Restaurant Adventures: Botox Betty

As I sit here in Nashville with my dear old friend Pancakes, I can't help but be reminded of one of the biggest horror stories I was involved in during my stint as a server (I like run-on sentences). By this point, I've had many horror stories and thought that I had seen it all; until this day.

It was February 2008, and I was guest serving at my original store. I picked up a shift before I went to Denver for a conference. I figured the extra spending cash wouldn't hurt, and it was a good shift in a busy section of the restaurant. It was a good night, K-Monster was bartending, the hostess and I were playing games, and the manager was really cool. The night was pretty fruitful, up until towards the end.

I remember there being a phone call to come in stating that a 45 top (yes, 45 people at once eating together) was coming in towards the end of the night. By this point, there were only three servers left, and I was one of them. I did not want to get caught in this storm, so I was hoping that all of my guests would leave and I could clean up before the large party came, alleviating me of said duties. My plan was flawless, all I needed to do was execute.

As with any restaurant, this store had its regulars. Some were great, others were nightmares. And this night, I was lucky enough to have a nightmare regular come in.
Name:Botox Betty
Age: ~50, but probably 9,002
MO: Bring Sugar Daddy to restaurant and drink 2 for 1 chardonnay
Bad Qualities: Never satisfied, tip poorly, leave a note on receipt

Botox Betty was known for coming in and being difficult with the servers. She was in her mid-fifties and looked like she had a good bit of work done in the past but she finally gave up on working on her face. Once she entered the store, she would get two for one chardonnay and then take forever to order, usually dissatisfied with her choice. She would often leave a note for the server in lieu of a tip due to her dissatisfaction.

I believe at this point, everyone knew who she was, and was just going to deal with her. She wasn't bad to deal with, she didn't really cause issues, it was just hard to please her. She sat in my section with one of her many male friends and looked at the menu. The gentleman ordered beer, and she ordered wine; which is 2 for 1 until an hour before close (10 pm). I had many tables, so I was struggling trying to keep everything clean and my guests satisfied, and she was making things difficult by not knowing what she wanted to order. This wasn't an indecisive type moment, but a "I don't remember what I ordered last time" moment. To make matters worse, she said it was "fish" and we only have 3 fish dishes on the menu and somehow it was too difficult for her to recant her memory to which of the three it was. After she described what the dish was "probably" like (Seriously?! I was about to punch her), I told her which one it most likely was and she ordered it. 15 minutes wasted.

At this point I'm behind and slightly frustrated at her seemingly budding incompetence. I didn't have time to vent to anyone because I wanted to be out of the store by the time the large party came so I didn't have to serve them. Then, the food came out. I grabbed the plates and hand the couple their dishes. The gentleman dives in, while Botox Betty decides that this is not the dish she ordered. ARE YOU F***ING SERIOUS? I went and grabbed a menu and went over the dish one last time and asked her if she would like to order something different. She decided that she would just eat off of her friend's plate.

Around 9:50, K-Monster made last call for happy hour. I go around to all my guests and ask if they would like anything, all of them (including Botox Betty) said no and I went about my business. Because of the mishap, I payed extra attention to Botox Betty and guest so that their experience was still a good one. At 10:04 I went back by and asked if there was anything needed. BB asked for another round of chardonnay.

Me: Another house chardonnay? That is fine, but remember 2 for 1 is over so I can only get you one.
Botox Betty:What do you mean you can only get me one?
Me: Well after 10pm, 2 for 1 ends. Would you still like to order one?
BB: What time is it?
Me: 10:04pm. So it just ended. I came by when the bartender called last call, but you stated you were fine.
BB: This doesn't make any sense, its only 4 minutes after, why can't I get the 2 for 1?! I've never heard of such a thing!!
Me: Well I can ask the bartender if she'll let it slide, give me a second.
Turn around and ask K-Monster if Botox Betty could have a 2 for 1 after 10
K-Monster: I'm sorry, we can't; it's not allowed.
BB: I don't understand this, whatever, can I just have sweet tea then?

So I go and get her sweet tea, and K-Monster assures me that I did the right thing and F*** that B**** (K-Monster has been on the receiving end of one of her notes). The couple asks for their check soon there after and pays in exact change. I remember while they were getting the exact cents for their check, Botox Betty was looking under the table. I go and offer my assistance, but she just stated that she dropped her shoe and was looking for it. "Oh noo...." (Yeah, I actually don't care). The couple left, and I count all the change to make sure that they at least left the check amount; which they had. Once I cleaned the table off and got all the change in my apron, I noticed that she had left me a note on her receipt. Instead of being angry, I waved the receipt around like a trophy/flag and showed every worker in the store. I have since lost the receipt, but I can give a fairly accurate recitation of the epic note:

"I can not believe the service I received today. This place has really gone down hill since I first came. You don't know anything about customer service, people want to be treated like people, not like a slaughterhouse. I know a lot about customer service and all of my customers get great service. I own the Planet Beach down the street, and our number is 225-xxx-xxxx and you can come in any time and see real customer service"

Why, thank you Botox Betty for sharing your wisdom of customer service with me. I had no idea that people didn't want to be treated like a slaughterhouse!

Bitch.

Well nothing I could do now, I just ate the fact that I didn't receive a tip and finished up the night. Once my last customer left, I made a quick pass around the restaurant, then started my cleaning process. The first thing I always did was wipe and clean off the table tops so I could sweep it up after. Once that was done, I would make sure all of the sugar caddies were full. Once I got the the table where Botox Betty sat, I noticed that her sugar caddy was empty. Odd.

I go to the hostess and blame her for it being empty. We had been playing gags on each other the whole night and thought that this was just one of them. She assures me that she did not do it and was perplexed as to why it was empty as well. I brush it off and finish filling all of my caddies. Next, I had to fill the salt and pepper shakers. Same thing. Super Odd. Once again, I blame the hostess for the gag, but she assures that she did not do it. I jokingly said "wow, this is weird, let me check the ketchup to see if its empty too!!". I picked it up, and it was half full which was common.

I go to the back to get a broom so I can sweep and leave the restaurant, and when I get back to my section, the 45 top walked in. NOOOooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!. I started frantically sweeping and hoping that they would not look to me for help (I'm usually a team player but I wasn't having it that day!). I swept the floor, and got under most of the booths. Then, when I got to table 45 to sweep underneath, I could not believe my eyes. "WHAT. THE. F***!?!?". Looks as if the hostess, in fact, didn't take all those things off my table.

Botox Betty had taken all of the sugar from the caddy, all the salt and pepper from the shakers and put them underneath the table, and squirted half of the ketchup bottle on top of the the pile. Yes, reread that sh*t if you have to because its real; ITS REALLY REAL. Livid. I couldn't even think straight. How are you going to be a 9,002 year old woman and act that way in public? It is not my fault that your sugar daddy had to pay in coins. Not my fault your tan was bad and your botox wore off. I'm sorry that you're slow and can't remember which fish dish you ordered.

It was clear that I didn't need to see this woman again or there was gonna be a world war 3, 4, and 5 up in this bitch. The manager took note of what happened and stated that I did not have to help with the 45 top. I told everyone who is anyone about the situation. I wanted to go to her Planet Beach and pretty much be a belligerent black person and squirt sun tan lotion and oil all over her store. But instead, I just cleaned up the mess and went to Denver the next day.

I never had another run in with Botox Betty, but was told she came in to the store and did it two other times before they banned her from the store. TWO OTHER TIMES. I'm glad I wasn't there because there would be a lawsuit.

Never forget; I'mma get that hoe. ~!Antoine!~

When You Wish Upon A Coaxial Cable

Nearing my re-entrance into adulthood, I couldn't help but remember a time where I was anything but adult-like. I'm a fairly outgoing person, and it usually doesn't take much for me to do something; especially if I believe it is a good idea.

At my freshman orientation, I met and befriended one of my current really good friends; Anise. When move in day happened for our freshman year, it turned out that we lived next door to each other in the dorms. I can remember the first day when she called my new cell phone to find where I was. She was living with her best friend, Stella, who I briefly met at freshman orientation after an incident with a flat tire.

The dorms were separated by a small patio, which proved to be a wonderful meeting place for young impressionable minds. Teaming with smokers, break dancers, and the fans of both, the patio had a very unique and positive dynamic. It is common to human nature to want to form bonds with other humans over even the simplest of things.

Just like the tenants of the patio, there was a group of individuals who made home in the lobby of the west dorm. They called themselves the "Lobby Rats" (no joke). This eclectic bunch bonded over Magic the Gathering, anime, and their love for wearing and making clothes that suggested they were characters within the card game they played so often.

Anise and Stella were smokers, so due to my affiliation with them, I became part of the patio group. The people were diverse and interesting. A good number of them also enjoyed sports, which being at a dominating sports university aided in that revelation.

Although the dorms were separated by the patio, all residents had access to the lobbies of both buildings. In the west dorm, there was a public, free to use, big screen television. It was a floor model, not that it mattered because it worked and it was big and available. This television, however, became the Helen of Troy of our dorm. Because the scheduling for when the television was to be used was very lax (a first come first serve type policy with maybe a 3 hour time constraint), it was hard for everyone to be pleased when they got to use it. The Lobby Rats often used the television to watch anime, and the patio people used it to watch sports games.

One faithful College Football Saturday, the Lobby Rats got up early to monopolize the television and its time; much to the chagrin of the patio people who were looking to watch a full day of football. An argument (just short of a belligerent wrestling match) ensued, causing a bout of tension between the two groups. Now instead of using the television for its intended purposes, the two groups were using it (and its rules/privileges) to annoy the other group. Real mature.

After about two weeks of this madness, I had gotten fed up with the entire process and would've done anything to alleviate this seemingly childish situation. And then...my chance came.

Stella had two younger brothers, and one day the younger of the two came to visit in the dorm. At the time of his visit, Stella's brother was 11. I remember walking into the west lobby and seeing her, her dad, and the little brother and introducing myself. I remember the little brother asking about the big screen TV, and the conversation that ensued:

Little Brother: Look at that big screen, can anybody watch it?
Me: Yeah, but there is this group of anime nerds who fight with the people on the patio over who gets to watch it when.
LB: Really? Why are they fighting?
Me: Who knows, they're just being really stupid really. I wish I could do something to stop it. Just unplug it so no one can watch it.
LB: Ooh! You could take the cable cord out maybe!

Yes, when this 11 year old child stated those glorious and magical words, I leaped into action. Accompanied by him and Stella, I carefully rolled the television to the side to reveal that not only could the cable cord be taking out of the TV, but it could be taken out of the wall in the same manner. Perfect..

After removing the cable cord, Stella and I began to brainstorm what could be done with this cord. We didn't want to take the property of the dorm, but we also didn't want people to have access to it. While debating on locations to hide the cord, the little brother noticed that the screen doors behind where the television sat were open and suggested we hide the cord there. Genius. This kid is two for two. Quick, someone get me materials to make him a cake.

Once again taking the advice of an 11 year old, Stella and I hid the cable cord behind the screen doors. After a good laugh of how this prank would change the dynamic of the groups, we went our separate ways. Stella and I told a few of the patio people about the situation so that they could laugh with us. Calling it a victory for the patio people, they quickly began bringing their own cable cord to the TV when they were ready to watch. After a few days, the Lobby Rats caught wind of the trend and began doing the same thing. The fighting had stopped. It was miraculous. Until the television broke in the process.

One day, the television would not turn to a station, just snow. The fighting had begun again, only this time it was over who broke the TV and who should have to pay for it. The Residential Hall Coordinator and dorm life got involved with the incident, and it became an actual big deal. A lot of name calling and blaming started to happen and the RHC had no idea what to do about it.

Not sure how long after it first happened, but I definitely remember walking to the patio one night to find a couple sitting at one of the tables. I took the initiative to say hi, and I talked with them for a bit. They were hoping to get inside a lobby to use the bathroom, so I let them into the west lobby. After their bathroom break, they came to the couches and saw the big screen TV. They talked about how their dorm didn't have a TV of that size in the lobby. I mentioned the incident and the now broken status of the television. The girl, being inquisitive, wanted to see the back of the TV. We rolled the TV to the side so she could look, and she realized that the coaxial input was loose on the TV. She wanted to take a closer look, and went to her car to get her tools. Not being sexist, but why she had a toolbox in her car and the guy did not and could not even use them was beyond me.

We took off the back panel of the TV, and found the problem of the "broken television". The input had come loose and just needed to be set back on to the board. In hindsight, that job needed some soldering, but since we were college students and knew everything, we worked on it anyway. It was maybe 17 seconds in when we broke the piece completely. Defeated and not caring, we placed the panel back onto the TV and they left. I didn't think twice about it. I mean hey, it was broken already right?

The next day, as I was walking out of the dorm, Stella comes up to me and states "You have to talk to the RHC, the Lobby Rats are blaming Cody for the TV and they're going to get him in a lot of trouble! You have to tell her about the cable cord!" Well this is a great way to start my day. Because I didn't want anyone to get in trouble over my actions, I did as she said. I went to the RHC and told her about the cable cord. My honesty sounded a bit like this:

Me: Well, my friend's 11 year old brother had an idea to just take the cable cord out to get them to stop fighting. I thought it was a good idea, so I did it
RHC: So you took the cord? Where is it?
Me: Oh yeah, we hid it behind the screen door that's behind the TV. Its been there this entire time
RHC: Well because of that, the replacing of the cords each time made the cable input fall in the TV, and now no one can use it.
Me: Yeah...about that, I met these two random people last night and we were looking at the back of the TV and we kind of made that happen.
RHC: What is up with you and listening to people you don't know?

Yeah...good question. The judicial board decided not to blame anyone for the destruction of the TV because not one (but several) person was to blame. However, since I started and ended the cable cord debauchery, I was forced to write an essay on being responsible, take a responsibility class (I don't remember what the essay or the class was about, but they were subject relative), and write a letter of apology to the patio people and the Lobby Rats. I remember asking her who I should address the Lobby Rat letter to, and she stated "The Lobby Rats", so I laughed. At the point, I didn't know they actually called themselves that, so I thought it was funny they she would make me address them in that manner when I thought it was a name insult. Me laughing, got me in trouble of course. Not sorry.

After that semester, they decided to not have the TV in the lobby for everyone to use, so they placed it in the basement where only residents could get access to it. Turned out for the better anyway.

I'd do it all over again and in the exact same manner because I'm a rebel. ~!Antoine!~

The Car Acquisition

Now that I have finally graduated, I can focus on things that were put on the back burner: like sleep, eating, and this blog. This lovely picture of my car was taking right after Parking Services put a boot on it the day before my defense. Could care less that it happened, I had a thesis to finish!

By now you probably know that my entire life is a series of belligerent events that somehow tie themselves together to make a story. This story is a series of belligerent events that led me to the acquisition of this car.

In October 2009, my previous car, The Altima, broke down (alternator, duh). After waiting a month to acquire the funds, I was able to purchase a new alternator and replace it. The car still ran funny, but it ran nonetheless. When Winter break came, I decided to go home for it. The second I got home, the car died. RIP Altima (well sorta, the parental units were able to fix it and allow my brother to drive it). Lucky for me, a friend in which I grew up with was also attending the school in Georgia with me and had come home for the break as well and was able to give me a ride back. That was a great car ride, had a big puppy dog in my lap the entire time and I love that dog.

Three months of riding the bus and using Bradley as my personal chauffeur, I was finally able to acquire funds to purchase a new car. At first I was going to just go cheap like I did with the Altima, but then I decided that I should do some harder digging and find a better car and spend a little bit more on it. So that is what I did.

I was going to Mississippi for Spring break, and was going to purchase my car somewhere in between. I narrowed my search down to 3 cars. Due to some unforeseen events in his lab, Bradley had to leave later than we had planned, and I missed out on two of the cars. At this point I could either research more cars, or be content with the last car. I'm lazy so I decided to be content.

Now this is the part you need to pay attention to. I have attached a map that will help guide you as I tell the tale.


Bradley and his family are from Ocean Springs, MS, (red circle) which is where we went for spring break. He had to go on a research cruise, and I needed to work with a nonprofit located in Biloxi, MS (purple circle). The car I was looking at was located in Hammond, LA (blue star) about 90 miles away.

The first day in Ocean Springs, me, Bradley, and his sister hop into a car and drive to Hammond. We get there and meet with the salesman, and we talk about the car. I was disappointed that the car was an automatic, as I thought it was a 5 speed manual. I suck it up because everything else about the car was right. I decide to purchase the car and we make the sale. The windshield was cracked, so I asked if they would replace it and they said they would, and would deliver the car to Ocean Springs once it was finished. I wrote a check for the amount, and they told me it would be delivered on Thursday. Awesome.

Bradley, his sister, and I are driving back to Ocean Springs, me feeling triumphant on finding a decent car at a great price (got them to knock off $800 on it making it even better). Bradley leaves for his cruise, I work with the nonprofit, and everything is great. Thursday rolls around, and this is where the story really begins to happen.

I call the car lot early Thursday morning to confirm that my car would be delivered to me that day. They inform me that the windshield has yet to be replaced, but they would deliver it anyway and I could bring it back on Friday to get it fixed. I thought that wasn't too bad of an idea, so I asked to do that. Well, unfortunately, my check had yet to go through so they would not give me the car until that happened. So I call the bank and ask how long it would take the check to go through, and they said in about a week. I couldn't wait that long because I was banking on this car for my ride back to Georgia, since Bradley was on a research cruise. Instead of consulting adults, I decided that the best idea was to cancel the check, get the cash, pay for the car that way and drive back to Georgia. Didn't quite happen that way...

I get Bradley's sister's car and go to Baton Rouge (brown circle) and stay with my pseudo little brother for the night. I wake up early in the morning, go to the bank, get the money for the car, then drive to Hammond (which is now only 30 miles away). Once I get to Hammond, I am welcomed by friendly and happy people, ready for me to pay the car off in cash. I go to my salesman and make the transaction in the office, we go outside, and the windshield has yet to be replaced. They assured me that it would be done by 5pm and that I should plan on retrieving the car then. Cool. Unfortunately, I could not wait that long as I needed to return the car I was currently in. So my salesman suggests that he takes a lot car, we drive to Ocean Springs, and I drop the car off then come back. Perfect.

He hops in a black 2008 Pontiac G6 and we drive 90 miles to Ocean Springs. I return the car to the sister, and I hop in the G6. He states that he is hungry and wants to know where we can eat. I name a few places, and mention the casinos have great buffets. He wants to go to a buffet, so we decide to go to a casino. He asks me to drive since I know the area, so I do and we go to the Beau Rivage which is in Biloxi. We eat and have a great conversation, and all is well. We had about 2 hours to kill, and he wanted to check out the poker tables since he was an avid player back in his day (as he told me). Now normally, my Antoine senses would've kicked in at this point, but for some reason I was like "YOLO" and let him go.

We walked over to the table, and he wanted to meet there in about 90 minutes so we could leave. I go off and do homework while he plays because I'm responsible. 90 minutes pass, and I go back to the spot where we're supposed to meet. Not there. Not a big deal I thought, he still has 30 minutes, probably went off somewhere. 30 minutes pass, still not there. Hmmmm...this is kinda awkward. I didn't have his cell phone, so I decided to call the car lot to get it from them. I call them, and they state that his cell phone is off and it would do no good to try and call it. Hmmmmm...I think my Antoine senses are kicking in... I have now officially started to freak out. Here I am, in Biloxi, MS, with a car salesman who has disappeared and who is supposed to take me back to Hammond in the car that I still had the keys to...

I wasn't quite ready to call it quits on the guy, so I waited around a little bit longer, keeping Bradley's mom informed of the entire situation. Of the moms I could've possibly chosen, I chose Bradley's mom seeing as how they are from the area and she wouldn't try to destroy half a state in a rampage for justice like Annette would. When 6pm rolled around, Bradley's mom informed me to call the lot, ask for permission to drive the car back to Hammond, and just leave the guy behind. I do just that, and they tell me to drive back and I would get my car when I got there.

I drive to Hammond, and get there at 8pm. When I returned their car, they stated "where is the money"? You have to be sh*tting me right now.
Me: I gave it to the salesperson, he put it in that filing cabinet there (I point to the filing cabinet)
They search the filing cabinet to no avail
Car Lot: We can't give you this car because we don't have the money. I'm sorry.

I exclaimed to them that the only reason why I showed up earlier today was to physically give them the money. They turn a bit mean suggesting that I was lying and that I was trying to con them out of a car. Seriously?

By this point I'm furious and had no way of getting away from Hammond. I call a great dear friend of my who lives in Hammond and she picks me up. I hang with her until my pseudo little brother can make it to Hammond to get me. In the process of me "hanging out", my phone gets in a fight with the sidewalk, shattering itself. Silly phone. It was broken anyway. Pseudo little bro comes and gets me, we head to Baton Rouge, and I sleep.

The next morning, I have to do something about my phone situation. So I go to Radio Shack and purchase the infamous Purple Blackberry, since it was the last one left. Score. I return to Pseudo little bro's apartment, and set up my phone. I was told to call the lot the next day to see if their salesman reappeared and could rectify this hawt mess of a situation. He had not. They had called his family in search for him, but to no success. I was quite fed up with the situation, and was tired of sitting behind idly while I got screwed. For free. I'm pretty sure I could charge for that.

I call Bradley's mom once again, feeling defeated and angry. She tells me to check out my bill of sale to see if there was anything on it that would work in my favor. It was my mistake for not receiving an updated bill of sale (they said that the first bill would be fine). I read off the information on the sheet of paper to her, and when I said "Payment type: Cash", she said "call the police".

Now if you have followed my blog, you should know that I have issues with the police. This sounded like a terrible idea. What is the police going to do, pull a gun on me and arrest me for weed upon arrival to their precinct? I tell her how reluctant I am to do this, but she assures me that they would be able to help. Feeling hopeful, I decided it was time to call Annette to tell her what has happened in the past week. I wasn't even halfway through the second sentence before she exclaims "NU UH I'M COMING DOWN THERE!" No thank you, I don't need the Incredible Mom Hulk, just giving you some information. I felt that this was my test at adulthood, doing this on my own without my mother holding my hand.

I gather all papers and information, hop in Pseudo little bro's car, and drive over to Hammond. I go to the police precinct, wait outside for an hour, then finally am allowed in. I stay in the precinct for two more hours while they do checks on me and the salesman and validates my story. Finally after 3 total hours I am given the fate of my situation:

Police: Well legally, this car is yours. The gentleman was acting as a salesman of the car lot, so he stole the money from THEM, not YOU.
Me: Awesome
Police: Yeah, and he's also wanted in 5 states.
Back up Officer: 6 states now.
Police: You do have a traffic violation that you need to take care of, but you came out squeaky clean otherwise.
Me: Awesome
Police: (Calls car lot owner and tells him same thing he said to me). You have 12 hours to give up his car or we'll come and take it from you.
Me: Awesome
Police: Okay he says he can do it in the morning, do you have somewhere to stay for the night?
Me: I do...but I need to be guaranteed that I will have the car tomorrow because I can not wait any longer, I have school and work on Monday. (this is Saturday)
Police: Oh don't worry, you'll have it.

So I hop back in the car and drive back to Baton Rouge. I tell Pseudo little bro that he's going to have to take me to Hammond early in the morning and that I would buy his gas and his breakfast for being compliant. We go to Hammond, I meet up with the police, we go to the lot, we receive bacon. And my car. MY car. I could sense the hostility, but could care less about that; I had a 9 hour drive to make and finish a project/presentation for tomorrow's class.

Everything went right; I had a hilarious story to tell about my car, me and my group made a 59 slide powerpoint presentation that the other classmates won't let me live down, and I prevented the southeastern tip of Louisiana from being destroyed by Annette. I ran into other troubles like when the car lot refused to notarize my title, and getting a license plate was a hassle, but totally worth it in the long run.

They never did find the salesman, I'm sure he's been hired by another lot in another state. My theory is that he took my money to gamble with and lost it all and was gonna return once he made the money back. I guess I won't have to concern myself with that any longer.

I lost a shoe in Pseudo little bro's apartment and he never found it :( ~!Antoine!~