Tag Archives: ibanker

Spreken ze Douche?

18 Sep

Douche-bags are annoying enough to wait on (Douche-bags. noun: self-important, socially programmed men, who are unaware that they are socially programmed, or performing their masculinity; plural for douche-bag); but now they, the douche-bags, have coined a new word that is infiltrating the dining vernacular, making waiters everywhere cringe.

“Okay, let’s get some appeez goin’.”

“Don’t worry- I got some appeez for the table.”

“Hey bro- where are our appeez?”

Sometimes it’s hard to point a douche-bag; they might be talking about something other than iphones or time-shares; they might be out with a female co-worker that they truthfully aren’t trying to bone; they might be gay. But this new word appeez -this is the only spelling I can concieve of, yet-  is the touchstone marker of douche-baggery. Upon it’s utterance in context of taking an  order, I cannot help but whisper under my breath instictively, “Douche.” 

The first time I encountered the word  -I hate even writing it- appee, was in February of  this year. I had never heard it before then, not in ten years of waiting tables. Nor had I ever heard it dining around the country, out west, the mid-west, down south. I am convinced that it’s origin is urban, and corporate. Or perhaps it started with a bunch of frat guys ordering Chinese take-out in a basement, over a game of beer pong.

Whatever it’s origin, it must be stopped. Pretty soon they will be calling Burgundy wines “Burgs,” as in, “Gimme’ a Burg.” Or maybe instead of having a macchiato, they’ll have a “macci,” like, “Yeah– I’ll have a macci too, with a Jameson shot on the side.” 

Does anyone else  find it ironic that the douche-bags, in trying to prove their manliness, have created the cutest little girly words? Talk like a man, not a bag for feminine hygiene. It’s an appetizer, not an appee. And no, I will not pour your Amstel Lite in a chilled beer mug. I save those for the real beers, and the real men.

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“The Ball’s Over Cinderella, ID Please.”

14 Sep

Cinderella drunk on bubbly, outside STK.

“You’re seriously carding me? Really?”

If you’re the nineteen year old sex ward of a thirtysomething ibanker who went to Syracuse University, and you didn’t drink enough patron silver shots Wednesday through Saturday, Sundays are an ideal time for completely obliterating yourself. Or rather, they used to be, but ball’s over (or atleast for now).

The New York District Attorney is cracking down on underage drinking, and doormen, bartenders and servers are ultimately held responsible, facing thousands of dollars in fines for serving  underage patrons, and undoubtedly losing their jobs. 

Servers are being instructed to card “everyone who looks 35 and under” after several “stings” (undercover cops posing as minors), where sent out in the area. Stings can also card anyone in the restaurant they think may be under 21, and if the person in question cannot provide identification, the server may be put in hand-cuffs on the spot (I’ve seen this happen people).  

Most patrons find being “ID’d” unbearably annoying – “Why are you carding me?”  International patrons stupid enough to not bring their passports are even more annoyed, as only US issued IDs or passports are an acceptable form of ID.

So servers, protect yourself. You don’t want to be held legally responsible for Cinderella’s trashiness.