No, Because Fuck You. #001:

A family walks in.
Party of 6.

The man that I assume to be the dad just looks like a dick.
Lo and behold, he’s a gargantuan cockface.

Me: “Hi, How’re you today, Sir?”

Cockface: “6. Booth.”

Me: “6? That’s a weird way to feel!”


Me in my head: “I hope you choke to death in front of your family and no one attends your funeral.”

So I walk them over to a booth big enough for 6 adults (where I was going to take them anyway in the first fucking place).

They all sit, fitting perfectly.

Cockface: “Why would you seat us here? We don’t fit!”

Me: “You requested a booth and this is the biggest booth we have. It fits up to 6 people.”

Cockface: “We need a table.”
*He gets up and looks around the restaurant* “Push those together.”

He’s pointing to a section that doesn’t have a server and we are slammed at the moment.

Me:”Actually, no, I can’t. There isn’t actually a server for that section but I do have some half-booth-half-tables. I can push two of those together for you.”

Cockface:”You can’t push like 3 tables together? Like those ones?” *He points to the same tables*

Me: “3 of those tables are actually big enough for 12 people. For 6 that’d be a bit excessive. I’ll go ahead and push those 2 half-booth-half-tables together for you.” *I run away before he can respond*

They ended up sitting there and staying. Funny enough I put him somewhere where they had less room than in the booth.

Then I sat every table near him so he couldn’t possibly ask us to add any to his.


Because fuck you, sir.

Why I Was Late #004: Procrasterbation.

I got caught up watching a mixture of porn and American Horror Story: Coven.

Once you pop, you just can’t stop.

Note: I must make it clear that I was not flicking the bean to American Horror Story, it just happened to be on at the time that the mood struck.

Why I Was Late #003: Murphy’s Law.

Woke up late.
Lost left shoe.
Didn’t have time to shower.
Left house in a hurry.
Locked my car keys & house key in my house.
Had to crawl through basement window.
Spider attack.
Decided to drink milk really quick.
Milk was sour.
Spilled all over my shirt.
No clean dress shirts.
Ran upstairs to find a shirt.
Found a dirty ass one that smelled like wet feet.
Called work.
Left in hurry.
Forgot fucking keys.
Went back through window.
Second spider battle.
Said “fuck you" to milk as I passed. Grabbed keys.
Got in car.
No gas.
Stopped for gas.
Didn’t have wallet.
Went home.
Crawled through basement window. Realized I didn’t have to do that.
Yelled at myself.
Grabbed wallet.
Left again.
Got gas.
Called work a second time.
They believed nothing.
Got in minor fender bender.
Not my fault.
Got stuck behind train.
Called work again.
Still believe none of this.
Got to work.
Got to breakroom.
Forgot nametag.
Stole someone else’s nametag.
My name is Jake now.
Favorite locker was taken.
Worked for 2 hours.
Got sent home early because it was slow.
Made $18.
Got home.
Crawled through basement window because I got too used to it.

princesskhaos92 asked:

Hey, I totally think I love you!

I thought, for longer than was probably necessary, about how to respond to this.
My main issue was explaining how grateful I am and how happy your message made me. Is it possible for me to convey a mutual love without sounding creepy as Hell?

Turns out it’s not. No matter what I said it sounded just sad and weird, so I settled for this gif to explain my current emotion.

Stupid Questions #036: You can enjoy semen even with a celiac allergy!

Me: “Thanks for calling the worst restaurant in the tri-state area, how may I help you?”

Customer: “Is the semen gluten-free?”

Me: “The…..semen? 8)”

Customer: “yeah, is it gluten-free, I want to order takeout.”

Me: “uhhm, well, yeah I guess it’s gluten-free but you can get that for free at home, besides, pretty much everyone that works here is female so I don’t even know where I’d get you any.”

Customer (audibly confused): “What? You can’t refuse my service! If I wanted to go out and buy some I would!”

Me: “Mam, that’s illegal.”

Customer: “I don’t feel like cooking tonight!”

Me: “Cooking? I thought we were talking about semen?”

Customer: “We are! I want to order se…oh my lord!…SALMON! Well, you could have told me I was saying that!”

She got angry and hung up.

I wonder if she ever got her semen.

misManagement #004: Tweedledum & Tweedledee.

We all know that I despise my General Manager, Tweedledum, with the fury of a thousand Suns.

Well, sadly, there’s also a female version of him, my Regional Manager, Tweedledee.

They are of course both fat, clueless, and increasingly infuriating to work for. Tweedledee visited on Friday (because life isn’t fair) and she, of course, ruined everything. You’d think the Regional Manager would care if there were health code violations and people doing their jobs incorrectly, but no. All she cares about is money, which is dumb because the more efficient the restaurant is and the happier the employees are, the more money they’ll make. She never seems to realize that.

I started at 4:00 and by 5:00 I was ripping my hair out. I was in the horrible pre-wait stage where everyone comes in at once and you can’t quite give out pagers yet. I was very near a wait because they like to not schedule any servers in on Friday night until 6 (ridiculous!) and
AT 5:00.
We get slammed and have no tables to seat because no servers are there. So, I have to go on a false wait until I actually have servers to seat, or until the ones already there are ok to pick up so that no one gets overwhelmed.

Well, Tweedledee rolls up to the hostess stand and just starts seating people at any table that she sees is open, regardless of whether or not there’s actually a server for that table. Better yet, given that she doesn’t know anybody’s name (because she doesn’t care to), she tells me to find people to pick up all of these tables! I told her 4 times that there isn’t anyone and that we are on a wait. HENCE THE FUCKING WAIT SHEET that says 15-20min! She just kept seating people until I finally just ignored her and started giving people pagers and telling them that they have to wait because my management team is made up of mentally challenged characters from Alice in Wonderland.

I tried to explain to her that the servers are going to get overwhelmed because most of them were newer and that the kitchen was going to get backed up, but she wouldn’t listen. It was 5:50, I don’t think these people are going to die and your restaurant will lose a million dollars because they have to wait 15 goddamn minutes.

At one point, she even filled an entire 6:00 section for people to pick up and was shocked when the 6:00 server arrived and she didn’t have any tables for us to seat!

These are the idiots I have to work for on a daily basis.

I have two managers that I love and one knows what he’s doing. Everyone loves him, but the poor guy does EVERYTHING. He deserves to be the GM. We’ll call him Grampa because that’s what he looks like.

Grampa, like the rest of us, actively avoids Tweedledum and Tweedledee as best he can. Every time Tweedledee is around he leaves, so the bastard kept leaving me alone with her. Eventually, Tweedledee rolled away to find something else to destroy and Grampa came up to check on me.

Upon seeing my face he asked, “Wha’d she do?”
I replied, “What do you think she did! She sat every fucking table!”
“Thought so. That’s why I just avoid her. Oh, here she comes! Good luck!” *He exists stage left*



So, I’m FINALLY done moving so now I will have time to completely redo my blog!

YAYY *dances*

I will be doing tedious things like spell checking and number corrections. Also, fun things like posting 2 months worth of crazy ass stories and creating a blog email and a facebook page 8)

Twitter: @MWMemoirs (I’m not on there much but I’m going to start tweeting more against my will, just for you!)



As always, messages, questions, suggestions, customer challenges, sexual advances, and anonymous musings are always welcome!