It's WHOOOOOOOOOSEEEEEEEEEE on SALLLLADSSSS? Bob... let's tell them what they've won.....

Okay... This blog is NOT just about Salads... I want to say that now... but this week has been very tough for me, Chantel... I have had the worst allergies known to man.. I am Hacking and Wheezing like some old mountain woman sitting on a stump and chewing tobacco and smoking a pipe at the same time. ANNNNNDDDD. I drank some REALLY bad box wine last night..all the while watching the Oscar's and pulling the tap, like it was Country Time Lemonade... (for those of you who don't know) Box Wine in the year 2009 is actually kind of pricey.. I mean this was no "Freixu...whatever that was.." Or Ernest and Julio Gallo in a jug... God, what would happen to me if I drank that shit today... the last time I drank that stuff I was talking to myself in my friends mirror all night long waiting for my gay boyfriend to come home from the bar... what can I say... I was 19, it was the 80's and mall claws and mullet's were all the rage... but that's another story.. for another blog.. Tonight it's WHOSE ON SALADS all the way from Cashvegas, Nashville, TN...Let's welcome  Marjarie to the show....

Hi Marjarie! How are you this evening...

Well, I've been better Chantel, the restaurant business is a bitch... but that's why I love it..

I hear ya, I hear ya.. well let's get right to it then..

Chantel and Marjarie get comfortable and start chain smoking cigarettes....

I have a new life as an owner of a diner here in East Nasty, and this bitch keeps me busy 18/7 (the other 6 hours are spent sleeping/drinking copious amounts of alcohol in order to keep the insanity from kicking in all at once) Anyway, tonight was one of those nights. One where we continually ask each other if perhaps it is a full moon. And since LAST Friday was Friday the 13th. I know that wasn't it. Let me begin with Table 1.

Table 1 is the very first table you encounter when entering.. right next to ye old front door. Also known as the Simon and Garfunkel table. ( If you've been to my place, then you know why that is.) I'm in the window Expoing for the rush when one of my servers comes up and says

"The lady at Table 1 is puking, what should I do?" 

My first instinct is to cringe, wrinkle my nose, and reply

"OOH. Gross." Then I remember that I actually own this place and probably expected to do something about it. As luck would have it, the very next tray of food slated to leave the kitchen is for Table 2, so I can run their food while simultaneously taking a sneak peek at 1, if for no other reason then to ogle the gross puky lady. I thought "Maybe she was starting to feel sick and any second would make a bee line to the bathroom. Nope." She sat right where she was, vomited in her napkin and approximately 27 other towels my server brought for her for maybe 1o minutes. Then she and her companion hung out for awhile longer, with a pile of vomit/filled rags sitting on the table. No offer to dispose of them, or ritually burn them in the parking lot or anything. Then they paid the tab and left. Three guesses what lucky person got to bus Table 1.

At this point, I am seriously reconsidering my decision to own a place rather that slave away for the man.

Fast forward about 30 minutes. Dinner rush is in full swing. Apps, are flying out the window. New tables are sitting only seconds after they have been bussed from the previous folks. We are busy. Somewhat "in the weeds" if you will. Another server comes up and says, 

"Ummmmm. I've had a couple of people tell me there is a problem with the women's bathroom. I think someone put oranges in the toilet."

I'm thinking, "Is this a euphemism for something and I'm just not hip to the lingo?" I certainly have never heard that phrase before. Drop the Cosby Kids off at the pool, choke the brown snake, take the Browns to the superbowl, Yes. Oranges.... Not so much... Of course, I remove my apron and go investigate. Sure enough, deep in the toilet, is what appears to be a whole orange covered with tissue. WTF???? So, I make the server retrieve the litterscoop for cleaning our outside ashcans and fish that puppy out. I mean, I already did my part, by cleaning up 82 vomit rags earlier. It is someone else's turn. Besides, I sign their paychecks?

" Oh, yeah. I would've have hated me too..." Anyway, turns out it is a pair of orange panties wadded up almost flushed.

"Come on, ladies.!!!!!! There is a garbage can in there!!!"

Well, those are the two capers for the night. All in all, it was just one of those filled with odd requests, odder people, and strange occurances all of which I'm sure will be rehashed with increasing hilarity over a few cocktails and cigarettes. And we'll do it all again tomorrow..

Well, thank you Marjarie, for that precious story... that is both disgusting and revolting.. you've got to hand it to those crazy mother fuckers out there...

SO tune in tomorrow for "Your favorite Running duty".... no where else but "in the weeds...."

Signing out,

Chantel Finklestein..

The door opens, A bitter waiter takes a drag on his pretend cigarette opens the cooler and screams "Who's on Salads?"

Well, it's that time again. Time for "Who's on Salads?" After going through many submissions,  this one takes the cake. This one get's the shift shot, win's weekly sales, this one gets exempt from singing the STUPID birthday song... Let's get right to it. Welcoming,  Nitrus Food Runner to the blog..

Stained Apron

Several years back I worked at a restaurant in Texas which I will not name. Let's just say that it is a Houston based "cajun concept" that shleps out drinks with names such as "Swampthing, Gatorwater, and my favorite.... the Dirty South!". The turn over for waiters in this establishment was quicker then shit through a goose. Much of this turn over was due to the constant nagging and crazy maker attitudes that the managers were required to have in order to get the job in the first place. One such manager that we had at the time was a crafty, bald on his head but hairy everywhere else, cocaine addicted, gay, jewish man who did not like a particular waiter that worked there at the time. Which was strange because he tended to like everyone and he was the one manager that we waiters liked. The waiter was not a particularly "hot headed" sort of person but you could tell that slowly but surely the manager and the establishment were breaking him down. BEWARE OF THE BITTER WAIT!! I can't remember what the final straw was but what ever it was sent the server over the edge. He quietly slipped back into the bathroom and then we watched as he walked from the bathroom to the front door all the while holding his apron at arms length and then like that, he was gone. A few of us walked over to the large windows behind the bar and watched him as he walked to the back of the parking lot, where the entire staff including the managers, were required to park. As he approached the managers brand new, forest green, Ford Bronco, he unfolded his apron and revealed a 10 inch long turd! Then he smashed that bitch right onto the windshield! No one said a word to the manager who was diligently looking around for the waiter, who was of course, long gone in his car by now. Just as the manager's spool was about to entirely unwind, right as he was on the edge of freaking out about the missing waiter, a red faced woman walked up 

"Yes, I need the number for the corporate office and I want my meal for FREE!"

"What seems to be the problem, ma'am?" 

"Well, some son of a bitch just fucking smashed an apron full of shit onto the windshield of my car!" 

Of course, the manager was in shock. The woman had the exact same car as he did! Needless to say she got what she wanted as well as a free car wash!

Last I heard, that manager was still bald and working in a "windy city" for the same chain.. 

"Can I get an Ashtray?"

Good Evening... our first "Who the F#*$ is on Salads???" Please welcome "Lola" from Fort Worth, TX....

"We had this manager Ricardo. He was an original manager of an  Italian Restaurant that serves ALOT of Salad and Breadsticks. I was in SMOKING.. remember that? The smoking section...  We could never keep ash trays. The servers were always running off with them to smoke.. Or they would break every 5 minutes. You know, how smoking would go from  no tables to 4 tables in about 5 minutes and everyone would sit down at once. Well of course that happened to me and we had no ash trays. What the F#@$! I ran around the restaurant twice, looking for them.. So I go back to the managers office.

Lola:   Ricardo.., I need ashtrays. I'm in smoking... And there are no ashtrays anywhere..

Ricardo: I don't know what you should do... (looking up from a paper) I guess you should look again.  I don't have any  ashtrays back here.  

 So I run out..I'm searching under to go boxes.. dry storage.. the usual places.. And I don't know what the hell to do, so I go back to the office yet again!

Lola: Ricardo... (exhausted) What should I do about the ashtrays.. I can't find them anywhere!

Ricardo..What do you want me to do? What the F&$# do you want!!! (He whips around)  "I guess I could shit you one.. I would SHIT you one if I could!!! GOD!!!!!!" 

A normal human being.. manager with a purpose would have run across the street to Albertson's and got me one... or 20! Instead I'm handing people a giant tumbler... oh let me put a little water in that for ya...

Thank you Lola for that little jewel... Oh how we love the restaurant manager on a power trip..

OMG! It's ALREADY "WHO'S ON SALADS" AGAIN????

Okay people... I have to say it. I have totally slacked off on the blog this week. I've started running again in the afternoons and it's leaving me feeling like a limp noodle, I also want to eat an entire pizza afterwards. I have a few submissions for Who's on Salads?? and they are good. Some are G rated, some PG and some would make the dumb and dumber people blush.. I mean, it's customer service and people will be people.  Another thing that I spent 2 hours last night reading was Pioneer Woman. GOOD GOD, that's good literature for blog land. I'm referring to the story where she meets her husband... It's so Brokeback Mountain, so The Quiet Man... anyhoo... look for a "who's on salads" horror story coming soon!

Introducing!!! Who's on Salads??

Thank you for joining us for our first official "Whose on Salad's???" Monday. Every Monday we'll be featuring an anecdote, horror story, craziest person you've every waited on kind of thing. Feel free to pour out your heart and let us hear from you. If you could please email your submissions to intheweedsblog@yahoo.com , we CANNOT wait to hear.. Now it's true I, Chantel, love comedy, but that doesn't mean that your horrifying tales will not be considered.

 So let's get started... "I'll go first." 

Okay.. we're going to call this story 

"Is she God?"

Once upon a time in a glorious steakhouse in a city named after a really bad 80's soap opera,  I was working on a very busy Saturday night and I was feeling groovy. I was expected to make a couple hundred bucks and I even felt like I could tolerate the manager, on this evening... you know, I felt like I could hang on for one more day.. especially if we got our usual shift drink..

So this couple from Boston sits down and proceeds to order a nice big dinner and a fancy bottle of wine. I'd say it was around 80 bucks for the wine. This didn't really make me tingle because well everyone orders wine like this.. I mean we sold Stonecrab here.. "oh no.. I've given it away.."

Anyway... the lady, I use that term loosely, told me that she'd like the wine brought over when their dinner hit the table. "Okay.. NO PROBLEM." I said sweetly...  Well, cut to 10 minutes later, and I have my ass to them because I'm waiting on another booth directly across, and I hear hyperventilating from the dude from Boston.  "Hey, is everything okay? guys.. Stonecrab looks great!"  "I..asked... for the.... win....e.... WHERE IS OUR WINE????"  "Well, sir, when you went to drop the kids off at the pool, your co-worker/mistress/date/wife told me to bring the wine the instant, the very nano-second dinner arrived.  "Do I have eyes in the back of my head and your wine bottle stuck up my ass, I asked him... (in my head)  "No, I don't. So it took me 3.2 seconds to go get it from the bar." Well, he lost it. He starts screaming... "Is she God??? Is she God??? Do you have to listen to everything she says... "Well,  I think I asked him, "Your kidding right?..." I sat down next to the young couple in the next booth, literally and told them that the table behind me were lunatics.. and I want to say that somewhere in the conversation Bostonian called me a hooker or trailer park whore or something, (not kidding) while being escorted out by our really pissed off manager as he wrote obscenities on the credit card slip... And I thought people from Boston were just bad drivers..

And the winner is Chantel Finklestein for 20 years of service....

Okay... First blog... hmmm... what to say... let's start with a definition for the restaurant impaired about what exactly in the weeds means...: a waitress/cook that can't keep up with the tables. Refers back to chef's military roots, where being in the weeds would cause your army to be slaughtered... I did not know that Wikipedia... INTERESTING..

Well, I'd like to start by saying that Chantel Finklestein is NOT my name, but will be here, because in real life, I am highly important and cannot let my identity be known... You know like "the pink Panther" or "get smart". Anyhoo... this blog was set up for all waiters out there, those of you who like to bust your ass for an eight hour shift, and then drink 7 dollar pitchers of Shiner for 3 subsequent hours after, BITCHING about your tables. And perhaps the chef's in your restaurant if it's high end.. because they all have some sort of weird GOD complex.. Anyway, look forward to interesting contests, lists and fun and trivial bullshit to lose yourself... and please follow the blog and Tell all your friends!!