You’ve read Kitchen Confidential. You know that rogue staff can always find ways to humiliate customers. Sometimes it involves merely ignoring a party considered cheap, troublesome, or not cool enough, but at other times the revenge involves something considerably nastier. Of course, we’re not talking about dedicated professional waiters here, who make up the majority, but ones who need to fulfill some dark egotistical need, often because they hate being waiters. With these guys, asking to have your pork chop cooked beyond a bloody pink, or complaining that you didn’t get the entree you ordered, may result in spit on your food or worse. But the insult that annoys us more than any other is a widespread practice we call the ass check.
You’ve seen it before: waiters scurrying around the dining room with the check folder protruding from the rear waistband of their pants. It’s so logical – the practice leaves their hands free, yet the check is always available. But wait a minute! You have no idea what conditions the check has endured below the beltline. Maybe there’s a thick pair of underpants between the check and the butt, but then again maybe it’s nestled inside the underpants, right next to the ass cheeks. So we can’t help grimacing when the guy reaches around, extracts the bacteria-laden brown folder, then sets it down in front of us. His smirk seems to say, “That folder has been in my ass, and now you’ve got to touch it to pay your bill.”