Pretty Ugly

And Other Server Nightmares…

Not the kind that emotionally wreck you while you’re trying to function in the real world. I’m talking about the ones that come for you in your sleep. The nightmares.

Because I would love to know why, as a waitress, I can never just have a normal waitress dream. A good one. A healing one. A “wow that was nice” kind of situation. Never once have I woken up refreshed and thought:

“You guys… I waited on Snooki last night and she tipped me $500!”

No.

It’s always chaos. Always stress. Always recurring.

A full-blown psychological special event… and there’s a variety of them.

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The I Got Lost Nightmare

Sometimes it’s my actual restaurant. But more often than not, it’s a building I’ve never seen in my life – but somehow I’m fully employed there and already in the weeds.

I’m running around, tray in hand, trying to figure out where the hell I’m supposed to bring the cheese curds.

THESE PEOPLE ARE HUNGRY!! WHERE ARE THEY??

In the most recent version, my current coworkers were there but we were working in some kind of multi-level adult arcade situation. Think: flashing lights, disorder, and somehow… a dress code downgrade.

We had traded our simple black tops for something significantly more committed to the bit. Honestly, it had potential to be an actual dream.

Until I was sprinting up and down stairs in 6-inch heels, trying to find my section like my life depended on it.

The I Can’t Remember Shit Nightmare

You take the order. You write the order down. You walk over to the POS.

Blank page.

Nothing. You stand there, trying to mentally reconstruct what just happened after your brain clocked out mid-shift.

So you go back to the table, smile like the sweet professional you are and say, “Hi again! Just gonna double check a couple things…”

The order is retaken. You walk over to the POS.

Blank page.

Again.

And again.

And again.

It never stops. There is no resolution, no manager saving you – there is no “AH HA!” moment. Just an endless loop of failure until your alarm clock graciously pulls you out of your own personal hell.

The Everything Is Chicken Strips Nightmare

This one? Almost funny. Almost.

I’m in the kitchen, carefully traying up a table’s food. I triple check everything – looks good, feels right. I hoist the tray up, walk it out to the dining room and set it down.

Chicken strip baskets.

All of it.

These people ordered steak. Seafood. Meals that require effort. And I’m standing there with a red, checkered-lined basket like, this is what I have for you.

I take it back into the kitchen, fix it, and bring it out again.

Chicken. Strips.

Every. Time.

At some point, even Dream Me is taking it personally.

The They Won’t Stop Coming Nightmare

This one inspired this entire post. Had it last night.

Party of 14.

Party of 10.

Party of 20.

Everyone needs drinks immediately.

The second party is already annoyed because technically they were seated first, and I know they’re right, but I physically cannot keep up.

I also cannot find the party of 10. They are in the dining room that doesn’t seem to exist.

My brain has a running to-do list that’s multiplying faster than I can process.

Refills. Orders. Hot food. Extra napkins. Who the hello needed lemons? Why are there no clean glasses? Why am I sweating so much?

It just builds. And builds. And builds.

Until the only logical conclusion is that I am, in fact, losing my mind.

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I have to assume most people dream about work sometimes. I know that’s not unique. But the intensity of server nightmares? The frequency?

It feels targeted.

I don’t need time away from my job. I love my job.

What I need is a nice, peaceful dream where someone tips me an outrageous amount of money and nothing goes wrong.

Just once.