Like Rats in a Maze
"Folks, party of two?" I ask.
A well dressed older couple had just arrived.
Cufflinks sparkled on his suit and plastic surgery on the lady glistened in the soft lights.
The host is missing, surprise, surprise...
So I jumped up and helped out when a few groups walked into the lobby.
I checked the rotation chart and headed to Shannon's station, the designated server for this turn.
Walking past the bar I place their menus on a table in a nice quiet area.
"Yah, why are you putting us here?" The well dressed man gestured indignantly at the table.
Because this is your seat asshole.
I want to say that.
With a forced smile I walk them down the aisle to the next section, another quiet table.
"We don't want to be by the kitchen." He says.
I bet you don't, I think.
I round the bend and gesture to another table.
"It's to crowded here, and loud." The lady adds.
I spy another open table right behind the host desk.
"That's the only other table I have." I said.
They both just kind of shrug.
Off we go again.
I am stopped far short of my goal, however.
"This one will be fine," The gentleman adds, pointing to another table, a reserved four top.
There is a reservation for twelve in about a half an hour there, along with its ajoining tables.
"Sir, that's reserved for another group." I interject.
"It'll be fine," he repeats as he moves toward the the chair to pull it out.
A moment of frustration crosses my mind. I'm not going to move an entire party to another section for this clown, hell there isn't another section that would fit them at this hour.
"Sir, it isn't fine, I need this table open, follow me please."
I force the smile back to my face.
They begrudgingly follow and I complete our lap around the entire restaurant.
The manager on duty pulls me aside.
"What was that all about?" He asks.
I inform him that they weren't happy with the three tables I tried to seat them at and recalled the whole situation.
Of course he knows them, they are friends of his family.
I try to think if I called him an asshole or anything, I hope I didn't...
Of course it was all my fault that they had to take that trying journey around the entire restaurant, it wouldn't be theirs would it?
Naturally about five minutes later they approached the host desk wanting to use a phone.
I offer then house phone.
"Don't you have a cellular that I can use?" The lady asks.
"Nope, sure don't." I answer.
I can feel my mobile pressing against my thigh.
"Well go find the manager for me, surely he has one." the gentleman requests.
"Sure thing, right away."
With that I'm off to the back.
"Hey can I bum a square?" I ask the expo.
Cigarette in hand I walk out the back door.
My passive aggressive answer to this insane business.