Last Thursday night the local Denny’s was in chaos. One waiter, thirty tables, a shit manager. Things were altogether too sour.
Fast forward to Friday night . . .
Our waiter, Garrett, the waiter from that night, gives Sean, Smokin and I comment cards because Sean wants to complain about the smoking policy. Smokin wasn’t there on the night in question, Sean complains about smoking policies, and I, well I “go there”. I make a full complaint about the manager and her shiftlessness.
Fast forward to Saturday night . . .
The three of us walk in the door and nearly run into the manager in question pulling the comment cards out of the box. “Ohhhh this is going to be bad” think Smokin and Sean. I luckily don’t notice. I’d have run.
She reads the cards. Her face distorts and twists and yellows. She shows the waiters the card, my card. She complains to the woman behind us “I guess they didn’t see that 18 top!” Nope. Sure didn’t. Luckily she thinks the card was left by some rowdy girls that were also there on Black Thursday. The waiters know - they praise me. I’m scared she’ll notice. Sean fidgets. Smokin and I try to seem occupied when she’s talking about it, as though none of us care or know about what she’s saying.
Fast Forward to Tonight . . .
She’s not there tonight. I ask Steve, our waiter for the evening, if I’ve caused a ruckus, if the staff is mad. “No, you said what needed to be said. By the way, she threw it away and I got it out of the trash and gave it to tonight’s manager.”
Wow, she’s a worse manager than I thought . . . Later, Steve says tonight’s manager wants to talk to us about that night. Great. I get nervous. Now I’ve really started something. He comes to the table later, much later than Sean would have liked. Oh well. I tell the story . . .
One waiter, thirty tables, a shit manager. Garrett is doing everything that is humanly possible to keep things going. It’s impossible. Rowdy girls are going behind the counter to refill their drinks despite his protests that he’ll get in trouble. Then the truckers follow suit. He’s running back and forth with huge trays to tables in the back stopping with the heavy trays along the way to take more requests for more things. He runs to the back to get coffee, only to be stopped all the way back, time and again. The manager sits in her booth smoking and watching. He stands at the computer trying to make sense of all the tickets. The computer freezes. He runs to clear tables. He runs to fill coffee cups. The manager sits in her booth smoking and watching. Another order up, he runs to the back to get more heaving trays. A couple comes in, they stand at the front waiting to be seated. He’s occupied at the table, slinging hash. The manager sits in her booth smoking and watching. The couple stands there for five minutes. Finally the manager seats them, because they’ve begun to stare at her. Meanwhile, chaos reigns. Another couple comes in. She ignores them until they seat themselves, five minutes later. She also refuses to cash people out. At one point the waiter waves a man on and pays his bill later with his tips. The manager watches from her booth and doesn’t care. She knows what is happening and doesn’t offer to help. I ask her to refill my coffee. This she does, I’m only in the next table over. Any further than that and she makes him do it. He doesn’t have the time. He’s still trying to fix the computer, and she stacks dishes under his feet. When they topple over, she claps, starting the whole of Denny’s into applause. Then she yells at him. This is what Thursday night was at the Denny’s - anarchy and cruelty. This is the story I tell the manager. The waiters stand around as I tell the story. I’ve caused a ruckus.
She did take an 18 top that night after we left. For the money. It was the only respite he got all night, but he could have used the money. He had already earned it.
