a la carte

So, the past few weeks @ the store have been largely unremarkable.  Random funny things have been happening, though; and while they’ve been funny enough for those of us on the floor to laugh heartily @ the customers expense back in the kitchen, none were long enough to warrant an entire post.  I’ll consolidate here:

* A colleague of mine (let’s call him John), handsome and italian, had been shacking up for some time w/ a girl he used to work with.  Problem is, this girl has a boyfriend.  Their time together was while said paramour was out of town, and John actually didn’t have any place to stay (yeah he’s a really smart guy).  So he’s got a bunch of his things @ this girl’s boyfriend’s apartment.  Sure enough, the boyfriend comes back into town, having been apprised of the dynamically dumb duo’s actions in his absence.  As he walks into the bar (he is, by the way, considerably larger than John, and a regular @ our store) we actually hear John gasp.  John @ this point is half wasted on jack & cokes, and spends a good hour or so hiding in the kitchen while the cooks, the mgr, and me give him shit unmercifully.  I left before the outcome, but both of John’s legs are still working.

* Dumb shit we’ve heard from customers:

– A customer w/ a plate so clean they may have licked it: “oh this was terrible” (People, PLEASE stop this. It’s not funny. It will never be funny.)

– Asshole @ the bar flirting w/ a girl: he pulls out his credit card, shows it to her and proceeds: “This is a world card, so if I keep getting points, eventually I’ll own the world”
(I hope that guy kills himself, his father’s father would be disappointed w/ that performance)

– tbl 73, this was great: a deuce that may or may not be a couple. contemplating whether or not to order another pitcher of beer: after I ask if they’d like another, the guy says yes, the girl says no; this went on for almost a minute before the girl told him flat-out “I’m not fucking you no matter how drunk I am.” Then it got awkward, and I slid out to tell everyone else about it.

– tbl 11: the girl asks me where our ribeye comes from.  I tell her the name of the ranch, and all the business about horomone-free raising blah blah blah.  She then says: “Well I just want to make sure that the cows are raised humanely.” WHAT THE FUCK?!  I’m sure that cow was glad he/she got a chance to live a “comfortable” life before A MACHINE CUT IT DOWN INTO LITTLE BITTY PIECES OF ITSELF. Jesus people are stupid.

tbl 22

An older, heavily-drawling couple sit down in the pretty empty dining room – only slightly worrisome (w/r/t/ the drawling) as i’ve had the countriest-of-country behave excellently @ other restos where I’ve worked; I’ve also had bammas run me ragged for, literally, a 1% tip.  Anyway,  I’m there well-inside of 45s, hoping against hope that they’ll order full service – wine, apps, salads, entrees, desserts – ’cause I want that check total topospheric.

The gentleman orders a draught Miller Lite, and the lady a glass of pinot noir.

I send the orders, grab them from the service bar, and bring them to the table.

As I begin my whole speech about menu additions, soups & bruschettas, the guy interrupts:

“Hey sonny, it looks to me that you’ve brought my wife a half glass of wine”

0_o?!  (This is after i watched him shake salt into his beer. Salt.)

“I’m sorry sir, but the industry standard for wine pours is 4 ounces. Glasses for red wine, by design, expand the surface area of the wine for purposes of breathing and aroma…”

Here he cuts me off again:

“Well, I appreciate you pissin’ down my leg and telling me it’s raining, but…”

(at this point, I’m a college student from NY, I don’t even know what the fuck that metaphor MEANS!)

He goes on and on about how it’s a half glass of wine, how us “city folk” are “bullshit artists” so by this time, in my frustration, I offer to bring a full glass of pinot for his wife.

Luckily, the store’s beverage mgr happened to be in, so I tell him the deal and ask him to deliver it to the table.

He does so, confused (but at this point we all are, me, the bartender, the mgr, everyone), and informs the guy that while we’re happy to serve his wife the glass of wine HE thinks she should have, the house would have to charge him for two.

Of course, he refuses, and we have to re-pour a regular glass of wine for his wife before I can get back to service.

So I’m back, jumping through the regular hoops.  That evening we were featuring a beef tenderloin special (personally, I find filet mignon to be one of the most boring cuts of meat around, but customers love to stunt and order that shit) and I tell them both about the sauces and sides available, when this asshole stops me again:

“I won’t get an end cut, will I?”

No, I didn’t explain to him what a beef tenderloin looks like, where it’s located on the cow, how it’s packaged for foodservice; I just assured him that he wouldn’t.

He orders the feature well done.

You know what?, I’m gonna end this post now – I’m sure you can all tell where that table ended

…that’s right, in the dark world of 10% tips.

tbl 13

A couple sit down for an early dinner (it was like 5.30p). I greet them and inquire about drinks. The matron is holding the wine list so I prepare myself to go through the routine about which reds are spicy, which whites are floral, etc., etc., ad nauseum.

The first words out of her mouth: “what’s your sweetest wine?”

Ugh, a connoisseur I can tell.

I neglect, as a matter of principle, to let her know that we have bottles of white zin in the walk-in, and tell her that our riesling would likely be the sweetest, though it’s from France instead of Germany and is drier in comparison. I also offer to bring a taste if she’d like.

She asks if I would, and I return shortly w/ the 1oz pour of riesling.

She finds the wine good for service and orders a bottle. I bring it and begin to pour when she stops me dead in my wine service and says:

“Please don’t pour my glass yet, I’d like a glass of sprite. I kind of like to make mine a spritzer.”

A white wine spritzer w/ sprite?!

Jesus.