The Holiday Spirit

As the holiday season has come to a close, I find myself reflecting on what it has meant to me as a server.  To most, the holidays mean presents and family and all sorts of yummy, delicious food.  To me, and many of my fellow Hooters Girls it seems, the holidays mean walkouts and grumpy assholes and shitty tips.  It seems that while people are spreading all that holiday cheer they conveniently forget to extend any pleasantries to their server.

Everyone knows that people worry about money during the holidays.  Hell I worry about money too.  There are gifts to buy, parties to attend, friends to entertain and a million other little things that invariably cost money.  So you save money where you can so you can spend it on those holiday "necessities."  Unfortunately for me, one of the places you decide to save money is in your tip to your poor waitress.  Johnny NEEDS an Xbox 360; I get a shitty seven percent tip - if I'm a lucky of course.  Often, after you regale me with tales of your most epic shopping day, I find that there is nothing left for me on the table.  I can sit there and calculate the hundreds of dollars you spent as you tell me about the crowds at Best Buy and Target and the Mall.  Oh and here's you tip.  Wait, I spent that at Bath and Bodyworks.  Merry effing Christmas.

Of course, I'd rather have you leave a shitty tip than walkout on me.   If you tip me little to nothing I just make less money, but if you walkout on your tab I'll usually have to pay for it.  That's right, I get to pay my employer for the pleasure of serving your cheap ass.  So while you saved that $33.45 to spend on Grandma Sue, I paid that money for you.  I guess my grandma is not as important as your dear Grandma Sue.  How the hell did I miss that memo?  Oh and did I mention that my grandma survived the World War II eating tulip bulbs - literally.  Please feel free to feel like the jack-off you are.

What it all comes down to is that people are cheap during the holidays.  Trust me, I understand the desire to save money where you can.  However you being cheap means I don't get to enjoy my Christmas as much.  I'm not saying you should be overly generous, but a less than ten percent tip is quite frankly ridiculous.  It is especially ridiculous when I know I went above and beyond to provide you with exceptional service.  So while you save your money and have a fabulous Hooters experience, I figure out how I'm going to make enough money to see my family let alone give them gifts.

Really though, the question is if you can't afford to tip, or especially if you can't afford to pay you bill, then why are you eating out in the first place?  Oh, that's right you have to buy your children some opulent gift they'll probably forget about in the next month, but not at the cost of neglecting your addiction to fried shit.  Odds are that electronic, must-have, made in China gift is out of you price range too, but not at the cost of forgoing fried pickles and ranch.  I am no financial planner, but it seems to me that if a fifteen percent tip or a $40 meal is a stretch for you then you'd probably be better served getting a savings account and eating in. 

Happy 2010!

Dear Bresnan,

Bresnan, allow me to be blunt, you quite honestly suck. I pay good money for your cable and internet services. I pay for your plethora of addictive television channels and awesomely fast cable internet. I pay for things to work. I even pay extra so I can brag to my friends that I can watch shit in HD. I'm a good customer, Bresnan. I have treated you well with my checks religiously sent monthly.

If I have treated you so well, dear Bresnan, then why do you insist on being such a bitch to me? Why must you taunt me with constantly jumbled channels? It is frankly tragic when I sit down to watch the epic stylings of "Project Runway" only to find it is a mess of jumbled lines and garbled german accents. Auf Wiedersehen. You make me miss my favorite shows. Not cool, Bresnan. I have a heavy work schedule and as such I do not take kindly to interruptions to my fleeting moments of couch potatoness. Heaven help me if I miss one more episode of Anthony Bourdain.

Then there is the internet, Bresnan. You taunt me shamelessly with your internet. My laptop says, "Hey look, I have full bars!" Yet you, Bresnan, never load. You act like you're trying, but we all know that's a ruse. Of course you're not really working, that would be effective. So I reset you. I tickle your little boxes and handle your little cords and for a moment you're happy, but your happiness is oh so fleeting. You might be needy with your constant resetting, but I have needs too Bresnan. Needs that require the internet. I have Facebook to check, celebrities to stock, online bills to pay and a blog in terrible need of updating. Yes, Bresnan, I have people on the internet waiting to read about my epic Hooters adventures. You deny me, Bresnan, and you deny them. Shame, shame on you.

Just so you know I called your parents. They said my call was being recorded for training purposes. That's right, Bresnan, your big, scary parents have a record of my call and let me tell you, it wasn't a happy discussion. I'll have you know they're giving me a month free. It's probably coming out of your allowance, Bresnan. You better shape up.

Sincerely,

Sauce

The Life of a Tall Girl

I am what could be described as a girl of above average height. I am nearly 5'11 (no I am not 6 foot no matter what you think) and it can make life super frustrating sometimes.

First off, finding pants is a nearly impossible thing. I can't just walk into a store and pick up a pair of pants and walk out even if they're long length. One of my biggest pet peeves of all time is when a shorter girl says, "Oh my God, I totally know what you mean - I can never find short enough pants." OK, good for you, but last time I checked there is this thing called hemming and I'm pretty sure any dry cleaner or seamstress can do it. Let me just get out my magic pants lengthen wand because last time I checked getting rid of some fabric is easier than magically adding more. Wow, that felt good to get off the chest!

Next, every tall girl can attest to the fact that you will 9 times out of 10 look like a total creeper in group photos. I am constantly relegated to the back and seem to be just a head that hangs out over my average-sized friends' shoulders. I mean it's a good looking head but to bad that sexy outfit is covered up!

OK, being tall isn't all bad but it can suck when I want to wear cute shoes and Joe Schmo in a bar has to make some witty comment he thinks is original (trust me, it isn't original). I do have a amazing long legs that look great in shorts and skirts but finding dress pants is one painful experience. And as thin as I am when I stand next to five Hooters Girls that are 5'5 and under I'm going to look like a big-boned Amazon woman no matter what.

Just so everyone knows, I do love being tall but a girl still needs to vent now and again!