Snowing With the Air Conditioning On

Tonight was dead, dead, dead, and then suddenly busy with that pre-Easter drinking crowd. (Beats me, but there you go). Around nine-ish both Julia and I were in primo hustle mode which didn't let up until ten thirty-ish. Thanks to the warm bodies and the building's tendency to hold heat like nobody's business, the temperature quickly hit 75 and kept going up. I don't know where we maxed out, but finally Jan turned on the air conditioning. Meanwhile, the rain outside had turned to snow. It was very poetic.

There was a firefighters' ball and since one of our owners is a firefighter, we ended up with a big after-ball crowd. Mostly nice guys, but they all came at once, which made things a bit hectic. Along with this crowd came two of my least favorite women.

#1 used to date my uncle. She's very much the superficially nice type who says "Oh, hi, it's so good to see you" all loud and smiley, then mutters something mean under her breath and leaves no tip (aka, the last time she came into the bar). Even before knowing her as a patron, when I only knew her as my uncle's girlfriend, I lost my liking for her. She's just not very nice, and I'll leave it at that. So, she comes in and plonks down at the table where the owners are, so I couldn't very well ignore her (I think her date's the one who knows the bosses, not her). Luckily, thanks to her date, I got tipped and didn't have to talk with her very much.

#2 writes checks. We don't accept checks, except from her. Does that paint the picture for you? Very entitled. She sits down in the soft section and I curse my luck.
Me: What can I get you?
Center of the Universe: An Irish coffee and a water with a couple of lemons.
I bring her an Irish coffee and a glass of water with three lemons. A minute later she's up at the bar with her mug, flagging Julia down.
CU: I need you to do something to this Irish coffee, it doesn't taste right. It just tastes like strong coffee or something.
Julia: I don't know what you mean. It's an Irish coffee.
CU: Yeah, but I can't taste the Kahlua in it.
Julia: Probably because it's an Irish coffee.
Yes, my friends, that's right. This woman was upset because her Irish coffee tasted like an Irish coffee and not the totally different drink she thought an Irish coffee was.

Around the same time...
Two guys: Can we get a couple of Spanish coffees?
We don't serve anything called a Spanish coffee, but we do serve something called a Spanish Kiss. I bring them two and check on the table after they've tried them. One guy says to the nearby chic: Yeah, the Spanish coffee is pretty good. Point of order: A Spanish Kiss is Jose Cuervo and hot chocolate, and has absolutely no coffee in it whatsoever.

Also tonight was this table:
Four people come in and sit down in one of the soft sections which can comfortably sit five to six people. They order some drinks and seem alright. Half an hour later four more people come in to join them. They pull in another comfy chair, then haul over another which almost completely blocks the walkway. I have to head over and make them rearrange.
Me: Hey guys, I'm going to have to get you to move that chair.
Dude: Oh, I guess it's a fire code thing, huh? Gotta get to the exits.
Me: Yes, and the bathrooms.
So, I go over and rearrange them, then step back to give 'em a minute to settle in before I ask for their orders. Obviously, this was a mistake. Other dude goes up to the bar to get drinks from Julia, because he assumes I only work there to keep the walkways clear. Yeah, okay, whatever. Then, three more people come in to join the group.

Why, in the name of all that is holy, do people who are expecting a larger group so often pick a table/seating area that will only accommodate the first few people? Is it really so hard to think, "Okay, we're expecting twelve people, and this table has four chairs... maybe we should go to the bigger table"?

Finally, at this point, they inform me that they're going to move. The next hour or two is me going over to the table and being paid attention to by three or four out of the group when I ask if anybody needs anything, then seeing one of the oblivious walk up to the bar a couple minutes later to get a drink. One of the guys comes up to me:
Guy: Hey, do you have just a regular deck of cards?
Me: Yeah.
Guy: Uh, where are they?
Me: Behind the bar, I'll have to get 'em for you. Give me a minute and I'll bring them over to you.
Guy: Okay.
I deliver a set of drinks then grab the cards and bring them to the table.
Guy: Oh, can I get a Smithwicks? And, we need another deck of cards so everyone can play.
Because when someone asks for a deck of cards, they obviously mean two decks of cards. Just like the way when someone asks for an Irish coffee, they obviously want Kahlua in it.

Rob and Melissa came in and I was very happy about it. They did a couple of pitchers over a couple of hours, and then they were getting ready to ease out the door in that way that takes a good fifteen minutes. At that point I only really had one other table because the other tables had opted to bypass me and start tabs at the bar before sitting down at a table. The other table that I was paying attention to was fine, so I had time to sit and chat with two of my favorite regulars before they headed out. Eventually, K.C. eases up beside me and leans over.
K.C.: These assholes are flashing their money and waving.
Me: Which ones?
K.C.: The ones right behind me. They seem to want booze.
Me: Yeah, I'm at peace with that.
K.C.: Okay then.

It slowed down after a while, and then we had only a few tables. Tables that couldn't take a hint. I did the rounds for last call, closed out my last two tabs, and, after a bit, gave people the heads-up that they had ten minutes to finish their booze before I took it. Then I started putting up chairs. Here's how it works with chairs:
-On a night where I'm feeling pretty laid back and there's maybe one table that's lingering and they've been cool and groovy and I'm not really in a rush to scare them off, I put up chairs slowly and start far away from that table. I put the chairs on the table gently and wait to work on the tables/chairs right next to my lingerers until the last thing.
-On a night like tonight I put up chairs quickly and take no care in where I start, except to pick a starting spot pretty near those I most want to run off. I chuck the chairs up, letting their momentum carry them to land with a bang. I work on the chairs/tables directly adjacent to the lingerers right away.
I admit, it isn't very subtle. However, at nearly two o'clock on a Sunday morning it is very cathartic.

Despite my best efforts with the chairs, I ran out of un-occupied chairs well before anyone took the hint. So, with a few minutes to go, I did a round of picking up anything that was empty. When I went to one table to pick up empties, I reached between two folks to get at a glass.
Guy (with a whine): Don't take my beer.
Me: I won't take it yet, but you've got about two minutes to finish it before I do.

Finally, we cleared everybody out and Julia and I pulled the patio chairs (covered with snow) in from the patio while I told her my plan to retire from waitressing come fall.
Julia: It gets old, dealing with the idiots and the jerks. I mean, if you can afford it...
She takes another drag from her cigarette and the snow keeps coming down all around us in big fat flakes that melt as soon as they hit the concrete and asphalt which are shiny with moisture because the snow just doesn't stick as well when it's spring.