Whining rant alert:
Why does the occasional guy wearing obviously expensive, some-kind-of-skin boots feel it is absolutely appropriate to stretch out and prop their feet up in a booth? I have seen this done more than a few times.
What is it with seated guests reaching out and poking my arm when I walk by their table? “Miss,” poke, poke, poke. “Miss!” poke, poke, poke a little harder. “Gimme some toothpicks, okay?” I’m long ago over the “gimme” issue. It’s the poking that has been driving me a bit mad of late.
And is showing the back of one’s hand and waving me away the only way to say, “Not just yet, thank you.”
I meet, greet, and thank almost everyone who comes into the restaurant. So do all the hosts and all the managers. I am still puzzled when the response is a glare followed by silence.
And those menus–they’re really just menus. Combs work much better to brush back hair.
I try to avoid writing posts that paint a picture of all guests as thoughtless and hapless, because they aren’t, of course. And angry or happy, demanding or not, they are the guests and they pay my salary. But sometimes, like tonight, I wonder, did a memo go out? It was that kind of a Tuesday night.
Oh, what the hell. Come on in, put your feet up, stay a while. Poke, poke, poke–okay?