Dear Customers Who Are Apparently Terrified Of Me

Dear Customers Who Are Apparently Terrified of Me,

It’s a phenomenon I witness at least once per shift. I approach your table, ask how it’s going, and attempt to offer drinks or appetizers. I go to great lengths to be friendly. My voice now reaches octaves of cheerfulness I never knew possible until I started waitressing. Even on my most tired or frustrating days, I am confident that I look something along the lines of this: (Like a friendly waitress, that is, not an airbrushed Keri Russell.)

But at least once per shift, one of you gives me a terrified, confused look that leads me to believe I must look like this:

In case you weren’t aware, this is a restaurant, and I am a waitress. It is standard protocol for me to come to your table and engage in radical behavior like asking what you would like to eat. I’m sorry if this is disturbing in any way. If you could please help me better understand this “terrified of my waitress” phenomenon so that I can make the necessary changes to appear less like a hungry demon ready to devour you, I would really appreciate it.

Sincerely,

Twenty Something Waitress

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“Keep the change”….Literally

Dear Table 12,

Thank you for this generous tip. I now have the ability to:

1) Make 38 wishes in a wishing well. I wish you don’t ever sit in my section ever again, multiplied times 38.

2) Develop that early onset hunchback I’ve always wanted, as a result of carrying an equivalent of 25 pounds of change on the left side of my apron.

3) Transport myself back to the turn of the century, where I will buy penny candy for all the neighborhood children and still have money left over for a loaf of bread, a carton of milk and a gallon of gas.

Thank you for these amazing opportunities.

Sincerely, Twenty Something Waitress

For the love of God, Seat Yourself

Dear extremely annoying customer from last night,

When I gave you a friendly greeting and said “Hi there, go ahead and take a menu and seat yourself,” and you responded, “Wow, should I go back there in the kitchen and cook my own food too?”, not only did you fail to realize that I’ve heard this “joke” about 100 times already, but that my inclination towards homicide steadily increases each time I hear it. Please re-think your take on comedy before walking into my establishment.

Sincerely,
Twenty Something Waitress

“Just Say No”

When I was growing up, there was that turning point in childhood where the dangers of peer pressure were starting to become more and more imminent.  As a school-wide initiative, they set aside one day in class to teach all the 4th graders about the concept of “Just say No to Drugs.” I learned, along with many of my classmates, to Just Say No, loud and proud. It was 1992, I was nine, and clearly, I was about to succumb to the rampant use of crack cocaine on the school junglegym at any moment.

Probability wise, you know at least one student had to be absent from class that day. Multiply those absent students by hundreds upon thousands of classrooms learning the Just Say No campaign across America, and you will have the amount of people who now, as adults, don’t know how to Just Say No to a drug they never warned us about—our most absurd desires and demands. And where do these adults end up, you wonder? They end up in my restaurant, sitting at a booth as I hover above them, waiting for some kind of thing that resembles common sense to come out of their mouth, and instead feeling like I am being bashed repeatedly in the head with a cave man’s club.

Take today’s daily crisis:’

Continue reading

Twenty Something (Pirate) Waitress

Dear Friends,

In the spirit of the Halloween season which is now upon us, look no further than Twenty Something Waitress for all your costume ideas.

Here’s what a child’s pirate costume looks like:

Here’s what a waitress looks like:

And here was my interpretation of a Pirate Waitress in the Halloween of 1993:

Yeah. That’s me on the right.  Continue reading

Dear Too Much Information

Dear Too Much Information,

I feel like we might have misunderstood one another the other night. I want to apologize for my speechlessness and overall disbelief when I approached the table, asked if you were ready to order, and you told me you were on your period. Maybe I wasn’t clear when I said “Would you like fries with that?” and instead gave you the impression that I wanted to know the details of your murderous menstrual cycle. I’m sorry I could not make the “18 brownie sundaes” you requested or support you more fully in your endeavors to “kill everyone who crosses your path.” I was very busy that night and had many other tables to tend to. Preparing an ungodly amount of dessert to cater to the surge of estrogen coursing through your body wasn’t my highest priority, and I apologize. Thank you for that awesome sequence of too much information, and confirming for me that yes, the people I wait on CAN get even crazier than I ever thought possible. I look forward to hearing from you again in another 28-32 days.

Sincerely,

Twenty Something Waitress