Monday, 24 March 2008

It's my birthday and I'll be a bitch if I want to...

It was Saturday night about 7.45pm and I had just got my section reset for the second sitting at 8pm when the waiter known as L-Chops approached me looking anxious.

"Table four are insisting on ordering sweets."

Table four had arrived 20 minutes late and somehow had taken 50 minutes to eat their main courses. All first sitting tables are told that we need their table back for about 7.50pm. This gives us time to reset for the next sitting at 8pm. But the three women insisted they were having sweets and to hell with the next guests booked on the table. So off I popped to have a lovely discussion about why they wouldn't be getting sweets.

"Hi there ladies. Unfortunately we wont be able to offer you sweets this evening as this table is re-booked in about 15 minutes." I was giving it the full sympathetic head nod and sad smile effect.

"Yeah not bloody good enough. We want sweets, it's my birthday. And if you don't give us sweets we want a discount."

"Discount?" Gone was the lovely head nod and sad smile.

"We came here for a meal including sweets. You wont give us sweets so we want a discount." It has to be said the other two women seemed to be paying more attention to the contents of their handbags than the conversation.

"Madam you wont be getting a discount. Why would we give you a discount? You were late for your booking and now there is no time to serve you sweets. So if you could just settle your bill."


"No? Madam we never keep a table waiting. If they are booked for a particular time we will have their table ready for them for that time."

"Oh aren't you just great. You are so bloody brilliant. Mt Bloody Brilliant Waiter man." Where the fuck did that come from? What? She had changed from being a bit agitated to being a bit fucking loopy.

"Excuse me madam there is no need for that...."

"Oh there's no need for that is there?"

"Stop it."

"Stop it" she replied and then one of her friends went to the bathroom. Well you wouldn't you?

"You are not getting sweets and you are not getting a discount." I was beginning to boil, I could feel myself cracking.

"Not good enough." She snapped.

"Not good enough? Madam you arrived late, why should I keep another table waiting just because you cant be on time?"

"We weren't late"

"WHAT? YES YOU WERE. I seated you myself!"

"No we weren't."

"Yes YOU were." At this point I had to get away from the table. Strangling a guest is quite frowned upon. I found a manager and sent him down. He was super confident he could charm them out. Pfft......

Two minutes later he returned swearing and shouting. "She's got five minutes then I'm throwing her out myself. The cunt. Look down her nose at me?" And off he went on a rant about her being condescending and rude. The final straw came when she "shooooed" him away. Not nice.

We watched from a far as she ranted and raved at her friends. Then they got up to leave. Result, well maybe not.....

Super Spitter Susan

"So, thanks a lot for a really crappy night" said the wonderfully drunk woman. The wonder mainly stemming from the fact that she didn't appear to have drunk a very large amount of wine but there she was as pished as a newt.

"Okay then madam, that's great" I replied as I tried to back away from her and spitty mouth, say it don't spray it honey. (as all the cool kids used to say) (I was never a cool kid)

"And let me tell you this Mr Waiter......." as if I had a choice "'ll be hearing from my frucking lawyer, and I wanna copy of that CCCTVV footage tape thingy. Oh you haven't heard the last from me." Quoted verbatim by the way.

I wiped the spit and Pinot Grigio from my face and simply replied with, "Yes madam, that's just great."

"Yeah it is great"

"I know that's why I said it was great." She had me backed against the wall and I had no way of getting past her, that being the only way to put an end to this playground argument.

Then she produced her well manicured finger. Well produced is probably the wrong word, it's not like she had been keeping it in her bag for just the right moment. Okay so all of a sudden she started pointing her long pointy finger at me. This really pissed me off. Spit I can handle, pointy, well manicured fingers with red nail varnish is like a red rag to a bull to me.

"Don't point your finger at me." I said in a calm but firm voice.

"Oh you don't like that. I don't like you, and I'm gonna have your frucking job Mr Waiter man."

"Yeah I hope that works out for ya. Now please stop pointing your finger at me and let me past."

"No you are gonna stand there and let me tell you what I think of you. It's my birthday!" Good grief this was intolerable. I was getting showered in spit and cheap wine and I was being verbally abused. Up with this I will not put. Then behind Super Susan Spitter there appeared two managers and a gaggle of waiters. Watching, not helping, but watching. Cheers lads, I got your back too.

"Okay Madam, quit with the finger, stop talking to me like that, and get out of my way."

"No, it's my birthday."

"What? Madam, please move."


Fuck this, this could go on all night. My backup wasn't doing anything, her friends were talking into mobile phones (I assume her therapist was getting a night call) so I was left to take matters into my own hands.

"Madam are you gonna move?"

"NO it's my....."

"Yes it's your birthday, I get it."



So I just barged past her. The fuck else was I gonna do?


"Oh would you just give it a bloody rest. You are melting my head! Just get out." Her friends were well gone by now. Which I think says a lot. At this point one of the managers seemed to click into life and decided to escort her out. About time too! She continued shouting. I couldn't help myself,

"And by the way, those shoes don't match your coat!" Ha!

I had a face like thunder, well cleaned thunder at that, as I approached Paddy the Wiseguy's table.

"Hi......tonights soup is potato and leek, would anyone like a drink?" I asked in a flat monotone voice.

"No mate we're all sweet for a drink. But I bet you could use one?" Was he taking the piss? I wasn't in the mood for more grief. There was a very brief moment of silence then I burst out laughing and the table joined in too. I set down my order pad, squatted down and told them the story of Super Spitter Susan. Paddy Wiseguy and his family were just lovely, good craic, good guests, great tippers.

The story of Super Spitter Susan may rumble be continued?

20 People trying to get Manuel's attention:

dave said...

I'd like to know what calming drugs you take Manuel.

I'd be fired within a day if I had to deal with people like that.

Nice to see your co-workers helped you out. They really came to your rescue when the going got tough!

Gypsy said...

For the love of Fucking Christ, sorry is it still Easter there? Anyway, that woman needs to be locked up, preferably in a cage with a llama. They can have spitting contests and guzzle cheap wine together. What I found even more alarming is "she has friends"????? Surely they were there under duress. You poor love...are you gonna be ok?

toast said...

how do you not swear? seriously how do you not just 'fuck the fuck out of my fucken restafuckenrant you fucken fuck' at them?

fair play lad

MJ said...

Have you considered having trap doors installed beneath each table?

Just pull the lever and presto! They disappear into the pits of Hell, flames licking their bodies as you laugh maniacally.

savannah said...

wow, sugar! who knew that the evening would take THAT turn? we, ok, i, was for mr. paddy et. al., to be a real piece of work and go figure...they were the salvation of the evening! or maybe, he figured if he messed with YOU after watching you deal with the spitting birthday hag, he was going to be toast served up with minced meat!

*hugs&kisses* in a sisterly fashion, of course!

bendersbetterbrother said...

What the fuck were her mates at?

If that had been a table of men, or a mixed table, they'd have dragged their inebriated friend out by the scruff of the neck soon after it started whilst telling them to shut the fuck up.

Medbh said...

What a fucking nightmare.
So everyone is allowed to be an insufferable bully on their birthday? Since when?

jen said...

What a fucking nutter! There's no other way to describe it... Hope you're alright after all that - it sounds deeply disgusting and downright nasty.

And those people with her clearly weren't her friends - if they were, they'd have dragged her off and stopped her making a tit of herself asap. They're obviously minders who aren't paid enough for their trouble.

Love MJ's trap door idea - that would keep everyone in line.

Native Minnow said...

The nerve of some people . . .

Sam, Problemchildbride said...

What a nightmare. What a selfish boor. "It's my birthday so I deserve to inconvenience as many other people as I can."

Sorry you had to deal with such a monster, Manuel. You handled it like a pro though. I hope her head hurt today.

Anonymous Boxer said...

I'm just wondering why it took so long for the manager to intervene. You have a right not to be assaulted in your work place.

You are clearly being trained to work at that United Nations.

Here's to a better Monday.....

fatmammycat said...

What a rude weapon. I've said it before darling but it bears repeating, I just don't know how you do it and NOT get done for assault with a frozen leg of lamb.

Queen of Clean said...

Aww poor Manny......could do without that sort of abuse, I mean you can stay at home and be abused, (if you're lucky).

Anyway, failing the trap door, next time, (and there will be a next time) try laughing in the punters face, don't say anything, just laugh, it confuses drunks beautifully. I love winding up pissed up guests, they don't remember anything, you can say what you like to them and then deny it.

Also next time some nasty little birthday bully pins you to a wall, calmly take out yer mobile and dial the cops, what she did to you is tantamount to assault...tell that one to the Union sweetie!

warriorwoman said...

But I gotta know, did the idiot that booked a table for Saturday night show up?????

and hummmm...yes, nasty drunken birthday woman. You silly waiter, I am thinking that you should have gotten a little closer to her, found out where she works and returned the favour.

I remember my bartending/waitressing days. I scared a few customers. Oh well.

But hey, chin up, there's more where she came from.

Ali said...

Wow. No wonder LMM made you wait. If this is the version of the story that you tell after you've had some cooling off time, I can only imagine how it would have come earlier.

I second the trap door idea. It'd be a riot. (You could even do it Sweeney Todd style and really put an end to terrible patrons.)

travelling, but not in love said...

I agree with the previous commentator (?) who said that the woman is a cunt. She obviously is.

But I really liked the 'those shoes don't go with your coat' line. Beautifully crafted and only a shame that she won't remember you saying it.

Better that she continues to dress badly anyway, eh?

Margaret said...

Dear Sweet Suffering Lepping Jaysus. A wet haddock to the left ear would be too good for her.

Manuel said...

One day I'm gonna go's just a day it will happen.....either that or I'll just start drinking again.....hard to say right now which.....blogging takes the pain away....

Old Knudsen said...

You fucking sweet nazi cunt, it was her birthday for fucks sake.

funny as fuck....sweeeeeeet!

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