This is a response to some Dipshit’s op-ed piece in the N.Y. Post. His story is called “You got Served!” so you know it’s quality writing. You can read it here first for context, or if you just hate reading:
Wow Sir, I simply said “Hi”, a quite standard greeting, the basis of any interaction with a new human, so why are you being so hostile and mocking? And yes, I told you my name, because if, by the end of the meal, you’re yelling “waiter!” across the dining room, it’s embarrassing and I obviously haven’t done my job correctly. Well Sir, if you don’t want to be here, you’re welcome to leave, but just to let you know, it’s quite rainy out there. Wait, why the fuck are you yelling?!
Hey Kyle Smith, of the New York Post. Great article. To be honest, I read your “story”(?) and wasn’t the least bit offended because, as the new saying goes, “Opinions are like Kyle Smiths, everybody has one”. But I felt this needed to be addressed, so I looked up your credentials. Then, upon seeing your picture, I almost decided against writing anything, because you already look like sadness incarnate, and how could anyone possibly make you feel worse than you already look like you’re feeling. But then I realized I don’t care how you feel, because you’re a smarmy piece of shit, and obviously don’t care how your “servant” feels. So, if anything, maybe I could enlighten you on a few things about the restaurant industry, which you seem to know alarmingly little about for a journalist who writes for the NY POST.
First off, there’s no “hostage situation” going on with your food. (Until you wrote this, and put your picture on it, you fucking stooge.) But seriously, can we nip this one in the bud already? 10 years, multiple restaurants, never seen it happen. The fact that your server at Applebee’s said they threw someone’s steak on the floor, and you printed it like it’s a tried and true restaurant fact, only further bolsters my assumptions that you’re a moron.
(Full disclosure, I WILL fart on a table, affectionately known as “crop dusting”, and I’ve gotten quite accurate, with little to no collateral damage. But you’ve realllllly gotta earn that one. Judging by your asshole like demeanor and unnecessary venom, Kyle, I’m assuming you’ve been farted on, possibly multiple times in a given night. )
Not all of us are actors. Some of us just enjoy getting to talk to people for a living, the fun, bustling environment, getting a little exercise, making some decent cash. We’re smiling because we generally enjoy our lives and/ or have strong jaw lines, neither of which you’d know anything about. Also, if smiling and being nice to people can put a few extra bucks in my pocket and possibly land me a blow job from one of the girls at this bachelorette party, then I say bring on the White Strips.
Furthermore, I’m not kneeling by your table to be cute, I’m kneeling down because either:
- It’s loud as shit in here, so I’d like to get your order correct, to make sure your night goes well/ avoid the wrath of the Chef when he finds out you wanted the $8 Sea Grass side, not the $32 Sea Bass Special he just wasted.
- I’m tired of having my balls/ ass in peoples faces, or,
- I’ve been on my feet for 7 hours and, fuck it, I’m feeling lazy.
Also, no one, in the history of restaurants, has taken someone’s plate while they still had a fork in their hand and were actively eating. The fact that someone asked “Are you still working on that” means you’ve most likely not touched your $9 sliver of trout in the last 10 minutes, because you’re busy boring your friend with tales of European travels, and it’s perfectly fine for someone to assume you may be finished.
Speaking of Europe, I’ve only been to France once, unlike you, Mr. “Two Weeks a Year”(Good job!). Fuck, if I had known that shoddy, high school level journalism paid so well, I would have gotten out of this “servant” racket a long time ago! Now, since I lack the expertise and experience to critique French dining, I will avoid making any sweeping generalizations (hint, hint) but I can tell you one thing:
Your “problem” with American service is something called hospitality. We are trained to make you feel like a guest in our home. TRAINED. There are 50 other restaurants within a mile radius of where I work, so sorry if we try to go above and beyond to earn your repeat business, in the hopes of not closing down within a year. So yes, we tell you our names, smile, and generally act the way a friend would who wants you to feel welcome and at ease, in the hopes that you’ll enjoy your experience enough to return, and maybe tell a friend. “Cheers” was on the air for 11 seasons, because it was a warm, inviting, “everybody knows your name kind of place”. Had Sam just called everyone “Patron” and “Waitress” (not “Waitron” because that’s the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard), it wouldn’t have lasted 3 episodes. It’s kind of like when you, having once again failed to get laid because you look like an angry frog trying to do long division, head to your favorite Thai “massage” parlor to see Kim Lau, because she “make you feel special”. Well, Mr. Smith, we just wan make you feel special too, is that so wrong?
Fine, so you prefer the ‘business like transaction” of French service? Ok, well there’s plenty of no frills places you can frequent to enjoy such incredible service, but most of them take place at a window at 2.a.m., with my girlfriend drunkenly crying in the passenger seat because there’s no mas “cheesy gordita crunches”. Enjoy!
I actually ate at quite a few places in France, and found the service was just like in America, minus the giving a shit about your experience, because they don’t get tipped. Yeah, it was Amazing! Someone coming up and saying “I am listening” doesn’t make them a good server, it makes him rude, disinterested, and condescending. To be honest, I found that demeanor grating, and longed for someone to make this foreigner feel welcome. And I totally found some, and they we’re totally great. But some servers we’re downright assholes, to me, and I’m awesome, so I’m surprised you made it out of there without someone just up and shitting directly onto your table. Well, you know what they say, “misery loves company”.
I will now relish in the fact that even French people think you’re an asshole.
That's about it Mr. Smith, I’m done here, but only because I’ve got to head into my Servant Job to try and make scumbags like you feel special. But it obviously won’t work, and I look forward to you leaving. The fact that you try to punish my smiling and warm, friendly service with an intentionally shitty tip is unnecessary, because we’ve already been punished with your existence.
Go fuck yourself.
Oh, and hey servers (There’s a ton of us, dipshit), here’s a picture of Kyle. I know it’s hard to look at without crying/laughing, but remember this face.