Always Remember To Tip Your Servers!
I do stand-up comedy sometimes. I was performing at a bar/restaurant deal and was sitting in the back taking care of some emails waiting for my set time.
I went to the bar to get a drink, had a chat with the bartender for a few minutes, then got the signal I had five minutes til show, so went back.
When I got to the back room I realized I’d left my phone on the bar so ran out again to collect it.
Enter Karen (not her real name, of course). At a table just left of center facing the stage. Right by the back entrance I’d been popping in and out of all night.
In a big group of six or seven people but even in my brief forays out, I could hear her shrill voice dominating their conversation.
I guess here is as good a place as any to mention I was wearing a yellow sweatshirt and cargo shorts, the servers there wear all black.
She goes, “Sir, Sir, excuse me, sir!” Me: “What’s up?” Karen: “Can you check on our food please? All we ordered were some wings and it’s been like half an hour already.” Me: “Your server can help you with that, I’m not a waiter.” Karen: “What?
Oh, dish boy, line cook, whatever. You work here, so just when you go back there ask about my food.”
Me: “Oh, no, you see I’m—” Karen: “No I get it. You aren’t a waiter. But do you work here?” Me: “Kind of. Let me explain.” Someone in her party: “I don’t think he’s a waiter—” Karen: “Shut it, ok, I’ve got this.
You work here. You can bring me my food. Just a quick lil…you know…trot trot trot, carry carry…boom. Done.”
Me: “I can’t do that.” Karen, in an ungodly shriek/grunt/shrunt, says: “Whyyyy nootttt?” Others in her party try to get her to quiet down. They tried to wave me away.
I was weighing in my mind whether walking away had the higher chance of getting me fired from future gigs there or staying and getting into it with her did.
I was just going down the “stay and get into it with her track” when the emcee gets up there and goes “Now, a special treat for our patrons tonight, local comedian….”
I knew just what to do. I stop myself, lock eyes with Karen, walk backward to the stage, unflinching. I grab the microphone, her table is cracking up realizing what’s happened.
And I say, “Well I’d hoped to do a show for you tonight folks but looks like that won’t be possible, apparently I’ve been reassigned.” I start riffing about people who think you work there when you don’t and accuse you of lying and how absurd a concept that is.
But then it’s too perfect. The waitress is coming out with wings and headed straight for her table. I know the waitress, I’ve performed here before.
So I transition and I’m just like, “You caught me lady. Can’t hide anymore.” And I grab the wings from the waitress and I’m like, “Ooooh, Donna, I see you trying to hone in on my section, can’t you see this is my table?”
And all throughout the rest of the bit I would go over and fill their water glasses, bus their plates. Whenever I hit a dry spot I was like, “Alright hold on, got to check in with my customers.
Can I interest you in any dessert? How we doing over here? Speak into the mic please.” Karen hated it, but the others at her table were laughing hysterically and would even sometimes flag me down for water or appetizers.
The set ends and Karen goes to file a complaint, her friends or coworkers whoever, try to stop her from doing so and some leave the venue because of her.
A couple stay back to try and defend me and I told them not to worry because the manager and I were cool. But they got to see for themselves. The manager is an old school Armenian guy and he has no tolerance for this garbage.
This particular venue was a biker bar before the area got gentrified, so he’s used to dealing with way rowdier customers than Karen.
So she’s going off about mistreatment at the hands of his employee and how I’m probably not licensed to be a food server—haha—and that she wanted something done.
The manager plays dumb just to see her get worked up and goes “Who? This guy?” Even though the entire floor saw me give her a hard time.
shrunting “YYYEESSSSSSSSSSS” Manager: “He doesn’t work for me.”
Karen: ‘What the heck are you talking about?” Manager: “It’s 11:30PM. He worked for me from 10:00pm until 11:00pm. That’s what I paid him for as a freelancer.
That’s over. Now he’s just some guy.” Karen: “Well when he was working for you he was rude and abstinent!” Me: “What? On stage? Of course I was abstinent, it’s not that kind of show.” Karen (grunting): “YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.
See? He’s making fun of how I talk!”
Manager: “He’s a comedian, that’s what I paid for.” Karen: “I was a customer treated poorly in your establishment! He was acting as a server here when he served me and I want a refund on my meal or at the very least (turning dramatically to me, Gollum voice) an apology.” Me: “Alright, I might have been a little rude towards the end there, but in my defense, she didn’t tip.”
Manager: “Is that true? Did you not tip?” Karen: “Why would I have tipped the comedian?!” The manager’s reply was legendary. He said: “I thought you said he was acting as a server?” Karen was a little tipsy at this point so somehow logic convinced her smashing a glass would get her point across.
All it did was get the manager to have her bounced.