Check, Please

There is nothing worse than bad service at a restaurant. I'm very rich.
I'm not going to Sizzler with the rest of you freaks, sticking my face in
some trough full of food that's been sitting under a light bulb for the last
three days. I'm talking about a real, sit down, linen tablecloth, bone
china, fine dining establishment.

Don't cry to me how hard it is to be a waiter. It's not. You have one
fucking job. I tell you what I want to eat, you bring it to me. You don't
have to cook it. You don't have to slaughter the cow or plant the
vegetables. If you can hold a pencil and carry a tray, you have all of the
necessary skills be an excellent waiter.

Take the order. Get it right. Give the order to the kitchen. Bring the
order out. Check back in five minutes to see if everything is OK. Come
back a couple more times over the course of the meal and keep refilling my
drink until I say I've had enough. Who are you my mother? My parole
officer? My AA sponsor? No, you're none of those people.

That's the next important point. Here are some things that are not part of
your job. If I tell you the steak is not done how I like it, don't lecture
me on the finer points of rare versus medium rare or they will be lecturing
you on the finer points of reconstructive surgery after pulling my steak
knife out of your fucking chest. Take it back, now.

It is not your job to stand in back and console the hostess with the searing
case of Chlamydia because she was the locomotive in a fuck train with the
12 Filipino bus boys. You keep your ass where I can see it. I just might
want some salsa, and it's none of your fucking business what I intend to
use it for.

Los Angeles has an additional problem, where most of the people struggling
to be waiters, are really struggling actors. Here's a thought. Why not
"act" like a decent fucking waiter? Try to win the fucking Oscar for your
performance.

Keep this in mind. You don't get a tip. You earn a tip. You've got too
many tables? Well I suggest you focus on the well dressed guy who just
ordered the twin lobsters, because those two old whores splitting a salad
are not going to help put you through community college.

Don't tell me from now on if you see me at your restaurant you'll jerk off
in my food. Fuck you. You think I believe someone as lazy, and with as
little motivation as you, is now going to show some initiative? This is the
same guy who can't remember not to put lemon in my water? The only
good thing about bad waiters is that they happily accept my stolen credit
cards, and even say, "Have a good night Mrs. Yakamora." You have a
good night too, dick.