Worktastic

So I just got done with my Sunday shift at Chili's, and there were a couple of things that annoyed me ...

First was our lounge server, Kelli, who always works on Sundays. She is hugely pregnant (due next month), 25 years old with two or three kids already. Nice enough girl, but ... slow, slow server. Every Sunday I find myself filling up her iced teas and waters, spotting tables before she does and asking if she needs any help. It's not like I want to take her tables -- she even told me she missed me while I was on vacation, because the bartender who worked my Sunday shift took every other table in the lounge, so she only got half of what she would have. But it's frustrating to me to see people looking around for the server, then they look at me, and I want to tell them, "Hey, I'm not serving you right now because your server thinks she can handle it."

So she's checking the schedule for next week and writing it down while I'm in the back eating my lunch. (The new southwestern vegetable soup -- yummy! -- with a house salad with romaine mix, no croutons, no cheese and the new fire-roasted tomato vinaigrette.) And she says, "I love Amy." (Amy is the manager who makes the schedule -- the manager who told me when I called about getting more shifts that people are fighting for shifts up in Conifer and I'd be better off down in Lakewood or, god forbid, Applewood -- I am never going back to that store. But I digress. Point is, after the general manager told me I could have more shifts and he would rather have me on the floor than someone who sucks, Amy tells me that there are no shifts to be had.)

And I say, "Oh?"

And she says, "Yeah. Everyone else is getting their shifts cut, but I still have all my shifts."

I said something noncommittal, but inside I'm thinking, "What?" Because some of those are lounge shifts, too, where you need to be able to handle nine tables at once. And Kelli, bless her heart, can't.

Take today as an example. (I'm glad this happened; these people made my day.) This couple came and sat down at Table 75 in the lounge. They were waiting for Kelli to make her way over there; for my part, I'm trying not to make eye contact, until I go back to the kitchen and ask Kelli if she wants me to take them. She says, "No, I got it." I say okay and go back to the bar.

The woman in the couple comes up to the bar and asks if they can order beer. I say sure and pour their beers; when I turn around, they've moved to the bar. This couple comes in frequently and they work while they eat lunch (it's a bunch of paperwork), so being at the bar I'm sure was not what they really wanted, because there's not as much space. But as long as they're comfortable, I don't care; so I take their food order -- and by the time I'm finished ringing it in, Kelli comes by, ready to give them silverware and take their drink order. That's how slow this girl is.

They sit and drink and eat, and they end up leaving me a huge tip ($17 and change on a $28 bill) and tell me, "Thanks for the excellent service; that's why we moved to the bar."

So you can see why I'm not exactly sure why Kelli, of all people, is getting to keep all her shifts at the restaurant. Fair much? I don't think so.

Second: We were busy today. At 2 p.m., Kelli wants to leave, so the manager cuts her. Then we start getting about a billion tables in the lounge. I have another server take one of them, but I'm running my ass off (I have several people sitting at my bar, too), and then my relief calls -- the bartender who comes in to replace me. She is a sweetheart; her name is Deanna. She asks if it's okay with me if she's fifteen minutes late. (She's supposed to be in by 3 p.m.) She's done that before, and normally it's fine, but today I'm so slammed that I say, "We're really busy, so please get here as soon as you can." She gets there at 3:03 according to the computer clock; I'm still running around, getting people refills, making drinks for the dining room, trying to figure out how to make a lemon-drop martini with Tuaca (gross, I know), running food, yadda yadda blah blah. And she decides it's time to walk around and talk to everybody. Finally, I said, "Deanna, can you please clock in?" Because there are people sitting down at the bar; I don't want to open a tab that I'm just going to have to transfer over to her. Or two or three tabs, as it was by the time she decided to actually start working. Like I said, she's a sweetie, and normally I don't care, but I'd been running around and was ready to leave Chili's.

So that was my day. There was one really funny incident: While I'm busy running, running, running, one of the servers, Kristen, rang in a happy-hour margarita on the rocks (which is really two margaritas). She's training to be a bartender, so she's watching me go all over the place; I'm planning on getting to her shortly, but then she says, "I can make these if you don't mind." "Go ahead," I tell her. So she comes back, takes the cocktail shaker and cooler glass (you mix the margarita, or drink in question, in the shaker, put the cooler glass on top and shake them) and puts the tequila, triple sec, sour mix and lime juice in. She puts the cooler glass on and shakes ... and she's somehow managed to get the cooler glass stuck in the shaker. Which happens from time to time. I can't get it off; our manager can't get it off; the manager finally puts it in my sink of hot water to loosen it up and tells Kristen to make another batch. Which she does. And gets THAT cooler mug stuck in THAT shaker.

We only have two cocktail shakers behind the bar, and I'm kind of giggling at this point, because Kristen is a tiny little thing -- smaller than I am for sure -- and I think it's pretty funny she's managed to get TWO of the shakers taken out of commission. Finally the manager takes her second attempt back to the kitchen, where it takes Damon about five minutes to separate the glass and the shaker.

She was so cute, too. She came up to me and asked if I was mad at her, and I said "No, of course not." "Are you sure?" "Yes; of course I'm not mad at you. I thought it was hilarious." "Really? You promise?" "Yes, Kristen, I promise. Funniest thing I saw all day."