Un día como mesera.
Hoy, como muchos días, estaba en tumblr.
Y encontre el blog de una jovencita que es mesera, como yo, y bueno, les describio su dia entero a los lectores.
No coincidí en muchas cosas, por las diferencias de "restaurantes", pero aqui les dejo unas en las que estoy TOTALMENTE de acuerdo!
Sólo disculpen las malas palabras.. digo, no lo escribí yo.
Y pues, hay algunas cositas que no aplican, pero muy bien pueden ser cambiadas por similitudes.
The first one is always when you are the cheeriest. You’re nice and actually tell them the specials of the day, and suggest drinks they should try, while playing with their kid, and laughing at their shitty jokes. That first table always is simple and doesn’t ask for much, tricking you into thinking you will have an awesome table streak going all day. Then after they give you a decent tip and you have a few more tables, the lunch rush hits, along with the old folks that stay there FOREVER and give the shittiest tips and the birthday party full of a group of little kids that seem to have just eaten 84 pixie sticks accompanied by their rich and neglectful parents that don’t pay attention or yell at the brats when they start throwing french fries at each other, but you don’t want to be a bitch because you know they will most likely leave you a fat tip. You start to really smell all the delicious yummy smells coming from the kitchen, and while everyone else is enjoying their lunch, you have to push through the growling of your stomach and make sure you don’t drool over the juicy, cheesy, medium rare burger you have to bring out to your table.
So after you finally get all your tables filled, and you go through about 2 cycles you get left with your last three ables of the night. You have table 1: the romantic couple with the extremely attractive boyfriend/girlfriend. table 2: the group of 6 teenage girls out for their friends 17th birthday, and table 3: the table of with the nit-picky, bothersome, menopausal women that have a life goal of complaining about everything.
Table 2 takes about 47 pictures of each other and then forces you to take a picture of their table with each girls camera.
But table 3, those bitches. They find something to complain about every time you travel back to their table, whether it be the soup isn’t hot enough, to which you just run the spoon under some hot water for a while and make them think it’s hot. They also bitch about their drinks not being strong enough and make you bring clean silverware and extra ranch dressing every 5 seconds.
You then start counting down the hour till you get cut, even though that doesn’t mean shit in the waitressing world, you still have to clean up, which takes another hour in itself.
They leave and you have a minute to sit down in an empty booth, and when you do, your legs have an orgasm. It’s the greatest feeling in the world sitting down after you’ve been standing for an entire day
Once you get home, you rush to rip off your work uniform that smells like grease and is covered in chocolate cake and ketchup and throw one some comfy sweats
Then the next day you end up going out to eat with your family, analyzing everything your server does but still giving them a 20% tip at least no matter how bad they did, because you know how much of a pain in the ass being a server is.
Fin.. y espero todos sepan inglés!
Es todo por hoy!
Y encontre el blog de una jovencita que es mesera, como yo, y bueno, les describio su dia entero a los lectores.
No coincidí en muchas cosas, por las diferencias de "restaurantes", pero aqui les dejo unas en las que estoy TOTALMENTE de acuerdo!
Sólo disculpen las malas palabras.. digo, no lo escribí yo.
Y pues, hay algunas cositas que no aplican, pero muy bien pueden ser cambiadas por similitudes.
The first one is always when you are the cheeriest. You’re nice and actually tell them the specials of the day, and suggest drinks they should try, while playing with their kid, and laughing at their shitty jokes. That first table always is simple and doesn’t ask for much, tricking you into thinking you will have an awesome table streak going all day. Then after they give you a decent tip and you have a few more tables, the lunch rush hits, along with the old folks that stay there FOREVER and give the shittiest tips and the birthday party full of a group of little kids that seem to have just eaten 84 pixie sticks accompanied by their rich and neglectful parents that don’t pay attention or yell at the brats when they start throwing french fries at each other, but you don’t want to be a bitch because you know they will most likely leave you a fat tip. You start to really smell all the delicious yummy smells coming from the kitchen, and while everyone else is enjoying their lunch, you have to push through the growling of your stomach and make sure you don’t drool over the juicy, cheesy, medium rare burger you have to bring out to your table.
So after you finally get all your tables filled, and you go through about 2 cycles you get left with your last three ables of the night. You have table 1: the romantic couple with the extremely attractive boyfriend/girlfriend. table 2: the group of 6 teenage girls out for their friends 17th birthday, and table 3: the table of with the nit-picky, bothersome, menopausal women that have a life goal of complaining about everything.
Table 2 takes about 47 pictures of each other and then forces you to take a picture of their table with each girls camera.
But table 3, those bitches. They find something to complain about every time you travel back to their table, whether it be the soup isn’t hot enough, to which you just run the spoon under some hot water for a while and make them think it’s hot. They also bitch about their drinks not being strong enough and make you bring clean silverware and extra ranch dressing every 5 seconds.
You then start counting down the hour till you get cut, even though that doesn’t mean shit in the waitressing world, you still have to clean up, which takes another hour in itself.
They leave and you have a minute to sit down in an empty booth, and when you do, your legs have an orgasm. It’s the greatest feeling in the world sitting down after you’ve been standing for an entire day
Once you get home, you rush to rip off your work uniform that smells like grease and is covered in chocolate cake and ketchup and throw one some comfy sweats
Then the next day you end up going out to eat with your family, analyzing everything your server does but still giving them a 20% tip at least no matter how bad they did, because you know how much of a pain in the ass being a server is.
Fin.. y espero todos sepan inglés!
Es todo por hoy!
Comentarios