While every restaurant worker's experience is different, there are some commonalities all servers share. Everybody occasionally gets screwed by a bad tip. Most will endure getting yelled at by a cook, or try to figure out how to pay rent in $1 bills. And every single server, whether at a diner or a fine-dining establishment, will be forced to listen to -- and laugh at -- the worst, most overdone jokes. Over. And over. And over.
If you've delivered any of the jokes below, you very certainly weren't the first. And you won't be the last, either.
Server: “Can I get you anything else?”
Customer: “Yeah, a million dollars!”
If Gilbert Gottfried’s voice somehow merged with the visual appearance of Mitch McConnell and started playing a polka version of Willow Smith’s “Whip My Hair,” it would not be even one-tenth as cringe-inducing as this stupid one-liner. Any dad with the barest ounce of self-respect would look at this joke and take a pass. An Iowa farmer whose entire livelihood depended on ethanol subsidies would declare this had too much corn in it. This joke is more cringey to listen to than Vanilla Ice doing a one-man re-enactment of an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm. You get the idea.
“Is the cook new back there?”
So, a few points here. First… this isn’t funny. If your food sucked or took forever and you were trying to be clever about it to your server, you done goofed. Second, this is just plain disrespectful -- again, you can say the food sucked without being a dick about it. Third, oh boy would I love to see you say this to the cook’s face, because something is getting thrown at you if you do. Seriously, the first lesson any server learns is "don’t piss off the cooks," both because they control how and when your food comes out and because they are, almost to an individual, sociopathic monsters who kill baby penguins for sport.
Kidding, kidding! I love you, cooks! I am actually obligated to love you if I don’t want a paring knife hurled at my head with startling accuracy! But seriously, you haunt my nightmares and to this day I can’t even see a chef’s coat without feeling a twinge of reflexive, residual fear.