These are true stories of my experiences as a waitress.

Stories of a Waitress Slowly Going Insane

Kick off those slip resistant shoes and relax

Fucking Mad!

Tonight sucked. I got stiffed. However, there’s more to this story than just the fact that some asshole didn’t tip. I’ll start from the beginning….

I got sat with a couple, a white guy and maybe a latino woman? I’m not totally sure of her nationality, but I’m going to call him MC (will explain later) and her Silence.

The reason that I refer to the girl as Silence is because when they ordered their food, she would not speak directly to me. In fact, he did the majority of the ordering for her until I get to the salad. 

"Which salad would you like?" I ask as I look directly at her. Instead of giving me the courtesy of her gaze, she instead stared at MC whispered to him that she wanted the house salad.

MC: “She wants the house salad.” (Thanks, captain obvious)

I then look at her again and ask which dressing she’d like. She mumbles something to MC again, and he says, “She’ll have thousand island.”

THE FUCK? WHY IN THE HELL DO PEOPLE DO THIS?!

I find this disrespectful for two reasons: 1. I’m a woman, and other women before these past generations fought their pretty asses off for us to have some semblance of equality so that we have a voice. 2. I’m not a servant, and I’m certainly not beneath you. Look me in the fucking eye and tell me what you want to order. That’s what you’re at a restaurant for. 

Anyway, this REALLY ticked me off. Sometimes it’s cute when husbands order for their wives. However, the wives always look at me and smile, and when the husband forgets to say something, they look directly at me and tell me sweetly. They don’t whisper to their husband to tell me when I’m standing RIGHT THERE. What a crock of SHIT! (can you tell how heated this makes me?) There are women in other countries that aren’t even allowed to wear what they want in public, and this woman won’t even use her voice to tell me what she wants to eat? She didn’t have any type of accent, and it was quite obvious that she was FROM this country. 

Throughout this couple’s dining experience, I give awesome service. They never had to ask for a refill, I brought ketchup with his fries, etc. I anticipated their needs and they ate every bite of their food. Basically, they seemed to have a nice dining experience. 

Moving on… So they get the bill and I run MC’s credit card, then hand it off, thank them, and move on to my next table to take their order. While I’m finishing up that table’s order, the couple leaves, so I immediately walk over to the table to get my booklet and prebus so that I can get another table. I then look at my credit receipt, and low and behold: I have just been completely stiffed. MC drew a line through the tip area, and then wrote the original amount in the “total” blank, then signed his name.

WHO THE FUCK DOES THAT?! I’ve been stiffed before; hell, I’m a waitress. It comes with the territory, and unfortunately, it happens more than it should because some people are assholes. I did not give them bad service; why would I? The way that I get paid is by giving good service. I don’t get paid hourly.

In fact, I technically just PAID to wait on this couple because I have to tip out 2.5% of my total sales, whether I got tipped or not.

What makes me SO angry about this particular incident though, is the fact that it was so blatant. How can you be so blunt and shameless about not tipping? WHAT A FUCKING IDIOT! HIS NAME IS ON THE CREDIT RECEIPT! Which is why, his name is MC…because I know his REAL name. I will NEVER forget his name, and when I leave my restaurant one day and get into a career that uses my degree, I AM CALLING YOUR ASS OUT, MC!

I AM GOING TO EDIT THIS BLOG POST AND POST YOUR FULL NAME, AND ANYONE THAT KNOWS YOU WILL KNOW WHAT A TOTAL ASSHOLE YOU ARE! WANNA KNOW WHY? BECAUSE YOUR DUMB ASS STIFFED ME VIA A CREDIT RECEIPT! 

ugh. seriously. I’ve had worse stiffs on higher tabs, but this one just pissed me off. Especially since it was on a weeknight. Weeknights are slower so it’s hard to make up for a table that stiffed me. MY BLOOD IS BOILING. 

*UPDATE* HIS NAME IS MICHAEL CARVER AND HE’S FROM FRANKLIN, TN. HA. this made me feel better.