Kate The Waitress
I am amazed at some people's lack of common sense or lack of thinking sometimes. Things that seem obvious to me apparently are not to others. Let me give an example of this.

If you haven't been able to tell from the story with Butch Cassidy, my family owns a restaurant specializing in mexican food. (yes i realize a fajita burger isn't mexican, but we have some unique items on our menu as well.) We are more tex mex, but we have a few genuine items on our menu that make me want to vomit (mojara and menudo). Yes, my job is a fun filled fiesta. But when you go to a mexican restaurant, normally you're going to order things like burritos and enchiladas and quesadillas and stuff like that. So please explain to me why I had the following conversation at my table:
"Alright, are you ready to order?"
"Can I get a side of sweet and sour chicken?"
Awkward pause. "No, you can't actually."
"Okay, I'll just take the sweet and sour platter then."
Even longer awkward pause. "Sir, this is a mexican restaurant."

Alls I'm sayin is: Enough Said.
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Kate The Waitress
I will never understand the mentality that allows people to be openly rude to a perfect stranger. Especially a perfect stranger who handles their food. I will never understand the mentality that people have of truly believeing that their servers are out to make their lives miserable. This is a common misconception.
As waitresses we do not create the prices on the menu, we do not create the rules we are forced to follow, we just want to keep our jobs. I did not create the menu at my family's restaurant, but I have been working there almost ten years and I know it back and forth. Let me explain my thoughts.
I got to work like I do most days, wearing my uniform, a few minutes late. I put on my nametag, tied my apron, filled up my waterbottle, and got to doing my sidework.
Kelly was there opening like she usually does, trying to talk to me about her latest drama, half of which I would sometime discover she made most of it up. While pretending to listen to her about the latest guy she slept with and the drama it ensued, I wondered if she truly knew how much everyone at the restaurant hated her stories and constant drama. She was a great server, and all around a good person, but she has a knack for attracting and causing drama, and it didn't make the workplace a pleasant place. She has a real diva complex. She thinks she's the best server in the restaurant and therefore thinks it's her restaurant, and she can do whatever she wants. This causes a lot of drama between her and the managers.
I started taking my first table, happy to get away from Kelly.
The first couple of tables I got were mediocre, non-responsive to my fake, but genuine appearing personality. All waiters have a personality they put on when they are at a table. Their voices go up a few pitches, and they act like they're talking on Sesame Street. I had a few more tables, acting difficult, some rude, some difficult, but none were like Butch Cassidy.
Charlie, the adorable host I've known since he was a little kid, told me I had a new table so I headed out to take care of them.
As a waitress you learn to hide your emotions from your table, they're always right, they're always the greatest table you've had. Inside I sighed as I approached the table. It was a family and their friend. The dad was a skinny bald guy, tanktop and baggy cargo jeans. The son had the look of a typically social awkward pre-pubescent full of angst and no idea how to talk to people. Their friend was this poor kid in ten years. The mother was kind of larger, manly face, manly hands, manly mullet, huge saggy boobs, giant NASCAR t-shirt and short short shorts. Her arms and legs were full of the tackiest tattoos I've ever seen. She was completely Butch.
I introduced myself as their waitress, Kate, and she introduced them as well, naming her self "Cassidy." All, right Butch Cassidy, what can I get for you to drink? Now at the restaurant we serve Pepsi products, and some people have a flipping cow, because they won't drink anything but Diet Coke. She was one of these people. So after apologizing for the lack of Diet Coke, she pouted and said, "Fine, bring me a damn water."
As she ordered her fajita burger I repeated her order back to her. She nodded her consent. But when it came, that was another story coming.
"There's onions and tomatoes on this burger."
"Yes, there is. Did you not want onions and tomatoes?"
"I said that, damnit!"
"I'm sorry, I repeated the order back to you, all you said was no peppers. Don't worry, I can take this back to the kitchen and they'll fix it right away."
"No, I'm starving. I'll eat it. It's just that I'm allergic to onions and tomatoes."
"Well Ma'am, I don't want anything to happen to you, let me go have it taken care of, it won't be long at all."
"Just get out of here. I'll eat the stupid burger you messed up."
So I walked away to tend to my other tables. You let your tables eat for a few minutes then you go back to check on them. So that is what I did.
"How's everything tasting?" I asked in my cheery voice, over the last dispute.
"Where's my sour cream and guacamole?" Butch Cassidy asked me.
"The Fajita Burger doesn't come with either of those."
"It always has. Always."
"Ma'am I'm sorry, but I've never served the burger with sourcream or guacamole."
We continued to argue to the point where she was yelling and I was getting defensive. I went to talk to a manager who agreed it would be best to just give her a side of sourcream and guac for free. So I offered it to her.
"No. I don't want the burger anymore."
"I understand your frustration, but we're willing to give you these sides for free this time."
"No! I don't want it anymore. I'll just starve!" She yelled, pushed her plate away, and crossed her arms like a five year old throwing a temper tantrum.
"You know what? Fine. You do just that." I took her plate and stormed away. I figured I wasn't getting a tip anyway.
I was right. No tip.
Lucky she didn't want her sides with her burger. It may have been the first time I would have spit in somebody's food.
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