fuck the olive garden
the olive garden is clearly one of the most poorly run restaurants that has ever been managed by a bunch of slope-foreheaded, neanderthalic, monkey-brained assholes that i've ever had the misfortune of encountering.
when i first started working there i was astonished at the amount of useless information they were slinging at me so that i could successfully wait on tables. i was never really under the impression that waiting tables was an endeavor that needed the scrutiny that one would expect from the engineers at NASA, but apparently i was wrong. thankfully i managed to sneak through the three written tests that i had to take and graduated from the university of olive garden and made it onto the floor. i can now proudly call myself a waiter at the olive garden.
however...the scrutiny continues. one of my first experiences of this ridiculousness was when i was shorted on a check by two dimwitted, busty blondes. when i brought the check to the manager i was informed that i was going to be put on final warning for money management because it is my responsibility to make sure that the proper funds changed hands. i failed...by 7 dollars, so it became my responsibility to forfeit some of my tips to make up the difference on the bill. the olive garden cannot legally require me to do this, but if i didn't make up the difference, as i said, i would be placed on final warning...for 7 dollars.
i hate my job. at the very least, i'm not very fond of it, but i'm starting to really think that i hate it. tonight, i once again found myself in a situation where i was being placed on final warning.
tonight, i was placed on final warning, and sent home early in the middle of a rush because i failed to bring a bottle of wine to the table when i greeted my guests. you see, its one of the "mandatory server standards" to bring a bottle of wine to the table, essentially just a prop, so that you can offer the table a 1 ounce wine sample so as to encourage the consumption of alcoholic beverages.
i did not do this. however, that table then continued to order 4 miller lites, a budweiser, a bud light, a glass of asti spumante and a chocolate almond amore (a signature olive garden drink comprised of bailey's, kahlua and a strange "vanilla ice cream subistitute"). so, i'm left to wonder how much alcohol would have been consumed had i remembered to bring a bottle of wine to the table. they probably would have consumed twice as much, been too drunk to drive home, had a fatal accident with a mexican mother and her 12 kids, killing them all, and the olive garden, and i, would have been responsible for the whole thing.
i'm not bitter, but fuck the olive garden. they can lick my dirty, puckered asshole.
when i first started working there i was astonished at the amount of useless information they were slinging at me so that i could successfully wait on tables. i was never really under the impression that waiting tables was an endeavor that needed the scrutiny that one would expect from the engineers at NASA, but apparently i was wrong. thankfully i managed to sneak through the three written tests that i had to take and graduated from the university of olive garden and made it onto the floor. i can now proudly call myself a waiter at the olive garden.
however...the scrutiny continues. one of my first experiences of this ridiculousness was when i was shorted on a check by two dimwitted, busty blondes. when i brought the check to the manager i was informed that i was going to be put on final warning for money management because it is my responsibility to make sure that the proper funds changed hands. i failed...by 7 dollars, so it became my responsibility to forfeit some of my tips to make up the difference on the bill. the olive garden cannot legally require me to do this, but if i didn't make up the difference, as i said, i would be placed on final warning...for 7 dollars.
i hate my job. at the very least, i'm not very fond of it, but i'm starting to really think that i hate it. tonight, i once again found myself in a situation where i was being placed on final warning.
tonight, i was placed on final warning, and sent home early in the middle of a rush because i failed to bring a bottle of wine to the table when i greeted my guests. you see, its one of the "mandatory server standards" to bring a bottle of wine to the table, essentially just a prop, so that you can offer the table a 1 ounce wine sample so as to encourage the consumption of alcoholic beverages.
i did not do this. however, that table then continued to order 4 miller lites, a budweiser, a bud light, a glass of asti spumante and a chocolate almond amore (a signature olive garden drink comprised of bailey's, kahlua and a strange "vanilla ice cream subistitute"). so, i'm left to wonder how much alcohol would have been consumed had i remembered to bring a bottle of wine to the table. they probably would have consumed twice as much, been too drunk to drive home, had a fatal accident with a mexican mother and her 12 kids, killing them all, and the olive garden, and i, would have been responsible for the whole thing.
i'm not bitter, but fuck the olive garden. they can lick my dirty, puckered asshole.
posted by R. Peeps at 12:12 AM
9 comments
