Born This Way

There is a great blog out there called "Born Gay, Born This Way" and I am thrilled to say that they posted something that I wrote. It has nothing to do with waiting tables, but I hope you will take a minute to go check it out my story. Well, actually, the beginning of my story does have something to do with waiting tables since I was mopping at the restaurant when I thought of what I wanted to write about. (And by the way, does anyone else have to mop their whole entire restaurant before they open? Jeez, I'm getting my measly ass tipped-employee hourly wage to fucking mop a floor? Isn't that why we have bussers and dishwashers? I digress...) Anyhoo, please go to the site if for no other reason to see an actual photo of yours truly. Yes, I have outed myself in more ways than one. It is a blogspot site, so once there feel free to comment on my story so that it can become popular and I can feed my sad and desperate need for attention.

And if you care to read my other thoughts about the gay lifestyle, you can always read about Chick-Fil-A or the day that someone called me a name and I felt the urge to spit in their lemonade.

Love,
The Bitchy Waiter

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Please Don't Eat the Garbage

One of the best things about working in a restaurant is usually the people you work with. I can't tell you how many times I have kept a job for longer than I should have simply because I so enjoyed the people I worked with. (Okay, I can tell you how many times: three.) Maybe the business has dried up or the menu has changed and the business is slow but all your friends are keeping their jobs, so you keep yours too. Plus, it's easier to keep a shitty job than go out and look for another one that may end up being even shittier. Yes, a shout out to our co-workers. This is a story about a woman I worked with at The Black-Eyed Pea in Houston, Texas on West Gray.

I always liked Connie. She was older and had been a waitress for a long time. She could always make me laugh and never took the job too seriously. Like me, she held on to the belief that "it's only lunch and there'll be another one tomorrow. Chill out." One time as I was carrying a huge bus tub of dirty dishes and pretty much balancing some glasses on my head, she got right up in front of me and said, "Hey, I've been meaning to ask you a question." I was thinking, "Really? Right now is when you're gonna ask me something?" But I was young and naive (and not yet bitchy) and patiently waited for her to organize her thoughts. I readjusted the bus tub. Connie paused and said, "yeah, uh...when you...uh...oh shit I forgot what I was gonna say...oh yeah. When you...oh never mind." She started laughing and I realized she was just fucking with me to see how long I would be nice before I told her to get the fuck out of my way. It doesn't seem that funny now that I write it out, but then it just made me laugh.

Most people at The Pea didn't like Connie. I was new and didn't know any better I guess. After a few weeks I heard someone say "Bus Tub Connie is at it again." I looked over at a side stand and saw Connie eating scraps of food out of the tub of discarded dishes. I saw her eat a handful of fried okra. Now, I am all for grazing while at work. Always have been and always will be. A french fry here a cup of soup there. But to eat off of someones plate after they have finished with it? And out of the bus tub even? Oh hell no. My opinion of Connie changed immediately. Cool Connie was actually Bus Tub Connie? I asked another waiter if this was a regular occurrence and the smart ass said, "Why the fuck else would we call her Bus Tub Connie? That bitch is always eatin' out of the fucking garbage."

After that day, Connie didn't make me laugh anymore. She sorta made me feel sorry for her. I felt like I should save scraps for her and slide them into her purse or buy her a can of cat food for dinner. But she definitely left an impression on me. Chalk it up to one of those people that makes your job at a restaurant even more interesting.

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I Can't Belive It's Not Butter

When we start a new job, we always find ourselves full of uncertainty and nerves. We worry about whether or not people will like us and will our co-workers be nice or not. It can be quite stressful and we depend on others to make us feel welcome in a new environment. When someone new comes into my restaurant, I always make sure I am part of the Welcome Wagon. I always introduce myself and offer to take them on a tour of the front and back of the house. I give them tips and pointers on how to make the computer system work for them and advise them which cooks are willing to help you out if you get in the weeds. Oh, who am I kidding? I don't give a shit about new people. I wait at least a week before I invest any time with them because too many times people quit after two or three days and I realize I wasted two or three whole sentences on them. Some people like to play tricks on the newbies and one of the best happened when I worked at The Black Eyed Pea on West Grey in Houston, Texas.

At The Pea, we were responsible for making our own desserts so we had completes access to all of them at any time. One of our favorite snacks was to take two chocolate chip cookies and then make an ice cream sandwich using French Vanilla ice cream. Were we supposed to do that? Absolutely not. Did we do that? Every fucking day. So one day we decided to play a trick on some new guy. Tim made himself one of the ice cream sandwiches and then walked by the new guy while eating it and saying how delicious it was. Of course New Guy wanted to know what it was and if he could have one. "Sure," said Tim. "Since you're new let me make it for you. I'll be right back." Tim went to the cookie bin and pulled out two freshly re-heated not homemade cookies and then walked over to the ice cream freezer. And then walked past the ice cream freezer and went to the tub of whipped butter that we used for the biscuits and cornbread. He took a huge scoop of the butter and placed in between the cookies and smashed it together. Comparing the butter to the French Vanilla, the two desserts looked exactly the same. Off he bounds to New Guy to hand him his freshly made sweet.

"Thanks, you're nice, "said New Guy.

"It's what I do," said Tim.

We watched with eager anticipation as New Guy moved the cookie and butter concoction towards his hungry hungry hippo hole of a mouth. He opened wide because Tim had filled that bitch up with butter. It was going to be a big bite. As he bit into it, the cookie crumbled and the butter oozed out of the sides of his mouth. His eyes registered surprise and then realization that he was now eating a cup of butter. Of course all us bitches laughed at him as he tried to decide whether or not to swallow that first bite or spit it out. He spit it out, laughed at himself and learned that he had been had. He thought he was now part of the Black Eyed Pea gang. He wasn't and wouldn't be until it was his turn to play the trick on the next New Guy. Until that time, he was the newbie and had to face the fact that another prank could be waiting for him at any time. It sucks being the new guy. But then again it pretty much sucks to be the old-timer too, so there you go. A two way tie for shitty.