Control Your Saliva People!

So far today, I have been spat on by three people; been poked in the eye, had maple syrup smeared on my face and granola in my boots.

Now, I realize that in life we cannot avoid certain things... saliva in the face is one of them. Now perhaps it is because I'm a germaphobe that the universe treats me like a magnet for such things. The law of attraction and all that hooha.

Let me explain...

9 am. I arrive at work and one of my fellow waiters is talking to me rather enthusiastically about his night out, he is so excited to tell me his story that he apparently loses all control over his mouth and spits directly onto my eyelid. Blarf. He actually notices he has done this and attempts to wipe it off, (yes it is still sitting there festering), as he sticks his fingers toward my face he accidentally pokes me in the eye making matters worse. He then turns a deep shade of crimson while apologizing and shuffles off.

11 am. I'm serving a customer at the counter, we are at eye level and as he is talking he spits directly into my eye. AAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!
I am now completely freaked out and what I want to say is, "Excuse me, you just spit in my fucking eye man, gross"! However, being British, I was obviously taught to hide my emotions, so instead I pretend it didn't happen, as to avoid embarrassing the man. I'm now screaming internally and it feels like this glob of saliva is now burning like acid through my eye and within two seconds I have created mass paranoia that his germs are going through my eye and into my bloodstream. Total overreaction of course, and believe me, part of me knows that (the sane part of course) the OCD, Hypochondriac on my other side remains in total panic.

130 pm. I stand in front of the kitchen next to the food runner. First let me tell you a little something about our food runner.. Not only is he a 5 year old dressed in a 26 year old Mexican body but he is blatantly aware that I have issues with germs and have asked him on many occasions not to touch/grab my hand... or any other body part for that matter.
However, being the child that he is, he seems to gets a kick out of constantly pressing my buttons.... and other things for that matter. So there I am walking over to the kitchen and he wipes his mucky, sticky, maple syrup covered hand down the side of my cheek. MOTHERF***ER!!!!!!!!!!!!
The restaurant is in full swing so there is literally no opportunity for me to run to the loo and wash it off so Im now forced to endure this sticky yucky shit on my face for the next twenty minutes.

3 pm I'm on my way across the restaurant with a bowl of granola and I trip on the stupid slip mat. slip.mat.- a pointless waste of space that is constantly causing more damage than any good. The granola goes flying everywhere, including all down the inside of my thigh high boots, which may I add, I never wear! Until today of course.

4 pm The shift is finally over, thank the Lord. I'm literally heading out the door and a regular walks in asking when I'm next working, I tell him "On the weekend", and he says, "Cool, see you then." As he does so, saliva comes flying out of his mouth and hits my directly on the forehead.

JESUS CHRIST. WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON TODAY?!

Seriously people... Control your saliva!

NOTE TO SELF: "DO NOT DATE A CUSTOMER...HE IS LIKELY TO EITHER BE GAY, A LOSER, A RAVING LUNATIC, OR QUITE POSSIBLY ALL OF THE ABOVE".

Hi People, for those of you who were enjoying my stories, Im sorry for the extended absence.. but I'm back now with much to share...

I'll begin with explaining why I should never date a customer.

This I learned first hand today as I had, what went down on record as one of the most awkward and painfully dull dates ever.

So there is a guy that comes into the diner, someone who I actually have never served but who I've always thought was cute (in a kind of vegan, rock star sort of way). Firstly let me preface this with the fact that A. I haven't had a boyfriend for a stupidly long time. B. The past two semi - relationships I have had both turned out to be gay. C. I clearly have awful judgement in men.

I notice last week that he is in the diner eating with a regular customer I know so I take the opportunity to say hi and introduce myself. Long story short, I tell my regular later that day that I think his friend is cute and he sets us up on a date.

Cut to...

THE DATE

We arrange to meet for coffee at a reasonable time of day, nothing too serious for a first date. First off I have made the mistake of being very hungover so Im already worried he is going to know I've been up all night and probably don't look so great, not to mention I probably have the personality of a Brussels sprout right now.
Secondly he is insanely late. He texts me with traffic updates as each five minutes pass by. So Im sitting there like a pleb waiting at a table in a cafe and not ordering anything, while the irritated waitress is coming up to me every frigging minute asking if I want anything.. IM WAITING FOR SOMEONE WHO IS OBVIOUSLY NOT HERE, AND YOU ARE NOT HELPING!!!! Anyway he finally arrives and this is how it goes...

He sits down and I am hit with an overpowering stench of Patchouli oil which he has clearly bathed in. One thing you need to know about me is that I fucking hate Patchouli, its disgusting and only worn by dirty hippies who don't wear deodorant.
STRIKE 1

After I stop myself from gagging I start to attempt conversation because this man seems like he doesn't have a lot to say, or rather that he is flustered about something.. Awkward?... just a bit. Not to forget my brain is struggling to even form a sentence right now but I see Im the one who's going to have to drive the conversation. So I begin with the usual "where do you live, what do you do etc:.. He then proceeds to speak in the quietist almost inaudible voice I have ever heard and I am struggling to understand him, and keep having to shout "sorry? what?" at him. He tells me he lives in Malibu then proceeds to whine and moan about the traffic for the next five minutes straight.
STRIKE 2

He does not try to ask me anything whatsoever about my life, who I am, where Im from... NADA. So I keep interviewing him about his life and realize he has a nervous blinking tick and its freaking me out. And some weird black stains on his teeth which are almost as disturbing as his Patchouli.
STRIKE 3

The waitress comes over and finally I order a tea, something quick I can drink so I can get the Mcfuck out of there as soon as humanly possible. He orders a slice of pie. When it arrives he starts to eat and as he talks/eats simultaneously with his mouth open I notice the pie schmooshed in the sides of his cheeks, in manner of crazed hamster, and see it sitting there as he's talking. Seriously trying not to vomit at this point.
STRIKE 4

So far I have learnt that he lives in Malibu but wants to move back coz he hates driving, he doesn't watch TV because he hates the media, he has absolutely nothing positive to say nor does he want to know anything about me. I discover he is a film producer and seeing that Im now painfully struggling to make conversation and am too much of a people pleaser to just leave I try to show interest in his work and ask him what film he's working on.. He says its a film about a family up a hill. I say "Cool, and what happens to this family"? Do I care? absolutely not but fuck I have to say something to distract myself. He tells me about this lovely little story about two families who have a mix up with the house they live in up the hill, yardy yarder and as Im half listening, half praying the earth will open up and swallow me whole, he tells me that all of a sudden the film ends with, "The two families end up hacking each other into pieces and its a giant blood bath. " Errrrr... WHAT? That film sounds almost as horrendous as this date is turning out. Pretty soon I start thinking he is likely to hack me up into little pieces too.
STRIKE 5

As soon as he finished eating I desperately try and make eyes at the waitress so she will bring us the check but now that I need her of course she is nowhere to be seen. Dammit. What happens next is the icing on the cake.... Two fire engines go past with the sirens going and he dramatically plugs his ears and winces. I thought he was joking but then realized he was actually serious. OMG, how old are you? 5? Relax buddy. What kind of a man are you?!
STRIKE 6

IM DONE.

Finally the waitress brings the check and I tell him my meter is running out so I can escape. As I get to my car I see I have a ticket. Wonderful, now not only did I just waste an hour of my life on that nutcase Im now paying $55 for it.

Like I said... NOTE TO SELF: DO NOT DATE CUSTOMERS

BON VOYAGE

If your sentences begin with OMG, WTF or TTS... You may have been in this town for too long....


Okay so I appreciated people caring about their health and know that California is one of the few states in the US that isn't riddled with obesity, however, this calorie counting obsession makes me want to smash my head against a wall.

If one more skinny bitch asks me for her dressing on the side I may have to strangle her.

The funny part of this sick obsession is that people really have no idea what the hell they are talking about. Its definitely not about HEALTH concerns.. no, its about weight. I mean ordering your coffee with non fat milk and splenda may keep you skinny but your insides wont be looking so fabulous soon dear.

So I'm serving three Valley girls and their salads with dressing on the side and they all order a coffee with it, not just any coffee of course but 3 decaf, non fat, vanilla lattes. Non-fat? Ha! Non fat my arse. DO YOU REALIZE HOW MANY CALORIES ARE IN THOSE LATTES????!!!

Being a striving actress myself I do understand the pressure in Hollywood to be thin and look good, I get it. But I cannot seem to get over how sad is it that talent and hard work have literally NOTHING to do with making it as an actor in this town. Hollywood is obsessed with looks. My friend is 5"4 and about 95 lbs and was just told by her agent, to lose weight. WHAT?! This has in turn, spun her into a spiral of dieting, cocaine abuse and bulimia. It's sick.. literally. I mean Lindsay Lohan? Everyone should leave that poor mess of a girl alone, I'm not in the least bit surprised she turned out the way she did.

As if the acting industry isn't hard enough to break into, we are now having to obsess about everything we eat, how many times we go to the gym, how big our boobs are and how we can fight the aging process. If we don't do this there are other delightful options of course...

1.Go down on your knees and suck the cocks of Hollywood agents, directors, producers or pretty much anyone that has any power.
2. Have sex with a celeb, film it and put the tape online.
3. Become Michael Bay's new "girlfriend".

No thank you. Id rather scrub toilets. Which sadly enough, at this rate, I may end up doing.

I mean take me for example; I'm British, in my twenties and consider myself to be; educated, worldly,hard working, decent looking. I've studied my butt off in London, New York and LA. I have read all the great plays, seen all the great films, had wonderful teachers, have mastered characters and accents, am told by all my teachers I have talent and should be working (well, they are trying to make money after all so do we trust them?!)... and yet here I am blogging about waiting fucking tables. Now don't get me wrong, there are a million of us out there, it's the ongoing joke in Hollywood when you say you are an actress and the response is, "Yeah, what restaurant do you work at?" It's part of the struggle, i get it. However, after 4 years here and day in and day out of miserable waitressing, a string of nightmare agents and zero auditions. I am thoroughly exhausted. Not to mention, I don't appear to be getting any younger!

So I decided to take much needed time out from bubble town before I literally get fired and go to jail for murdering a customer. I realize, as my blogs have become angrier and angrier that for my own safety and all those around me I need a fucking break!!!

It is because of this that I now find myself on a jet plane heading for a 3 week vacation back home. Back to glorious rainy Britain....
Britain, the land where no one gives a shit what you look like.. how fake your boobs are or how many calories are in that salad dressing. Britain, where it's grey and gloomy.. where people snarl at you in the street. Britain, where crazed pigeons fly at your face, everything is a rip off and people are constantly pissed off... These are the reasons I left that country in the first place, but you know what?.. I couldn't be more excited to get back there!

BRING IT ON...

I will be back to my charming waitress self in a few weeks, with no doubt more stories to share.

Bye for now.... cereal waitress xoxo

Brunch with a side of sweat blood and tears

Between the jukebox's heavy metal music like nails in my head, the screeching children, the 90 yr old deaf woman screaming at me, the angry chef, the hormonal waitresses and everything else that went on today all I want to say is this....

"Good Morning... May I offer you some of my blood with that burger?!"...

Its quite amazing how many ridiculous things can be happening simultaneously and all in the space of an hour. Today was one of those days when everyone who walked through the door must have either gotten out on the wrong side of bed this morning or done way too many drugs last night. Or both.
I arrived at work at 9 am after a good night's sleep and actually feeling rather chirpy for a Sunday morning... however, two hours later, after an onslaught of restaurant rape I stood still in disbelief and took a look around at my section, here is what I observed at that particular moment......

Table 1: "Funny Guy" - This is the man who feels the need to turn absolutely everything into a joke, and not good ones. I spend an extra 10 minutes on this guy's order as I have to decipher what he wants from what he's making jokes about. I thought I'd give some back to him when he asked me if our Jalapenos were fresh.. I said "No sir, they are full of mold but really quite tasty." Luckily he found this amusing but then decided to take this joke way too far and went off on a whole rant about moldy Jalapenos for the next 6 minutes. All I could think was, "Oh Jesus, why didn't I keep my stupid mouth shut!" Anyway after wasting ten minutes of my life talking about Jalapenos I finally managed to walk away only to be called over again by him several minutes later with this comment.. "Can I have a napkin, I think I ate mine." Wow. Don't quit your day job.

Table 2: "Aloof Guy" - I have to wonder why this guy even goes to a restaurant.. He comes in regularly, sits at a table, doesn't make eye contact, mumbles if and when he talks and really doesn't want to be bothered by the servers. WHY THE F**K ARE YOU HERE THEN?????
I go to greet him and take his order and he totally ignores me, I stand there like a moron for a few more seconds eagerly waiting a response until I cant take it anymore and I simply huff and walk away. WANKER. After making him now wait ten minutes I reluctantly wander back to his table and ask him if he'd like tea or coffee at which he finally looks up at me. The expression on his face reads utter horror and panic and almost shouting he says "I er, I err, don't know yet!" Dude relax, Im offering you a caffeinated beverage not threatening your life.

Table 3: "Get a room Couple" - Im not one to knock physical contact or a public display of affection from time to time but Holy Mother of God these two people took PDA to a whole new level. Not only did they have their tongues wrapped around each others tonsils for a solid 20 minutes but the girl had no bra on and the most see through shirt I've ever seen. Just a tad inappropriate for a Sunday morning with a diner full of children, not to mention anyone with eyes.
I waited as long as I could before having to "interrupt" them and went over to take their order, their faces still lip locked I stood there and coughed to get their attention but still nothing, so now I feel like some kind of pervert standing there in an awkward threesome. Thanks guys. Real cool. FOR GOD SAKE GET A ROOM!

Table 4: "Stressed out parents" - The couple at this table are clearly not having a good morning, the woman's eye balls are virtually popping out of her head as she manically tries to settle her kids down into their respective high chairs, her husband seems to be paying no attention and hides behind his menu (cant really blame the poor bastard). Then, when all are calm and seated she summons me over and orders a triple shot latte... "are you sure thats a good idea Maam, you already seem to be jacked up on speed as it is." Of course I don't say this out loud for fear she may hit me.
After taking their drink order I go back to the computer and see her doing something I have witnessed many parents doing that drives me mad..... She gives the sugar bowl to her devil child as if its lego blocks. "Here, play with this."
Look its not my fault you choose to take your kids out in public to eat and cant be bothered to amuse them or actually talk to them. What you probably don't realizes is that I... yes I, am going to have to pick up the mess you are about to make and have already spent my morning carefully organizing those damn sugar bowls which your child has now thrown all over the table. Yes muggins here will be re-organising that bloody thing once again now. Thanking you kindly for that!


Table 5: "Crazy Homeless Guy"- Directly behind me is a homeless guy who comes in with a giant plastic bag of crap, sits down, holds his menu upside down while rambling to himself about God knows what. He orders a coffee from me and then mutters some inaudible nonsense under his breath. As I return with his drink he pulls out a donut covered in peanut butter from his bag and starts munching on it. He takes breaks to continue reading the menu (or at least pretending to) and I assume he's not going to order anything else so I don't go back. After about 15 minutes he shouts at me "Hey! I haven't eaten all day can I order?" At which point Im thinking... er didn't you just eat a bagel? But I say "Of course, Im sorry, what can I get for you"? To which he responds "I have to get going or I'll be late for my meeting." Ok crazy man whatever you say.


So thats just a sneak look at the world around me in that brief moment in time. All in a day's work... Actually all in just an hour's work.

LATE NIGHTS AT HELL'S KITCHEN

So luckily for me I have served enough time at my job that I no longer have to work the late night shifts anymore. However, I suffered that torture for a good six months and every so often these days..(if Im literally so broke I cant eat) I will pick up a late night shift. Now I know I've said before that this diner tends to attract the odd balls and several crazies but nothing compares to what we see past midnight...This is when it truly becomes...Hell's Kitchen.

Because Diner X is open to the wee small hours of the morning, it attracts many drunk people who show up after their night of clubbing for a greasy burger before returning home and passing out. These people can truly be so much fun! (that is, if you happen to be partying with them) If however, you happen to be a cranky, sober, exhausted waitress having to deal with them... then oh boy... God help you.

One example of drunken messes is this one... I had a group of 20 somethings come in and sit down at my biggest table, they came in a few at a time and didn't want to wait for their friends to arrive so proceeded to give their orders one by one (drunk people have no patience and need food immediately, which, OK I can relate to) they all are shouting over each other "I wanna pancake", "I need more water", "where's the mustard?" AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH, one at a time please! I'm not fucking wonder woman!

On average I tend go to bed around 11 pm so when I have to stay up working until 4 am my brain just FREAKS OUT and tends not to be so good at multi tasking. Or handling anything at all really.
One thing that happens when you are drunk is you literally inhale your food. I put down a plate, go check on another table and turn around to find that person following me around the restaurant slurring for his check. "Dude, I JUST put your food down, what in the hell?!" So this giant table of screaming lunatics now all want to leave separately and pay separately, not so fun trying to split a 15 person check while serving about 20 other tables and running food all at the same time. Anyway, I go to the register to start splitting checks and I see out the corner of my eye one of the customers on that table throwing all the sugars on the floor and pouring ketchup ALL OVER THE TABLE while saying "You wanna tip, here's your fucking tip". He then proceeds to pick up a salt shaker and throws it at me, hitting me in the elbow. Now grouchy, cranky, sleepy waitress doesn't like this... All I see at that point in red. RED. I don't remember having any thoughts of trying to save my job, I think I thought it was worth risking just to give this little prick a piece of my mind. I fly across the restaurant ready to give this fool what he deserved and what happens?... I slip on on of the sugar packets and fall to my knees. Once I land on the floor I lose all sense of empowerment and will to tell this guy anything, I'm now at breaking point and all I can think is "God, kill me now, just let this floor open up and let me fall through it." So now, I'm fighting back the tears, (Look, I'm not a total pussy but combine lack of sleep, stress, abusive customers and now sore knees and you what do you get?... tears, simple). So I pick myself up and pretend I'm fine to the few people who actually bother to ask and I run to the toilet. It's in there that I now burst into total hysterics, totally uncalled for but I am a woman after all, and can only handle so much at 3 am. By the time I've wiped my tears and calmed down I return to the table and hand them their checks, saying nothing, just giving the prick a look of disgust. This probably worked out better then me flying off the handle as his friends felt so bad they dragged him out themselves and left me a big tip as an apology. Well by that point I've lost all will to live but hey I have an extra $40 in my pocket so I guess that's something right?.....

Children... Or as i like to call them.. Arseholes in the making

Either kids now days are reading US Weekly and over dosing on Entertainment Tonight at far too young an age or I have to blame the parents....

I took an order from an 8 year old that went something like this...
"I wanna burger; medium rare with no bun, extra lettuce and a side of steamed broccoli and I want parmesan on the side. Not the powdery one, the shaved one." As my jaw drops to the floor I only have on thought....Scary. Really scary.

This got me thinking about how times have changed since I was a kid. When I was 8 and my parents took me to a restaurant Id pretty much eat what I was given or if anything Id ask for cheese on toast, there's no way Id think to order something medium rare, that's crazy! This then got me comparing England to California.... You just cannot go into a restaurant in London and change the whole menu like you can here. Try it.. Ask a British waiter if you can have your salad chopped, tossed, dressing on side and substitute the romaine for spinach. He will most likely tell you to Piss Off and laugh in your face.

One thing I've discovered about myself is that I really have no idea how to communicate with children. I know that some kids grow up fast but they are still children and need to be spoken to as such. This is when I become socially inept... I literally talk to them as if they are adults.

Example...One child of about 6 years old says, "I wanna burger" to which I stupidly respond, "How would you like that cooked?" To which I get zero response, and his parents look at me as if I'm insane.
Being British I have a filthy mouth on me (as if you hadn't noticed) and I often forget to censor myself around children. I've noticed parents scowl at me like I'm the Anti Christ when I've been loudly talking to one of my co workers about some "Fucking Bitch" at table 107. Oops, sorry.

I really do feel like a total outsider at work when it comes to kids. l feel like all the other waitresses are in on a secret I know nothing about. Whenever a baby or toddler comes in they seem to coo over them in a ridiculous fashion..."Awww look how cute he is." and "Oh my God did you see that baby? Soooo adorable." Am I missing something? Because all I see is a screaming, crying little bastard that's probably keeping it's parents up all night and ruining their sex life.
Of course this makes me feel like a total Arsehole so I find myself lying to fit in.. "Oh yeah...he's so sweet, can't wait to have one myself one day." NAAAHT!

Waitressing + Germaphobe = NIGHTMARE

Last night I served a male couple, as they sat down they asked me to wipe off the table (which was clean FYI) so I grab a cloth and wipe it down. As I walk away I see each of them take out a small bottle of hand sanitizer and pour it on the table and over the silverware, then dry it up with napkins. They catch my eye and see I've been watching and say, "Sorry we're OCD". Now, I'm not judging, I can actually relate to this but what was funny is that when the drinks arrived they didn't use their straws, they put their lips around the glasses... Well folks, Im pretty sure the table was cleaner than those glasses are! I mean I certainly wouldn't drink from them. Busy diner, quick turnaround and only one little man in the back washing dishes... you do the math! So Im sorry boys, you're clearly not as OCD as you think.....

This brings me to the point of my story today... I haven't previously mentioned this but I have major OCD. Im a serious Germaphobe and working in a diner makes this a real nightmare. Not only do I have to wash my hands a thousand times a day but I cannot stop sanitizing the computer screens and all my pens several times during a shift. I usually keep this to myself as one time my boss caught me "cloroxing" the telephone and never let me live it down.

So, remember when the swine flu hit the city? Imagine my reaction to that. Panic, panic, panic. Anytime someone coughed or sneezed at a table I was convinced they had swine flu and I was going to die. I had this one man come in and sit in my section, he was sneezing and coughing like mad and ordered a hot water with honey so I knew it was NOT allergies. I tried to take his order as far away from the table without looking to weird, all the while pretty much holding my breath. He then proceeded to ask me if he could borrow a pen for a minute. "Oh God. Why my bloody pen?" i thought. So I begrudgedly hand it over to him and say, "Just keep it, I have a tons of them", (total lie, in fact I was short on pens that day but there was no f'ing way I was gonna put that thing back in my pocket).

Firstly I think its only common decency to stay the f**k at home, preferably incubated if you're sick. Don't bring your germy ass into a public place so all the patrons and staff can catch it too, you selfish bastards. Secondly why is it that people still try and shake your hand? I mean it just doesn't seem necessary to me in this day and age and meeting hundreds of people on a daily basis means Im obliged to shake a few hands.WHY??????!!!