Cranberry Juice For Color

There are times when the moment you walk up to a table, you realize that your time is not worth the lousy 10% tip you’re surely in for. 

I worked the Tuesday lunch shift last week, and I knew I was in for it from the beginning of the shift.  Let me tell you, having to polish every piece of silverware in the restaurant is not a good sign for things to come.

Beyond that, after rallying myself to get excited about my table, I set down two water glasses and began my “Welcome, my name is Naomi and I’ll be your server today” spiel, only to be rudely interrupted. 

A manicured finger waved over the water, signaling my attention.  The finger belonged a middle-aged woman with perfect hair and a face full of Botox who gave me one glance before claiming that she doesn’t “do ice. I want no ice, just a splash of cranberry juice—no sugar—for color.”

These kinds of customers make me want to gag a little bit.  Or spit in their food.  Not that I ever would, but sometimes it feels like it would be extremely gratifying. 

   https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj7SzE8xTTjPmZpjUZRemwU8eLFVkdHg9OzZiIEle1EYRbKe1A9iTas5EULR7fmO6s_CEuIymZRcQTR7i8OSaewQgKlU6S3zSNsNow66hB5pHKslnQOxqJBwqfaGLtvp3Fcwky1RnMlmw/s400/poster_spitting.jpg

This woman proved to be one of the most demanding and obnoxious customers I have had to deal with yet.  I dreaded every time I dragged my feet over to the table to check on them. 

First, they wanted to split a sandwich, but it turned out the sandwich was not filling enough, despite the fact that I demonstrated with my hands how large the serving was.  Then the no-ice-woman disliked her coleslaw and felt entitled to having it voided off of her check.

By the time dessert rolled around, I recommended our most popular item and insisted that the two women each order their own slice.  I didn’t need fiasco surrounding the tiny portion size. 

I wasn’t surprised when I picked up the check off of the table.  I knew from the beginning that I wasn’t going to make any money from that table, but it was a little dramatic of them to leave a penny “face down” on top of the few dollars they left.  Really, I did everything in my power to make sure they had a nice meal.  I can’t be blamed for the snootiness of ladies who lunch.

Lesson learned: Here is a lesson for all who read this: do not take a serving job. Ever.