You Know Why Wednesday: Asshole Restaurant Customers

“You know what? I can get a couple of my brother’s loser ass friends to go over to Mason’s apartment, knock on the door and when he opens it wham! They’ll junk-punch him all up in his man business and he’ll fall to the floor whaling and crying ‘Why?’ and then we’ll say ‘You know why!’”

Last week I shared with you one instant while I was waiting tables where I wanted nothing more than to give that customer a good shot in the family jewels. This week I share with you the second time that really stands out in my memory.

Event number two: I was working at a different restaurant now, over a year later. It is still a very popular chain that also specializes in brewing beer. I actually pretty much hated working at this restaurant. The location was too close to a bad part of town, because half the building was a bar customers often acted like it was a club and not a restaurant and the manager was a dick.

One busy, Friday night I noticed one of the other girls near my station running back and forth from the kitchen to one particular table. This table was a large booth with six young men, all in their early twenties, all relatively attractive and all drinking. I happened to be in the kitchen at the same time as this waitress during one of her sprints and I noticed she was trembling. So I asked her what was the matter? Just that one question broke her and she began crying, covering her face with her hands. Apparently the fuckers at her table were throwing insult after insult at her, changing their orders over and over again and when she’d get it messed up they’d make fun of her.

Waiting tables is actually pretty stressful, at least, if you work in a high volume restaurant like this one. You have anywhere from 3 to 6 tables at a time depending on the restaurant and those tables can have anywhere from 1 to 10 people each. At the end of the night you’ll average 20 tables, possibly more if the restaurant closes late. And to add insult to injury, at this restaurant we weren’t allowed to use pitchers for water, tea and lemonade – yes, that is more annoying than you can know.

So back to the crying girl. We’re all surrounding her now, patting her back trying to comfort her and tell her not to let them get to her, they’ll be gone soon. But there was no calming her down; every time she realized she still had to wait on them she’d break down again. So I offered to take the table for her, she hugged me and we traded a table from our sections.

I walked out to the table, smiled brightly at all the boys and let them know that I would be serving them for the rest of their meal. The ring leader grinned up at me and said, “Hopefully you’re not as fucking stupid as that last bitch.” I will admit to you that his words shocked me, but I managed to keep the bright, possibly strained, smiled on my face as I blinked at him.

“Oh, she’s not fucking stupid,” I said, “but it sounds like you’re a compensating little prick who gets off on making girls cry.” I gripped the edge of their table and leaned in close to them, all six leaning back into the booth slightly. “Let me tell you fuckers something,” I whispered, “you’re going to behave like adults or I’m gonna go over to the nice police men over there,” I nodded towards the plain clothes cops we had stationed in the bar area and waited for them to look at the men. “And I’m going to tell them what assholes you’ve been tonight and get you thrown out. Now, if you think you can behave like gentlemen who are old enough to eat at a restaurant, we’ll be just fine. But, and I’m only giving you one warning, don’t forget, I have your food behind closed doors before you ever fucking see it. You get me?”

They all nodded, one of them actually apologized for his friends and I backed off. I smiled again; pretending like that didn’t just happen and waited on them. I am happy to say they didn’t linger over their food or drinks and they left a very generous tip, which of course I split with the other girl.

So if you take nothing else from my story, just remember this, servers are not beneath you and if you get off on being a dick to them, they do have your food before you ever see it. Servers do retaliate by doing some of the most disgusting things to your food and they do stand back and smile while they watch you eat it. And no, it doesn’t matter how nice the restaurant is, if you’re a dick, you get punched in the junk.

Cover Reveal for Air Part II

Last week we saw the first peek at a bit of the cover for “Air” and continuing on with that, here is the second piece!

Piece number two:

You Know Why Wednesday: Asshole Restaurant Customers Part One

“You know what? I can get a couple of my brother’s loser ass friends to go over to Mason’s apartment, knock on the door and when he opens it wham! They’ll junk-punch him all up in his man business and he’ll fall to the floor whaling and crying ‘Why?’ and then we’ll say ‘You know why!’”

You may or may not know I was a waitress for a few years, putting myself through college. Now I loved the hours and I loved the immediacy of cash that job afforded me, but I tell you, some customers just made it hell. And I’m not talking about the bastards that didn’t tip or didn’t tip well. I’m not even talking about the tourists from other countries who pretend not to understand that we tip in this country (even if in their own fucking country they tip – I know which countries tip and don’t you cheap bastards!). I’m just talking about down and dirty assholes who shouldn’t be allowed to be in public if they can’t act like adults.

Two instances really stand out in my memory that I don’t think I’ll ever forget. Both of these people deserve a good, hard, sharp punch in the junk! Today I share event number one with you.

Event number one: I was working at a very popular seafood restaurant chain and normally, I really enjoyed working there. But there are always these inconsiderate fuckers who decide it’s okay to show up literally two minutes before the host/ess can lock the door. If the fucking restaurant closes at 10pm dont show up at 9:58pm. Maybe your waiter/ess won’t spit in your food, but the line cook and expeditor you just forced to stay an extra hour-hour and a half after closing probably will. So this dude, a dad, and his ten year old-ish son show up at 9:58pm and is sat in my section as I’m the closing server while I’m sweeping up. I sigh, put-upon, but decide, its okay, at least I’ll make a little bit extra money. Too bad I didn’t know it really would only be a “little” extra.

This mother fucker orders two crab platters for him and his son. That means they each got an entire pound of crab legs. Do you have any fucking clue how goddamn long it takes to eat crab legs?! I couldn’t believe it when he ordered it, seeing that they were the only table in the entire restaurant, half the lights were turned off and the manager had even turned off the ambient music. But fine. At least my last ticket would be a larger one and usually that means I’ll get a higher tip. So over an hour after closing I walk out to hand them their bill and see the mess they’ve made. I am not talking about their clothing or the table or the plates. No, these disgusting pigs have somehow managed to get half their precious crab all over the carpet under their table. Yeah, the carpet I was sweeping when they walked in. I stopped, dumbfounded, staring at the ground and then back up at the dad. The crab was all around him too. The fat coward wouldn’t meet my gaze.

So I walked away, allowed him time to consider the bill and put his cash or card in the folder and came back. As I took the check he doesn’t look at me but says, “We’re all set,” which means there’s cash in there and he doesn’t need or want change. I say, “Thank you,” and as I’m turning to go cash out and finally go home the kid puts up a finger, signaling me to stop. Remember, this fat little porker is only like 10 or 11 years old. I stopped; eyebrow raised and looked down at him. He holds his hand out, a five dollar bill between his two fingers and says, “A little something for you, sweetie.”

I felt my face flush, not with embarrassment but with pure rage. I turned my head to the dad who was watching with pride, a stupid grin on his pudgy face as he waited for me to take the tip. The tip I realized was all I was getting for waiting an extra hour after close, needing to clean up nasty, wet crab they’d scattered like confetti all over, which would only get me home even later. The tip, which was maybe five percent of their bill. Fine, so he’s a bad tipper, but couple that with the way he was raising his son to speak to women? Oh, fuck no.

I was so happy the manager on shift was a woman who was more than happy to let the female servers stand up for themselves against machismo bastard customers and she was within earshot. I looked at the kid and said, “Don’t you ever speak to a lady like that again, do you understand me? That was degrading and rude. I have been on my feet for hours and you and your father came in here when we were closing, made a huge mess that I have to clean up and you think giving me a five dollar tip makes all that okay and makes it okay to speak to me like that? And you,” I turned to the dad, my finger pointing at his face, “you should be ashamed of yourself, teaching your son to speak to women like that. Keep your goddamn ‘tip,’” I used air quotes around the word, “and get the fuck out of my station.”

Yes, he was angry, but he was also embarrassed. I think it was the first time someone “below” him had ever spoken to him that way. He saw the manager behind me, standing at the door with the keys. He knew she’d heard what I said and she was pissed, but her anger was fixed on him, not me, which I think surprised him even more. They got themselves together and rushed out.
Let me tell you, I really wanted to punch that sunnovabitch in the junk. I hoped my words stayed with that little boy though. And no, they never did come back to the restaurant again. Wisely so.

Cover Reveal for Air Part I

So I thought I would take a page out of Jeaniene Frost’s book and give you a tiny sneak peek at the cover of my upcoming novel, “Air”. I will reveal a piece of the cover over a few blog posts leading up to the full reveal.

Piece number one:

Getting Air Ready for Publication

I have been overwhelmed with the reviews and reception my first novel, “Earth” has received. You have no idea, after so many rejections from the traditional publishing world, how wonderful this has been for me. I was terrified to self-publish and had to think about it for a very long time before I finally decided maybe it was a good idea. When people first started talking about the e-book self-publishing programs for Kindle and Nook I dismissed them out of hand and asked people to stop suggesting it to me and just kept right on writing in my series and polishing my query letter.

I definitely did not start writing, or go into self-publishing, for the money. Oh, I wont lie to you and say I wouldn’t mind being successful enough in sales that I don’t have to worry about a day job. Honestly, that’s the dream. Really that’s what everyone wants – to work at a job that they love and can make a living at it. But I started writing because I always liked it and I wanted to tell stories other people wanted to read. So when I finished the first draft of “Earth” I put it down and walked away from it and just started writing “Air” right away.

I am very excited to publish “Air” now that I know what to expect. So far my beta readers have all reported enjoying the second installment to my Elemental Series. I was lucky enough to find a new beta reader in my new friend and aspiring writer, Juanita. Thanks to Juanita I feel even more confidant about publishing “Air” as she found a few glaring plot holes that needed a coat of spackle. Let that be a lesson to all of you writers and aspiring writers – you need quite a few pairs of eyes to go over your work before its ready. I was a pretty arrogant essay writer in college and I learned a hard lesson from my English prof about going over my work before turning it in. If he knew you were turning in a first draft – even if that first draft was good enough to get an ‘A’ – he would give your paper a full letter grade lower than it might’ve deserved. He wanted to instill in us that writing is rewriting. I hated him a little bit for that when I found that out, but now I am grateful for that lesson. I even invited him to my wedding (to which he and his lovely wife came).

This week I finalized the cover for “Air” working with a new cover artist, Stephanie Mooney. While Claudia Mckinney will always have a place in my heart and I will always recommend her and her amazing art, I just couldn’t afford her this time around. But what started as a sad story quickly turned into a fairytale, happily ever after ending with Stephanie. I am so proud of the cover she developed for me; I am just on pins and needles waiting to show you guys. I do not yet have the official pub date for “Air” but I can tell you, it shouldn’t be too far in the future. I hope you all are as excited about it as I am.

The Cure for Such a Crappity Week

So the people in DC tried to come to a compromise on the money stuff. Then we woke up to find out we've lost our credit rating and then the stocks plummeted and then people started freaking out that there was going to be another crash and then we had that horrific military loss and then they set London on fire. It has seriously been an Armageddon week. So in an effort to relieve some of this stress and madness I give you adorable Persian Kitten pictures:

You Know Why Wednesday: Shark Week Dumbass

“You know what? I can get a couple of my brother’s loser ass friends to go over to Mason’s apartment, knock on the door and when he opens it wham! They’ll junk-punch him all up in his man business and he’ll fall to the floor whaling and crying ‘Why?’ and then we’ll say ‘You know why!’”

I don’t know why, maybe it’s a sickness, but I can’t help watching Shark Week. I refuse to turn it on myself because I know I won’t be able to peal my eyes from the TV screen, but my hubs will turn it on. I still don’t understand why my hubs, who is an avid surfer, would want to watch shows about shark attacks, but there you are. So last night we were watching a show called “Eaten Alive” and again, I have no idea why. But it was a show detailing and interviewing different people who have survived horrific shark attacks or shark bites, because it didn’t seem like every incident was necessarily an “attack”. That word has a connotation of anger or intent to do harm and let’s face it, sharks really are just looking for food. Now most of these instances were complete accidents and the people were unaware they were near a shark or uneducated about the place they were swimming, One man was fishing for abalone and thought he was close enough to shore that there shouldn’t be a danger. One woman was swimming laps around her boat, having gone on a pleasure cruise on a yacht, and the crew had no idea the bay they were in was a well known shark hunting ground. People like this, who just didn’t know better and it’s terrifying and sad.

But this one dude. Erick. Erick who I am almost glad he was bitten just drove me fucking crazy. Erick is a sort of shark spokesman. I didn’t catch what he actually does for a living but the footage we were watching was not a dramatic reenactment, it was actual footage of what happened because he was on a news program talking about sharks and showing the reporter that there is no need to be afraid of sharks. Yes, you read that right. So this dumbass was standing in the shallows of this beach, the water was about waist high and there were dozens of sharks just swimming circles around these two guys. There was a boat a few yards away with a spotter yelling out the position of the sharks to the two men. I have no idea what purpose that serves. I mean I think if I were the spotter I would just be screaming, “There are fucking sharks everywhere! Get the fuck out of the water!”

But, back to Erick. So the two men, Erick and the reporter, are standing in the middle of this mass of sharks just causally chatting about how, as long as you don’t pose a threat to the sharks, they will eventually accept you as a foreign presence and go about their business. At one point this giant ass shark circles behind Erick and the spotter yells out his position, but Erick is blathering on and doesn’t hear him. Now, I’m not really sure what the hell Erick is supposed to do about this anyway, if he makes a sudden movement to get away from the shark, or moves his leg and splashes the water, I would think this would only antagonize the shark. But, that’s moot, because Erick doesn’t know the shark is behind him (even though they’ve been circling for about an hour now – yes, a whole fucking hour), and the camera man holding his camera underwater watching the whole damn thing doesn’t warn Erick, which is pretty fucked up too. Then in surreal slow motion you see the shark nose Erick’s leg and then turn its head and bite down on Erick’s calf. Erick tries to lift his leg out of the water to get the shark to open its mouth and ends up playing tug-o-war with the shark and his leg and the shark swims off with the entire fucking calf muscle. I nearly vomited as two men carry Erick to shore and you see Erick’s leg, now only the circumference of his shin bone and his skin hanging in tatters from it. Blood, just everywhere.

Now I’m screaming at the TV, telling Erick what a goddamn moron he is and does he really think sharks aren’t dangerous now?! But it occurs to me, why the hell didn’t that camera man warn Erick? Erick seems to think he could’ve prevented this, but he just didn’t hear his spotter and there was a camera man not ten feet away watching the whole thing. So, I believe Erick deserves junk punch, but loosing his calf muscle seems punishment enough for his stupidity, but that fucking camera man who just stood by and watched definitely deserves a good sock to the family jewels. Mutherfucker.

Oh and Erick ended his interview with “I get very upset when I read about shark bites and how skewed the article is and how they paint the shark as the bad guy. We really got to stop doing that.” Seriously dude? You need help.