Turning the Tables...

 

Every so often I like a glass (or two) of wine.
On the rare occasion, I might light up a cigar with the guys.
Every once in a blue moon- yes- I actually prefer to be waited on versus waiting.

I could talk about fine dining, bottle service and hors d'oeuvres all day long--  half-shell oysters on ice, and a thick, juicy filet cooked to the perfect degree of rare that I absolutely love.

                                              

But who am I kidding? Those dinners are far and few in between for me. And yes, for the record, I am one of those assholes who takes pictures of my food.

As a server, I typically work most evenings. Sunday dinners are reserved for family. Tuesdays and Thursdays, I'm trapped within the confines of Oakland University and usually forget about having to eat altogether.

If I'm going to be eating later on at night, and the golden arches haven't managed to sway me, there's always Leo's Coney Island.  What is this, you say?  Why, it's free entertainment of course! Probably not the healthiest, but hey, death is inevitable. You might as well live while you can.

                      

Four Reasons I Wouldn't Work at a Coney... Ever:

1. Horribly Rotten Hours
Sometimes I complain about my hours, and then I look at the girls who work here. I can definitely say that I am not at all jealous of the shifts they have to work.

2. Drunk Fucks
There is an undeniable witching hour at Leo's just after the bars close down. Leo's becomes
overrun by sloppy alcoholics who just got off the hot mess express and will more than likely be riding the struggle bus the following morning.

How can you tell someone is indeed a drunk fuck? Beligerence. Rudeness. Off-color
conversation topics. They might not be high, but they've got the munchies. Their level of
invinciblity goes up as they conjure these monstrous balls of steel, big enough to convince
themselves they can pick a fight with just about any other customer in the joint for any reason
imaginable.

I would like to thank "liquid courage" for the amazing brawls I've witnessed as a bystander.
And THIS guy...

                      

3. Shitty Tippers
First of all, the food at any given coney is dirt cheap. Any sober person would say, "hey, 20% on 5 is all of a dollar. Here ya go." The really awesome guests would drop down another buck or two. Unfortunately, that isn't the case at a dirt cheap place to eat which serves highly intoxicated guests. The average tip is whatever "change" is on the tab, or even better- the coins rolling around aimlessly in the bottom of a purse.

                       

                                                             Case in point.
I could never work at a coney. I would be shaking turds down for a proper tip, left and right.
4. (Other) Attitudinal Waitresses
Add all of these components together and what do you get? Yep. Exactly who I want handling
my food. The only smiles I've seen on the girls at that establishment is when they're punching out
for the night.


Speaking of attitudinal waitresses, a manager had given me the personal cell number of the owner to relay an experience with Pia* who had waited on me. Boy, she was a treat. He wanted her fired.

As weird as it sounds, for sardonic as I can be, I'm not naturally an ill-wisher-- unless you're a certain ex-boyfriend or two of mine, then the story is different.

It's a pretty universal statement- Do unto others as you would want done unto you.

-LM