Inspired by J.R.Lemar

Posted on February 3, 2013. Filed under: goofy crap, Mental Hurling, Miscellaneous, Musings, why the hell not | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , |

I’ve waited more than my share of tables in my life, it’s just a “sit down” restaurant’s way of getting out of paying a real wage to servers. Tipping is SO misunderstood by many people who’ve never worked in the service industry. Too many people justify either not tipping or punitive tips over some silly bit of minutia that did or didn’t occur while they smashed pancakes or baby back ribs in their pie holes.  Waited more than one minute for a top off of their beverage, screw the waiter… I want CRACKERS, f that witch, (I got stiffed at Denny’s because a whale in a mu-mu lost her shit when I returned with her drink order and NO crackers and butter! What in the hell was I thinking miss me? Didn’t I know how to do my job. Like they were supposed to just sit there at a table (couldn’t fit in a booth had to wait 5 on a busboy for a table) with drinks and menus and NO POTS OF BUTTER to slather on CRACKERS? Wholly shit. I have not read from the Book of Fat, I never got to that point in my education? I plead ignorance? wtf.

Shortly after rectifying the situation I was “set straight” by gnashing, greasy, cracker crumbed whale lips. “You know, if you’d have just been civilized and had the crackers, none of this bad blood would be happening.” Wow, I agreed and promptly went to scream obscenities in the walk in because it was all I could do not to reach down her throat and save pinocchio.)

uh, ahem  I mean, Customers expect perfection and infalable service as if they were the center of the universe when generally they are the center of your section of 5 to 6 tables of 4  – or worse, a big top of 20 and they are the sattelite (only table not “borg’ed by the team) and the black hole effect of the 20 people talking at once leaves your table of two agonizingly out of your grasp.

Managers don’t give a flip, all they care about is that you show up when their schedule says for you to and you don’t look or smell bad. Oh, and kiss butt…. hot food, butt kissing, smile, if they’re upset, kiss more butt and give them free pie.  I can do that hell. Free pie generally fixes most stuff in the low/mid end sit downs.

Ahem, no pie, no.  Shhh,    ok, no pie.

SOoooo  people assume that since you have other tables you’re making BANK and they blow off the tip, they assume you make at least minimum wage because it’s THE minimum wage (wait staff are an exception america, they get boned. Server minimum wage was like $2.15 last time I saw it, It’s probably a whopping $2.50 by now. That’s it.  Servers only get that so taxes and ss can come out of what WAIT STAFF MUST CLAIM AS THEIR TIP AMMOUNT WHETHER THEY MAKE THAT AMMOUNT OR NOT. Servers are responsible for at least the difference between the 2.50/hour and $??? that is minimum wage, further your total sales (including call in take out orders) are added up and a percentage is assumed to have been tipped to you. IF YOU DO NOT CLAIM YOU MADE THAT PERCENTAGE THEY FIRE YOU. If you didn’t make that ammount they assume you suck as a server and let you go. I think it’s like 12% (but really I pulled that number out of my ass.)

It’s been over 14 years since I flung food for strangers. ONE big top can ruin the crap out of you. If you are boned by a large party, the sattelite tables generally don’t tip well because the black hole sucks you in and there’s few opportunities to escape the suction of the massive party to tend to anyone else. If you flinch, acknowledge you heard any one of them, they ALL have something they need EVERY TIME THEY SEE YOU. You can’t evade it. They only way to get to the little guy is to emulate Hellen Keller until you are nearer the small table, clear of the group.

I always felt terrible when I had a borg event, UNLESS they ganged up and ate my whole section, then it was bliss. They were my chillun and Momma Stacy fell right in with feeding the brood. I could, often did, bring out cold food and they LOVED it, because I made them love it, they had 100% of my attention and I don’t half ass much. hahaha. There are a few things I can do so well I redefine the concept. Being attentive/giving attention when free of distraction, getting to make a person/people “royalty” for a day so to speak. THAT, I have fun doing. It’s free and nobody dislikes it haha. I have a lot of that in me. It only fails if someone is inappropriate or demanding, if it’s a predetermined expectation – I won’t/can’t do it. I won’t let me on a subliminal level. You get an adverse effect, obvious forced compliance with the absolute basics required to be socially acceptable. Fake grin auto-pilot (: . I can’t help it! I tell me not to do it but I always bully me into doing it anyway. We argue about that a lot, or did. Now I look back at us and laugh, that used to matter hahaha

um,  hang on… that wasn’t me that was… a friend, yeah.  so I was talking about….. waiters get stiffed for goofy reasons, fat chicks want butter…. big tops have mass, ….  crap… um

OH!  yeah So, the assumption is that with several tables an hour there’s surely a lot of money being tipped. That’s rarely the case unless you’re a server at an upscale restaurant. The more affordable the eatery, the more apt the calculator is to come out when it’s time to tip.

HOWEVER, there are the beautiful people. former servers generally overtip, that’s a given. There are those like my wonderful last commenter on “Jesus would tip” who tips well because he gets the drift, that is beautiful. He’s now one of my co-heroes this week.  Then there are people like my older sister, the NEVER been in ANY service industry and wouldn’t work as waitstaff at gunpoint. My big sis tips like a Rockafeller haha. When I’m in a restaurant with her she is FOREVER commenting on waiting tables, “OH GOD I could NEVER do that,” and “I can’t EVEN comprehend how that waitress didn’t slap that guy square in the face just then, they’d have to pull me off him I wouldn’t be able to stop slapping him” haha She is awestruck at how waiters and waitresses can smile and be nice to EVERYONE while doing things she finds vile. “She did NOT just pick up that dinner roll the baby gummed and drooled all over … omg no ew ew ew that is so NASTY, I want to shower just because I saw it” HAHAHAHA  She tips so SO well, it’s crazy.

When she and I eat out together whomever our server is, they are (I have no other word so don’t read into this) BLESSED ha haha  Lisa tips at least 20 or 30 percent or round up then adds 10/20 bucks, that usually goes onto the receipt which she hands to the server so they’ll know they got a nice tip. She always thanks them and tells them they’re amazing because there’s no WAY she could do what they do. (My sister was the head of IT for a successful high end chain of electronically uberprogressive banks, they catered to the gazillionare types – you know the kind of bank that snickers at “free checking” ~surely you jest~ everything bears interest and you pay for the account if  your balance drops under however many grand.  That kind of Type A successful in the past.

NOW she’s off doing mom and dad love her more cause she was here first (she drilled that one in my head… older siblings, eeeyeah, gotta love ’em?) righteous whoknows but always Like A Boss, type of stuff, but being “not Stacy” I assure you it’s without losing her proverbial poop ala Samburg (no promtion of synergy or fish boffing, no oral self gratification, crapping on desks, she has yet to turn into a rocket and far as I know hasn’t flown into the sun yet) Damaged? Me? What is that supposed to…. come back here… Wait… I’m not, I mean.. friends? Not bad girl.. ..I’m ok really…. hugme? (Mmm mm mm mmm hmm hmm) (insert rocking motion here)

Haha, moving on:
Wow, can you tell I’m avoiding stuff by rambling?

Anyway, Lisa hi. k, bye.

I have to INSIST on one thing, if your server blows you off, gives you attitude, gets snippy or pissy with you, does anything but smile and bust butt to try to make you happy…. DON’T GIVE THEM A DIME. Just because waitstaff survive on tips does not mean they can shit on you and you have to pay for it. The inverse is if they’re doing their best but they make a mistake and are sincere/genuine in doing all they can to make things right, that is no justification for refusing to leave a gratuity.

Thinking you know anything about their tips in any way by adding tables/people/averages ect whatever you see or don’t see, is based on absolutely nothing but supposition. Management often divides sections up in strange ways for even stranger reasons. I’ve seen sections look like checkerboards to accomodate multiple new hires (interspersing them with veteran staff their first days solo) ALSO, every restaurant has their own policies… some make you tip other positions out of you take for the night (busboys get 10% Host/ess gets 5% or some variation of ancillary employee and  percentage of your total for the night) OR there are nightmare places where everyone has to POOL their tips and it’s all split equally amongst the servers (I’d walk. The moment they held the bucket out for my money I’d give them the finger before I’d give them a dime hahaha) There’s no telling what wacky policies there might or might not be, never just assume it’s black and white.

I guess to oversimplify things, pretend it’s your mom serving you, and you’re helping her out a bit on the side. If the overall experience was positive, the tip should reflect it – refusing to tip becuase you had to wait for a minute or things weren’t exactly as you wanted them the instant you wanted it but the server damn sure tried to make it right for you is nothing more than a show of childishness, egotism or plain personality defect. If your waitperson gave a true effort and you walk on the tip, it is nothing more than a reflection on your lack of character and overblown ego.

If you aren’t loaded with cash and the bill is higher than you expected, fess up! I had a couple come in and they barely made the bill… they told me they LOVED the service but they just didn’t have anything left over for a tip, they felt bad. I made SURE that they knew the praise made it well worth it and it would even out over the course of the night, that their company while I waited on them was wonderful and made things easier as I worked. I made sure they felt good about the situation (I sure did because I knew why there wasn’t a tip, an honest reason – I’ve promised myself long ago that I value truth more than material posessions so it was just a beautiful act of generosity on their part.) After they left the bus boy cleaned their table went to the manager giving her something from the table. They had filled out a GLOWING comment card, (in red crayon no less) it made me sound like I was exactly what would happen if Mother Theresa and Robin Williams had a child raised by the peace corps. ( : ( :

I felt like a rock star, She xeroxed it and put it up on the wall in the break room, it went to corporate! I got a letter from the corp office commending me for being a prime example of a Denny’s wait person, thanking me for being part of the Denny’s family, that they appreciated that I was exemplary in providing the best dining experience for those patrons and how the company exsisted because of employees like me. Any no raise, bonus, fanfare, balloon, live buttsmooch, just that, a You Rock form letter.  but THAT rocked because no one at the restaurant had ever seen one before (remember working with me? all this? y’all can still eatit I rocked that table! hahaha)

ok, I have crap to do and I wrote this like I write my mental vomit.  Seat of the pants, I’m not even going to read it (just like the mental vom…. Prose, Published dark allegoric prose, Yeah, that. not barf.  Not to you, that’s just a  um. a joke, yeah an  inside joke here at home

peacy outu

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Jesus would tip

Posted on February 1, 2013. Filed under: goofy crap, justice, Miscellaneous, Musings, why the hell not | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , |

I couldn’t help but slap this onto my blog. It is actually started as a comment on the page but then I realized I was standing on a soap box when I finished typing so I said wtf, I’ll blog this puppy.

It’s this kind of idiocy that makes me comfy being more hermit than not. There are so many people walking around just oozing ignorance and stupidity… but don’t point it out because they’ll misquote the bible and knock the hell out of you for insulting them… ( ok, that’s not really factual, that only applies to faux christians, the ones who believe in Jesus but go Jewish when mad… eye for an eye??? Jesus never kicked anyone’s ass, he turned the other cheek. You know the ones, they tell you how they’re better christians than _______ because they _______. …Wow, really? Clueless to the sinfest they’re reveling in generally I silently back away and make for the door, kinda like when you walk up on a snake in the woods. (quietly, slowly, easy… little further…. almost there…. now RUN!)          hahaha!!!    They can get pretty pissed, radical christians are Neo don’t you know? The One. Clearly ready to fly solo up in heaven too because they, and they alone know the path to divinity, and if you don’t agree – well you’re going to hell (after they kick your ass)

Here is my response to the article (a.k.a. a you suck at normie rant, quiet on the set… and…. ACTION!)
—————————————————————————————————————————————————————————
Where is the logic in this hypocrite’s actions? She’s supposed to be a person of God? Tithing is 10% of one’s INCOME.  The large party auto gratuity, based on people IN YOUR PARTY, is in this case, 18% of the DINER CHARGES.
It’s this kind of backward thinking (or rather failure to think) that sets off a hilariously ironic illustration of the “Big 7”:
Vanity (a condescending attempt to insult the waitress)
Greed (dodging a tip that was rightfully earned)
Sloth (failure to set an example as a positive spiritual leader ie: Jesus wouldn’t do that)
Pride (signing Pastor above her name, in order to glorify her position, only done out of self promotion)
Anger (obviously she was angry or she wouldn’t have “punished” the server for the restaurant’s policy by denying her payment for services rendered).
She’s just missing Envy and Gluttony.
I don’t know the so called “Pastor personally. I’m not saying they are or aren’t there, the forecast is grim if her actions in this instance are any indicator… Anyone can say they are christian, proclaim they are a holy person, doesn’t mean it is true. I can swear I’m a pony, doesn’t mean you can saddle me up and win the Kentucky Derby.
The woman is an embarassment to organized religion, what do clergy and the like do? Abdicate? is the a Vice Pastor to step in?  Maybe real pastors will gang up and have an intervention and save her “flock” from further exposure to ineptitude.  (hint hint) Just a thought. Ms Bell, you need to start over, find someone learned who understands the christian tennents and a psychologist who can end your delusional grasp of what it takes to lead others.  I get the feeling your reputation was pretty smudged before the receipt hit the internet.  I am not a christian but I do believe in the christian tennants and that christianity is nothing but a positive and benevolent religion. Actions such as yours tarnish the reputations of humble people of faith everywhere. I am not without sin by your standards but I’ll cast my stones, feel free to lob them back — but when you do, please make sure they are composed of logical, rational statements/rebuttals and free of contradiction and hypocrisy. Otherwise they tend to have a boomarang effect.
I am not claiming to be perfect, I am just not cruel and deceptive and attempting to be a spiritual guide to others while clearly deluded when it comes to proper morals and making judgement calls.

She’s totally going to hell…   which sucks because I’m told I’m on my way too, it IS about suffering!

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20 items or… EATIT

Posted on July 21, 2011. Filed under: Miscellaneous, Musings | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , |

I’ve learned a great deal over the course of my life so far. I’d like to think of myself as possessing a point of view that the population at large would never stop long enough to consider much less contemplate. Born the way I am, I’ve always felt like an “outsider” that I didn’t fit in, no matter how hard I tried. OH how I tried, for years and years I tried. I have to say that attempting to fit in is probably the root of most of the misery I endured in my past (ultimately.)

Ahem. SO, I’ve learned that I am MUCH happier on the fringe of society than in the mix. I love me some Internet. At least now I do. We have Marcimallow to thank for dragging me kicking and screaming into the social media scene for that. (smooches) I bring all this up to illustrate a point. I’m generally a smartbutt. (This post is verbally sanitized for your protection.) I crack me up, a lot of times it rubs off on others. I love getting a laugh. The last few days I’ve been having a dry spell (oh geez my dog just had the vapors, startled me – off topic but eww,) ok. The thing is, my epiphany today, is that I have nothing fun to say when I am home safe under my rock.  (MAJOR EWW that wasn’t the dog it was a bug whose flight sounds like flatulence, it landed on me and I b!(@# slapped it away, now it’s ??, great) Moving on. I’m not inspired to write anything humorous until I am out lurking about with “normies” (I use the term loosely.) “Normal” people crack me up.

I caved earlier tonight and went to the So-So Center (it’d earn the title Super if it had Dill Pickle Chips… nice try Blob that eats small businesses.) I normally don’t shop there but the hour and my shopping list left me little choice. So as I cruise to the far end of the world for french vanilla creamer, someone hid the kind I wanted so I nearly had a hissy, I kept my cool and karma revealed my prize – yay. It was at that point I dove into my cavernous purse iso the pacifier for Bobo, the monkey on my back. Horrified I realized my electronic cigarette was back home on the table by my “nest” on the couch (where I presently am plopped.) There went my mood. (No, not a swing, I’m allowed to fluctuate as anyone else would without it being a “polar” issue…)

I grumpily head over to hardware n stuff. Normally I’m all over everything on that side of the store like a molester packing ether but I was a good girl. I needed to fix the toilet handle arm thingy. I knew exactly what I needed and headed straight for it. There was an older couple and a sweet lil old lady asked me if I was doing a little home repair. I told her I just had to fix the potty handle and was proud of myself, that I’d been good and was “swatting the lil devil on my shoulder telling me to buy everything else on my way through hardware.” She looked down at the cinnamon rolls and frozen pizza I had in my cart and had the audacity to look at me sternly and say, “You swatted him away, did you?” I told her, “Eatit,” smiled and walked away. (hahahaha)

Some people are just butt heads (sanitized)

I felt better having told off an old lady (I know I know) and headed to the checkout. There were plenty open but all had small lines. I didn’t have many things but they were arranged flatly and completely obscured the bottom of my cart. Guiltily I went to the Express Lane hoping for the best. As I put my good girl stuff on the counter (eatit old lady) I noticed a woman with her daughter and their cart “runneth over.” The woman stopped at the first express lane and the teen pushing the cart never skipped a beat, heading past towards the “lotta stuff” lines. The scrawny leather-tan woman called out, “I don’t care I said come here!”

LET THE GAMES BEGIN!

Oh it was ON hahahaha I cheered up instantly. NOBODY gets to be Princess whoopdedoo in my world but me. I pull some cheese stunts but this was just plain ignorant and wrong.

Even ~I~ in my wildest ultra-radian category 6 kaleidoscope of mood swinging episodes wouldn’t pull such a heinous faux pas. I may be a misfit but I’m no scumbag.

I IMMEDIATELY commenced to an audible verbal assault. Everything from a rousing round of “Who can count to twenty?!” and “Oh WOW, we’re too late, look at the ignorance and that THING has already reproduced, I hope it’s not genetic.” (I quickly decided to lay off the kid.) I proceeded to The Count from Sesame Street with my checkout lady. Do you know why they call me the count, because I love to count! ONE hahaha, TWO hahaha. and TWENTY hahaha NOW STOP, no really STOP, seriously S T O P… all with an uber fake Dracula accent. I realized there were two younger men behind me in line laughing (the checkout lady had tears she was laughing hard, I just ranted the whole time about the stupidity and audacity of the leather-tan numerically challenged chick at the counter beside me) I asked the dudes behind me, can you believe that? Then proceeded to slam her anew. I “called” the guy in the blue shirt on my “finger phone”… “Hey blue shirt dude, check out that dingbat with the monster cart in the express lane, oop, wait, got another call, …hey can I call you back, I’m telling my new friend about this ignorant lady with like 100 items in the 20 item lane, I think she’s ~speshul~ click… OK, I”m back. Good talking to you but I’ve gotta go, tell your friend I said Hi.” They laughed more.

I thought I’d be fun to get more involved. I looked at their basket, said Right On and shoved my hand out at the closest guy saying, “I want to shake your “I can count to twenty a$$ hand, you rule.” An unexpected snort noise popped out of him when I said it and laughingly shook. As soon as I turned to his friend he was already scooping up my hand and giving it a FIRM shake as he pipped in “NINE!” pointing to his cart. I squeaked -laughing so hard I couldn’t make a real noise. He didn’t give me a chance to say anything he wanted his turn. The checkout lady was fanning herself with a clean up towel and blotting her forehead and kept looking slyly over her shoulder then busting into gales of laughter she kept trying to stifle. My things were bagged and I paid for my stuff, it took probably ten minutes to get my things scanned and bagged because I relentlessly was ripping on that douche in the other line with her 90+ items… I paid and my lady handed me my receipt squeezing my hand grinning as she did.

I had a moment of shame when I realized I hadn’t actually counted my things and sheepishly looked at my total. I peeked at it, licked the back, stuck it to my forehead and loudly pronounced TWENTY. Then threw in “TWENTY – TWENTY ITEMS IN THE EXPRESS LANE AH HA HA” just like The Count again high fiving the lady and the guys behind me. I saw the ignorant woman out of the corner of my eye shooting me a go to (you know where) look and she flipped me the bird. I flashed all ten of my fingers in the air twice to indicate 20 smiled, peeled my receipt off my forehead and strolled off laughing feeling smug as (you know where.) (Orbitz mouth baby)

Karma started to kick my ASS for that one. (can’t sanitize that, it was coming – I’d earned it in spades, I just knew it was going to make me eatit.)

As I approached my car in the parking lot the first thing I noticed was that I had left my headlights on the whole time I was in the store

Oh no! The world is a wheel.

I tell myself it was worth it, I haven’t laughed so much in I don’t know how long, made everyone else in earshot laugh too to some degree or another.

(For the record, Karma had just warned me, the car started right up. Maybe Karma has a sense of humor too?

-Stacy

-egg

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