A six top wanders in (two teens/early twenties, a 50-ish woman, a 50-ish man, and two kids), along with three other tables at 10:30 am(open seating means I could be in the weeds in three seconds flat. Sob.) They plop down and I ask for their drink order, They hem and haw and give up their choice of drink. I drop off the drinks, and go to try and address the other tables.
“EXCUSE ME! WE’RE READY TO ORDER!”
I wander back, and they demand menus. Um, ok? (Open seating, grab your own menu type place. Way informal.) I grab them, and once again attempt to address other tables, as THEY don’t have their drinks yet and THEY have yet to be greeted.
“EXCUSE ME! *WE’RE* *READY* *TO* *ORDER*”
I go back. They order the breakfast steak nn eggs, WELL done, one asking for “‘ashbrowns wit’ cheese.” Three of them. One tries to sub pancakes for her toast. We don’t sub, pancakes are more expensive than bread. Whatever. They order a mess of pancakes, and go back to grumbling. Then the woman pipes up “EXCUSE ME! CAN I A PITCHER OF ICED TEA?”. Um, ask when you order drinks? Once again, whatever. I go to drop the order off and address tables. I get one done, and grab food up for another table that has been waiting forever for their food while this table badgered me instead of waiting like good customers. (This couple was so sweet and patient. If they ever come back, I swear to god I will do a happy dance.)
I come back, hands full of food and drinks (Like four plates on one arm, a tray of drinks in the other.
“EXCUSE ME! I NEED MY ICED TEA!”
I tell her I will get her pitcher in just one moment, drop off the food and drinks, get her pitcher of iced tea, and address the OTHER table (poor dears. They’re regulars, so they’re ok with all this.)
At this point I have all except one table’s orders, all drinks out, and these people are still being BITCHY. The woman is giving me a look from hell, and I’m overwhelmed. The whole restaurant save for one table is packed (I had a little two top that was empty. Thank god.), the kitchen is flooded with PANCAKE ORDERS (fucking pancakes), and this lady is HATING me for not focusing on her and her family 100% of the time.
Food comes out. Finally. Now, they ordered food for six people. Our restaurant has no food runners. I have to take this food out solo. So I carry about half to the table.
I make another trip as they mumble about not getting their food at the same instant. I come back, and all hell beaks loose.
One person claims their eggs were supposed to have cheese, or something. I run it back, and bam, cheese on eggs. One claims to be missing pancakes. I say I’ll check the kitchen, and yes, I missed a plate of pancakes. I bring them back and all of a sudden they’re saying everything is wrong, and say they’re not eating, paying, or staying for corrections. They get up and walk out. So, messy, empty table, no money for the wasted food, no tip.
One more story.
I sat or wiped something on my ass today (Probably a puddle on a chair or the floor or a table or a wet rag… the possibilities are endless for me.) That SOAKED my bum. I had a bigass wet spot on my jeans.
I turned and noticed, and said “I have a wet spot! Dangit!” or something similar around the “round table” (communal six top we have. People come and go. The regulars use it.)
One guy turned and said “Are you sure? Can I touch and check?”