Do We Just Sit Anywhere?
That's what the sign read on the table.
What part of that long and pretentious word do some guests not understand?
The first part?
So the smoking section has four "boof's" and two tables, I have signs on all tables.
I'm busy throwing together an eight top when I notice a group slyly sneak into a booth.
Shit, I know its reserved for 7:00.
"Excuse me folks, that tables reserved for another party," I say.
"But we want to sit here."Not the answer I was looking for.
"Sir, we don't seat ourselves here, the hostess will be more than happy to help you out."
"But we want to sit here," he says.
"Sorry sir it's reserved."
"We sit here all the time," he says.
I've never seen him before and I've been here since the opening.
"I'll be right back sir."
I walk up to the host desk and explain the situation to the manager.
Like he knows how to make any kind of decision.
"Seat 'em." He says.
I hate rewarding assholes that throw a fit.
Screw it, I walk up to the group and tell them that we can squeeze them in.
Smiling smugly the alpha male eases back in to his seat.
I take their drink orders, a couple Keers Lights, sorry we don't carry Booosh Light, and a couple glasses of...
You guessed it...
I return with four menus, as I start to set them down Alphalfa Male holds his hands up in refusal.
"We're only here for drinks."
Shit, as stated earlier, we have very limited seating for smoking thus necessitating our policy that it is dining only, we do have a very nice full service bar however.
I cringe internally as I relay the policy.
"This is ridiculous!" He states.
Yes it is.
Imagine going to a full service restaurant and being expected to order dinner.
That's just silly.
Of course there is a loophole.
He snags a menu and a few minutes later orders onion rings...
Which of course we don't have.
"Well can't you go back and cut up some onions?" He questions.
I suppose I could, but at this point I don't care.
They order something else grudgingly and I'm off to service my real tables.
You know, the ones that go out to eat to actually dine.
Of course the table that was showing all signs of leaving orders a round of after dinner drinks and a desert to split.
7:00 rolls around.
Our anorexic "model" hostess comes up to me.
"I need a table open now, your reservation is here."
"I'll do my best to hurry someone out of here." I say.
I go up to my pal's table and start removing their finished appetizer plates,"Is there anything else I can get for you?"
Two Keer's Lights it is.
I slide my desert table's check onto their table.
Help me Obi Wan, you're my only hope.
"I'll be right back to pick that up folks."
One of the guests picks it up, looks over the tab, and puts it back on the table, then proceeds to rest his arm over the book.
The frantic hostess comes back up, it's 15 after the hour, and my smoking reso is getting impatient.
My section is stagnant.
I can plainly see no one is getting up in the next five minutes.
The reservation decides a table in the bar is better than nothing.
Later in the night I see them dining on steaks and enjoying a nice bottle of Syrah.
Nice $200 table right there.
My hick friends are on their fourth round of shitty beer and adult kool aid.
And they sit there for nearly three hours chain smoking and wondering why we don't have a TV with racin' on it.
Bastards cost me a fat table and maybe another table turn.
But their $4 tip sure made up for it.