I’M NOT YOUR WAITER, BITCH!

By Gabe Gilker

You don’t see me. You don’t notice me. You ignore me. But I keep your table clean and take away your dirty plates when you’re done eating off  of them. I am the backbone to any functional restaurant. I am a buffer for waiters’ and management’s anger, as well as customer complaints. That’s right, I am a bus boy. Well, to be technical, a bus girl. But you know what, I have some tips that I’d like to share with you, you well endowed and extremely rude customer.

The first thing I’d like to tell you is: I AM NOT YOUR WAITER. You know that person who came to your table less than five minutes ago and took your drink order? That’s your waiter. When you snap your fingers at me when I’m walking by with a pile of dirty dishes covered in half chewed food and start asking me questions about the menu, you are my last priority.

Even when my hands are empty, chances are whatever you’re pointing at and asking me questions about, I didn’t even know we served and probably can’t pronounce. You try figuring out the proper pronunciation of: Bei Nasu Chicken Yakitori. It’s not as simple as you’d think. This is where I smile politely and say “I don’t know exactly, I’m only here to pick up your food when you’re done with it. One second, I’ll go get your waiter.”

I get it, I know. You’re hungry. But please, don’t ask every single person who walks by to go check on your food and tell you when it’s going to be ready. Your food will be done when it’s done. The most you will generally have to wait is 30 minutes, 45 if you’re really picky but that’s your own fault. Being annoying and interrupting us when we’re trying to work when someone told you five minutes ago that it’s almost ready makes you look rude, restless, and it’s just not classy.

There is a reason you’re coughing up the big bills to pay for your meal at the end of the night, you’re paying for quality here. If you wanted something fast there’s a McDonalds down the street.

My last point before I’ll shut up and write my horoscopes is: Please don’t hit on me. It’s my job to be nice to customers. I get paid to smile at you and ask you how you are. This is not an open invitation to leave me your cell phone number, ask me how old I am, or ask me what I’m doing after work. You don’t mean anything to me and tomorrow morning I won’t remember your face, but I probably will remember what you ordered, or how much you left as a tip. So…thanks but no thanks.

To insure proper service be kind, or at least passive.

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