Its only a flesh wound!

It’s Friday night and I’m waiting on some real assholes. Two middle aged couples, so busy bad mouthing absent friends, I wonder what they say about one another in private. So animated is this little hate fest that I’m shooed away every time I approach the table. After half an hour I finally get the wine order. It’s the cheapest white we sell.

I open the bottle, go though the tasting ritual, and pour the swill into the glasses. I begin parroting the specials when one of the men looks alarmed and says,

“Waiter you’re bleeding.”

I look down. I must have nicked my finger on the foil opening the bottle. There is a small bit of blood on my finger.

“Oh dear.” I say

The man looks like he is about to jump out of his seat. He is really freaked.

“I am a doctor. I insist you put a band aid on that finger NOW!”

I want to say my case of Ebola is in remission; but before I can say anything a drop of blood slides off my finger.

The entire table tracks the path of my hemoglobin as it plummets down, down, PLOP! into one of the bitch’s wine glasses.

I have tuned chardonnay into rose blush. Voila!

The ladies look like they are about to faint. Marcus Welby is out of his seat.

“Take this wine away; get a new bottle, and GET A BAND AID!!!!!!!!!!”

The busboy removes the offending glasses and bottle. I run into the kitchen, wash out the wound with vodka, get a bandage and return to the table with a fresh bottle of vino cheapo.

The entire table looks like they are about to throw up. The doctor tells me to skip opening the bottle.

“We have lost our appetite. We’re leaving.” He says shaking his head disgustedly.

“Sir I am very sorry for what happened. This bottle is on the house.” I say trying to rescue the situation.

“No we’re going. You are a terrible waiter. We are never coming back here again.”

All this fuss over a simple accident. Now I’m pissed. As the couples walk past me I inject a Scottish burr in my voice and pay a small homage to Monthy Python,

“But sir it’s only a flesh wound!”

“You’re an asshole” the doctor counters.

Oh, THANK YOU SIR! Have a wonderful evening.” I reply obsequiously.

The couples storm out the front door. The owner gives me a “What the fuck?” look. I shrug. He shrugs. A new table takes the assholes’ place in under a minute,

Here’s the kicker. The new table’s bill came close to a thousand bucks. I got a $200 tip.

If you prick me do I not bleed?

Cheap wine would have tasted better with my blood in it anyway.

The Waiter & the Spoon

A friend emailed me this. I just had to post it here!

A timeless lesson on how consultants can make a difference for an organization…

Last week, we took some friends out to a new restaurant, and noticed that the waiter who took our order carried a spoon in his shirt pocket. It seemed a little strange. When the busboy brought our water and utensils, I noticed he also had a spoon in his shirt pocket. Then I looked around saw that all the staff had spoons in their pockets.

When the waiter came back to serve our soup I asked, “Why the spoon?”

“Well,” he explained, “the restaurants’ owners hired Andersen Consulting to revamp all our processes. After several months of analysis, they concluded that the spoon was the most frequently dropped utensil. It represents a drop frequency of approximately 3 spoons per table per hour. If our personnel are better prepared, we can reduce the number of trips back to the kitchen and save 15 man-hours per shift.”

As luck would have it, I dropped my spoon and he was able to replace it with his spare.

“I’ll get another spoon next time I go to the kitchen instead of making an extra trip to get it right now.”

I was impressed. I also noticed that there was a string hanging out of the waiter’s fly. Looking around, I noticed that all the waiters had the same string hanging from their flies. So before he walked off, I asked the waiter, “Excuse me, but can you tell me why you have that string right there?”

“Oh, certainly!” Then he lowered his voice. “Not everyone is so observant.”

That consulting firm I mentioned also found out that we can save time in the rest-room. By tying this string to the tip of ‘you know what’, we can pull it out without touching it and eliminate the need to wash our hands, shortening the time spent in the rest-room by 76.39 percent.”

“After you get it out, how do you put it back?”

“Well,” he whispered, “I don’t know about the others, but I use the spoon.”

Some Like It Hot

“Waiter this coffee is cold.”

“It’s a fresh pot madam.”

“Whatever. Get me a hot cup of coffee.”

I go back to the kitchen. I heat up a cup with water from the espresso machine and fill it with piping hot coffee. That usually does the trick.

“It’s still cold.”

Christ.

I return to the kitchen, grab a pair of tongs, and put the cup in the oven. After a few minutes I extract it, place it on a cold saucer, and return to the table.

Sounding like the warning on a Starbucks container I say, “Please be careful madam the cup and its contents are extremely hot.”

The customer sees the steam billowing and says, “Just the way I like it.”

As I walk away I hear the pleasant sound of her yelling “Ouch! It burns!”

My job is done.