Saturday, February 6, 2010

Dear, Table 18...

Oh my God... what a bitch. People like you are the reason I don't want to be a Maitre D'. Maitre D's have to kiss your ass whether you're a reasonable human being or not, and quite honestly my dear, I don't think you're worthy of the title.

I'm bartending on a Saturday night, and the lady at table 18 orders a Grey Goose martini -- dirty, with limes. Personally, I'd use olive and lime juice to mask the imperfections of a cheap vodka rather than sully a well crafted premium like Grey Goose, but to each their own. So I shake lightly with a little olive juice, and put two lime wedges on the edge of the glass. She sends back the martini: she wants it shaken with the lime juice. I can see her looking at me. Smugly. She's been in here before. I don't recall her having been a twat last time I served her, so I think nothing of it as I pour the martini back into a shaker with the freshly squeezed lime juice and give it another go. I pour it into a fresh glass with a lime wheel floating atop. Classy, right?

She sends it back. Again. She claims that this muddy green martini was not made with Grey Goose. EXCUSE ME?? Are you calling me a liar??? I can see you from the bar! You should have watched me pour this from the Grey Goose bottle!! I've had assholes send back martinis saying I used too much vermouth (when I didn't even look at any vermouth), but this is some next level bullshit. Don't pretend to have such a finely discerning palate, when you fuck up a well crafted premium spirit with olive and lime juice. If you were a true vodka drinker, you'd order it straight up, not fucked up... you're a poser. If you want to be a poser, fine, but don't waste my time and call me a liar by sending it back because it makes you feel important. Fuck You, table 18.


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