A filet? A sirloin?

I'm freee! It's 4 am and I've been at home and pants free since 2. I had the best thing ever, a server and their sibling in my section tonight. This translates to free $$! It was a good night, I shared a section with my faaavorite person to work with and didn't have to start until 7 pm. I was out by 1, God answered my prayers for not only a full service dining section but also a slow night. I made decent money and have only one more night to my week, I may ask to close. Shocking isn't it? I had a few chuckles moments tonight. One being from last night actually, and as I'm not posting from my Iphone hopefully there are fewer typos.
Last night I had a table of 20, and after an entire night of waving their hands in the air, flagging me down, pointing to an unmarked glass and saying "What was this? I'll have another one" (yeah....like I remember) one (sober) woman asked me my name. After informing her she went on to tell the group "call her by her name or don't call her at all. Hey girl, hey waitress or even excuse me is rude". My jaw hit the floor, literally such a display of humanity and respect is rare. Rad, really cool. I was happy to serve them and quite a bit quicker I might add, that is until one middle aged gentleman after one too many old speckled hens starts inspecting a wooden pillar too closely then asks for a cab home. You sir have been overserved..oops let me steer you away from prying eyes like security or managers while I discreetly call you a cab.
Then tonight, after describing the chef's cut an 8 ounce bacon wrapped filet mignon I had this conversation:
"What kind of filet is it?"
"beef sir"
"Yeah I know that but what kind of filet is it?"
"I..uh..I'm not sure what you're asking me sir"
"what kind of filet is it? A sirloin?"
"Um, no sir, it's a filet mignon, a beef tenderloin"
"Oh, no I don't want that, I'll take the filet burger"
Literally the same thing, then asked me for no onions. I asked if he had an allergy or simply a preference against them. "No, onions are very smelly and I don't like them they make my eyes water, plus I don't like caramel so, no onions". Caramel and caramelized are two different things. So, he got onions and he raved about the burger. Awesome, I'm smiling because you just tickled me to no end.

The hospitality plague

 So after recovering from last night's emotional turmoil thanks so being called off I'm feeling human. I got that celebrated phone call today from my favorite little indy manager asking me if I wanted to have a sunny day off. Apparently word spread fast among the manager ranks that I nearly lost my shit last night. For those who've served with me in the past I did not in fact freak out just so you know. I'll admit I was one hot headed server once upon a time, never with guests because they pay my bills. Other servers and managers were fair game.
     In an effort to maintain my sanity and others respect I now just clench my jaw and deal with whatever bullshit I'm handed. When it explodes in my face as a 5'10" bleach blonde grenade of  self righteous attitude my composure waivers.  So another server (that I just love) saw me teary last night and asked me if I wanted to talk, I took her up on that offer today. She's also new and has similar problems with ole blonde fuzz head. So, after calming down we've decided all the new people will just work very hard to counter act the shitty attitudes of the seasoned servers. Kill them with kindness is such bullshit, in a restaurant you kill them with work. Be there to restock, go over and above what the old servers are too lazy or too good to do. You want the good shifts and sections? Stop being such a stark raving bitch with a sense of entitlement. No one wants to listen to your mouth and no one gives a shit about your personal problems. Wake up sweetie, this job isn't that hard, you make it so. Service isn't rocket science, it's a test of endurance and patience. If you can put up with bullshit and still laugh at yourself you'll survive. If you can't and you flip out on the new people well...you're liable to end up with a serious drinking problem. It's just a job.