Ladies and gentleman . . . it feels so good to be baaaaaack

(Mosh with me now)

Just kidding. You’ve probably realized that I am in fact NOT Eminem. I’m back from a long hiatus and I am pleased to announce that the customers of our restaurant are still as dumb as ever! I have quite a backlog of stories piled up, so let’s slash through the stupidity like Jason Vorhees in a special needs school!

Our restaurant has a phone number, because any successful business knows that they must make their customers feel like they give a sh*t about their opinions. I generally avoid answering phones; as of this writing I’ve answered a total of 3 phones and regretted 2 of them. Today was the fateful day that the phone rang and I HAD to answer it. The cashier was busy engaging a man who resembled a diabetic bear in small talk and the rest of my coworkers were likewise engaged . . . the sacred duty fell to me.

I picked up and was treated to a woman who sweetly (no sarcasm) informed me that her order had been made wrong. Caught off guard by her pleasantness I asked what was wrong to which she replied that there was no dressing to her salad. This was a situation in which I knew what to do so I immediately offered her a store credit for the meal. The next time she came in the equivalent of the meal would be presented to her free of charge.

“Okay, what can you do about it now?”

I was very confused. Part of it was because I had only listened to half the conversation because I was distracted by an itch on my upper thigh, but part of it was because she seemed to assume I was a magician who could magically zap her the correct order via phone. I stammered out the only logical answer; if she came into our store we would have the correct order waiting for her.

“Well, what about my inconvenience”.

We are the service industry, I get it. But this woman had assumed that a small side of dressing missing from her salad was an “inconvenience”.

I can understand . . . missing a topping from your pizza. Those are specialty items which you can’t throw on and then stick your pizza in the oven. Hell I even understand not getting fries with your burger! But salad dressing? Assuming this woman is Caucasian, I’ve seen enough of their fridges to know it is stocked amply with 3 things: sh*tty beer, lunch meat, and salad dressing. If I tried one salad dressing from a white person’s fridge each day it would take me like . . . 4 days to go through it all (alright that joke kind of sucked).

Blindsided by living proof that Darwinism didn’t exist, I handed the phone over to my now free manager and went about being a productive *giggle* worker.

After the phone call ended, my manager politely informed me something that put yet another enormous dent in the mid-sized sedan that is my faith the human race: the woman wanted us to deliver her the dressing.

Okay, we don’t even offer delivery. As in, if 500 of our most loyal and polite customers ordered the simplest entree item and offered us a huge tip to deliver it to us we STILL couldn’t do it. Yet this woman was throwing a fit because we would not go against our policy and deliver her an item that is so easy to make that it takes around 2 minutes with a blender.

My manager refused her ridiculous request, at which point she said she would never be coming back to our store.

Good. Please go back to shoving Advil up your nose and attempting to snort them out into your sleeping infant’s mouth, or whatever it is you idiots do in your spare time.


You know how EVERY TV series that takes place in a school has one of those food fights? That glorious moment of Matrix slow-mo where taco shells become artillery shells, mashed potatoes become napalm? When the lunch monitors are helpless to stop the contagious blood-lust (food-lust?) that spreads through the entire cafeteria. And as the pandemonium subsides, the perpetrators are led away by the monitors to deafening applause.  At some point, EVERYONE has imagined starting one or being part of this wondrous culinary catastrophe.

The problem is that outside of a high school, food fights have no place. The perpetrators look like idiots, disturb those around them, and there really is no applause. Take a couple of days ago for example.

At a large table in our restaurant, there were a group of high school students (only by technicality).

I wish there was a flowery way to put this, but there isn’t: These children began throwing food at each other. I have no idea what came over them to turn their table into a war zone while innocent civilians attempted to eat a meal nearby.

Embarrassingly, we had to simply stand by and watch.

There is a big, ugly truth in the restaurant industry; we survive because people are drooling, festering idiots incapable of logical thought or reason. What if everyone just ate a sandwich when they got home? Something filling, made at home with some lunch meat and your favorite cheese. It’d be cheap, hell of a lot more nutritious than most of the food restaurants serve, and save people the commute.

But no, they drive out to buy food that’ll kill them in cars that they don’t need. They’ll buy TVs that are way too big to provide anything useful besides leveling up their e-dicks and send their kids to schools they have no business being at. We provide a service to morons, and that fateful day we had to watch as the people we exploited wreaked their revenge upon our clean tables.

I’m consoled by the fact that they looked like druggies and drunks, and I look forward to reading about them in the news someday for police charges.

While restaurant customers are always diverse, it will always see a bias towards certain groups. Indian restaurants always end up with more Indians, TGI Fridays ends up with middle class white people who tip poorly, and McDonalds caters to future gastric bypass patients.

We however, cater to rich kids and (gulp) high schoolers.

I have few problems with high schoolers really. I mean, I used to be in high school once  . . . during which time my chief talents were my GPA and stunning inability to get laid. They’re loud, they’re cheap, but in the end some of them honestly have more sense than the adults that walk into our restaurants.

But then there’s the girls.

When you work in a restaurant where your chief job is to serve food to people who will then unleash their repressed rage about their failed attempt to get their GED on you, you find ways to distract yourself. Unfortunately our options are somewhat limited.

We can:

Clean our restaurant more or get a headstart on our closing preparations

Murder the annoying customers

Admire attractive people in the premises
Number one isn’t always possible, feasible, or we sometimes don’t care enough to do it. Number two isn’t possible, because after changing my name twice and moving across the country I can tell you that murder is really a hassle when you’re running from the cops.

So, with the majority of our workforce over 18, we admire the hotties.

Which is how we get back to high school girls. I blame the hormones in our milk, but girls seem to be looking older than their age. It is truly disconcerting to see a girl with full lips, sparkling eyes, cleavage that could hold up a fucking Christmas tree and shorts so small that it’s one stray thread away from being a loin cloth. Not only are they dressing older, but their very biology has been altered to make them more appealing to us . . . until we see the name of their high school plastered across their brea . . . I mean shirt.

We are not sex offenders at our restaurants. But people must understand that the male brain is divided into two parts; the one which ascertains the attractiveness of a person and one which makes logical decision. The unfortunate reality is that the first part of our brain reacts much quicker than the second. It’s the equivalent of a Yale student and his mentally retarded friend walking down the street, and the Yale student has to constantly keep his slow friend from chasing pigeons in the middle of traffic.

Now understand this entire, “Oh she’s hot oh shit wait she’s sixteen years old!!!” process takes only about 2 seconds. However, 2 seconds is a LOOOOONG time to feel like a pervert in your head so I’m asking . . .

Inept, socially stunted parents of America . . . wait till a girl is 18 before you release her all sexed up into the world. I assure you, her self esteem will suffer far MORE when guys want her only for her body and toss her aside than if we don’t stare at her like baboons. Trust me, you’ll be setting your daughter up for success.

But let’s be honest, I don’t give a damn about your daughter. I just don’t want to feel guilty anymore.

I’m not religiously intolerant. More . . . religiously insensitive. But that’s just because I believe humor is always more important than political correctness.

ANYWHO . . .

Sundays make us hate the church. We’re not talking about upscale places where you need to wait for a table and the waiters have fake British accents; I’m talking about restaurants that are “fast food” but are still a step above those places where the “meat patties” is actually pressed corpse meat marinated with the tears of underpaid workers (I personally prefer my meat marinated with the tears of homeless orphans).

Now we don’t mind a lot of customers at all; the fate of our restaurant and our workforce actually depends on it. We don’t mind busy (we’re trained for it), but what we hate is kids.

Oh the kids.

The Sunday Church Bunch. For a bunch who squat in God’s house you have certainly raised a bunch of hellions. I understand that as kids, the vast majority have trouble sitting through an entire church service that makes a little sense to them as it probably does to you. So you want to give them a “reward”.

First off, your children are not worthy of reward. Our restaurant does not give out “free shotgun rounds to the forehead” so there really is no reward worthy of your children. The idea that simply because they sat through a service which may disillusion them to the idea of a higher power when they are older does NOT mean we should suffer.

Second off, they have this unbelievable ability to order less food yet produce more mess. This means that their SESP ratio (shit eaten vs. shit produced) is beyond a margin which we would like to tolerate. Four kids meals for a family to take up a table that could be occupied by customers who pay a lot more and are a lot less annoying? We would rather you be 16 year old Satan worshipers with some social consciousness.

^Also, I found out up there that the plural,noun form of “worship” is spelled with only one “p” and one “r”. How cool is that!? I’ll give you a hint . . . it’s a lot cooler than your kids!


IGN posted a review on Dark Knight Rises a few days before the release of the movie and it kind of scared me; they more or less said that DKR was built along the veins of Batman Begins than The Dark Knight. Now anyone with a functioning brain knows that TDK was an exponentially better movie than BB. 

Well, DKR’s tone shift doesn’t hurt the movie at all and the third time is a charm for Nolan.

Let’s address the biggest worries fans had. 

First, Anne Hathaway is a great Catwoman. In comparison to Christian Bale, Tom Hardy and Joseph Gordon-Levitt her screen time is limited but she manages to portray a multifaceted character; sleek, smart and tough but vulnerable enough to be likable. I was never a fan of the old Batman movies, so I’ll gladly second the notion that Anne Hathaway outdoes Michelle Pfeiffer for “best Catwoman” award.


Second, Bane can be understood. In the first DKR trailer his voice was so garbled that it was virtually unintelligible. The modification has been scaled back enough to where Bane’s words  are clear while retaining its menacing, otherworldly quality. Granted there are a few times where one or two of his words get lost in translation but it’s a blip on the radar. 


And finally, the series is given a fitting ending. Enough loose ends are tied up to give Batman a fitting goodbye with enough ends left open for the imaginative fan to speculate. With all that has happened in the prequels and all the plot twists, I couldn’t think of a more fitting way to end the series.


The ONLY gripe I have is that on some levels, Bane cannot compete with the Joker as a villain.

Bane is large, menacing, physically powerful, and a tactical genius. He serves his purpose as the omnipotent figurehead of Gotham’s reckoning so to speak, but apart from the mystery that surrounds his origins (explained in the movie) he is actually pretty shallow. 

All Bane does is force Batman to work harder, to dare him to reach the level needed to save Gotham. Joker on the other hand challenges whether Batman should be trying to save Gotham at all. I point to the interrogation scene between Joker and Batman as one of the high points in comic book cinema; a deep exchange of philosophy in which the viewer honestly can’t tell who’s the good guy and who’s the bad guy. Sure, Joker may be a murderer but doesn’t Batman inadvertently kill thousands by refusing to end the lives of some of his most dangerous foes?

In the end, the moral polarity of Batman and Bane is too cut and dry for any real complication.

Other than that however, The Dark Knight Rises is incredible. The plot twists, the set pieces, and the conclusion to one of pop culture’s most memorable trilogies delivers in gusto. 


So, the restaurant I work at closes at 10 pm. This means technically we are open till 10 o’ clock PM.

I think people have forgotten common courtesy however.

At around 9:55 PM several people walk in. They are in their mid teens and their uniforms make it clear that they just got off from their shift at the theme park a couple miles down the road. Happy as a bunch of acne ridden clams, they come up to our counter and are shocked to learn that our selection is rather limited because of the late time and promptly left. Later, one of our own workers comes in to get a meal and was borderline enraged to learn that we only had one type of meat left over at the end of the night.

Understand we are not a “fast food restaurant” in the traditional sense. It’s true that from the time you order your food to the time you receive it takes a few minutes at most, but we cook/mix our ingredients multiple times during the day from scratch to ensure freshness. I know our customers know it, because its one of the major selling points of our restaurant. The kids themselves baffle me. I know that a line of customers who want ice cream right before the park closes is quite an annoyance. So why would they expect us to be any more prepared and/or receptive to their appearance especially when our restaurant has a job that is immeasurably harder than theirs?

One theory that gets them off the hook is that they all have some form of mental retardation. In that case, I understand how they would be unable to put together such simple facts and somehow expect our establishment to be prepared for their unexpected, unwelcome, and frankly unpleasant arrival. I would also like to commend the theme park for paving the way for the mentally handicapped to get gainful employment in the world.

It’s also quite possible that they were stupid teenagers with no common sense, in which case I intend to show up at their house with a box of condoms and gesture to their children as I explain to the parents what a horrible mistake they have made.

Our own f**king worker though? Are you kidding me? There’s really nothing left to say!

I need customers to understand how expensive it is to make food fresh. Let’s take this random example:

A good 30 lb box of naturally raised steak costs well above $100 for us. This means that every bit of steak that is cooked and not ordered by the customer is quite a loss to us. The same goes for chicken and other meats. Our restaurant is WILDLY successful, and with all due respect we are willing to bet that our late night snafu will not affect your choice to return to our restaurant. And if it does?

We don’t care. Understand that your decision not to purchase one of our menu items is a negligible loss in comparison to how much food we would have to waste as well as labor costs for having to re-clean our kitchen tools.

So suck a bucket of d*cks.

Every business has problems with its customers. Customers are human beings, human beings are douchebags, and therefore customers are douchebags. It’s something we’ve come to accept as fact alongside other social commandments like your hot female friend will always choose the douchebag that won’t treat her right over the nice guy (a.k.a. you).

But nothing and I mean NOTHING gets flak from customers like the food industry. Whether its a five star restaurant where the waiters have bow ties or a hole in the wall taco joint where the workers use their restroom breaks to feed their growing heroine addiction the customers hate with nondiscriminatory passion.  

I have to admit I have a little bias; I work in a restaurant right now. However, I was a customer long before I ever became a worker so I’ve been on the other side of the glass looking in. We’ve gotta draw the battle lines somewhere, and I’m ready to do that.

1) Blame who’s responsible

In many restaurants, the job of making/preparing the food and then actually giving it to the customers is split between 3 – 4 different positions. If ANY of them screws up, the customer is the one who is affected and I can understand how that can be frustrating. 

However, that does not give a customer permission to carpet-bomb insult the establishment. Ran out of tomatoes on the line on the line? It could either be the person on the line who didn’t tell the kitchen guy that they were on their last one OR they did tell them and they simply didn’t make it in time. Either way we will gladly man up and apologize. And if we don’t we have no business working in the food sector and should be fired anyway. 

2) Talking to the manager doesn’t make you god

I think people have a broad idea what a “manager” is. The customers must imagine a man in a suit and tie with a cigar poking out of his lips and a smug attitude. They seem to forget that this is the FOOD industry. Our managers are usually just involved in the kitchen as we are (if not more) and sport uniforms that are only minutely different from their workers. Hell, there’s different level of managers and until you get to the top most of them are hourly paid workers.

They can only offer limited compensation, or tell you to go f**k yourself. If you threaten to call corporate, that’s AWESOME! It means that first, we don’t have to deal with your garbage anymore. Second, unless the complaint(s) is serious enough or numerous enough to warrant disciplinary action/change in policy they give as few sh**s as we do

3) Don’t exaggerate

“This is the worst ________ I’ve ever been to!”

No, it probably isn’t. We know this because you return to our restaurant 2-3 times per week. There is another store from our chain around 6 minutes down the road yet you choose us. 

These are the worst for the customers because restaurants don’t really take it at a certain point. There’s a certain level at which even an industry based in customer service no longer wishes to service you. For example, we have had a few customers claim that “they had been coming to [our store] for years without any problems before”. Every time this is said, every worker in earshot has to keep from laughing. You know why?

Our store didn’t open till August 2011. A.k.a. less than a year. If the customer had in fact coming to this location for years to eat without problem its probably because the construction site had very shoddy security.

4) Recognize we don’t have to gargle your balls

Some restaurants get by because they have the best damn food around. There can only be one “best” in any category, so the majority of us get by with pricing and “customer service”.

Understand that when there’s a line our of our door and the previous shift’s workers did not adequately prepare us to handle it, we are not in a good mood. We will ALWAYS try to greet our customers with a smile however until you give us reason to do so otherwise.

Extra ingredients on your desired dish? Certainly! 

Six items being ordered by one person to take to his/her friends? I mean we’re pissed but we have the courtesy not to explain it to your face!

An extra side for free? Bigger portions than what our rules mandate? Reaching your grubby hands into the food to point to something you could use your words to name? Absolutely unacceptable.

When we mean customer service, we are saying that we will make your experience ordering and eating our food as pleasant as possible. We do not mean service in the way that a downtrodden London prostitute would entertain you using a jar of your own urine.



There, I’ve drawn the lines customers. I don’t think it’s too much to ask, and in return I guarantee you will love eating out whenever you do it (giggity). Otherwise, put on a blindfold and run into the freeway.