Catchphrase of the Year...
Drunk guy at the bar: "You're an asshole, you know that?"
Me: Yeah? Well I've been called far worse by people better than you."
Running wild on customers, chefs, owners and managers since 1997. I bring to you, The Insane Waiter. What do bring to your table? A crisp bottle of San Pellegrino ? Perhaps a lovely seared Sashimi Tuna? Start off with a wonderful bottle from Tuscany perhaps? Why I'll be more than happy to bring you your White Zinfandel and Chicken Caesar. No you can't order the mac and cheese off the kids menu and sorry no, we don't serve cheese sticks....
Drunk guy at the bar: "You're an asshole, you know that?"
Place: The server line, random corporate steakhouse.
Oh I just love how mature customers can be. Yeah this takes it to a bit of an extreme to be sure, but I thought it was pretty funny, both the story and the consequences.
Also I love how the manager refused to ask the table to leave, classic behavior there.
From: Naples News
"A former Naples city councilman was sentenced today to undergo a psychological examination and take anger management classes after pleading no contest to spitting on two women at a restaurant in December.
Gary Galleberg pleaded to the misdemeanor charge of battery this afternoon before Collier County Judge Mike Carr. Galleberg, a former Naples vice mayor, also must fulfill 50 hours of community service, pay a $500 fine and serve six months of probation.
Prosecutor Mara Marzano had pushed for a guilty plea but Carr agreed to Galleberg pleading no contest. Carr also agreed to withhold a formal finding of guilt.
If he violates probation during that time, he could be sentenced to up to a year in jail.
Galleberg, who lost the 2004 race for mayor to Mayor Bill Barnett, was arrested Dec. 14 on the misdemeanor charge of spitting at the two women and on their food during an incident the evening of Dec. 7 at Blu Sushi restaurant at the Third Street South Plaza.
He spent a night in jail and was released after posting $1,000 bond.
Outside court, Galleberg denied that he spit on the women or their food, saying it was a large table. He admitted his behavior was rude and inappropriate.
The police booking sheet identified the women as Kate Piscatori, 28, and Erin Wilkinson, 33, both of Naples. Piscatori couldn't be reached for comment and Wilkinson said she wanted to speak with her attorney before talking publicly.
In an earlier interview, Piscatori said they reported the incident to police because Galleberg's 4-year-old daughter, Laura, was on his shoulders when he spit on them.
Several affidavits filed by the women and witnesses say a table of eight women were celebrating an event and were dining outside Blu Sushi, when Galleberg’s daughter banged on the restaurant window for at least 10 minutes. A woman at the table, Rebecca King, 27, gestured for the girl to stop, then motioned to Kristen Galleberg, who didn’t understand. So King went inside and asked Galleberg to stop her daughter and she apologized for the behavior.
“A little while later, I was startled when I heard very loud banging on the window,” King’s affidavit says. “I turned around to see the woman banging on the window as hard as she could. She sat back down and gave a coy little wave. We ignored it and went back to talking.”
“After a few minutes, I was again started to hear banging on the window,” her affidavit says. “This time it was the husband banging as hard as he could.”
They asked management to have them leave, but were told they were regulars and it was the holiday season. About 45 minutes later, they said, the Gallebergs were leaving, when Galleberg's wife insulted King and Galleberg cleared his throat loudly and spit on them and their food.
Galleberg, a former corporate lawyer from New York, is now a private investor and serves on the board of directors of WashingtonFirst Bank in Washington, D.C. He served on Naples City Council from 2000 to 2004, when he ran for mayor."
Its 6:50, and I’m nervous.
My 6:30 ten top is running late, they didn’t answer their confirmation courtesy call, they didn’t answer when I called them fifteen minutes ago either.
I have had three of my tables blocked off for the first hour and if they don’t show I’m out a round of tables, and a round of income more importantly.
As well there is an eight o’clock reservation in my section for twelve, they are to be in the same section that my late party was to be in.
I’m pissed, this has happened all throughout the holiday season to both myself and many other servers. Sometimes the group never shows, other times like tonight they are late.
The party showed at five till, they were below my expectations, much like their tardiness foreshadowed.
No appetizers, no salads, only one or two drinks…
Management was all over me trying to have me move them out as fast as possible, we were booked and both the restaurant and myself needed that space open for the later party.
But they were campers, I did my best to hustle them out, abbreviated a desert spiel, meaning they didn’t get one, didn’t offer coffee either.
I almost had them out with ten minutes to spare.
I had the check in their hands, then the mom brought up the subject of dessert.
“Please just go, please just go, please just go,” was running through my mind while I stood there with a fake smile as they discussed the subject.
They didn’t go.
I watched bussers jam in tables from the party room to accommodate the other group, they had to wait in a crowded area while the table that was late held up their reservation.
Twenty minutes later the group finally left, I watched in envy as my other group was sat in another section.
I watched in envy their server opening bottles of wine, selling steak, appetizers and ports for dessert. Sometimes it’s the luck of the draw with these things.
The next night we were getting all set up and it looked like another good one. I had a couple eight tops to turn and burn and my friend Scott had two twenty tops back to back.
So we rocked out and set up the restaurant and got ready for our big night.
“So gonna break three bills tonight there Scotty?” I asked.
“Well I hope so, I better not get some bullshit like you had last night.” He said.
“Yeah that was crap, at least you have more than an hour and a half to burn out that first one.” I said.
“We’ll see…” He responded.
So around six or so I see Scott tearing apart his section.
“No show?” I asked as I helped him straighten tables and pull off sweat laden water glasses.
“Yeah, they’re a half an hour late, management didn’t even take a phone number.” He said.
“Jeeeeeeeeesus, not again, we really need a deposit or something on this type of thing.” I said.
“No shit, but that wouldn’t fly in this town, we have no backbone.” Scott pointed out.
“So what’s the story with your section?” I asked.
“Eh, they’re trying to throw me a couple four tops before the other group comes.” Scott replied.
“Well hope they spend five hundred buck,” I said.
“Humph! We’ll see.”
Scott didn’t get any four tops, just a couple two tops that at on the cheap, and apparently tipped that way as well.
“Fucking five dollars on fifty, what a stain!” Scott exclaimed after another stellar gratuity.
“Nature of the beast, nature of the beast.” I said
So we hurriedly threw his tables back together and put out twenty fresh setups and twenty fresh iced waters.
About twenty minutes later Scott was doing the time honored ritual of throwing shit and cursing in the kitchen.
“This place is run by fucking chimpanzees!” He declared.
“What, another no-show?” I asked.
“Fuck it, lets grab a cigarette.” He said.
“Yeah, but I quit…” I said.
“Lets. Have. A. Cigarette. Now.” Scott said firmly.
Another time honored tradition, smoking by the dumpster. (Don’t worry, we wash our hands before we serve you, snicker*)
“So what happened this time?” I asked.
“Apparently the first two couples sat down in the bar for half an hour before they bothered to notify the hostess that instead of twenty there would only be four of them.” Scott said.
“That’s crap.” I added.
“Yes, apparently they didn’t bother to see if the other sixteen people were going to show up, so yeah, now only four.” Scott said.
“People like that should be eviscerated. Assholes.” I said.
“Well fuck it, I’m going home, I don’t give a shit what the floor dicks (managers) say.” He said.
“So how much did you make on your three hundred dollar night?” I asked.
“Counting that last five bucks, well I made eighteen dollars.” Scott said.
“Ouch, that hurts, what the hell is up with these parties this week?.” I asked.
“Nature of the beast man, I’ll be down at the pub, drinks?” Scotty asked.
I responded with, “Yeah man, drinks.”