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Dear Birthday Girl Who Made a Reservation for 10ppl

20151113_192216Who are these people?  To be clear, a reservation means that you are “reserving” a table in a restaurant, and are expected to honor that reservation by showing up.  It would be easier to figure out Trump’s healthcare plan, than to understand why people make reservations for large parties, and then don’t show up.

Last Saturday night was no different.  I had set up a table for ten in my section.  This means, moving three (separate) tables together, making sure that all of the corners of the tables are level, and that all place settings are appropriately set, and so on.  Most places don’t have big tables that can accommodate large parties, so we actually have to move furniture around when large party reservations are made.

The birthday table was supposed to show up at 8pm.  I was set and ready to go.  I try not to get too excited for large parties anymore, but when you have a table this size in your section, the chances of making a big tip are high.  It wasn’t particularly busy so I was watching the clock, hoping that I could make time go faster.  Now it’s 8:30, and my party was nowhere to be found.

The only thing that was amusing so far this night was a guy thought it was okay to light up and smoke a joint on the patio.  He wasn’t even trying to hide it.  Just as proud as could be, smoking his pot.  So I approached him:

Me:  “Would you mind putting that away?” I politely asked.

Pot Guy:  “This?” he said pointing to his joint.

No, the elephant.  “Yes.  No smoking on the patio.”

Pot Guy:  “Where can I smoke?” he asked.

Me:  “You can smoke tobacco over in the smoking area.”  As I pointed him in the right direction.

Pot Guy:  “Where can I smoke weed?”

Me:  “Alaska, Oregon, Washington, Colorado, and Nevada.”

He left.  My party had arrived.  Or at least, partially.  Two ladies were standing by the large table.  I went over to them to start them with drinks.

Me:  “Hi ladies.  Welcome.  May I offer you some cocktails or Champagne to start?”

Lady 1:  “It’s my birthday!”

Me:  “Happy Birthday,” I said with fake enthusiasm.  Patton Oswalt was right.  Birthdays are OVERDONE!  We should only get a certain amount of birthdays.  The expectations that people have because it’s their birthday is nauseating, and makes me throw-up in my mouth.

Lady 1:  “Not everybody is going to show up.”

Me:  “It’s set for 10 right now.  How many places should I take away?”

Lady 1:  “There will be two of us,” she said without losing a fake eyelash.

Me:  “I’m guessing you won’t be needing this big table?”

Lady 1:  “No.  You can move those tables and set me and my friend at a table for two,” she stated.

Is it too much to ask for a phone call?  I know these girls know how to use a phone because throughout their entire meal, they were on their phones.  But a simple phone call to the restaurant to say that there won’t be as many people in the party as originally booked.

So after setting up the tables, then breaking it down and resetting it for two, the birthday girl still had a huge, expensive cake that could’ve fed a small orphanage, that she demanded I bring to the table with some candles.  And what does she do?!?  She says that the cake is too big to fit on her table, so she told me to put it on the table next to them.

“Not a problem,” I said, “that table was part of your original reservation anyways.

So worth the 8 dollar tip!

Until next time… Server’s don’t pay their rent with compliments.
“Bitter.  Party of 1?  Your table is ready.”

 

 

 

 

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