A Short Play About What It’s Like To Be A Server

(Complete with GIFs, to better tell the story)

I work at a restaurant. It’s open late. Like, REALLY late… Which means that sometimes I am there until the wee hours of the morning. One of the GOOD things about being a server at a restaurant like this is that other service industry people usually come in after their shifts have ended, and those people tend to be very cool and very generous. But in addition to these cool/generous people, there are a whole lot of weirdos: People who have already closed down other bars who are already WAY drunk… People who walk in with little kids at 1 o’clock in the morning, and then order that kid a Coke… People dressed like some sort of weirdly sexual stuffed animal… People who seem unaware that they have a Pigpen-like cloud of skunky weed stink hovering around them in a 20 meter radius like some sort of Peanuts character with the munchies… All kinds (I proposed the idea of adding an automatic gratuity to any table that noticeably smells of pot, and unfortunately it got shot down).

So seeing as how I work late, I see a lot of stuff… A lot of stories (Stories like THIS ONE with a walk-in wedding reception for folks with camouflage cumber buns). But one from this past week was one of my favorites. They say good stories happen to people who can tell them, so I’m going to try to you this one… The story begins with a couple sitting at my table, ordering a pizza. The guy ordered a pizza with 6 toppings… One of them being anchovies. When I repeated his order back to him, I thought he had said “Artichokes.” He stopped me and said, “Not artichokes. ANCHOVIES.” I said, “Anchovies?” And he nodded and said, “Anchovies.” About 10 minutes later, I brought him his pizza. And this is where our story begins…


Guy [flagging me down, looking a bit disconcerted]: “Hey man… Did you put some tuna on this pizza?”


Me [laughing just a bit]: “Tuna?”


Guy: “Or like, some salmon or something?”


Me: “No, man. That’s just the anchovies you ordered on your pizza.”


[Guy squints his eyes suspiciously, and gives me a hesitant, confused nod as I walk away]




Guy’s girlfriend: “Excuse me, sir… SIR??”


Me: “Yes?”


Guy’s girlfriend [bringing her hand to her chest in a “clutching her pearls” motion which partially obscures the large tattoo on her breast]: “Those anchovies have RUINED that pizza for him!”


Me [looking over to the man who just ordered a pizza with anchovies as one of his toppings]: …


Guy [sulking, clearly grossed out]: “Tastes like FISH, man…”


Me: “That’s… That’s because anchovies are little fishes.”


Guy: “I can’t eat it.”



Me, with any annoyance at having to get this guy a new pizza offset by the pure joy of being able to tell this story for the rest of my life: “So sorry about that. I’ll bring you a new pizza right out, sir.”






The guy, still apparently angry at me Jedi-Mind-Tricking him into eating slimy, salty little fish on pizza, leaves me a $5 tip on a $60 tab.


Me [thinking to myself]: “Still worth it.”



Thanks for reading… I hope this story makes you as happy as it makes me. I realized recently that I survive wholly on the generosity of others. If you feel like leaving a tip, you can do that on PAYPAL. If you’d like to become a Patron, you can do that HERE. Otherwise, I’m on TWITTER and I’m on FACEBOOK.


This entry was posted in 3) Bathroom Humor, 5) Not Quite Sure, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to A Short Play About What It’s Like To Be A Server

  1. This hospitality professional experienced every nuance of your story. In the business for over 30 years, I could tell stories that would render mere mortals speechless. Ultimately the human condition sustains my fascination with the profession. Kudos to you 🙂

  2. Jeff Cann says:

    Thank you. A nice break from our political hell. It’s also a good reminder to always be courteous to my server.

  3. Pingback: 6 Things You Can Say To Let Your Server Know You’re A Horrible Tipper | The Boeskool

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s