Confessions of a Waiter

After working at three different restaurants as a waiter, I’ve noticed that you, the ‘diner’, feel entitled, powerful, and supreme.  Now, let’s take a look at how the rest of us view your behavior.

I hate when parents bring babies to the restaurant.  I can sympathize with your desire to go out and eat a nice meal, but at least attempt to keep your destruction to a minimum.  After you leave, I am left to clean your table that looks like it has been hit by a tornado.  There is food all over the floor, the seats, and even the walls.  Also, why is the table always sticky?  More food has reached the floor than your baby’s mouth.

Anyone who orders bottled water will, more often than not, be a total prick.  If you’re picky about water, you will most definitely find something to complain about with the food.  Ain’t nobody got time for that.

I hate when you request to “hold on to a menu” after I’ve already taken your order.  You hardly ever order anything anyway and you somehow always manage to spill a drink or get food all over the menu.  If you’ve ever received a sticky menu at a restaurant before, you now know why.

Tables are investments to me.  People who look like they are happy and people who are regulars that are known to tip well are much better investments of my time than the table that complains about everything.  You are basically a lost cause and I can’t wait for you to leave.

If you are an obnoxious customer, if you raise your voice at me, if you complain about ridiculous things, if you are the type that likes to yell at waiters because you lack sufficient people skills; because your boss yelled at you today, because you are the boss and didn’t have enough people to yell at, or because you are a downright miserable person — I WILL MESS WITH YOU.

I never understood how you can be rude to someone that you are essentially asking to serve you food.  I know you are thinking, “I am paying for it, I deserve the best.”  But you cannot forget that you are still dealing with another human being.  A human being that is able to decide how he/she would like to proceed with your dining experience.  After I deem you unfit for my utmost in service and generosity I will implement one, several, or all of the following:

  • When your food is ready in the kitchen I will let it sit there and get cold
  • I will eat/pick at your food before I bring it out.  Food servers are always working hungry.  Do not give us an excuse to eat your food.
  • Any further drink orders will be ignored until you ask me a second or, possibly, a third time
  • Extra forks, knives, napkins, sauces, etc. will take some time to reach your table.  I may or may not pretend to look busy as I make you wait.

Your biggest mistake will be to ask me to pack up your leftovers.  It’s not like there’s some guy back there in the kitchen wearing latex gloves and using tongs to transfer your food into a sterile container.  No, it is in fact me. Yes, me.  The guy you so thoroughly enjoyed yelling at earlier because I did not put the specific number of olives that you desired in your martini.  Yes sir, I am using my bare filthy hands to grab your food.  Some not so pleasant things can happen to your food during this last window of opportunity I have to mess with you.  It may look the same.  It may taste the same.  But trust me.  It is not the same.

P.s.  Can you please stop stuffing napkins into cups filled with liquid and/or ripping up napkins into confetti?  The first one doesn’t actually help me clean up any faster.  I mean, seriously, do you put napkins in your dishwasher?  And the confetti?  Come on.  Now you’re just fucking with me.

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