I'm usually not one to complain about my bad customers. I know that I depend on their repeat visits to keep the business steady and my pockets full, but let's not forget, nearly everybody dines out, even if it's once in a while.
Before I start out this story, I want to make it clear that trash comes in all colors. This isn't just to prove I'm unbiased, but there's white trash, black trash, asian trash, etc. Just as some over-eccentric Christians make Christianty horrid, trash makes the whole race look horrid.
That being said, I got a table of black trash. Funny how 90% of the black race is trash. Even our black servers comment on it. J is quoted saying, "Man, I hate waitin' on black tables!"
So I get a party of 5 elderly ladies, very nice, but are waiting on two more joiners. I get them their drinks and the dining room is empty. The place picks up in a second. I get seated the table of seven (black trash) and of course, Murphy's law of waitressing, the joiners show up as soon as you're bordering the weeds. The joiners kick my ass into full weeds.
I get the seven their drinks- all waters, 1 coke (score!) and then rush over to the five and get their drinks. Everything is still okay, I'm just rushing. I think it's only mental by this time. I still have a couple other tables, but their food is out and they are fine, thank God.
The table of seven orders 2 kids meals for 4 kids to split and then get 2 raspberry lemonades to go along with the kids meals (since they are free). The salad is to be made with extra Italian, ranch on the side, and extra olives. I bring out the kids drinks, then make the salads. When I drop them off, one of the women comments that the plate is cold and she has sensative teeth. The other woman chips in- she has sensative teeth too, she just forgot. The little girl, maybe 5 years old, next to her, says that she wants a different one too. Thing is, she doesn't have a chilled salad plate, she has a bread plate.
I say, "You don't have a cold plate."
The mom tells me, "Just ignore her."
So I go into the back and get the new salad bowls. Well, now they need more ranch. I get them extra Italian, extra ranch and olives just so I don't have to bother with them again. I think, great!, I'll have time to get salads and soup for my 5 top. NOPE! No sooner do I drop off the extras, the kid spills the drink. I drink they are splitting between the 4 kids. They need napkins, STAT! So I run and get some napkins. Thank God, again, the hostess helped them clean it up, because my other tables need to cash out and my 5 is still waiting.
I get the salad and soup to the 5 out. They're nice, didn't even notice I was gone that long. I thanked them for their patience. They smiled back.
I then cashed out the other tables and saw my table of seven's food coming out. I snuck away. I knew they'd ask for a million and one things if I was there. I go back and ask if they need anything. Two spoons. For chicken fingers...
I get them spoons and now they want more salad (don't forget the ranch! oh, and extra ranch!) Is there an echo in the building? Is there an echo in the building?
I bring it out and dash away. Let them eat. The 5 are nice, don't need much and are polite. I get 20% off my other table. Both remaining tables eat fast and I get the checks out. Table of seven pays with a hundred dollar bill. I check it for authenticity. Table of 5 leaves me 10 on 40. Table of seven? 6 on 60.
Some groups live up to their stereotypes and that's sad.