Thanks to everyone who entered the “Waiter Rant” contest. I read all of your stories and really enjoyed them all; my favorites (and the winners) are: Matt’s cranberry juice story, Jake’s John Malkovich story, Foodwoolf’s Al Pacino story (I guess I like celebrity stories!), Vince’s “two thumbs up” story, Gretchers T.G.I. Friday’s story, Steve’s spicy sandwich story, Elliott’s colonoscopy waiter story, Kim’s mean woman who called the authorities to check her age story. My top two favorite stories were Kristin’s and Erin’s. Here they are, in case you missed them in the comments. If you are a winner of this contest, please e-mail me at email@example.com with your mailing address so we can send you the book!
I used to work at a country club (Bill Gates’ country club, in fact) and though he was always polite with very well-behaved children, there were plenty of other rude people with rude children to make up for it.
Normally, young children are shy when it comes to talking to servers and have to be coerced by their parents into looking at us when they order. Not this one little boy who, at five years old, was already feeling his fair share of country club-entitlement. After his family had finished ordering, he looked me straight in the eye and calmly stated “I want my salmon in thirty seconds” and then began counting down out loud from thirty! “Twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven…” I was so shocked I just smiled and didn’t even feel offended, not even after his mother totally failed to reprimand him. I walked over to a nearby computer to put in the order and when I glanced back at the table, the kid noticed me looking at him and piped up, loud enough so I’d be sure to hear, “twenty-FIVE, twenty-FOUR, twenty-THREE!”
Oh yeah, that’s the country club for ya!
For my 15th birthday dinner my family took me out to Outback. Shortly after I had finished my meal I excused myself to the restroom. A moment or two later the waitress knocked on my stall and asked if I was okay and when I thought I would be out–this should have been my first clue something was up–I mean, that’s a little personal for a server/customer relationship, right? So, I finished my business and when I stepped out of the restroom door there was the entire wait staff with a small bowl of icecream with a candle sticking out of it. I began to walk back to the table with the group behind me singing their fabulous version of the birthday song. Looking back I should have turned around and conducted them or led them like a marching band or something. But, as the awkward teen that I was I turned beet red and walked with my head hung low, took my seat and shot mean looks at my family who had so thoughtfully arranged this birthday treat. I am forever more unable to use the restaurant restroom on my birthday.