Why I Got Stiffed

You may remember from my last entry that I reported being left a $0 tip on a $200+ tab earlier this week by some European guests. I also said that I was pretty sure why they stiffed me, and that I'd be telling you why today.

I'm not going to make you wait to find out, or build it up. They stiffed me because I brought them their check.

Oops. My bad.

"What?" you say? Well, it's like this. I don't remember how many years ago or even what restaurant I was even working at - it's been that much time - when I was serving a small group from Europe. They had finished their dinners, and their after-dinner drinks, and their espressos, and told me twice that no, they didn't want anything else. So I routinely walked up to the table and unobtrusively put their check down, planning to walk quietly away until I was needed again ... but I did not see coming what happened next.

The guy went near-ballistic. "WHATTT?!?!?" he exclaims. "You trying to hurry us out of here? Do we have to leave now or something?" Ummmm, no. "Then why you are bringing us check? Who says we are "feeenished?"

The level of offense and hostility this man exhibited had me feeling like I had just spit on his mother's grave or something, and - suffice to say - left quite the impression on me. I was a bit confused and he and I actually had a nice little ideological chat about the matter. Right there, in front of everybody. This gentleman let me know that where he's from, they are there to talk, to enjoy one another's company. The meal is just what brings them together - but not why they are there - and the evening is far from over "when food is gone."

I explained to him that that is somewhat different from the way "we" often do it. "We Americans" are so often is such a hurry to be somewhere else ... that "the meal" is sometimes just a necessity that precludes the "main event" - like a movie, or concert, or any other event that brought us together. And that we're probably running late for.

(Oh yeh, I remember. This was when I was working at The Prime Cut on 2nd Avenue, Downtown Nashville Tennessee, where there was always some big concert arena event going on that had people rushing out our doors on their way to after dinner. At this particular place, we routinely heard, "Hey. We're in a bit of a hurry. Do you think you can get us out of here kind of quickly? We're going to ......."  It was honestly hard NOT to say, "Yeh, you and the other 200 people in here. They're all in a hurry too. And they were here first."

So, in this culture, presenting the check was often a courtesy, or a favor, intended to KEEP the guests from having to wait for, or find us, once they were done eating. People are *of course* welcome to stay as long as they like, but they are also free to leave quickly as well, if they need to. That's how I explained it to him. Yeh ... maybe I was back-pedaling a bit, but he bought it. Things smoothed out, they all chilled awhile longer, left with no hard feelings, and he tipped me ... well, at least like a European.

I'll just leave it at that for now. That's a different topic. But for a good decade at least, I had learned my lesson.

Back to present day. I'm serving three European guests. They're done with their dinners, their after dinner drinks, and their espressos. And we're closed now. All of my other tables have paid, and I routinely drop off the check unobtrusively, and walk away until I'm needed again.

Thirty minutes later, the host places his credit card in the check presenter. I return with it, and wish them a nice evening. Ten minutes later, they're still talking, and I unobtrusively pick up the check presenter. Open it up at the computer, to close the check out, annnd "goose-egg."

Am I mad? No. Hurt? Yes. But I immediately acknowledge my mistake. Now, it's not that I think he really had the right to do this ... but I do in fact know better by now. "Europeans hate being rushed." Right or wrong being irrelevant, as far as money in the bank goes, I screwed up, and I paid the price.

What's worse, is that in this particular case, I already knew that it's not that he's a foreigner who doesn't know our customs; I know this because I personally returned their bar tab to the bartender once they were seated (and didn't worry about my tip just "because they were Europeans" because I saw it myself ... he tipped them okay). It's just that from his perspective, I rushed them, and he took it personally.

I see that he wants to make it even more personal. The group hung around afterwards, for another half an hour, talking amongst themselves, after every other guest had left the restaurant. This guy however actually had the nerve to make more eye contact with me in the 30 minutes AFTER I picked up his voucher, than the entire two hours prior. Drunken, self-satisfied-smirk, red-eyed contact, I might add. He was baiting me. I honestly think he was wanting me to say something about it. He was wanting a confrontation similar to the one I had 12 or 13 years prior with my other European guest ... just so he could go off on me.

Nope, you're not getting a peep out of me. I'm not giving you the satisfaction. I'm too long in this business to let you see an emotional reaction. Twenty years ago..? Maybe. But today I've got a wife and cats to support. I think about what's most important, and take the abuse. It's part and parcel of every server's job at one point or another. 

Whatever degree of satisfaction I might obtain by telling him how I really feel about this pales in comparison to what matters in my life. This has already cost me $11 plus what he might have tipped, and I'm not about to let an altercation with a guest cost me my job on top of it.

Expensive lesson learned. Again dammit.

And as promised, why this additionally cost me $11 out of pocket - next time.

Cheers mate.

 

STIFFED! I Got Stiffed!!!

"Stiffed" means that the last night I worked, I had a group of three people who wrote in "$0" on their debit card voucher as my tip, on an over $200 tab.

Now, one of my ground rules for this blog is that I'm not here to complain about my guests or my tips (it's in the header) ... right?

I want you to know that I'm keeping that commitment. If this were about complaining, I would title this something more like "WHY EUROPEANS SUCK!!!" and every (American) restaurant person would probably be chiming in, in agreement with me on this. 

However, that would make this blog and myself about as lame as the many other restaurant rants and ranters out there. Not to mention, if that were my overall style, doing so would probably seriously diminish my readership - fast. I mean, you don't click these things because you want to hear me complain, do you?

I thought not.

No, what I'm actually wanting to share with you is the admission that I *KNOW* exactly why they stiffed me (at least I'm pretty sure I do). Yup, based upon my many years in this business, I know the exact mistake I made and why it's kinda my own damn fault.

Not what you were expecting, huh?

Also, just for informational value to those who don't know these things (i.e., non-restaurant people, most likely) I'll also share why this error not only cost me the $30-$40 tip I might have hoped for, but did you know that in our world, when a server gets stiffed, it usually costs them money? Yep, this table that stiffed me cost me about $11 out of my own pocket.

Seriously - rather than profiting, I literally paid $11 for "the pleasure" of waiting on them.

Which means all-told (potential tip income plus out-of-pocket expenses) what I'm going to be sharing with you is about a $50 lesson for me, that I apparently had to re-learn. Again dammit.

And I'll be sharing this with you, for free, in the next episode of Guy's Work Blog. So if finding out what I *know* my crucial mistake was (and how if you're also a server and you don't know what NEVER to do when waiting on Europeans, and such information might interest you) -OR- if you're not a server but are just curious as to how waiting on people actually costs servers money sometimes ... then stick around.

These have been kinda long lately, so I'm giving you a break. That, and I've got stuff to do.

But maybe now's the time to "follow" me so you don't miss out on this one. If you don't use these little follow apps, just enter your e-mail in that big long thingy up at top.

I'm just sayin ... Isn't it about time you committed to this relationship?

JK - But it's a journey I think you'll really enjoy, and I look forward to sharing it with you.

More later,
-g-

PS - "AND, if you act now" ... just kidding again.
Raise your hand if you think I've been hanging out with https://www.BenSettle.com too long.

"Getting Hammered"

So after service today, I'm getting acquainted with one of the elders of the church I've been semi-regularly attending the past few months. (He approached me btw. I've taken pleasant note that the people here are real super-friendly like that...)

We're still in that polite introductory phase of conversation where I'm telling him what I do, when my phone vibrates in my pocket. It's my employer. I tell him "Wow, speak of.... I think I have to go." Experience tells me this can only mean ONE thing. I have about two seconds to make a decision we restaurant people really, really, really hate making.

If you work at a restaurant and you receive a call between 11am and 1pm, or say anytime roughly two hours before or after 6pm, you can guarantee they ain't calling about your paperwork, about your schedule request, or about your general happiness and well-being. Today was in fact the second such phone call I've received in the four months I've been at this particular restaurant. I take a breath, make my decision - and answer the phone (rather than letting it go to voice-mail) - knowing full well what I'm going to hear.

"Guy this is Mike (my top boss, the General Manager, and not his real name of course). "We're Getting Hammered. Can you come in?"

There's only so much any manager can predict a week and half ahead of time. You schedule your employees the best you can based on last year's numbers and current local events, but it's at best a hopeful prediction.. that the amount of staff you've scheduled and the amount of walk-in traffic for any given day will meet at a happy medium. But every restaurant person knows - whether based on a concert, a convention, a surprise blockbuster movie release, the weather, or some freaky phase of the moon.. sooner or later you're going to caught with your pants down, and there will be more customers walking into your restaurant than the amount of staff currently scheduled can humanly handle.

So whatever lucky manager finds him or herself at the helm on the day this happens (and it does) also finds themselves leaving the most obvious immediate needs of the staff and the customers behind for a few minutes, and finds themselves on the phone, calling in reinforcements to handle the next 1-6 hours.

Mike has been in this business as long as I have, and I think he knew solely by the fact that I answered the phone what my answer was.

My answer was not in question. My only questions - still feeling like I'm a new guy at this place - were along the lines of "Is he just going down the phone list of waiters hoping someone will answer?" (the most likely possibility) or "Did he especially call me because he thinks I'm a strong enough server to handle this big unexpected influx of business? Or is it just simply because I've said Yes in the past, and right now he needs bodies?" Yes people, these are my insecurities at present. But I do have to consider that beyond the most obvious phone list option, given that every second he spent on the phone was (relatively speaking) like minutes away from his guests' needs, did he really make a choice to call me...... maybe out of alphabetical order?

Was I at, or near the top of his list? Especially if he only had time to make few calls? In short, am I a "go to guy" already? And it's not just ego or insecurity that makes me wonder this. Go-to guys who come through when the manager really needs get the better schedules and sections eventually, you see. They get thrown bones, large parties, stuff like that. Proven dependability and flexibility, combined with competence, really pays off in this business. I answer the phone not because I "feel like working today," but because I know at this juncture in my career here, answering this particular call might make about a $2-3000 difference in my net income this year.

Well, I'll never know for sure, but (back to the story - sorry!) based on so many years of doing this, I walk in at about 1:00pm with my adrenaline already pumping, knowing good and well what I am probably about to face.

Happily and stupidly answering that call to walk into a busy shift already in progress is - in restaurant life - very much akin to happily and stupidly jumping into a mosh-pit. (Don't ask me how I know this.) The two possible outcomes are that you will skillfully thrash about riding some perfect wave of popularity and bliss, or - the much more likely outcome - is that you will fall, and be crushed underfoot by people who will never know your name. (I have in fact, once in my life, walked out of a restaurant shift only halfway through, crying, and didn't come back for an hour, leaving my tables hanging and my co-workers to pick up the slack. It really can be that bad at times.) Basically tho, in this mosh-analogy picture, you're the "new meat" - and for a few minutes it seems like every-fuh-reaking-body wants a piece of you.

Right off the hostess - who has been instructed not to seat anybody else because every waiter on staff has more new tables than they can even say "Hi! Be right with you folks.." to - sees you walk in and wants to seat you the two groups that have have been waiting the longest - right now and before you even clock in. Of course you say "sure" but the thing is, you don't even have a real section because you weren't on the "floor plan" for the day, and so she seats them about 900 feet apart from each other and tells you where to find them. Then your co-worker, your teammate.. (and in typical restaurant circles perhaps your upcoming or your "ex" romantic partner) sees you for the first time and says "Oh my God! They called you in?!? I'm so glad to see you!! Can you please take three cokes to Table 12, and greet 107 for me?"

And that manager - who called you in and hasn't spoken to the hostess in the last 45 seconds - observationally knows that some other overwhelmed server has not yet greeted a new table that was seated 110 seconds ago - and he/she instructs you to "Quick! "Pick Up Table 25"... And you're still just trying to clock in.

But you know that agreeing to this madness is a decision you already made, when you picked up that phone. In a way, you already decided NOT to be crushed underfoot if at all possible, but instead... Well.... You've kinda decided to "Go all Wolverine" on the situation.

Yes. I'm talking about the X-Men character.

You (well maybe not you, but I) walk into this situation willfully. I kinda get off on it in fact. I walk in knowing that all hell has broken loose, and I walk into it this crazy situation... Smiling.

Because a berserker rage sort of mentality is in fact, what is needed to fit this situation. At this point, I'm not even really "talking to" my tables (guests) - just grunting. I'm all instinct now.

There's nothing they have to say I haven't heard before, and I'm going to be walking away to the next three things I have to do even if they did. Whatever happens, I'm well-trained, I know the moves and will hopefully execute them as perfectly as I am capable of. And there will be quite a mess to clean up later.

THIS is what I agreed to when I picked up the phone, as does every server who does so.

Turns out, it didn't really happen this time. Last time I answered such a call (my second week here) I sold over $1000 at lunch, made $120, and from that point management knew that "I could hang." That day, you might say I became a man, here anyways.

Today tho, things had largely died down by the time I and another called-in server clocked in. I got two tables immediately and was asked to pick up another one. Then not much else. All adrenalined up, and no place to go. Occasionally it happens that way too. I made only $40, but something much more important happened. Mike stopped me early on (I thought to tell me to go pick up another table) and said "Hey - thank you. Seriously." and walked off to do whatever the next three things he had to do were.

And while I did later have a busy and stressful dinner shift, I also won a sales contest for the first time. I sold more of our Filet Oscar specials than anybody else, and got to take one home for dinner.

Boo-ya. Favor with management AND free red meat. A great day.

SNIKT!

Back to the ex-work-wife story finally

Previously, on Guy's Work Blog...

I defined and offered examples of some "work-wife" relationships I've had in the past. That story is here http://guysworkblog.blogspot.com/2011/03/shes-gone-and-im-sad.html btw. You should read it first if you haven't. Seriously, I'll wait here. You go now.

She's Gone, and I'm sad Part 2

Cassie (my nickname for her) is one those rare co-workers who is almost never at rest. She makes everybody else almost look bad in fact, because (for instance) while some are standing around talking or just generally lolly-gagging during slower moments, she's weaving in and out of the assembly of the bored cleaning the counters that you're trying desperately to lean on.

She's also the type that - during busier periods - as you turn the corner planning on approaching your table with a full tea pitcher, she's leaving your table with an empty one, a few dishes, and a maybe a desert order for ya, to boot. You see, if you're generally a slacker, that could come across as perhaps a little too helpful. But as I said previously (on Guy's Work Blog...) those whom competence, high work-ethic, and teamwork are those whom I get along with best, and try to be myself. The reason that such a scenario doesn't make me look bad is that it's in context of a reciprocal relationship, and your tables (sorry - that's the word we often use for you people) - your *guests* generally pick up on the rapport you have with your co-worker, and have a better overall dining experience because of it.

A recent example: Cassie is removing an appetizer plate from one of my tables, and I (for the sake of the type of improv "performance art" we servers sometimes do) say - with mock indignation - to the guests "Now I just tried to take that away not 60 seconds ago, and you nearly slapped my hand!" They laugh :) Then Cassie chimes in "It's okay, I slap him at least once every day. Right on his bald head." and walks off. You see? Rapport. Relationship. Good times. Smiling guests. Cha-ching.

Now there's almost no one I currently work with that doesn't - occasionally - pick up a plate for you when walking by, or refill some teas for you. But it's more incidental to the fact that my current job only hires really good, experienced servers to begin with. (And two servers have "washed out" of training just in the few months since I've started here in fact, because it turned out they interviewed better than they actually worked.) Some of my co-workers I'd say do stuff like this routinely in fact, but not quite in the same personal and symbiotic style I discussed previously (on Guy's Work Blog - you have read it by now, right?). Some do it because they're good workers who know they're serving the guests. Some do it because there's a manager nearby and they want to be seen looking like a good worker (Guilty!). A few in my time, I'd say do such things specifically to make YOU LOOK BAD to that same nearby manager in fact - maybe because they think you get better sections or shifts than they. For some, their method of "moving up" requires pushing others down. I'm sure you know the type.

Well anyways, to wind this down before the darn story becomes a trilogy, it's rare to find people whom you work so well with that you honestly do stuff simply for the other person's benefit. I was enjoying seeing such a priceless relationship forming already at my new job. Perhaps Cassie saw in me the type of work-ethic I described previously (...). I also went to her with a lot of questions early on. You might say she maybe saw me as worthy of taking under her wing. She explained a lot to me about the place - the procedures (she designed all the "sidework" duties - a term for another time - herself in fact), regularly offered helpful hints, and even insights about our main boss-man, which has proven helpful.

And then we worked a party of 20 together.. and we aced it. (Large parties are where the money is, btw.) She later told me that that same "main boss-man" asked her "How'd Guy do on the party?" And she told me "I told him you sucked. You were nowhere to be found half the time, and stuck me with all the clean-up" Ha ha. Then she told me she told him I did fine, and that I should be put on more large parties. And I have been since. Thanks Cass.

The last night I saw her, I was given my first "12-top" (a party of 12 guests, duh) by myself ever here. We had the kind of thing going where I went immediately to her and said "I need to recruit you. I'm getting my first 12-top and I don't want to go down in flames or screw it up somehow and never get another one. Will you drop by and help me to make sure everything goes okay?" She says, "You'll do fi-i-i-ine. But yeh, I'll help you" and smiled. In this case, I felt the need to hand her $20 before the group even got rolling to show my appreciation (and to buy her guaranteed assistance ;) which she appreciated too. And yuppers, she was refilling drinks, pulling plates, etc, etc, etc, as if it were her own table, and as if her own income and job security depended upon it.

Well anyways, turns out she was actually discontent with the place. While my two stories above were happening, it was with the knowledge that she had found another job, and had given her notice (and tried to recruit me to come with). I told her that if I were the manager and she gave me notice, Id've handed her a pen and said "write down the exact schedule that you want, and let's talk money" just to keep her. Obviously, he felt differently. And that was the last night we worked together. Next time I worked, her shifts were all crossed out, and just like that, my budding work-wife was gone, and I was sad for a couple of days there.

It's probably for the best tho. She *was* starting to get a little clingy.

Bleep My Waiter Says dept - Potty Humor

No seriously, this is just humor relating to the potty, but not anything fowl.

Yesterday a little boy (maybe 8, maybe 10 years old) asks me "Do you know where the bathrooms are?"

One of my strengths - but also faults - is that I'm very specific when it comes to wording. I live with the curse of not always hearing what people really mean, but instead sometimes answering them according to what they literally say.

"Do I know where the bathroom is?" he's asking me? Seriously?

After maybe a second, I replied "Well, that would make me about the dumbest waiter ever if I didn't, now wouldn't it?"

The whole family laughed (thank God). But after that one rolled around in my head a few seconds, I was thinking of what else I could have said, like

"No... Actually, I don't. I've worked here 4 months and they STILL haven't told me." Kinda wish I'd said that actually. Eh. Maybe next time...

Wayyy back when I really was a totally smart-aleck waiter (and sooner or later I'll share here the singular incident that finally curbed me into toning myself down a few notches) one of my favorite "auto-replies" to a similar common guest question went like this:

"Where is your bathroom?"

Dramatic pause, direct eye contact, sly smile... 

"Right next to my bedroom."

Laughter usually ensued, but I found it was always from others at the table, laughing at the expense of the person who'd inquired. So I don't use that one so much these days. But I do remember it fondly.

I'll get back to Part 2 of the other thing I was telling you about soon, God willing. Just wanted to share that.

By the way, Orlando is a Big Time, World Class city people. Expectations are high. You can't just point people in the right direction when they ask about the location of your restrooms here. You want to know what the actual, official, in writing, according to the manual, policy is - when someone asks me where the bathroom is?

The correct answer is

"Follow me. I'll show you."

In this business, it's the personal touches that really matter. And that's one I really like.

Classy, huh?

She's Gone... and I'm sad

No, not that "she" people...     

I'm talking about someone I recently worked with. My "work-wife." But now she's taken another job, and just like that, she's gone. And I'm sad.

I... ummm... Guess I better first unpack this "work-wife" term of mine a bit, huh? It's a term I coined lonnng ago, but one I've actually not used - esp outloud - since getting *REALLY* married (and that's probably a good thing. But any of you public and "prolific" poo-poohers of mine out there, don't read too much into my use of the term here today, okay?)

For the rest of us, firstly, it's not a term or a relationship based on anything to do with attraction, or emotions, or any sense of flirtatiousness or inappropriate behavior. Nor is it a long-term commitment, either, ha ha! In fact I've had several work-wives over the last 25 or so years. If you knew me at Cattle Baron, most recently for me the term would have applied to Marlena, obviously. Kim before her, and Jennifer before her. And it's not that I always have a work-wife either. No, just like in real life, a good one is quite hard to come by in fact.

The relationship I'm speaking of starts with respect of the other one's character AND their proven ability on the job. I don't steal from my employers for instance, and could have absolutely no respect or meaningful relationship with someone whom I thought did. Also, I strive for excellence and have developed a pretty good skill-set over the years. And male or female, those are the people I tend to most like and gravitate towards at work, and whom I get along with the best. In short, I can have a great relationship with almost anyone at work if I know they're there to work, who aren't slackers or back-stabbers, who are MORE than competent, who DO MORE than is required of them (a lot of the time, anyways) and who put the immediate needs of our guests above their own short-term gain. Those people are unfortunately kind of rare to begin with, but not totally uncommon either.

For me tho, this "work-wife" relationship evolves when your schedules regularly overlap, and - just as good teammates and professional people - you come to seriously depend on knowing the other one almost always has your back, and will take as good care of the guests in your "section" as they will of their own. They likewise trust that you are doing the same for them. You are acutely aware of one another's needs as well, and are often helping that person do their job when they haven't even asked; it's just that one of you overheard the customer ask for something - or that you've accurately discerned what your teammate needed based on simple observation - and got to work on it because the other was busy... 

You're easily handing your co-worker things just as they were beginning to look for them. In some ways, the relationship I'm talking about here is not solely based on the guests' needs, but often-times based more and more on your co-workers needs. In short, the relationship becomes - and even seems to outside observers to be - truly symbiotic. Seriously, there were times at my last job where regulars didn't even automatically know who was actually waiting on them - Marlena or myself. They just knew that they got two servers for the price of one, and could ask anything of either of us freely, whoever was waiting on them. 

In fact, one time (just for giggles) we actually traded positions - Marley took the bartender slot, while I was the "cocktail waitress". This switch went unnoticed by our manager for almost three hours, because he was just that used to seeing seeing us taking care of each others' guests and responsibilities. Funny thing was, once our "ruse" was discovered, the manager laughed and let it be. Marlena then commented, "You know, I think we get away with entirely too much around here!"

This relationship goes beyond symbiosis as well tho of course. This relationship evolves into the dynamic that if a co-worker is talking bad about one of us for nearly any reason, the other will defend them. If one has to smoke, pee, change tampons, spend five minutes solid at one singular table for any variety of crazy reason, or just take a rare but seriously urgent personal call, the other so easily covers their absence that you (as a customer) wouldn't have a need that wasn't met - even if my/her own customers suffered for a minute or two. Beyond that, the rare customer that mistreats my work-wife, has to deal with me (in all my bald-headed, broad-shouldered bouncer-if-I-need-to-be glory).. But rather than throw a paying customer out for personal reasons, it's more likely that I'd just "switch out" and become their server, put up with their abuse all the while knowing they're not going to tip me, and it's worth it to me to keep her from having to deal with them. It gets very personal, in that you both know a lot about each others' outside lives, and care for one another's personal well-being, but also remains above all else professional. Keeping such relationships almost solely "inside the workplace" is probably a key component as to why it's worked so well for me, in fact. 

Just as examples, beyond the most recent fond memories of Marlena (see my current FB pics, that's her), I think of Kim sacrificing and working my shift when I wanted to stay out of town at a conference an extra day, and me "running off" her would-be-suitors whom I know she did not care for - and also telling her of those who dropped in that I knew she did care for - or might. And Jennifer - who was scheduled in before I was - and used to order food for me every day to make sure I ate something mbefore going on, because she'd learned that some days I'd be too busy at ARHQ and often would not take the time to eat a good lunch before my night shift. I came to depend on her for this, and she never let me down. She even watched my dogs for me once when I was leaving town, so I wouldn't have to pay to board them. (We meshed so well together at work, I used to say that one us couldn't fart on the clock without the other knowing it!) Her husband would occasionally come in, and once I remember him thanking me for taking such good care of her at work, and watching out for her. "Oh yeah?" I thought.. "and all this time I looked at the situation as her taking care of me." 

You see, I'm describing the kind of relationship you actually talk about, outside of work.  

Hummmmm. Hrrrrmmmmm. Ya know what I'm thinking? I'm thinking, that all of the above introduction/definition of the term has been long enough. Too long for typical blog entry standards.

So with all of that out of the way, I'll catch you more up on what I intended to write about here, next time.

Thanks for hanging with me so far

-g-

Why you MAY not want to order a bottle of wine from me today

...

Late last night, my cats and I got into a very serious philosophical debate, over wines.

One prefers Pinot Noir with her chicken and fish flavored cuisines, while the other (a purist, to be sure) still insists on white wine to go with his white meat (flavored!) dishes. Tell me what you think, below.

What? You fell for that? I'm talking about CATS here! Okay, more truthfully now...

Late last night, my two cats and I got into a very physical debate over whether my wine opener is more suitable as a devise for scratching them with, or is best used simply as a chew-toy. Let's just say the whole debacle ended with a split decision, and wet fur everywhere.

Anyways, everyone's being called in early tonight for some big thing-a-ma-jig, and instead of washing and sterilizing my wine opener, I'm writing this.

So, if I happen to be your waiter tonight, and if you're drinking wine, AND if you're not really a cat person, you might prefer ordering by the glass rather than having me open a bottle for you tableside. That's my whole point here.

If you are a cat person, you probably totally understand, and could probably care less.

I'm here for you either way. But it's totally your call.

I am totally kidding btw. Didn't happen. Exactly.

But this blogging is SO good for me! I can't remember the last piece of creative writing I produced. 

Sorry for the "Gotcha!"  ;)