Grey Goose Blog

Posts Tagged ‘weird’

Image - Book Cover by Charles Memminger. Courtesy of publisher.

Today I would like to share with you my compilation of short true stories that took place at the Restaurant X on the course of the last year. None of them deserves enough attention to stand out and shine on its own, but hopefully at least one of them will make you smile or even laugh…

Complainers

1) I waited on ridiculously annoying old people the other day. First they complained that steaming coffee wasn’t hot enough for them. One of them followed me to the bar on his crotches to make sure that bartender poured enough bourbon in his Manhattan. The highlight of their dining experience was to send back a screwdriver (vodka/oj). Why? Because the color of orange juice was not orange…it was yellow!!!

2) My food runner tried to serve Spaghetti Bolognese to a wrong table, but quickly recovered. The plate didn’t even touch the table. Unfortunately a guest who ordered spaghetti at the nearby table observed the whole process with pure hatred on his red face. He was staring at his plate all the time trying to hypnotize it, but he never made a contact with it. Every single time I checked on him he said everything was “ok”.  In the end of the meal he was looking so miserably like his relative has died, but when I asked one more time if anything was wrong, he jerked : “NOTHING!” I offered to take away the plate and pack it to go – he refused the offer.  A few minutes later he asked for a check in a surprisingly calm voice, but his face read willingness to see me on the death raw. I guess a BIG FAT zero tip was hardly a punishment to compensate for his ruined day. Credit to the food runner.

Tippers

1) My friend, Jack, the bartender was laughing telling me this. Although he got stiffed on $80 check. A couple of Italians were ecstatic about “De-li-ci-o-oo-us Mojitoes” – each of them had three rounds.    Mojitoes usually make the list of the most “pain-in-the-ass” drinks to make. When finally Jeff said “Arivederci!” to the happy tourists, instead of a tip he discovered a bus transfer next to check presenter. The transfer was expired…

2) Ghetto kids had a lunch celebration at our place. One of them just turned 21; he ordered a round of beers first happily flashing his ID in my face. A few minutes after birthday boy asked for champagne telling his buddy:”Yo Bro, we gonna put it on Facebook… Popping champagne and shit…”When I brought them a set up to crack Alaskan King Crab Legs, which they obviously never had before, kids thought that crab cracking tools and a steak knife are there for them to act the episode from SAW 3. I had to calm them down as guests at the neighboring table began to complain. I couldn’t help myself laughing when I saw one of them trying to get through the spiky crab shell with his teeth. My professional demonstration on how to use cracking tools definitely saved his gums from bleeding for which I was rewarded with a $5 tip. Should I mention that the check was $180?

Racist brain via Inspiration Room

It is often discouraging to work at the tourist place or tourist trap mostly because it doesn’t attract regular customers. Sometimes it is fortunate to work at the tourist place or trap for the same reason.  From my experience half of the regulars are lunatics; once in a while you will come across of particular nutcase that will be remembered for the rest of your life if won’t be a part of your worst nightmares.

Let’s call him Asian dude. He looks about sixty five, but I won’t be surprised to find out that he’s eighty. You know how Japanese people exploit rice and seafood to their rejuvenating advantage. How do I know he’s Japanese? Well,  that’s what he confessed to one of my co-workers, Dan,  a German looking gay-bear-type waiter. “Are you from the South?” – he asked Dan. The reason why he asked that question instead of inquiring on the restaurant specialties remained a mystery until he requested that EVERYTHING BLACK will be removed from the table including black pepper shaker, black straw for his sprite and black basket for the bread. He also put a white sheet of paper under his butt so he won’t be sitting on blackish leather chair. Oh, did I mentioned that he was dressed in all white from his socks to his dyed freaky hair.  He would order Chicken Alfredo or Ceacer salad with chicken. NO PEPPER. He would complain on our black aprons and , of course, if he would sense dark-skinned mexican busboys within five feet from his table, the tip he normally leaves decreases from 10% to 1%.

He got banned from all of the neighborhood eateries with the exception of restaurant X. Once, however, he showed up in particularly cheerful mood and asked for all the waiters to line-up like in massage parlor… The host politely asked him to get the fuck out and we missed him for about year.  I owe the inspiration for this blog entry to his latest visit a few days ago; he told me about black construction workers drilling a hole right next to his apartment. It must be a conspiracy.