The Not So Holy

When I was 19 (21 now), I used to work at a fine-dining restaurant in my area, and Sundays were ALWAYS the absolute worst. While I’ve had quite a few bad experiences serving on Sundays, I’m going to go ahead and share the worst one.

A large group of couples (about 20 people, ages ranging from young 20s to late 40s) came in for lunch dressed in their Sunday best. When I first tried to give my whole welcome spiel (Welcome to the establishment, our specials, getting drink orders, etc), one of the older women in the group held up her hand and told me to come back in 5 minutes, because they were trying to talk. Fair enough. I came back 5 minutes later as requested and was then chastised for “taking so long to come to the table” by the same woman who originally sent me away. At this point, I knew it was going to be a disaster, but I held my tongue, smiled, offered an apology, and proceeded to take drink orders. Getting drink orders for this table was a nightmarish ordeal that took about 20 minutes. Apparently the women were against drinking alochol on Sundays, but some of the men weren’t, so they proceeded to argue and try to involve me in the argument. Once the whole thing was straightened out and I returned with all of the drinks, I proceeded to take orders (which was also a nightmare because of the modifications). At some point, one of the younger women noticed that her husband had been staring at my chest for quite a while, and proceeded to berate him for doing so, and also berated me for having “such a large chest” and informed me that I should “do something about them so that men don’t stare.” Keep in mind that my shirt was completely buttoned all the way to the top and absolutely NO cleavage was showing. I apologized anyway and went to go put in their order while trying not to get upset over this woman’s comments. As I made my way back to the table to remove appetizer plates and refill drinks, the women were whispering to each other and glaring at me the entire time, and while they had been polite but demanding before, they were just flatout rude. They started snapping their fingers to get my attention, and made comments about how I must be incompetent because it was taking me more than 5 minutes to refill all 20 drinks, and remove the dishes of 20 people from the table. When I brought out their food and started doling it out to each person, one of the older gentlemen apparently felt that it would be appropriate to pinch my butt, which then started another fight between him and his wife, but also between all of the women and me. 4 of them proceeded to call me a slut, while the others said I was too incompetent to do my job correctly, and that I was giving off “sexual vibes” to the men.

I know that some female servers flirt with the male member of the couple in hopes of getting a higher tip, but I’ve never done so. I addressed everyone at the table as “sir” or ma’am”, made sure not to make any physical contact with any of the males when it wasn’t absolutely necessary to do so, and I made sure to smile and compliment each of the women’s outfits.

After they finished insulting me, they demanded that I bring my manager to the table, which I did. They (the women) all aired their complaints about my service and appearance, and demanded that my manager comp their meals. My manager made no effort to defend me (despite telling me multiple times previously that I was the best server they had, and that they were constantly having people write letters or call to tell them what a wonderful server I was) and comped their meals. After I finished boxing everything up (they’d demanded to just take everything to go because I’d apparently ruined their meal), I went to go clean up the table. At that point, I wasn’t expecting a tip, but I also didn’t expect any of the nasty notes (calling me a whore, slut, telling me I’m ugly and too stupid to do anything besides serving, that I was incompetent, that I was going to hell, etc.) from the women. Some of them even finished off their notes by stating that they’d “pray for me to better myself.” But the icing on the cake? The notes from the husbands of 3 of the women who left their phone numbers for me. This was the experience that ended it for me. In tears, I collected all of the notes, finished clearing up the table, went to my manger and showed him the notes, and told him that I quit, and that I wouldn’t be coming back.

I’m not sure that I’ll ever take a serving job again, but if I do, I’m going to find a restaurant that’s not open on Sundays. It’s not worth the abuse, the condescending attitudes, and the terrible tips (religious tracts, bible verses, notes that they’ll pray for me), that you get when serving on Sundays.

The worst thing about it? I’m a Christian. I go to church. I do community service, I give offering, I’m saving myself until marriage. I’m doing all of the things that I’m supposed to do, and it’s just disgusting to see that my fellow Christians could behave so horribly. My ex-coworkers were always saying that if that’s how Christians acted, they wanted no part of Christianity, and I couldn’t even blame them. Too many Christians act self-righteous when they leave church on Sundays. They ask if we believe in God, and they condemn us for working on Sunday, but they’re failing to realize that if it weren’t for THEM coming in, none of us would be there.