Converations with dumbasses.

This is an ACTUAL phone conversation I had at work today. Almost verbatim, I took notes as soon as it was over. This transcript is the conversation I had with the woman, but my co-worker Jennifer said she had all the same questions answered the same way before she asked for a manager. That meant it was my time to shine!

Jen: This woman requested a manager. I've answered all her questions at least three times, but she's just not getting it! She keeps asking if we're an ice cream shop and if we serve full meals. I don't think she's all there.

Vic: (despondent and on her break) Can't you just speak to her in a British accent and answer her questions again?

Jen: No, you need to talk to this one.

Vic: Fine. (Holds hand out for phone) (Suddenly peppy) Hi, this is Victoria, what can I do for you?

Wop: Hi. Yeah. Are you just an ice cream shop?

Vic: Well, we do sell our house made gelato, but we also serve sandwiches, soup, pastries, and espresso drinks.

Wop: So you don't have full meals?

Vic: I consider our soup and sandwich deal a full meal, especially if you have gelato for dessert.

Wop: Okay. So you serve a full breakfast, or lunch, or?

Vic: Not quite. We're just a café, but the sandwiches and soups are quite good.

Wop: So do you make full breakfasts, like eggs or anything like that?

Vic: We have our breakfast panini. It's a scrambled egg with sausage or ham and cheese on an English muffin that we grill. And we serve it all day.

Wop: Okay. So you're like an ice cream shop with snacks?

Vic: I don't think of our food as snacks, they're really filling.

Wop: So, no lunch or breakfast? Like appetizers or full meals?

Vic: (Laughing so far, now my voice has taken on a serious tone) Ma'am, we are a small café. We do not have a full working kitchen. We sell sandwiches and soups.

Wop: Okay. (Pause and sigh) I guess I'll call back later.

Vic: All right, you do that. Bye-bye. (Click) Idiot.

An open letter to bad tippers.

Tonight I had the worst kind of bad tipper. The totally unjustified one. They weren't barely legal. They weren't white trash. They weren't even foreign. They just suck at being human beings.

This family could not have HAD better service. Tasters of beer were brought out. Straws for the kiddies. Appetizers before main course. Frequent check backs and refills. The mom even added bacon to her burger and had therefore won a special place in my heart.

I oozed charm and geniality. I even remembered to-go boxes and water on the first go. That does not happen.

Imagine my surprise to find a $4.75 tip on a $42 meal. I was hurt. Shocked. Then pissed. Angry. I marched back into the walk-in cooler to throw shit and yell about how much I hate my restaurant and its clientele. Then I knocked back a couple tasters of my favorite beer in the dish pit.

And all was well again. The restaurant business is a harsh mistress that practically begs its employees to become bi-polar.

I know I'm close.

The economy, the upcoming recession, and white trash

I know gas prices are high. Corn is through the roof. Milk, cheese, and even beer prices are skyrocketing. Don't even get me started on the housing market. This is no excuse to be a cheap bastard when you go out to dinner.

If you can't afford to tip, you can't afford to eat out.

Truer words were never spoken.

Don't use a mayo-butter mix up as an excuse to get part of your meal for free. Don't insist on having the appetizer taken off the bill because you got it with the meal (I'M SORRY, I GOT 5 TABLES AT ONCE AND FORGOT!). And PLEASE don't use the aforementioned excuse to tip $5 on a $122 tab. You. Are. An. Asshole.

I need to make enough money in two days so my check to the government doesn't bounce. (PS. Mission accomplished. Just barely.) I'm having an allergic reaction to some food I shouldn't have eaten, but was too hungry to care otherwise. Just bear with me.

I'm capable of making mistakes. In fact, I make a lot of them. I feel bad and I fess up.

Just don't be a dick about it.