Monday:

Customer: “How’s the osso buco?”

Cheer: “It’s really quite nice. Have you had pork osso buco before?”

Customer: “Yes. Is it veal?”

Tuesday:

Customer: “I’m thinking of ordering the pork osso buco.”

Cheer: “Okay.”

Customer: “Is it turkey?”

Cheer: “Your stupidity makes me want to cry. Yes. It’s a pork-turkey osso buco.”

Customer: “Excellent. I’ll have that.”

Wednesday:

Customer: “Tell me about the osso buco.”

Cheer: “Well, our osso buco is pork and it’s wonderful. It’s served with the classic preparation and is one of our most popular entrées.”

Customer: “So, it’s not veal?”

Cheer: “No. It’s pork.”

Customer: “But osso buco is supposed to be made with veal.”

Cheer: “Osso buco is usually made with veal, yes.”

Customer: “So, why do you call it osso buco if it’s not veal?”

Cheer: “Just to piss you off.”

Customer: “That’s what I thought.”

Thursday:

Cheer: “What would you like for your entrée?”

Customer: “The osso buco.”

Cheer: “Great.”

-20 minutes later-

Cheer: “Careful, this plate is hot.”

Customer: “What’s this?”

Cheer: “Osso buco.”

Customer: “Oh.”

Cheer: “Is something wrong?”

Customer: “It doesn’t look like osso buco.”

Cheer: “Oh. That’s because you can’t read.”

Customer: “What?!”

Cheer: “The menu clearly states PORK OSSO BUCO, but you were expecting veal.”

Customer: “Yes, yes I was.”

Cheer: “Sucks to be you.”

Customer: “Yes, yes it does.”

Cheer: “Maybe you should learn to read. Literacy is pretty helpful in life.”

Customer: “I’ll just bow my head in shame and eat something I didn’t want cause I’m a lame-ass who can’t read.”

Cheer: “Enjoy!”

Friday:

Customer: “Can we split the osso buco?”

Cheer: “Sure. I’ll bring you an extra plate, because I’m just such a nice person.”

Customer: “Well, do you think they could split if for us in the kitchen?”

Cheer: “No.”

Customer: “Why not?”

Cheer: “Because there’s only one shank.”

Customer: “So…why can’t they split it?”

Cheer: “Did you ride the short bus to school?”

Customer: “I don’t know.”

Cheer: “Good to know who I’m dealing with.”

Customer: “So…the kitchen doesn’t like splitting entrées?”

Cheer: “No, the kitchen doesn’t have a bone saw.”

Customer: “I don’t get it.”

Cheer: “Obviously.”

Party size: 4

Table: not mine

Customers: 2 elderly married couples who might already be dead

Cheer: “I’m just minding my server business…do do do…takin’ care of my tables.”

Random lady not at one of Cheer’s tables: “Excuse me, miss.”

Cheer: “We pool tips in this restaurant, so it is to my benefit to stop and try to please you. What do you need?”

Lady: “I just wanted to pull you aside and waste some of your time.”

Cheer: “I’m used to that. Shoot.”

Lady: “Well, I thought I ought to mention to you how completely appalled I am by that gentleman over there.” (She points across the dining room.)

Cheer: “Oh. What is his crime?”

Lady: “Well, he’s failed to remove his baseball cap in this fine dining establishment.”

Cheer: “Seriously? That’s why you pulled me aside?”

Lady: “It’s really bothering me because I was born in 1860 and my mind is incapable of catching up with the times.”

Cheer: “I see.”

Lady: “Even though I’m seated with my back to him, I know he’s wearing it. I just can’t enjoy myself.”

Cheer: “You know you’re a broken human, right?”

Lady: “No, because I’m a total narcissist who thinks everyone else is here to serve my needs and agree with me.”

Cheer: “Well, we can do that for you, but, it’ll all be a lie in order to get you to tip us more.”

Lady: “I don’t know what tipping is. I have a husband who controls all the money keeps me in a cage of the past in our Carmel cottage.”

Cheer: “That sounds about right.”

Lady: “Anyhow, I’d like you to tell the owner that he really ought to enforce proper dining rules. He needs to set this lowly being straight and ask him to remove his hat – like any civilized person would.”

Cheer: “I’ll be sure to relay that message. PS I’m totally lying to you right now.”

Lady: “But, golly, you’re good at lying and I feel so much better.”

Cheer: “Good. Now slide gently back into the coma you call living and I’ll be on my way.”

Lady: “Yes, I certainly will. Thank you.”

Party size: 6

Customers: Boring old people with a lot of money who may or may not actually like each other. 3 dudes 3 wives.

Same old bullshit with this table until I was taking their dessert orders. As I circled the table jotting down what type of refined sugar and fat each guest would like, and in what format they would most appreciate their coffees, I came to a woman.

Cheer: “What would you like for dessert?”

Woman: “De nada.”

Cheer furrows her brow in confusion. Woman notices Cheer’s perplexed look and scoffs.

Woman: “De nada. It means nothing. I don’t want anything.”

Because I have taken more than one Spanish class, I know that ‘de nada’ literally means ‘of nothing’ and is how to say ‘you’re welcome,’ and ‘nada’ alone means ‘nothing.’ So, I asked the woman what she’d like for dessert and she responded ‘you’re welcome.’ I contemplated correcting her language error. After a moment of pause, I decided I didn’t like the scoffy-McScofferson woman and decided to leave her to drown in her own ignorance. Nothing is quite as sweet as letting someone who treats you as an ignorant servant brazenly display her own ignorance for all the world to see.

Party size: 2

Customer 1: Lady in her late 70s. It’s her birthday. She may or may not be aware of this fact.

Customer 2: Daughter of customer 1. In her 40s. She’s entirely too smiley. She also holds a look of vacancy as if her mind is in permanent hiding from the painful outside world.

These women were given the option of three tables which were placed entirely too close to one another. Like choosing the wrong urinal, anyone who chooses the middle table missed urinal etiquette day in school and/or is an alien who likes to sit really close to strangers. They chose the middle table.

After the proper type of H20, the fruitiest cocktail and sweetest white wine were delivered to their table, I journey to tell them the night’s specials. In my place of employment, there are no less than 6 specials on any given night and the telling of them can be a lengthy process.

Cheer: “Are you interested in hearing the specials?”

Aliens who like to sit really close to strangers: “Why yes, that would be lovely…like a ride on a fluffy cloud with Care Bears.”

Awkward pause.

Cheer: “Interesting analogy. Moving on… The soup tonight is spicy and you look fairly wimpy so you’re not going to order it…”

From the moment I begin reciting specials, Smiley-Pants begins nodding her head. People do this. It’s some kind of lizard brain reaction to one human telling another human information. Listener human nods showing he understands. Sometimes this mechanism spins out of control. Example: customer 2 aka bobblehead.

Cheer: “Wow. I’ve seen some serious head nodding in my short career as a waitress, but, I must say, you take the cake.”

Bobblehead: “Why thank you. I like cake.”

Cheer: “That’s good. Enjoyment of cake earns you normal-person points. Unfortunately, your timing on sharing that information negates said points. But I have lots of other specials to get through to take your mind off of your recent failure in social communication.”

Bobblehead: “Does that mean we’re getting back onto the cloud ride?”

Cheer: “Right back on that cloud. Let’s go. Our other appetizer is one that you will be enamored with and will also think is an entrée. Upon asking me to repeat it, you’ll realize it’s an appetizer and that you really can’t eat that much food if you plan on maintaining your aura of frailty. PS You’re still vehemently nodding your head.”

Lady: “Yes, I’m creepy and good at nodding.”

Cheer: “You’re serious about agreeing with me, huh? I could probably tell you that all of our food had been contaminated with bird flu and you’d have the same reaction with the head bobble.”

Bobblehead: “Why, yes. You speak only the truth.”

Cheer: “Ok. I’m two specials deep into a list of 6. I’m now smiling at you for no reason because it’s all I can do not to actually laugh at you. I’m really having a hard time here. It would be rather helpful if you’d just pause the whole head nodding business so I don’t have to forfeit the tip from your table due to my inappropriate laughing in your face.”

Nodder: “I really have no control over my head. It knows you’re telling me specials and it’s programmed to agree with you. I don’t understand the world so I really don’t know how to control my motor functions. Sorry, dear, but until you complete your specials spiel, I’ll be unable to return to normal.”

Cheer: “I feel like you just over shared, but I think I asked for it.”

Lady: “What’s over sharing?”

Cheer: “Let’s make a deal. You do your weird person thing and I’ll just look at your mom while I tell specials and we’ll all avoid an awkward outburst of server laughter.”

Lady: “Yay! Laughter!”

Cheer: “Our special fish tonight is Salmon… and peripheral vision is not my friend right now. I can still see your damn head. I’m just going to power through. I’ll just swallow my giggles and continue to grin like a moron…We also have pasta which you might like. It’s fresh and it’s got pasta in it. I’m going to level with ya. I’m bailing early. We only have 4 specials for you. Everyone else who doesn’t threaten my sanity gets 6 options, but I’m pretty much going to grab your head and football victory slam it into the floor to make you stop, or I’m going to run screaming now so I may release my reactionary laughter into the kitchen. After I’ve recovered, I’ll return for your order.”

Ladies: “Oh. Tee hee. We don’t know much about football.”

Cheer: “Of course not.”

Party size: 2

Customer 1: Man in jeans, t-shirt and baseball hat. May or may not be married to customer 2, but definitely simulates reproduction with her regularly.

Customer 2: Woman who simulates reproduction with customer 1

Cheer: “Hi southerners who would never step foot in Carmel if they weren’t in town for Laguna Seca races.”
Southerners: “Hi. We’re completely boring and you probably won’t think much of us all night.”

Cheer: “I agree. So, now that we’re on the same page, let’s get this snooze party started and I’ll take your order.”

Southerners: “Okay. We’d like some food to start and some other food for our entrées.”

Cheer: “Great. I’ll just go to the kitchen now and pretty much forget you’re around until your food comes up.”

Southerners: “We’re cool with that. We won’t draw any attention either cause we don’t really like each other, so you won’t hear us talking and interrupting the Zen calm of the restaurant.”

Cheer: “Alright. You’re so boring I’m just going to skip to the end of your meal–the part of the story where you become interesting.”

Southerners: “Whatever.”

Cheer: (to man) “I see you’ve decided to display your lack of fine dining experience by placing your cloth napkin in a heap on your plate.”

Man: “Yeah, pretty much.”

Cheer: “Well, I find that entirely gauche. But you’re not the first person to display his ignorance of restaurant manners in this format, so I’m not really fazed by it, and you’re still boring.”

Man: “I like being boring.”

Cheer: “I can see that. Anyway, now that you signified you’re finished eating I’ll just pick up these plates and ask you if you’d like to look at our dessert menu.”

Man: “Okay, but could I please take that to-go?”

Cheer: “Uhhh…I’m holding one plate with nothing but a vibe of the food that was once there and another plate with your napkin in it. Like in the remaining food. So, I’m scared to ask, but, you want the napkin plate to-go?”

Man: “Mmm hmm.”

Cheer: “You just left the realm of boring and entered the world of hilarious.”

Man: “I don’t understand.”

Cheer: “I don’t think I could explain it to you. I’m going to run away to the kitchen now and laugh a lot. With my coworkers. At you. And you’re gauche-itude.”

Man: “Alright. That’s sounds good.”

Cheer returns to kitchen.

Cheer: “Hey coworkers…”

Coworkers: “What’s up?”

Cheer presents the two plates in her hands.

Cheer: “Guess which plate this table wants to-go?

Coworkers: “Shut. Up.”

Cheer: “Do you think he wants the napkin in his to-go box?

Coworkers: “I think it’s required to give it to him.”

Cheer: “Right-o. Jose, will you box everything on this plate for me while I proffer our new favorite customers dessert?

Jose: “Absolutely.”

There are always at least two people flagging me down to answer the question, “What’s this?” This means there are always at least two people could not figure out basic tool use and should not be considered homo sapiens. The following story is not unique. Therefore there are no table specifications about party size and diner descriptions.

Customers: “Hi, we’re retarded.”

Cheer: “OK, you’re not setting yourself apart from most people I wait on.”

Customers: “Tee-hee. See, we think that if we giggle while we let our retarded-ness be known, it makes us less retarded.”

Cheer: “Well, you’re wrong, but continue. I’ll humor you.”

Customers hold up the oil and vinegar cruet from the table.

Customers: “What’s this?”

Cheer: “Oil and vinegar.”

Customers: “Ooooohhhhh…”

Cheer: “Glad I could clear that up for you. See ya!”

Customers: “Wait.”

Cheer: “Yes?”

Customers: “How do you use it?”

Cheer: “Excuse me?”

Customers: “How do you get the oil and vinegar out?”

Cheer: “Wow. … OK. … Sorry. I just needed a second to process how slow your processors are. Whoooo. … OK. See this spout here?”

Customers: “Un-huh.”

Cheer: “That’s where the oil comes out when you hold the bottle at an angle.”

Customers: “Ooooohhhhh…”

Cheer: “And see this other spout here?”

Customers: “Yeah.”

Cheer: “That’s where the vinegar comes out.”

Customers: “Tee-hee. Wow! Thanks!”

Cheer: “You’re welcome. Please don’t reproduce.”

Party size: 2
Customers: Overweight man and his wife. Both are in their early 50s. Tourists.

I meander over to the table and get them started like all other tables.

Cheer: “Can I up-sell you bottled water or do you prefer icy tap water brought by a Mexican?”

Customers: “We prefer icy tap water brought by a Mexican.”

After the water has successfully found its way to their table, thanks to my Mexican partner in crime, I jog on over for stage 2.

Cheer: “Would you appreciate it if I brought you a strong alcoholic beverage in order to get your buzz on, in order to enjoy consuming food with your fat spouse?”

Customers: “No. We’re used to being boring and fat together.”

Cheer: “Okay. Would you like to hear our dinner specials?”

Customers: “Ooooh, aahhh, yes.”

Cheer: “We have a approximately one billion specials which I will now recite to you with perfect pitch and rhythm. I have done this so many times that I will zone out and think about more interesting things, like the sex I had last night, how toothpicks are made, or maybe about how blueberry muffins never seems to have enough blueberries. After I’m done I’ll snap out of autopilot and we’ll go from there. Let’s get started.

The soup tonight is the same soup we had last night and the night before. The other “specials” are available most nights and really ought to be printed on the menu. It’s nearing the end of the season for this one thing we have that comes with jicama. You will never see the word jicama printed anywhere and the only way you know we have jicama in our kitchen is because I just verbally told you about it. Also, we have a snazzy steak with a fancy preparation. The end.”

I leave the table and allow them to ponder which types of edibles will most suit them in the upcoming hour. After an amount of time which I deem appropriate for making such decisions, I return.

Cheer:  “Do you have any questions that I can truthfully answer, ask someone else for the answer, or outright lie about, but in a very convincing manner?”

Man: “Yeah…Tell me about that special again…the one with the jick-uh-muh.” (The j being said like the j in jump.)

I hear the man’s bastardization of the word jicama but I do not immediately realize the significance of the situation because people bastardize words all the time in the restaurant. It’s a favorite past time of diners. I default to repeating the word back to the customer with the correct pronunciation. It’s like teaching children to speak properly. No need for an explanation, just say it back to them correctly and they pick it up.

Cheer: “Oh yes, the dish with JICAMA (hee-kah-mah). It’s an amazing journey to take your taste buds on. It’s also expensive, so I highly recommend it.”

Man: “Ok. So, it has a lot of jick-uh-muh?”

I now realize the significance of the situation. It dawns on me that the man didn’t misread the word jicama because it was only brought to his attention through my verbal mention of it. This man is trying to perform the same say-the-word-back pronunciation technique on me. He’s trying to correct my pronunciation. I declare war.

Cheer: “Not an overwhelming amount of JICAMA. JICAMA is pretty mild in flavor, so it’s not going to take over the flavor of the dish. The JICAMA is sliced into small pieces and mixed with the other vegetables that are not JICAMA. The JICAMA just adds the right undertone to perfectly compliment the non-JICAMA aspects of this dish, which includes JICAMA.”

Man: “I’ll have the soup.”