So, you know how, as a writer, you sometimes conceptualize an idea as being better or more interesting in your head, than it is on paper...?
(I mean, maybe you don't; after all, I'm the one with the blog that you're hopefully reading...) Well, that happened with what was to be my next post, "There Are No Darlings Here..." Suffice it to say, I went to my new favourite wine bar and as accosted by this agro, gay, server guy. It's not really important that he was gay or agro; the funny part was my buddy the bartender who informed him, "there are no darlings here," upon being called that.
So, anyway, this little rant comes to you courtesy of the Late-Night Menu at the restaurant I'm currently working at. I've never really seen the need for a late-night menu at most restaurants, because the man-hours usually outweigh the covers. But, whatever. You gotta do what you gotta do, right?
This past Friday, I ended up having to work the late-night shift. It's not important that I wasn't scheduled to work that night; or that a good buddy of mine who lives in Japan was going to be in town for the night and wanted to catch up...or the fact that I found out I was going to have to work the late-night about 10 minutes before I was about to pull up stakes; or the fact that after we got absolutely crushed for dinner service, we were dead from about 11:30, on; or that I was told by "Management," that if we remained dead, we would have last call for food at 1:15. What I feel is important: is the couple that walked in the door at 12:05, sat down, ordered a couple rounds of drinks and made every indication that they were there to drink, and not to eat.
The joke, it would seem, was on me. Because around 12:45, they began to look at the menu, which they followed up by closing the menu, and then followed up by asking the waitress if they could substitute certain things on the menu. Well, as my bartender buddy LPD said when I told him this story, "it's one o'clock in the fucking morning, just order something and be done with it!"
After they had perused the menu for the third time and still hadn't ordered anything, I asked our waitress, perhaps a little too loudly, "are these fucking people going to order some food, or what?!?!" Was there a better way of asking the question? Should I have been cognizant of the fact that if I could make out their hushed conversation, then odds were good they could hear my angry comment? Should I have been happy to have a job? Yes, on all accounts. But honestly, if you walk into a restaurant that you're lucky enough has a late night menu, then order some fucking food. Don't sit down at a table and drink for an hour, and then decide you're hungry, because if you do that, you're the worst kind of asshole. Look, I get it. It’s a restaurant, it’s open late, it’s my job. I understand all of those things. But there’s nothing more maddening than standing on the hot line, in a virtually empty restaurant, after you’ve already been there for 12 hours, watching two people actively not interested in ordering food, only to change their minds five minutes before last call.
I guess what I’m saying here, is don’t be a douche. If you walk into a dead bar at 3 in the morning, odds are pretty good the bartender probably isn’t going to stay open until 4 while you drink fucking ginger ale. So if you walk into a dead restaurant, what makes you think you’ve got unlimited time to order some food off the menu? Bars and restaurants are in the business of making money. There’s no money to be made by people not walking in the door. And there’s very little money to be made by two people walking in the door, not ordering food, and then no one else walking in after them.
Basically, I was pissed, and I think I had a right to be pissed. But I’ll concede the fact that I could’ve been a little less vocal in my pissedoffness.
But seriously, when you walk into a restaurant, especially late at night; don’t be an asshole…
Next Up:
My descent into bacon fat, and the dangers of popcorn obsession…
* Note: That's not the ticket from what they ordered, it's from an old restaurant when four high kids came in and ordered dessert and apps and a snack all at the same time...
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