Kids say the darndest things

Well I was supposed to write this post last night, but I decided to watch videos of people's grandmas on youtube until 3:00 am instead. So my apologies to those at work who I asked to check out my newest post...here it finally is.

Last night while working on the patio, one of my coworkers waited on a family of five. When he got to the daughter, who was around six or seven, she asked for the kids cheeseburger. He asked her, "how would you like your burger cooked," to which she replied, "cut into triangles please." Yes! Often times we hate waiting on children because, as my old friend Coco says, "children don't order steaks." This is true, they don't order thirty dollar steaks. Instead they order seven dollar kids meals that include ice cream and a drink. And you know what...that is ok - they're children! And they often say and do the funniest things in our restaurant.

Another time one of my coworkers fell victim to our kitchen, which on occasion can take anywhere from 30 minutes to four days to get your food out. As she finally brought the order to the table, the small five year old took a tater tot from his plate, shook it in her face and told her, "you took to long with my grilled cheese." Seriously?! It hurts my heart when things like that happen. Here is another child being taught from an early age by his parents that is perfectly acceptable to harrass the staff. Too many parents teach their children that it is ok, in fact normal to be as rude as possible to the waitstaff, and as such we find ourselves getting dissed by children as young as five years old.

Once, while waiting on a family of four from San Francisco, I asked the son what he wanted to drink. The yong lad (about age 8 or so) thought about it for a moment and replied, "I'll have a Roy Rogers on the rocks. Easy on the rocks." Yes! Thank you Grandma or whoever ordered that drink this way infront of that boy, because that was one of the best things I've heard at work in a long time.

Thank you children for the entertaining things you say. You are a delight. Until you start ripping up your food into tiny pieces and throwing it on the floor. And until your start running and screaming through the restaurant while your disinterested parents assume the waitstaff to be a fleet of free babysitters. That is when you have begun to overstay your welcome. That is, unless you ordered the thirty dollar steak. In that case you are allowed a little time to, as my drunks told me the other night, "let it all out."