So if you ever have been a server…you have had a moment like this.
You know, when you clumsily slip, trip, and spill the darkest possible liquid on the lightest possible piece of clothing in a five foot radius.
No, you couldn’t have spilled the glass of sprite or ice water…. it only makes sense that you spill the neon blue margarita. And no, it couldn’t have landed on the nice goth wearing all black, as fate would have it, it HAS to land on the snobby woman wearing brand new white pants, and a white tank top. Such is the ways of life.
This was one of those waiter moments. And to all of you ladies wearing the white outfits… stop it. We will find you. It just waiter fate.
Anyways, it was one of my first weeks working at the hotel. It was time to go around and ask everyone at my table if they would like coffee…only to have them not drink it and for my to have to clean it up. Joyous.
We serve in these silver pots that look like they were from Christopher Columbus’s own personal collection. They are not the most sensible coffee serving contraptions… but oh they look so pretty … blah. So that is what we use.
For some reason I thought it would be a good idea to hold the decaf and the regular pots at the same time, one in each hand. They are heavy even without coffee so this is just a caffeinated recipe for disaster.
I walk up to the first woman, and of course, she is wearing a white, SILK, floor length gown. She is rockin that gown, and she knows she looks good.
I offer her a cup of blazing hot joe… and she accepts. “Regular”
So, I tip the regular pot and pour into her cup.
As far as I can see….I am getting the hot liquid into the cup. I am a superstar server.
The other pot also decides to tip…. and spill HOT. BLACK. COFFEE…..you guessed it… down the woman’s back, and all over her white gown.
With a little high shriek, and a shudder of the shoulders and clench of her fists….she turns around slowly.
Her face is red, and if I remember right her hair turned into a tassel of snakes like Medusa, and her eyes began glowing neon green.
Yes its true…she transformed. Most rich people also have magical powers.
Clearly very upset…she manages to stammer…
Sigh. Why couldn’t I have worked at a place where guests thought designer clothes came from the Isaac Mizrahi collection at Target …. not thousand dollar gowns.
So I starts spitting out my “Sorry, I am so sorry mam… sorry sorry blah blah blah” You know what I am talking about.
So she pushes away from the table, and marches right over to my manager…her stilettos yelling at me with every click across the dance floor.
She starts screaming at my manager….her arm motions clearly depict how upset she is.
15 minuets go by….20….30….45….AN HOUR GOES BY and she is STILL talking to him.
I am thinking…farewell oh college job. It was nice why it lasted…kinda. Clearly I was about to get fired if not slapped across the face.
(What if the managers did abuse us like little tuxedo wearing slaves? I could see it happening…)
Anyways, she finally goes up to her room to change…and I walk over to my manager…spitting out again my string of sorry sorry sorry! This time I meant it a little bit more….
This is what he says to me…after an HOUR of being yelled at by a guest because of what I did.
“Oh…it’s OK, don’t worry about it.”
Shrugs, and walks back into the kitchen.
I stood there. Blinked. Blinked again, cocked my head…shrugged myself and walked back to my table.
It was then I realized at a hotel that has more money our neighbor Donald Trump…accidents don’t matter. We can buy that woman a new dress and pay for her skin graft no problem. Balla.
Some times we serve mini hot dogs or something stupid like that on $200 Versace plates. I am not scared to break one…. I could break five and not really care.
Oh to have endless amounts of money. Somehow I think that being a server at Denny’s is a little bit different…
Maybe this job isn’t so bad after all.
JK it is.