Tales from the Olive Garden!
An older couple was one of my last tables today. Older, not quite elderly, but on the cranky cusp thereof. They did take rude to a new level, though, and in doing so invoked the slight wrath of Apathetic Javier. The first offense was when the wife broke my Straw Rule. Simply put, I always have straws. I will pass them out when I am done passing out drinks and not sooner. You can wait until your friends/family/coworkers have their drinks as well.
The second came when their meal was delivered. I pass out their food and did my usual "need any more bread or salad when I return with x drinks" routine. The husband hands me the empty breadbasket without saying a word. Mind you he wasn't mid-bite, mid-sip, or mid-anything that would excuse the lack of words. He simply handed me the basket. I returned a few minutes later with refills for their drinks. Without looking up, the wife said, "Are you going to bring us more bread?"
"Oh, did you need more bread? I'm sorry I didn't hear. I'll have that right out for you." A little passive aggressiveness covered with a smile and an apologetic voice does wonders for your sanity.
The final assault on my good will came when I did my two minute food follow up. I asked if the food came out fine and tasted great. The husband took a smug sip of his glass of coffee and praised the taste of it. Our coffee is rather good. It's a strong Italian roast that can kick your ass into gear in the morning, but I digress. When a guest that is normally quiet or rude starts with the compliments, it's never a good sign. The man leaned forward and motioned me to do the same. "I have a thermos in my car..." he starts ominously, "do you think you could get a little of this fantastic coffee for me to put in it?"
"How big of a thermos are we talking about"
"It's pretty big."
"Let me see what I can do."
I find Matt, the manager and relay the situation. His stance was since the man bought a coffee already, we should technically give him a little more coffee and count it as a complimentary refill to-go. I sighed loudly at this point. "I really don't want to do this, Matt."
"But you will, right?"
"Yes, but I'm formally protesting."
"I'm sure you are..."
It turns out the man's thermos was the exact pot-sized tankard my dad would take with him back when he had to be at work at five in the morning. I ended up having to brew a fresh pot just to finish the job.
They tipped me $5 on a $30 ticket. I have the sinking suspicion that I would have gotten less had I not given the man an obscene amount of coffee.
The second came when their meal was delivered. I pass out their food and did my usual "need any more bread or salad when I return with x drinks" routine. The husband hands me the empty breadbasket without saying a word. Mind you he wasn't mid-bite, mid-sip, or mid-anything that would excuse the lack of words. He simply handed me the basket. I returned a few minutes later with refills for their drinks. Without looking up, the wife said, "Are you going to bring us more bread?"
"Oh, did you need more bread? I'm sorry I didn't hear. I'll have that right out for you." A little passive aggressiveness covered with a smile and an apologetic voice does wonders for your sanity.
The final assault on my good will came when I did my two minute food follow up. I asked if the food came out fine and tasted great. The husband took a smug sip of his glass of coffee and praised the taste of it. Our coffee is rather good. It's a strong Italian roast that can kick your ass into gear in the morning, but I digress. When a guest that is normally quiet or rude starts with the compliments, it's never a good sign. The man leaned forward and motioned me to do the same. "I have a thermos in my car..." he starts ominously, "do you think you could get a little of this fantastic coffee for me to put in it?"
"How big of a thermos are we talking about"
"It's pretty big."
"Let me see what I can do."
I find Matt, the manager and relay the situation. His stance was since the man bought a coffee already, we should technically give him a little more coffee and count it as a complimentary refill to-go. I sighed loudly at this point. "I really don't want to do this, Matt."
"But you will, right?"
"Yes, but I'm formally protesting."
"I'm sure you are..."
It turns out the man's thermos was the exact pot-sized tankard my dad would take with him back when he had to be at work at five in the morning. I ended up having to brew a fresh pot just to finish the job.
They tipped me $5 on a $30 ticket. I have the sinking suspicion that I would have gotten less had I not given the man an obscene amount of coffee.