I cried over Horizontal Cut Chicken - Restaurant Industry
Welcome BACK, to Day 2 of the week of ServerThoughts™ return.
Since I like my job, I’m going to be vague about some of the food on our menu and the name of the company. So from now on if I talk about my old job, I’ll say **p*eb**s and refer to my current job, as just my work. Cool, let’s continue.
We used to have this manager at work named Billy, and he was the absolute worst. He ended up getting fired in December 2018, because a bunch of people went to HR about him being an asshole.
One of my coworkers actually wrote an anonymous letter to corporate about him, and wrote a detailed letter about everything he had said towards her or how he acted as a manager.
Here’s an unofficial copy of what she wrote:
I hated Billy. He was misogynist as fuck, and loved to talk shit about the employees to anyone that wanted to listen. One time I was in the weeds and asked him if he could bring one of my tables soup, and he asked me if he needed to change the seating chart and give me less tables since I was unable to do my job.
I think that’s one of the last times I talked to Billy. He was a shitty manager that would smoke out of his weed pen on our back doc, during a busy Friday or Saturday night. Us servers would run around the restaurant trying to find Billy because we needed discounts, and this motherfucker was getting lit. Okay yeah, that’s how I’m trying to be too, but I can’t, because I have to grate Parmesan cheese on my customers’ pasta. Along with other important job duties that I totally have.
Totally.
No judgment though, when I worked at The B’s, I smoked before, after, and during my shift. I also wasn’t the manager, so Billy has no excuse.
This past Labor Day (2018), I was working a Monday lunch shift and there were only 4 servers scheduled. My other manager (Sasha) who does our server schedule forgot it was a holiday and that kids and some adults would be off of school/work, so we were short staffed af when I walked in at 12 pm.
It was chaos. I immediately had 4 tables when I walked in, and I was trying to help my co-workers who were running around like chickens with their heads cut off.
I wasn’t supposed to be a morning closer, but an hour into my shift my manager who does my schedule told me that she hopes it was okay that I’m staying to close, because the closer has to leave early for a dentist appointment. Alright, bet. I’m a closer now, sucks but it’s whatever.
We usually have two managers working during lunch and dinner shifts, always. There’s a manager running the floor, and one running the kitchen. Billy was running the floor, and the other manager (Sasha) was running the kitchen.
Billy and Sasha aren’t there real names, as you may have assumed. I love preserving people’s privacy by exploiting them anonymously on my blog.
I had a table of three girls on Labor Day. Two teenage daughters and their mother. I knew they were going to be a difficult table the moment they ordered three waters in take-out cups with lemon.
A chill table doesn’t order their drinks in take-out cups, and that’s a fuckin’ fact Jack.
They ended up ordering two pizzas without bacon, because they don’t eat pork. And a chicken salad, but they wanted their chicken cut vertically.
Y’all. I still have to take a second and think about what directions vertical and horizontal are. I’m not even saying this for comedic purposes. I really do have to think hard about which direction vertical and horizontal are.
Just a reminder that I’m 22 and graduate college in a year, and I don’t know off the top of my head if vertical is up and down or side to side.
The chicken in the salad they ordered is usually shredded, but does have some vertical pieces in the bunch.
Anyways, I put in their food with all their mods (there were more modifications but I’m going to be vague. I actually like this job, so I’m not trying to expose where I work).
The food comes out and the table claims that their pizzas are cold, and that the chicken was NOT vertical, even though they specifically told me they wanted it cut vertical and they know the General Manager and the woman’s husband knows the General Manager and they are customers there and they know my boss.
Okay bitch, I know my general manager too. He’s my boss. He hired me. I see him more than my own dad, you’re not special.
Every time I tell my GM that customers will tell us that they know him, he says, “Everyone knows me. My name is on the building.”
I can’t wait to finish school and get a big girl career and get to say shit like that without it being bragging.
When I walked into the restaurant that day, I did not expect that a portion of my shift would be arguing about the direction that chicken was cut on a salad. But there I was, arguing with one of the daughters of that three top, about her side to side cut chicken.
Their pizzas were cold, so we had two new ones made. When the mom of the table told me that they were cold, I apologized, and said “If they are cold, I’m sorry” that way they weren’t too mad at me, but I still wasn’t siding with them that the meal was cold. It’s not how I would usually handle a situation like that, but I knew from the moment those bitches ordered water in take-out cups, it was over.
Apparently, when I made Billy go over to talk to that table, the women tried to say that I had touched their pizzas and agreed with them that their food was cold.
Look, I’m not a Veteran of the restaurant industry but I know one of the number one rules is to never touch a customer’s food. Regardless if they are trying to show you that the temperature of their food is not up to par.
I’m dumb and a bitch, but I’m not a dumb bitch, so I did not put my finger on their pizzas.
They also kept trying to bring up the vertical chicken to Billy, but he had already taken off the salad when they confronted me about the pizzas. I had him take it off before he even greeted the table, because one of the girls sent back the salad and didn’t want a new one.
The girl who ordered the salad kept repeating that she told me she wanted it cut vertically, and how this never happens when they sit with the bartender.
Okay then walk your ass over to the bar, and sit with the bartender. The fuck? Do you think I care? Do you think this offends me? Their faces offended me. The fact that I now had to stay until shift change, offended me. Sit with the bartender, I literally do not care.
^^ ME to 86% of my customers.
I explained to her that yes, not all the chicken was cut the way she wanted, but I pointed out vertical pieces in the salad. Just to be a bitch (but not a dumb one). I also told her I wrote a note when I rung in the order for it, to be cut the way she asked.
I special mod’d that shit and it still wasn’t made correctly.
I’m proud of myself for not throwing the BOH under the bus, because I could of easily said the cook making the salad just didn’t read the ticket. But no. I’m an adult now (I guess) so I tried to use logic to show these ladies that they were wrong and dumb.
Billy took off one of the pizzas after talking to them, and hearing the mom talk about how unhappy her husband would be. Okay bitch, no one cares about your husband, just like they don’t care that you know my boss, the general manager.
I’m pretty sure they ended up tipping me, and the two new pizzas they got were up to their standard.
Looking back at the time, I was on the verge of tears and wanted to leave. It was so busy and nothing was making that table satisfied.
This was actually the second and last time I’ve got teary eyed at this job, and the only time I’ve considered walking out and quitting my job. I don’t get offended by most things that happen at the restaurant, but I couldn’t deal with having people argue with me and be rude as shit, while trying to juggle my full section.
I probably should have screamed in the freezer, and I would of been better.
So the vertical chicken bitches happened on Labor Day 2018 which was back in September. I have not seen these women until about a month ago. I started writing this post a month ago, and a few days after I had started the post, that’s when I saw the women sitting at the bar, drinking from their take-out cups.
I saw them again at the bar with their dad/husband, like 2 weeks after seeing them again a month ago.
Was I the reason they strictly eat at the bar? Maybe. Am I fine with it? Completely.
I don’t have time to special mod what direction you want you chicken cut in, and then have to relay that message to the kitchen, just in case they choose not to read the ticket.
Moral of the story, eat your damn chicken the way it comes. Fin.
See you tomorrow, where I reveal more about what got Billy the dumbass manager fired. Also how weirdly close the managers are to the staff. I literally drink with Emily my other manager?? So weird.
Xoxo,
serverthoughts.
