Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Any more trivia sir?

Restaurant Rage!

Ok, summer is here. School is out. The mystic flood gates that have held back tourists and idiots for the last couple of wintry months have burst. Thus spewing forth an unseen, and unmatched idiot storm of the season.

We phase at the most inopportune time. To me, it seems as if this particular manager waits until I either: A.) Get double, triple, or quadruple sat, B.) Get a big top, C.) The kitchen has put me in a world of miss cooked food and misfire mistakes that seems as if I (and they) will never recover from... or D.) ANY COMBINATION OF THE ABOVE!

Now, bless her heart, I know she would never do this on purpose. It is just a shitty coincidence that happens often when we are on a shift together. In her defense, she also is very good about helping servers recover from the weeds.

Anyway, it's not her that this post is about. It's about a tool bag so great that Billy Mays, standing in craftsman aisle at Sears, with a full camera crew, couldn't even endorse. Seriously, it's as if a Snap-On truck hit a bump as they passed by my restaurant, and this guy came bouncing through the door. (Insert the sound of clanging wrench here.)

Now, I don't remember our exact exchange, due to the fact that I was busier than two jack rabbits in the spring. I do remember him asking me: "Hey, so what is so special about this burger?" I then went on to explain that our burgers are better than those of large chains, because we buy from local ranchers and that the beef is better because the farmers care for their stock (basically, it's not some giant corporate slaughter house of beef that pumps its cattle full of garbage to get more poundage out of the stock). His eyes widen, and a grin parts his cheeks, lips, and gravity from each other. "Oh, well isn't that fancy?" He looks around his table... they are about as impressed with him as I am.

"Well, how about the chicken?" I answer (now growing impatient and completely out of time)"Yes, it is also from a ranch very close to the area. It's not from this city, but from a farm on the outskirts of another about half an hour away from here." Again, the bogus act of acting impressed comes from his seat.

"Everything from around here is just so fresh, now isn't it?" He looks around at his party again for some kind of confirmation. Again, apologetic gazes radiate to me, from the group. One member even suggests he orders a chip and dip appetizer from our menu to shut him up. He is deterred by this attempt.

He gets a big smile across his lips. Reaches over, and picks up an ice water that I had previously dropped off. I look back at my section, making a mental note of my tables, and prioritizing what my next actions will be as soon as my would-be Alex Trebek quits playing 20 questions with me. He continues: "I'll bet this water is from that river over there isn't it?" He points.

I answer a very dry "No." At this point, I apologize to his group, and explain that I must go "drop some hot food off at my other tables." Explaining that I will be right back and that I was sorry for the inconvenience (not explaining that the inconvenience was mine completely, and not theirs). With that, I walked away, and did what I had to, to get my section back in check. I also made a point to let that table squirm a bit, as I didn't go back to them until all my other tables were addressed and on track.

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