Scenes from last night:
Friday 1/31
Booth 1 stopped me because they needed a box to take home the lettuce garnish from their appetizer.
Booth 6 was confused about about whether the Dolphin on the menu was actually Flipper. I said I really hope not. Then I realized that they were Canadian when they ordered Paaaahhhsta, so I cut them some slack.
Booth 4 wanted a copy of the receipt. When I tried to explain to her that, since we use a cash register, and not a computer, that it would take me about five minutes to be able to run next door, turn the copier on, copy it, and come back. She seemed put out at this timeline, like she was in a hurry, so I asked her if it would not just be easier for her to just take a picture of the receipt.
She did. And then they sat in the booth for another 30 minutes.
Booth 5 wanted to sit and chat for about twenty minutes after they come over from our waiting bar, but then, when I was actually in the middle of doing something, they stopped me, like I’d been ignoring them for ages.
After they ordered their appetizers, I asked if they’d like to wait to order their dinners, and the man said, “No,” rather sharply, and then he tried to dial it back by saying, “I mean that respectfully.”
I laughed it off. But this is me we’re talking about. I can’t leave a ball teed up like that and not take a swing. It’s all about waiting for the right situation.
A few minutes later, his wife is asking me about about the different fish we offer and the best ways to cook each one.
She asked me, “Can I fry the Hog Snapper and then have you pour some of the spicy T-WA over it?”
Me: “No. And I mean that respectfully, of course.”
“You’re good!” the man laughed.
Booth 2 this young man and his dad were trying to figure out what to order for dinner. The son, in his mid thirties, was very adventurous in his eating, and his dad, was a steak well-done kind of guy. He complained about everything he ate, but ate every single bit of food on every dish that was served.
Booth 3 (Third seating) When the table went to order dessert, it took about five minutes alone, just to figure out the:
“I want my whipped cream on the side”
“I want my chocolate sauce on the side”
“No, I want whipped cream!”
“Well, I don’t!”
I literally just walked away and brought all the desserts naked with the sauces on the side.
I have to protect my own mental health, you know? I mean, who doesn’t like whipped cream? I can’t surround myself with that kind of crazy longer than necessary.
Booth 4 (First seating) After bringing this nice couple theirs drinks, and circling back a few minutes later, I walked up to the booth and said, “So what are we thinking?”
The nice seventy-ish man said, “I’m thinking I want to take this lady home to bed, but she says I have to feed her first, so…”
Me: Well, that’s not on the menu, so, yeah, any questions?
And so on.
And so on.
And so on.
monkeydish 