Even Idiots Order Pizza

Oh Right

2010-06-15T00:33:00.004-04:00

I have a blog to update.

At the moment, I'm working in the kitchen at a summer camp. Hopefully hilarity will ensue. Or maybe just a bunch of anecdotes about kids doing stupid things. We'll see.

I also hope to dust off a few gems I've been saving from the pizza place and throw 'em up here.

It seems that I've picked up a few readers from a scathing review of this blog, and to all of you, thanks for sticking around.

Stay tuned for more blagging, internet.

Overheard at IT

2010-04-19T22:47:00.002-04:00

"You better not be fucking...fucking chipper in the morning. I hate that. Chipper."

On an unrelated note,

Sorry for the stretch without updates. I've been busy. Send your stories in, I'll put 'em up.

No. Just...No. Not Okay.

2010-03-15T12:25:00.003-04:00

Dear dude who thinks it's okay to take off his shoes and socks in a computer lab,

NO.

That's not okay. Your feet smell. Do that in the privacy of your own home, not in a lab that people besides you use.

Is this why I sometimes find socks under the desks? How do you leave without your socks?!

Where did you grow up that this is okay?

Keep your fucking feet off the fucking computers. I don't want that shit anywhere near the Mac Pros.

No.

No. No. No. No. No.

Love,

Sam

What an Honor

2010-02-23T21:21:00.002-05:00

I have recently been honored to have had my shit wrecked by the folks at iwillfuckingtearyouapart.blogspot.com

This has lead to not only the most traffic I've ever received, but the most feedback, aswell.

Neat-o.

Apparently, I have no soul. (FTA)

This is the part where I cry myself to sleep, right?

Well, I asked for this when I submitted my blog to this guy, right? I mean, the url is pretty self-explanatory.

Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay

Read the full review here.

Sorry if I Don't Seem Sympathetic

2010-02-22T20:53:00.002-05:00

It's because I'm not. You've been getting emails for months asking you to change your password.

You ignored them.

Your account has been disabled for weeks, why are you coming in late at night, after you've been locked out for a good while to solve your problems?

I told you. The only people that have the power to help you don't work until midnight.

If you changed your password, you could've avoided all those annoying emails and this awkward encounter as I'm unable to assist your lazy ass.

Rawr.

The Big Arrow is Your Hint

2010-02-08T19:48:00.002-05:00

A woman calls, saying the instructions she's reading skips a step when it gets to "install".

She says that a box pops up with the icon of the program she wants to install, a folder labeled "applications" and an arrow between them, pointing the icon towards the folder.

And there are no instructions on what to do for this.

SHIT. Call the fucking Coast Guard.

Yes. She couldn't figure out how to drag and drop the application icon over an inch of screen into the folder. Even with the arrow.

With this level of computer literacy, how do you idiots manage to turn your computers on?

2010-01-18T00:01:00.001-05:00

A table finishes their meal, gets the check, and stares at it for about 25 minutes.

We weren't too busy, so whatever. No big.

When they're finally ready to pay, they ask me if they can split the check. Normal stuff, I tell them, "of course."

Then they pull out two credit cards, a wad of small bills, and a hand full of change.

A little confused, I ask, "split it three ways?"

They respond with the most confusing, nonsensical way to split up the check. Something to the effect of "Put 2.8 percent on this card, 45.2 percent on this card, and take the rest out of cash, but don't give me any bills with prime numbers or old white men on them."

Okay, maybe I'm a little bitter, but still.

Then I come back, and what do you know? I'm wrong. Big effing surprise, considering I only got as far as learning calculus.

Turns out I was supposed to take a tip out somewhere and do a handstand and summon the rain gods and do their taxes.

Federal and state.

Knowledge is Power; Stay in School, Kids

2010-01-10T14:46:00.004-05:00

A table of five comes in a few nights back.

They were nice, funny, and understanding. Good stuffs.

Most of them order specials, but one guy orders a small pizza. Okay, no big-- maybe he's thinking ahead to tomorrow's lunch, midnight snack, or maybe he's a competitive eater in training, or just really hungry.

(Long story short, an old dude ordered a lot of pizza for himself.)

When his pie shows up, he's speechless.

Well, not completely speechless.

"This isn't a small"

"Yes, it is," I reply, "14 inches"

"Then what's a large?"

"16 inches."

"Really?!"

"Yeah, that's pretty standard."

The rest of his table starts joking with him about his mighty meal and he mumbles something about wanting a personal pizza, and not knowing that a "small" was different.

This would be understandable if:

The menu doesn't clearly differentiate between a small and a large
The menu didn't list a personal pie as a separate item
Every pizza place ever offers multiple sizes for pies

Too bad it does.

Needless to say, he got wrecked by that pizza.

Pizza, Right on Your Hard Drive!

2010-01-06T17:40:00.002-05:00

I just received an email offering pizza via download--for free!

I was intrigued, but I figured cheese couldn't be good for my computer's insides.

Damn.

Terribly Sorry (Again)

2010-01-01T19:09:00.001-05:00

It's been a while since I've posted, I know. My bad.

I'll get on that soon.

Don't worry, I still think people suck.

Stay bitter and keep sending in stories, folks.

-Sam

No.

2009-12-15T18:50:00.005-05:00

A girl asks me to help her with something on a lab computer. Fine.

She shows me a list of very specific, simple instructions written by a professor on how to turn in an assignment.

"So...what do you need help with?" I asked.

"This," she replies as she points to the instructions.

I give her a condescending blank stare and start reading her the instructions out loud as she follows them.

Glad I could fucking help.

Then she asks me to help her with the latter part of the instructions, which involved coding a basic website with HTML using a template provided by the professor.

Trying to be courteous and do my job, I inquired as to what part of that she needed assistance with.

She asked, "Could you do this?"

Rather than express my reaction in regular, eye-pleasing text, I will do so with this:

Notice me not doing the other idiot's work.

So, yeah. I don't work to do your work. I work to teach you morons how to print/use photoshop/turn on a goddamn computer.

[Author's Note: I know I haven't been posting a lot of food-service oriented stuff lately, I'll try to remedy that soon.]

"Does this print in color?"

2009-12-09T15:48:00.002-05:00

She asks as she points to a behemoth printer clearly labeled "Color" in inch-tall bold letters.

Yes. Yes it does.

Idiot.

Please, Don't Beat the Shit Out of Our Office Supplies

2009-12-02T15:28:00.003-05:00

[Note: this is an IT related post regarding the idiots that use computer labs. Don't be surprised when there's no food-related bitching here.]

Never mind that you never push in your chair when you leave and expect us to clean up after you. Never mind that you always leave a mess by the printers. Never mind that you ignore all the rules regarding food in the labs, then ignore us when we ask you to put the food away.

That stapler is for your benefit. Sure, it doesn't work that well, but don't beat the shit out of it, breaking it further and leaving bent staples everywhere. Hitting it and making a racket will not get you any closer to stapling your shitty screenplay. Be nice, it's not yours.

Christ, what the hell is wrong with you people?

An Interesting Issue...

2009-11-20T08:00:00.000-05:00

A couple of students in Pennsylvania went to a pub and refused to pay the included 18% gratuity and were arrested upon only paying the check, not the tip.

One one side of the argument, they received terrible service, which is not okay. Apparently, they had to fill their own drinks, napkins, and cutlery while their waiter dicked around, took smoking breaks, etc. A tip is only deserved when the waitstaff actually, well, waits.

On the other hand, the menu stated parties of six or more will have an 18% gratuity included.

Not sure how I feel about this. Sound off in the comments.

The full article can be found here.

Really NYT? (Part 2)

2009-11-15T19:16:00.008-05:00

So, the New York Times posted the second half of their "100 Things Restaurant Staffers Should Never Do" article (found here), and well, it is about as pompous and ridiculous as the first half. It's not printed in the paper (just posted on their blog) for a reason folks.

Let's just start with a few of the more outrageous points:

51. If there is a service charge, alert your guests when you present the bill. It’s not a secret or a trick.

Read your check, people. Don't you have to look at that part of the bill to leave a tip anyways?

55. Do not serve an amuse-bouche without detailing the ingredients. Allergies are a serious matter; peanut oil can kill. (This would also be a good time to ask if anyone has any allergies.)

If you have an allergy, speak up. We can't go around saying "This contains nuts, peanuts, wheat, gluten, soy, puppies, soylent green, etc." It's the same as if you want something substituted out because you don't like it--you'll say "I don't like mushrooms, are there any in this?" Same with any allergies you may have.

58. Do not bring judgment with the ketchup. Or mustard. Or hot sauce. Or whatever condiment is requested.

Yea, I judge the shit out of people who eat ketchup. And mustard. And hot sauce. Freaks.

64. Specials, spoken and printed, should always have prices.

Printed, I agree. But spoken? Really?

73. Do not bring soup without a spoon. Few things are more frustrating than a bowl of hot soup with no spoon.

Where are you eating that does this?

82. If you drip or spill something, clean it up, replace it, offer to pay for whatever damage you may have caused. Refrain from touching the wet spots on the guest.

What about touching guest's wet spots?

87. Do not stop your excellent service after the check is presented or paid.

From your 86 prior complaints/instructions, I was under the impression that service you were receiving was anything but excellent.

My question to you, Bruce Buschel, is where are you dining that you need to give these 100 "pointers"? The ones that aren't plain silly are upsettingly obvious and shouldn't need to be put on the interwebs. It is also very redundant and wordy-- list could've easily been under 15 tips, avoiding the need for two weeks worth of posts, two e-rebuttles out of me, and the extra electrons they're printed on.

Stay tuned for my take on the "comment distillation" from Bruce's two posts.

Really NYT?

2009-11-03T13:17:00.004-05:00

The New York Times started their "100 Things Restaurant Staffers Should Never Do" list the other day and, well,...really?

Some of the things on this list, okay, maybe a really poor waiter would do, like:

35. Do not eat or drink in plain view of guests.
36. Never reek from perfume or cigarettes. People want to smell the food and beverage.

38.Do not call a guy a “dude.”

Some of these, though, make me question what kind of restaurants you are going to.

37. Do not drink alcohol on the job, even if invited by the guests. “Not when I’m on duty” will suffice.

Drinking on the job is generally frowned upon. Running into a lot of

33. Do not bang into chairs or tables when passing by.

Because people go out of their way to bang into shit.

20. Never refuse to substitute one vegetable for another.

19. Offer guests butter and/or olive oil with their bread.

15. Never say “I don’t know” to any question without following with, “I’ll find out.”

Who neglects to answer a question then walks away? That's just silly.

And some of these are just odd. Or a little bit of a stretch.

23. If someone likes a wine, steam the label off the bottle and give it to the guest with the bill. It has the year, the vintner, the importer, etc.

Never seen a wine-bottle-label-steamer in a kitchen. Maybe that's just me.

28. Do not put your hands all over the spout of a wine bottle while removing the cork.

Unless you want your hand to be mauled by a corkscrew, you won't do this.

32. Never touch a customer. No excuses. Do not do it. Do not brush them, move them, wipe them or dust them.

Do you regularly get felt up by waiters?

41. Saying, “No problem” is a problem. It has a tone of insincerity or sarcasm. “My pleasure” or “You’re welcome” will do.

Shit, now you're just being picky.

New York Times, I'm disappointing in you. Do all of the classy restaurants you review hire waiters that are guilty of this crap? Really?

The other half of the list will be published next week, prepare to hear my bitching about it then.

Read the NYT's full article here.

Old Deaf Guy Who Thinks He's Funny

2009-10-18T00:01:00.003-04:00

A man came into the restaurant once with his wife, who waved and said hello politely as I seated them. They seemed like a nice old couple, which was a welcome addition to the full dining room I had to take care of, which to that point (halfway through my shift) has succeeded in exhausting me.

I go to take the couple's drink orders and the woman orders for herself and her husband--not a big deal, happens all the time.

I bring them their drinks/bread/etc., and say I'll be back to take their order. The man lets out a loud, resonating "What?" I shrug it off, just get my order book and head right back to the table.

"What can I get for you, Ma'am?"

She orders dinner, picks a side and a salad dressing, no problem.

Hubby's turn, no such luck.

"What can I get for you, Sir?"

"What?"

Crap. Just...crap. I try to enunciate better and speak louder. No dice.

At this point, Awesome Dude With Equally Awesome Facial Hair is laughing his ass off, pausing to catch his breath and say "Poor Sam" (Thaaaaaaaaaaaaat's me!).

[Author's note: Yes, an "All That" reference--Amanda Bynes' glory days. Awesome, I know.]

Old-hard-of-hearing-guy's wife is now helping to relay my questions by shouting at him as everyone in the restaurant watches the insanity that's ensuing.

I get the rest of the order, winging most of it and hoping for the best. As I walk back to the kitchen, I pass Awesome Dude w/Awesome Facial Hair and he asks where we find these people.

Frankly, I have no idea. What the hell? Normal people, why can't you dine with everyone else? I understand why you wouldn't want to be around them, but do those of us who have to be there a solid, okay?

I proceeded to hide in the kitchen/back of the dining room until their food was ready and brought it out, doing my best not to ask questions. The guy shouts something that I didn't quite understand and proceed to laugh like a maniac. Needless to say, this scared the hell out of me and got freaked-the-fuck-out looks from everyone else in the building.

After a 20-minute debate on whether or not to get coffee, they get up and go, leaving behind a restaurant full of confused diners and a really poor excuse for a tip.

Sweet.

Et Tu, Sparknotes?

2009-10-13T23:37:00.013-04:00

Cross-posted from Everything You Ever Wanted to Hear and More that You Didn't

12. Food service employees who assume that when you said, "No tomatoes," you were lying.

[Source: Sparknotes' 50 Things That Should Not Exist]

Dear Sparknotes,
Maybe you didn't say no tomatoes. Maybe you forgot. Maybe you didn't enunciate. Maybe you said 'lettuce' but meant tomatoes. Maybe you told me in between yelling at your demon children in a vain attempt to shut them the fuck up and I didn't quite catch it. Maybe you were having an elaborate conversation with your friends and trying to order at the same time. Maybe you said it like a quirky fact, not a request (e.g. "I really hate tomatoes" vs. "No tomatoes, please") and figured I'd magically discern what you actually meant because waitresses make great robots and psychics. Maybe your friend placed the order for you because you couldn't wait the five minutes it would take for me to come around before running outside to answer your phone. Maybe you were lying. Maybe you were making a stupid joke, you jackass kids, and I took you seriously because you failed to clarify. Maybe the kitchen made a mistake, not me. Maybe you really pissed me off so I purposely left the tomatoes off in hopes that you were violently allergic to them.
And maybe, just maybe, I was really busy and overwhelmed and I simply made a human error. It's not like you've ever done something like that, or something else equally ridiculous and annoying and stupid and infuriating, right?
Maybe you can suck my figurative food service employee dick,
Andrea

Couldn't have said it better myself, Andrea.

Here's lookin' at you, guy who didn't know there were mushrooms in Marsala sauce and got angry when they were there. It's not my fault you didn't ask, don't get all pissy when they magically appear on your plate.

Magnum Man--Taking Wine-o to a Whole New Level

2009-10-07T10:31:00.002-04:00

The restaurant I worked at didn't have a liquor license, so people brought their own wine/beer/liquor/moonshine/paint thinner frequently. This one regular in particular, though, always brought a magnum of wine. For himself.

A magnum, for those of you who prefer any amount of wine over .750L in a bag or box (or if you just don't know what a magnum is, that's fair too), is essentially a double-sized wine bottle, measuring in at 1.5L. The logic behind this is that the wine won't spoil as fast, it looks cool, or something science-y like that. (My extensive wikipedia-ing also lead me to find out that there is a wine bottle size called a "Solomon", tipping the scales at 20L. Way to go, King of Israel. Ancient Jews obviously knew how to party.)

Anyways, this guy would come in, be generally grumpy (I would too if I was eating out by myself on a regular basis), order food, nothing special. Then he'd ask for a wine glass and pull an opened (but still mostly full) magnum out of some sort of wine-purse he toted around and the fun would begin.

Glass after glass after glass, this guy would just sit there and drink.

I'd bring him his food, he'd eat, and drink some more. He'd pay, get up, and leave without saying much, that same scowl/stupor-riffic look on his face.

No idea how he gets home and keeps coming back.

Oh, and sometimes he comes with his family, that's a party. They're all freaking loud as hell, they order pizza, and he sits there and argues with them over God-knows-what and, of course, drinks.

Not sure I blame him.

The Judge Didn't Say Anything About Pizza

2009-09-23T00:01:00.000-04:00

The phone rang one evening at the pizza place, so I answered and went through the routine. The man on the other end sternly ordered a large sesame chicken pizza to be delivered and gave me the address--so far, so good.

He wanted to pay with a credit card, so I was taking down the number and expiration date when he instructed me to write a tip on the receipt for him. I informed him that he could do that himself when he signed the slip. Maybe he thought he didn't need to sign the receipt or something, whatever, even idiots order pizza.

Next on his list of demands was that I inform the delivery guy that if nobody answers the door to leave the pizza on the back porch's railing. I told him that he has to be present to accept his delivery and sign the receipt. He says sure, he'll be there, but tell the driver anyways, "just in case".

I asked for his phone number (S.O.P. for any order), he fumbles around on the phone for a minute before looking it up and reading it off to me, which at the time, considering how peculiar the rest of the order went, didn't phase me as that suspicious.

I pass the delivery ticket to the pizza man and the order goes out.

A few hours later, I heard my boss on the phone with a customer, but the conversation wasn't your run-of-the-mill customer confused by the lack of "medium" between the choices of "small" and "large". She was very apologetic, and when she hung up the phone she asked me if I took an order for a large sesame chicken pizza. I answered yes and proceeded to tell her about how that was an odd order.

Turns out the woman that lives at the address that the pizza was delivered to had a restraining order against the man who placed the order and wanted to know when and how he placed the order and if he could have tampered with it in any way.

I thought she was kidding.

What the hell, people?

Don't turn pizza into your freaky-ass court-order-breaking cupid's-arrow.

You Need a Bigger Sign

2009-09-19T10:51:00.000-04:00

This story comes to us courtesy of the Bagel Wench:

It’s one in the afternoon, and it’s right in the middle of a weekday lunch rush. I’m behind the counter prepping paninis to be cooked for a rather large delivery. There’s a man wandering in between the ordering area and the cash register. This is the no man’s land of the store, the dead zone. If you are standing in this section and not on an actual line, no one is going to help you, mostly because you are not on a line, but partially because you’re an idiot and not paying any attention to the lovely 5 x 5 sign that indicates, if you want food and plan on getting it some time that same day, you should ORDER HERE (there’s even an arrow pointing to the ideal ordering spot, in case you’re still puzzled).

So this man is standing in no man’s land watching the other customers being helped as it becomes their turn in line. Ok, so maybe signs aren’t your thing, but most people at this point would be tempted by the monkey see, money do thing and just play along with the other patrons. No, this man decides it’s better to just hold his fort down, maybe stand out from the crowd. Problem with that is, most people leave the ordering area once they’re done to make room for other people. So everyone working either a) assumes that’s what he’s doing b) doesn’t notice or c) happens to be busy working with one of the other 20 customers present.

So he decides he’s gonna chill for like 5 minutes before finally realizing he’s not gonna get service. He goes to the nearest employee, who happens to be my manager (I dodged that bullet). My manager is a tall Russian man with a fairly heavy accent, so I don’t know who would really enjoy doing a verbal tango with him, but anyway, this lovely man goes to my manager, says something along the lines of “I’ve been waiting here for 15 minutes (exaggeration) and I have not been helped yet!” Of course accompanied by an angry face, crossed arms, and of course, some spit flying all over. Lovely.

My manager: “Sir, that’s because you were waiting in the middle of the store, you have to order over here.” He points to the rather large sign that by the way, can be seen quite clearly from either of the two store entrances.

Asshole: “Well, I didn’t see that. You should hang the sign higher next time!” and my manager took his order for one sandwich.

Now the man is standing in the right place. In the next few minutes three other employees are making shit for him. He ordered four items total, every one of them made by a different person. You’d think the fact that he had half the store waiting on him now would soothe his anger, however on the way out he asked for the owner’s number and my manager’s name so that he could call and complain.

My manager decided to tell my boss about it as soon as our delightful friend left. My boss laughed. Then man did in fact call to complain later. My boss told him he would definitely try to hang the sign higher to avoid this problem in the future. He then hung up the phone and smirked.

My boss: “So I’m thinking you gotta get a higher sign.”
My manager: “Why don’t you just get smarter customers?”

Chirp Chirp Tweet?

2009-09-14T23:11:00.002-04:00

So, my friend started a twitter to complain about the weather in Boston as compared to LA (BostonXperiment), so I started a counter-twitter, GulagXperiment.

Check it out!

Shifting Gears a Little...

2009-09-13T19:40:00.002-04:00

I recently acquired a job in IT/tech support, so some upcoming stories will be about idiots that can't operate those newfangled "computers", while some will still be about the food service biz.

Enjoy the insanity that's sure to follow.

What Do You Have to Drink?

2009-09-10T11:52:00.000-04:00

A woman walks into the restaurant, looks around, approaches the counter and asks, "what do you have to drink?"

I chuckle and look at her.

She was dead serious.

This may not sound like a big deal, simple curiosity, she was thirsty, whatever.

No. Allow me to explain: When you enter the restaurant, there are two large beverage refrigerators directly in her line of sight. Maybe a diagram is appropriate:

The front of the store, with included invisibility screen

Yes, I did just mspaint an ampersand.

I pointed the lady towards the refrigerators and she tried to play it off all cool. Like she was testing me. Totally.

Idiot.

The Spoon

2009-09-03T00:41:00.003-04:00

This one comes to us from a good friend (formerly) in the yogurt biz:

When you’re an employee at a new business, as I was this spring, you get a lot of questions from customers (never mind that I worked at a frozen yogurt store, which is, in theory, a relatively straightforward place). No matter how inane, said questions must be answered politely—it’s only okay to kill a customer in your head after they’ve left the store. Serving a prying guy all the gross strawberries is totally kosher, though. Anyway, on a regular basis, I got:

“Is your yogurt really fat-free?” (Yes. I suppose you are not enlightened to the wonder that is skim milk.)

[Author's note: To be fair, Seinfeld has taught us to never believe everything we hear about fat-free yogurt.]

“What’s the difference between the flavors?” (Goodness… it would have to be the flavor gels. Strange, right?)

“What’s the most popular topping? (Think for yourself and choose your own form of deliciousness, please.)

And, to the cute gay employees: “Can I have your number?”'

I can deal with mind-crushing repetition.

I can deal with size-2 soccer moms asking if the yogurt is sugar-free, and then walking out when we say it’s not (that’s why it tastes good, Mrs. Minivan).

What I can’t deal with is people who seems to have gotten a lobotomy of common sense.

I now bring the sad tale of Miss Average Customer:

Picture Miss Average, the quintessential frozen yogurt customer: young, trendy, looking to cart around a cup of yogurt as a passive status symbol of hipness. She orders her yogurt, pays, leaves a tip if she’s feeling generous (she’s not), and waits for me to apathetically prepare her food. Smooth freaking sailing so far. Our employee-customer relationship is approaching its finale. Like I said, I can deal with questions. I can accommodate your request for “only green gummy bears, please.” What I can’t deal with is blatant idiocy--As she turned to leave, she asked,

“Can I take a spoon?”