning to agree with what i heard somewhere--lay out a generous tip and inform the waiter I will removed a portion of the tip everytime I have to wait for something like silverware or butter I asked for while ordering. I was a cocktail waitress and knew how to bring things when asked for. So, I understand customers.
"Goldilocks would tell this bitch to get over herself." Too funny.
A guy I worked for a long time ago kicked some folks out of his restaurant because they wanted ranch for their pizza.
Good post about "ranch monsters," they're all over the place.
One of the most amazing places I've worked was a fine Italian restaurant, amazing simply because we didn't even carry ranch. I still get a warm and fuzzy feeling thinking about all the ranch monsters reactions when they realized they couldn't pour two tons of ranch on a $15 salad.
Thanks, guys. It feels good to see that there are other people who know exactly who I'm talking about.
And all these pizza and Ranch dressing comments turned my stomach. Why would you do that to pizza?
If I had a guest who laid out a tip and explained that a portion of it would be taken away every time I failed, I would tell them to take it all back. I don't need money that badly that I would perform like a dancing monkey for a person with an inflated sense of their own importance.
I know the ranch monster well, in fact I have come up with a small solution for them that brings me enough joy that I actually look forward to them coming in. They ALWAYS ask for extra, extra ranch on their salad. I pile it up then also bring a couple on the side. They always add the sides of ranch before even looking to see how much I already added. SO When I make the salad I add a layer of ranch to the bottom of the salad so there is another hidden element of their beloved ranch. I inform them that there is more on the salad then it looks like so be cafeful .. & it's as if they all read the same Ranch Bitch blog because without a doubt, they roll their eyes at me every time. I slowly walk away as they put the extra on & wait for it. They look of amazement & disgust when they realize how much ranch is actually on their salad. They usually pick at it, not really eating it, but won't dare ask me for another. Which I would be happy to do. Mean? Maybe. But so it being rude & snotty over damn ranch dressing.
That is an effing awesome idea, I am so gonna use that one. I can totally see the look of "amazement & disgust"! You just made my whole day!
Aside from the fact that ranch dressing is fucking disgusting, who on Earth would ruin their delicious greens/ribs/pizza/etc. by pouring shit all over it? Food has it's own flavor, people, try that out before dumping gallons of spiced jizz over it.
oroll the trough out and slop the ranch,,,,,OMG! i have never laughed so hard at an internet comment EVER!!!!
I broke up with a guy once because he insisted on putting TRIPLE SIDES of ranch on his DIET salad. broke up with him in mobile alabama in a restaurant, after he ordered his 3 sides of ranch for the last time. 3 sides of ranch does not a diet make..idiot!
You've met my sister-in-law, haven't you?
This is so funny, because a few months ago I waited on a Ranch Monster (totally using that term from now on) and she was exactly as you described: in her late 20s, fat, and rude. She came in with her mother and grandmother and ordered her steak well done but not dry."Do you hear me? Well done. But I don't want it dry." I put it in for medium well. She ordered extra ranch on her salad and another side of ranch with her steak fries. She drank about 4 glasses of Diet Pepsi after complaining that she prefers Diet Coke. At the end she stiffed me, writing on the credit card slip, "Service Sucked!" Haven't seen her since. Good riddance, cow.
Shannon,
That was a prime example of a Ranch Monster. You should have caught her for future historians to examine.
And yes, feel free to use the term.
Tonya
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