It could be a sweet dream, or a serving nightmare

It's 7:30 on a Saturday night. By some nasty trick no doubt played by the devil, I am both covering to go and taking tables. I have just been triple-sat with all 6-tops. I am taking all their orders, they want to order their drinks and food at the same time because they are all in a hurry. I can hear the phone ringing in the alley. I go to the compris to ring it all in and find there has been a change made to the system. It seems that now if a guest wants to pay with a credit card, you have to run the card before you can enter their order. I return to the tables to get the cards. The phone is still ringing. Half of each of the parties is gone, they appear to be in the restroom. I try to explain to the other diners, I need credit card numbers, the phone is ringing, I need to answer it. They stare at me blankly. They all took their wallets and purses with them. I don't know what to do.

"Do you by chance just know their credit card numbers by memory?" The phone is still ringing.

I wake up. Another damn serving nightmare. After 4 years serving, I still get them every now and then. Not weekly like I did in the beginning, but now when they come they are elaborate. Sometimes I can't find my tables, or can't remember which ones are mine. Always something ridiculous that could never actually happen (unless you work at the Space Needle, I still can't figure out how they find their tables with the dining room rotating).

If anyone remembers a serving nightmare they had, please share. I find it entertaining.

And in fun news on Bitch Manager, last night she made me stand there and do nothing an hour after closing for about 20 minutes while she claimed to be "counting the safe." I can see from my phone when someone is on the line, and she was indeed talking on the phone, most definitely a personal call. When she finally came back and I was standing there tired as shit and now irritated to boot, with a most likely very pissed-off look on my face, she said "sorry, I'm so easily distracted today." In order to avoid telling her she is a fucking whore, I just didn't say anything. "Are you okay, waitress" she asked. "Oh, it's just that I have this whore of a manager who treats me like I'm a fucking robot rather than a person who gets tired and has a boyfriend she hardly sees at home waiting for her." Well, this is what I was thinking anyway.