Confessions of An Awkward Earls Girl

As I gracefully exit the restaurant industry, I found myself reflecting on some of my not so graceful moments as both a server and a bartender. I have forgotten entire sections of tables (very angry eyes!), sent out margaritas while forgetting to add tequila, and have smashed 40s of expensive Gin with only an ounce missing from the bottle. I have fallen on my butt while carrying buckets of ice in the middle of the restaurant (many ice shaped bruises all over my rump... very painful!) and sold the rude vegetarian a pasta dish that i knew very well is made with chicken stock (from REAL chickens... which we beat to death with soup spoons and cooked alive!) and have even told a table to go to Joey's where they have prettier girls and yam fries. A feast for both your eyes and your belly. 

GO TO JOEY'S

They have BIGGER clumpier eyelashes than us.

And Yam Fries Too.

Here are two of my favorite serving and bartending moments for those of you who did not get the opportunity to be blessed by my awkward personality.

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Jordan Loses Her Personality

It was a particularly busy friday night in the lounge, I believe some servers had just been sent home just before a massive rush crowded the entry way, and the hostesses began phase one vengeance on the remaining servers by placing several tables in our sections at the same time. A particular lady ordered a steak blue, which aside from being sort of disgusting-- its pretty easy and quick to make. Her steak arrived promptly along with her hubby's sandwich-- everyone was happy-- server win!

however, just as jordan was speeding past the table carrying several burning plates that seared her hands and forearms, a bony little hand jutted out from the table and grabbed her arm

"my steak is overdone!" she squawked.

Jordan looked at it. It was practically bleeding all over the dish-- a blue steak made in heaven. She patiently replied that she would just drop off the plates of searing death, and then would be right back.

She took the steak to the back and showed it to the unimpressed kitchen (unimpressed with the lady, because, as I said-- this was the perfect steak), who agreed to make her a less cooked one.

This isn't Blue, but it is a good looking piece o' meat

Things would have been all fine and dandy, except when Jordan walked past this table again, the lady waved her down.
"Do you even know what blue means?" she sneered.
"yes, yes I do. We are making you a blue steak as we speak-- and I spoke with the manager and we will take care of it for you" Jordan replied with a forced smile.
"Blue means its seared on the outside"
I wish I could sear your outsides "I understand" smile. smile.
"Well, you made it wrong!"

That's what something precious snapped inside of Jordan's brain. She knelt down beside the table and looked the ungrateful wench unsatisfied customer in the eyes and replied

"and when, sweetheart, do you think I had the time to make your steak?"
got up and left.

the tip was surprisingly good. The hubby paid,  he must have been a little passive aggressive and a little amused.
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Jordan's Panic Attack Behind the Bar

The only bad thing about bartending, is that awful people sit at the bar as well, the only difference is that with serving-- you can get away from them. Behind the bar, there really is no where to go, you are stuck... staring them down, or worse-- them staring you down.

I've had my fair share of strange men say stupid things like "we don't need to look at a menu, we're just gonna look at you" or "are you on the menu tonight?"-- most of which you just kind of laugh at them and go pretend to pour a guiness (these take a long time to pour, so its a perfect getaway and reason to stare at the floor). However, I was completely caught off guard by one gentleman who sat at the bar.

After he ordered something that is not of consequence, I brought him his cutlery (first mistake) and napkins. I noticed that the knife was a little warped-- instead of laying flat the blade bent up off the counter a bit. I considered getting him another one-- but I was feeling particularly apathetic and the knife would still cut... so I didn't (second mistake). 

Then he waved me over.

"look at this here knife"
I looked at it and pretended to be surprised and perplexed at its strange shape.
"Its warped!" he exclaimed "do you see that?"

not happening

"yes!" I replied "Let me get you a better one"
"oh no, no" he said and pulled the knife closer to him.
"are you sure?"
then he leaned on one of his arms, pulling himself up the counter so he was MUCH closer to my face and said

"I think its just had..." dramatic pause in which he tilted his head and raised his eyebrows "too much viagra" he smirked.

and i puked inside my mouth. 
and promptly ran away.  

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I have done some good things for the restaurant too... many patrons have left Earls with smiles on their faces, or have thanked me for my wine suggestions. I only ever got a customer compliment emailed in once-- and I believe it was because I served a woman what should be an illegal amount of caffeinated martinis (she was talking REALLY fast by the end of the night). I was even a good team player-- I have respectfully informed servers that it is impossible to pour beer back into the tap, and that limes and lemons are in fact-- different fruits! they even grow on different trees. Once I even advised a hostess that if she is going to wear a short skirt then she should probably (definitely) wear underwear as well.

So long Earls, I have served my time. Miss me, you shall.
"People Grow at Earls. Life is Better at Earls"
I am sorry for all the lime pulp in the bar well. 
And for exclaiming that I have advanced social justice every time I smash something, 'by accident'.

Viva la Resistance!