Staff Sundays: Dominated by Male Servers

The following is this week's installment of things that I overheard my anonymous coworkers say; enjoy.

Male server, "Dear [restaurant name], why is there even a "check for app" button when all the food is going to come out at the same time?"

Female host, to server, before seating a table in the server's section, "I'm going to apologize in advance for doing this to you. We really do like you."

Manager, in utility closet, "I may or may not have just unplugged the cable TV boxes." 

All TVs with sporting games have now gone blank.

Male server, to fellow server, "Can you hold out your arm so that when I hit you with this, I can see if it leaves an imprint?" 

Manager, "I wish there was a button on the computer for that -- 'comp my f-up'." 

Male server, to potential date, "Can you read this phone number? Sorry... it's on a paper towel."

Female server, "I did not expect them to tip me. I forgot their side of ranch... and they're from the south."

Manager, "Are you being SASSY with me? That's it... you're off the food-chain."

Male server, "Do they realize who I am? I mean, I get that I'm black but... this ain't 1915." 

Female server, "Today is Sunday. Jesus and them... they like... rested."

Male server, in response to the previous, "Yeah... and Jesus told Mary that he needed to change his availability." 

Staff Sundays: Things my coworkers said.

While this blog is primarily about the people who dine in Times Square, tonight the focus will shift; the following comments and dialogues you are about to read really happened -- the names and other incriminating details have been subtracted. This will now become a Sunday night ritual known as: Staff Sundays. Enjoy this reoccurring piece on restaurant realism. 

Male server: "Well, he sort of has hobbit feet. You know, like kankles. Kankles on guys are hot."

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Female server, to a taken-Male server: "Do you have any brothers that are available?"

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Female server: "Well, they left 20%. They should have left more to cover the three trips I made to the kitchen for extra ranch dressing. Seriously, who are these people & where do they breed?"

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Male server, to manager in kitchen: "Yeah, remember when you'd hit me really hard and I'd make you comp my meals?" 

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Female server: "This place doesn't drive me to drink, it's the people in this place that do it. I'm not an alcoholic, but... it's a borderline situation."

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Manager: "I am thirty years old, I manage people who are in their twenties, who have graduated high school, and most of them? Most of them have gone on & graduated college, too. Can you please explain to me... why am I settling arguments about CUPS?"

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Bartender: "Where do we keep the guns? Side pantry?"

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Male Server, dumbfounded, to server: "Yeah, this lady asked if she could get less noodles in her scampi... less noodles." 

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Female server, angry & talking to herself at the soda machine: "You want water? With no ice? Really, like I care about mixing two states of matter... I have a [bleeping] college degree, lady." 

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Male server: "Look, I know Raven Simone may be fat, but she's the one on national television in Times Square and I'm the one serving at a restaurant; props to her."

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Two female servers talking about a private matter & a manager approaches.

Female server: "... and then... (notices manager)... HEY... hey... I came up with a new birthday song, it goes, "Hey... it's your birthday... Hey, it's your... okay, I'm going."

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Male server, to table: "Of course we can do that. We're really good at special orders here. I like pushing all the modification buttons on the computer."

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Male server: "Is tonight really happening? Is this real? It's 7pm and I haven't had one table that speaks English. I knew I should have listened to my parents... but I wanted to be an actor."

Can you speak up? I'm trying to compete with textsfromlastnight.com,