The Tale of the Creeper Waiter


This past weekend, my best friend and I hung out – a traditionally goofy girls night of a movie, dinner, drinks, and staying up until waaaaaay past my bedtime. Throughout the evening, the usual shenanigans occurred. You see, whenever she and I go out together, shit happens. And the crazies come out in droves.

Once, she and I were in Wal-Mart with my mom (of all places). And in the course of ten minutes, the following happened: a man walked by and farted so loudly that I burst out laughing; my mom asked if BFF thought a rug would fit in a certain space, and BFF somehow thought my mom wanted her to lay on it to measure it; by then, we were all laughing, and a man walked by and quipped, “Can I join the party?” Apparently, laughing that hard in public makes one look drunk.

So, Saturday, we got to TGIF’s. We were seated. As soon as we were, I went to send and text and she went to send one to her husband. The waiter came over as we were doing that, and immediately did a Dance Space Invasion (shoutout to Dirty Dancing!). He sat down next to her on the booth side of the table, this guy we didn’t know from Adam. To be polite, we both shut our phone and put them down.

The guy had a mini-hissy fit. “How come you shut your phone? I was looking at that!” he demanded, somewhat peevishly. She and I floundered around a little, because it was really freakin’ weird. Who says that to a stranger. He really seemed indignant. We ask for a minute to look at the menu; he leaves. The manager comes over and informs us that we were seated at the wrong table. Would we mind moving? You’ve never seen two girls get up from a table so fast. As we were leaving Creeper Waiter came over, so I turned around to my BFF and loudly said, “So, how IS your husband?” Full-on Chandler Bing emphasis.

We thought we were safe, halfway across the restaurant. HAHA. Lies. All lies. Our new waiter was a nice guy, if not frazzled. He smiled. He flirted a bit. When he brought my BFF the wrong cocktail, he set it down, looked at it and shook his head, “Wait, that’s not right.” After he left, laughter ensued, because that statement is one of many personal jokes between my BFF and me.

New Waiter brought her drink, and up behind him came Creeper Waiter. He exclaimed, “Hi, Ladies! I’m back! Bet you thought you got rid of me.” Seriously, dude? Creepy with a side of WTF. Often times, it’s not just the words. It’s the delivery. It’s the fact that a smile looks as if it’s one step away from a skin suit and a dirt pit in the basement. In short, a WORLD of NO.

Thankfully, after a pointed look from both of us, Creeper Waiter creeped from afar. And New Waiter was awesome. When we paid the bill, he came to collect it, and he put down another bill. Pausing, he stared at it, disbelieving that he could do something so silly. I made a joke about one bill being enough, and he goes, “I’m just so good that I thought you should pay me twice.” It was hilarious. It definitely had sexy hooker undertones, but it made me laugh.

There are more stories. There are always more stories. But Creeper Waiter was a silly tale that needed telling. Do YOU have any good waiter stories?

  1. April 25, 2012 at 1:43 pm

    It’s not nearly as entertaining as Creepy Waiter (after one drink I’d have probably told him he was creepy), but last Saturday night, I ended up having dinner at a Hooter’s restaurant. It was after 10 p.m., we were hungry, and the place was next to our hotel. I may end up with a blog post about the experience. It’s at least going to be a scene in the next book.

    Our waitress was a leggy blonde named Bre (it took all my strenght not to tell her, “Of course it is.”) She wrote her name on a paper towel and put it on the edge of the booth, then PULLED UP A CHAIR, sat down and took our order. The place was echoingly loud, so she kept having to lean in to us to shout questions, and we kept having to shout our order.

    To top off the experience, it was karaoke night. There were several drunks, including one named Orlando, who sang badly and made up words. Then there was the little blonde girl in a plaid shirt and blue jeans, who sang country selections as though she was just certain there’d be a record exec in the house tonight. She even wandered through the crowd as she sang. I didn’t know whether to cheer her on or weep at the pathos, so I just took some aspirin and ate my burger.

    Side note about the burger: it was no thicker than a McDonald’s QuarterPounder, but she still asked me how I wanted it cooked. You could wave it at the grill and it would be well done.

  2. April 25, 2012 at 2:40 pm

    Both your stories are hilarious! Karaoke makes me want to cry. (Of course, those folks may read my blog and feel the same way, but, oh, well.) Speaking of crying, we had a waitress at an IHOP in Atlanta who was so scared of math that she started shaking when we asked if we could split the bill four ways. She had tears in her eyes and just said, “No.” We had to ask for a manager.

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