Welcome back! If you’ve been following along, we’ve gotten through four types of people who make working/dining at a restaurant less enjoyable than it could be. We’ve also gotten through all of that if you haven’t been following along. Our progress is not dependent on you. Rein in your ego, okay?
But if you landed here and want to read Part 1, Part 2, or Part 3, click away and come back. You don’t have to, as this one stands alone, but it might be more fun if you read the first three.
The last category is sort of a catch-all. There are lots of little behaviors that can all be explained by people’s lack of consideration for their fellow humans.
Restaurant Patron 5. Basically Inconsiderate People
With my amount of time in the industry, I’m mostly just a loose amalgam of oven grease and air conditioner vent dust at this point. But I’m also over the chip on my shoulder phase of life, for the most part anyway. I know that you think you are better than me when you come into my restaurant. It’s okay. It doesn’t change my opinion of myself. However, go fuck yourself.
I’m really sorry for that. That wasn’t an appropriate use of “however,” so if you’re using this article for demonstration purposes in a school setting, kindly use that paragraph as a counterexample.
[bctt tweet=”I know that you think you are better than me when you come into my restaurant. It’s okay. It doesn’t change my opinion of myself. However, go fuck yourself.” username=”trifectablog”]
The vast majority of people who come through my restaurant are as cool as they could be. They know my crew and I, they are easy to serve, and we look forward to seeing them each time they visit.
But that would make for a boring and short section, so I’ll tell you about the cock satchels that roll through and make everyone – other customers included – want to shove them into DC traffic. Of course, that wouldn’t be a terrible fate, as DC traffic is mostly gridlock and standstill. You’d probably just bounce off of a stationary car.
For all of the inconsiderati, here’s some tips:
When it’s your turn to order, order. Or, if you’re not ready, all good, just let someone go ahead of you.
When you are speaking, speak at a volume that we can hear you in a noisy restaurant. Now’s not the time to be shy, we are too busy to work with you through your social anxiety at this point – and we offer online ordering if you truly have a hard time talking in audible tones. But assuming you’re not actually afflicted by something that mutes your voice, use your big girl voice. That’s especially effective if you’re male, if for no other reason than that it’s unexpected.
Time to pay? Do not argue with us about the price. The prices are listed, and you ordered off of the menu. We are not spinning the Big 6 wheel at Caesars Palace to determine what to charge you. It’s a simple formula: we add up everything you ordered, we add tax, and then you give us that amount. There’s no haggling, as we are not in a bazaar along the Silk Road.
“But I only got rice, vegetables and sauce!” Yes, that is called the Veggie Bowl. It’s on the menu. You ordered it. You can have as much of the veggies as you want, but when you opted to have “just a little bit of rice” and “just cabbage” and “can I get the sauce on the side,” you bought yourself a 4 ounce bowl of rice and cabbage with a 2 ounce ramekin of sauce. It is not our fault that you’re doing whatever 3-item diet you read about on Pinterest last night while you ate Americone Dream straight out of the container.
[bctt tweet=”Do not argue with us about the price. The prices are listed, and you ordered off of the menu. We are not spinning the Big 6 wheel at Caesars Palace to determine what to charge you.” username=”trifectablog”]
Do you go to Burger King, ask for a Whopper but no vegetables or condiments, and then get upset when they charge you for a Whopper? Never mind, you probably do exactly that. On behalf of The King and all of his employees, I cordially invite you to self-fornicate.
Don’t leave your trash everywhere. There are trashcans by the door. You literally can’t get out of the restaurant without walking past a receptacle.
Don’t allow your children to disrupt everyone else’s meal. I use contraception, and it’s not my fault that you didn’t. I support you and your right to enjoy a meal as a family. If what you really wanted was a date night with your sweetie and you hoped a bunch of restaurant people who are on a paid 10-hour break between “getting drunk” and “getting drunk for a 2nd time in 24 hours,” to watch your kiddos, you might want to rethink your strategy.
And lastly, if you have a problem with anything during your experience, there’s really only one appropriate way to handle it: talk to a manager right then. Being an Elite Yelper is a good indication that somebody beat you too much or not enough as a child. If you don’t have the balls/ovaries to look someone in the eye and say, “I’m dissatisfied with the way this transaction played out,” then just chalk it up as a bad experience and either (a) move on with your life or (b) don’t come back.
By all means, if no manager is present, or if the manager does a lousy job of making things right, light ‘em up online. Just don’t do it if you didn’t give them a chance, eyeball-to-eyeball, to receive the feedback.
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Want to read something right now? How about this one: California Is Hella Stoked It’s Not Mississippi. Or this one: The Constitution On Donkey/Human Relations.
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