Everybody AND Their Dog

You know mass hysteria, right? Everybody goes crazy at the same time. Tonight was like that, except instead of the "hysteria" part it was more like PMS. Dave's theory is that it's the heat combined with being so close to a new moon, but of course he shrugged when he offered the theory, too, 'cause no one really knows the why of nights like this.

A fairly quiet Wednesday night, which I worked only because it's Laura's birthday and she asked me nicely, so I had maybe a dozen tables all together. With one exception, every single table I had tipped poorly and/or complained about something. One exception.

There was the table where the matriarch had Dave break a $100 bill for her, then had me break a $50 (don't ask me why she didn't just get smaller bills from the bank when she cashed her pay check, because I have no logical answer.) Then, she paid for everyone and left me a 12% tip.

There was the couple where the guy told me that we make our Shepherd's Pie wrong.
Dude: I have some advice for your kitchen. See, this is how my Scottish grandmother makes it...
Seriously dude, then go have your grandma make your dinner. His girlfriend/wife ordered the smoked salmon, "oh, it's salty" - duh, it's smoked salmon. Mid-way through eating it, when I check on them, the dude says, "Do you usually serve the salmon with bread or something?"
Me: Uh huh. We serve it with crackers.
I move the crackers from where I set them on the table when I was prepping it to bring out their food and set them directly in front of the woman. Look! I'm magic!

Of course, there was the entitled trivia people, even though there was no trivia tonight.
Gal Annoying: I want the bread pudding, but only if it was made fresh today, 'cause the other day I had it and I had to send it back 'cause it wasn't fresh and it was stale so I couldn't eat it, so is it fresh today?
Me: Let me check.
(moments later)
Me: No, I'm afraid it wasn't made today.
GA: Oh, well, when was it made?
Me: Yesterday.
GA: Well, I really want the bread pudding, but I don't want to have to send it back again, do you think it's good?
Me: Your call.
GA: I guess I'll have it.

For the love of Joseph, I was *this* close to strangling her. Everything tonight seemed, like this, to involve entirely too much conversation. The way it should work is I say, "What can I get you?" and you say, "A vodka tonic." See? Easy. Instead, I kept getting as a response, "Well, golly, I just don't know what I'm in the mood for tonight... do you have any (random thing we don't have)? Or, how about..." for half an hour.

The best table (and I mean that non-sarcastically) was a foursome who came in, ordered their drinks, drank them, smiled, and even bought some official logoed bar shirts. They didn't complain about anything, and left a perfectly acceptable tip. Now, is that so hard?

At about the same time, I also had my two other favorites (and I mean that with much sarcasm).

There was "This is the worst fish and chips I've ever had even though I ate all the food, but that was only 'cause I was starving" guy. 10% there, even when I comped the food.
Me: I'll let the cook know.
Him: No, I'll let the owner know.
Dude, the owner put the fish and chips on the menu and the owner eats it all the time. Shut up.

And, the last table of the night ordered one round, drank one round, and when they were done and I checked on them, also offered some advice.
Margarita Woman: We have a suggestion for your bartender.
Me: Yes?
MW: Tell him to actually put alcohol in the drinks. My margarita just tasted like sweet and sour.
Gin and Tonic Woman: And my drink just tasted like tonic.
Me: If you'd like your drink stronger, you can ask for a double shot.
MW: Did he even put any alcohol in them at all?
Me: Yes.
GTW: Did you see him do it?
Me: Yes. He makes all the drinks the same and uses a jigger to measure the alcohol.
MW: Did you see him do it?
Me: Yes.

I pass this on to Dave who shakes his head.
Dave: It was those people? (points)
Me: Yup.
Dave: I even made those strong.

When I go back to the table to pick up empty glasses, they immediately ask if I gave the bartender their "advice."
Me: I told him. He said he actually made the drinks a little strong.
They don't believe me. I pick up all the empties, and the coasters as well as the couple dollars on the table, trying to drop a gentle "get the f* out" hint.
Dude: I guess it's not your fault, huh? You just work here.

Not much longer, though. Not much longer at all.