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Monday, December 13, 2010

Yet Another Server...

There's actually one decent Mexican joint in Kelowna, called DJ's.

I get a big hankering for some Mexican chow one night so we go for dinner.

We sit out on the patio.

After 7 minutes of no one coming to our table, I am ready to leave.  It's my own personal 7 minute rule:  if no one contacts my table within 7 minutes of sitting down, I leave.

I have done this at places ranging from IHOP to Morton's Steakhouse.  I don't care if it's a busboy, hostess, hat check girl or sommelier; if no one talks to me in 7 minutes I'm gone.  More on that one later, as I digress.

As we are getting up to leave, the server finally comes over.  She's about 26 and hot.  I know right away it's gonna be trouble because hot servers are the worst; they think their decent looks and big tits can get them through anything, and guys will put up with any kind of service.

Not me.

She comes over.  "I'll be right with you" she says.  More waiting.

Fuck it I say, let's go.  But Christa calms me down and talks me into staying.

We don't have drinks yet, so I actually get up, so inside to the bar, order 2 drinks and bring them over to the table myself.

Because I am SO fucking beyond annoyed at this point,  I decide to play the whole dinner out.  Luckily, it's a nice day outside, as my dinner is already ruined because I am too annoyed to enjoy it.  It's like being punch-drunk.

She comes over, and gives us the phony friendly, forced smile greeting.

HER:  Hi..... Oh, I see you already got drinks. (giggles and more fake smiles)

ME:    Yeah, it's a self serve bar isn't it?

CONFUSED LOOK

HER:  Ummm...no, I don't think so...

ME:   Oh.  Well we've been here for so long I assumed it was self serve. I got these myself.

HER:  Hahahahaha.  Oh, I get it now.

COLD STARE.  I don't even come close to cracking a smile.

ME:    No, I don't think you do..

We order, and wait. I get up again and get more drinks, and she is oblivious to it all.  I am actually so blown away by all of this, it's now funny.  I mean how many times have you ever got up to get your own drinks after you are seated at a table in a restaurant?

When our food arrives I ask for salt and pepper as there is none on the table.  It does not arrive after 5 minutes, and I get up and get it myself as well.

The salt and pepper never does arrive, and no explanation ever given.

The meal thankfully ends and I ask for the bill.

I am SO looking forward to getting the bill and stiffing this bimbo I am almost giddy with excitement. I sign, put my patented, bold-pencil, $0.00 in the tip line, and write a small note about how shitty our experience is.

I'm gonna tell the manager but figure a chick this stupid can't get a job anywhere else if they decided to fire her. After all, the "rub-and-tugs" are not hiring and she can't do much anything else...

We leave.

About a block away, I realize I have left my credit card in the little bill folder they give you when you pay. I hustle back double-time.

As I'm walking up to our table to get my card back, our server is looking at the bill and reading.

As much as I feel awkward, I approach her and ask for the card.  She stares me down.

She hands me the card and says, sarcastically, "Thanks"

Because now I am DOUBLY annoyed, I go off on her explaining what a moron she is and I almost went to her manager to REALLY complain, so she should thank me.

Like a dope, she flips her hand at me and utters the ultimate loser line:  "whatever"

So, all I can do now, is cross DJ's off the list.

Fuck them forever.

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