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dragonlady7Shitty weather two days in a row, meaning yesterday no flights for Chicago (or Boston, or LaGuardia / Newark / JFK, or Washington, or Baltimore, or Charlotte, or... well, yeah) and today again nothing for Boston, nothing for JFK, nothing for most of the east coast... meaning that I spent 2 8-hour (yes, my shift is supposed to be six hours, I know that) days in loud crowded bars full of rude fucking jerks in 80+ degree temperatures while wearing double layers of burlap fucking sacking...
So yeah. Tip your fucking servers, people. Especially when they're panting like dogs because it's fucking hot in here and the sheer human traffic has not goddamn let up for hours on end.
And I had a rant here, but you know, I'm just going to post it over on airportbartender.blogspot.com instead, because I should just rant economically.
But I wanted to see Roger Clyne tonight, but he played from 9-9:45ish tonight, and I did not even get out to my car until after 9:30.
Fuck you, weather. Fuck you, rude assholes who have nothing better to do than harass waitresses.
And a nice big sweaty overdressed hug to the angels who tipped well. You know who you were. Some of you, I didn't acknowledge, because it was so busy I didn't look into the cash folder until you were gone. Including the kid who gave me shit about his drink not being strong enough, so I made him another one and charged him for both because I have no sense of humor whatsoever (and I was motherfucking tired yo), and he and his buddy left me $60 to pay for a $39 tab.
Thank you. I didn't mean to be such a humorless twat but you know, the fact that I actually had to climb over someone's luggage and ask three people to let me through so that I could get to your table kind of means that I, well, earned it.
I am so disgusting I may well just take tomorrow morning and soak in the bath.
Because I HAVE TOMORROW OFF.
Thank the sweet lord Jesus. Or, well, thank me, for being smart enough to request it off.
So yeah. Tip your fucking servers, people. Especially when they're panting like dogs because it's fucking hot in here and the sheer human traffic has not goddamn let up for hours on end.
And I had a rant here, but you know, I'm just going to post it over on airportbartender.blogspot.com instead, because I should just rant economically.
But I wanted to see Roger Clyne tonight, but he played from 9-9:45ish tonight, and I did not even get out to my car until after 9:30.
Fuck you, weather. Fuck you, rude assholes who have nothing better to do than harass waitresses.
And a nice big sweaty overdressed hug to the angels who tipped well. You know who you were. Some of you, I didn't acknowledge, because it was so busy I didn't look into the cash folder until you were gone. Including the kid who gave me shit about his drink not being strong enough, so I made him another one and charged him for both because I have no sense of humor whatsoever (and I was motherfucking tired yo), and he and his buddy left me $60 to pay for a $39 tab.
Thank you. I didn't mean to be such a humorless twat but you know, the fact that I actually had to climb over someone's luggage and ask three people to let me through so that I could get to your table kind of means that I, well, earned it.
I am so disgusting I may well just take tomorrow morning and soak in the bath.
Because I HAVE TOMORROW OFF.
Thank the sweet lord Jesus. Or, well, thank me, for being smart enough to request it off.
