Not in the job description.

It’s frustrating to be a waitress sometimes. I think tonight was one of the most frustrating things I’ve had to deal with.

We’re a restaurant that focuses on sushi and more traditional Japanese food rather than the hibachi-style food you find at big chain restaurants that flaunt the “teppanyaki” kind of thing. As such, we get a lot of customers that come in expecting hibachi and often leave after finding we do not make hibachi. Often it’s just after ordering drinks—coke and sweet tea—and yet today was the worst case of “No hibachi? Kthxbai” I’ve faced.

One guy walks in—table for three, please. I seat him and we wait for his companions. He refuses the oshibori—sometimes that’s a red flag for me, but not always. Drink? Budweiser. Another red flag, and a third after he says he’s fine with just the bottle, no glass. Two more friends arrive—both also refuse the oshibori. Two Bud Lites. Four, five points. I’m keeping track by this point.

I like to play games at work sometimes, like how many “stereotype points” people can “collect”. Often it’s people who are looking for hibachi and not what we have to offer, and we usually run into problems with them, like they aren’t completely satisfied and don’t tip well. Already these guys were racking up quite a score.

They pop the question early on: “I’ll have the hibachi steak.” I’ve noticed that people often do not actually look at the menu and merely assume that we have hibachi. It’s quite common, even online—it frustrates me when I have to explain every bit of the menu (especially to phone customers) who have the information available online to them.

I politely explain that we do not have hibachi per se, but do have teriyaki, which is quite similar but with a slightly different flavor. What’s it come with? Meat—steak or chicken (or seafood…) with stir-fried vegetables and noodles. (It’s on the menu in front of you…) They seem a little skeptical, but sometimes I find that with a bit of coaxing they can at least enjoy their meal and then I’ll never have to see them again. They end up ordering a chicken teriyaki and two beef—one no noodles, “extra rice.” (Sure, whatever.)

Soup and salad are brought out. I set them down and turn to another table who has just finished. I can hear the other table talking: “Don’t they ask you if you want ranch or not?” Strike…six? Seven. Eight, even. It takes her a few minutes to finally flag me down (even as I was standing around waiting to see if anything needed to be done) and then ask if we had any other dressing. I shook my head—“No, sorry.” She gives a rather dejected and haughty “Fine” in reply. (Jerk.) (By this point I'm calling the stereotypes. They won't touch their vegetables, only eating the meat, and will ask for fried rice instead of white. Upon discovery we do not have fried rice, they will drown the rice we do have in soy sauce. Then the complaints will start. Then the tip will be nonexistent.)

Another waitress comes into the back a few minutes later as I’m waiting to scoop the rice to deliver their food.

“Your table is leaving.”

“The private room?”

“No, table five—“

(No. They wouldn’t.)

I go out and am confronted by the first man who came in.

“Yeah, we have to leave. Somethin’ came up.”

“I…” I have absolutely no idea what to say. Their food is literally done and I’ve never had to deal with this before.

“Could we just, like, pay for the beers…?”

“…Uh. Hang on a second.”

I go to my manager who is in the middle of making sushi.

“We’ve got a problem. They need to leave and…” I point in the back to the kitchen. He gives me a funny look and I shrug. “I don't know what to do.”

He goes out to talk with the guy. I only hear bits of their conversation, including something about how the group has to leave and no, they can’t take it for take out and they really have to leave now. (They probably realized too late this isn’t what they wanted to eat. GJ. GJ.)

“Just…charge them for the drinks and the soup and salad. We’ll take care of it later.”

I shrug and write the check: $19.62. They toss a twenty down on the check and I ask if they want change—they say yes and I hear a scoff. I later find why.

“This much for beer?” They sound incredulous.

“I was told to charge for the soup and salad that you ate…”

“Soup and—“ He stops, scoops up his change, and leaves with his companions.

“Well, we’ll never see them again.”

I kind of feel bad, but people need to realize that we can’t just give things out for free. Sure, you might not like it, but if you eat it, you bought it. Just like people who eat half a chicken teriyaki and say it’s terrible and they don’t want to pay for it. It just boggles my mind that people actually do that and get away with it, too.

In conclusion, it’s your own fault if you don’t do your research before getting your beer and ordering something you might not really like. Do your research.