The Curse of Cheddar Bay

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Reader Writes In - Stupid Store Policies

The following was submitted to the Lobsterboy for my review and feedback. I asked (and was given) permission to publish it. Names have been changed to protect the guilty...err...innocent. I will add suggestions I shared with the author at the very end. Fax this in to your local Red Lobster!

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To Whom it May Concern,

At some point in everyone’s life, they face certain critical decisions. Where to live, what education to pursue, what God to worship, whether or not to pull the plug on Grandma, etc. For some time, I have felt that I was facing one of these critical moments.

For several years, I have worked at Red Lobster. In fact, I've worked pretty hard at being a good Lobsterhead in the time that I've been there. Minus smoke-breaks (an unfortunate and necessary evil considering my addictive nature) I'm usually, pardon the phrase, "hauling ass". I make people laugh. I sell them booze. I bring them food. According to our strange social custom of tipping, I also take whatever money they decide to leave in excess of the obligatory bill and use it to pay for my own vital needs (see also, "beggar").

In addition to answering the strange demands of my guests, pampering their egos, and providing food and entertainment, I answer to the every whim of my managers as well. I clean and tidy until their hearts are content, labor to keep their stress level low by not "riling up the natives", and generally try to be agreeable no matter which flavor of corporate bullshit I'm being asked to eat that week. Need me to add yet another annoying line of dialogue to my already twenty minute table approach? "Hi! I'm Boner, I promise to take sweet, sexy care of you today! Do you give a shit about our Fresh Fish today though I’ve told you ten times before? Are you under any time constraints? What? I already made you late getting back to work?" Sure! Okay! Need me to suffer the brunt of some “from on-high” evil cost-cutting corporate ways? "I'm sorry sir, we no longer have teaspoons. Yes, we still have tea. Yes, that is ridiculous. Yes, you will be allowed to bring your own spoon from home, or we can stir it with our dirty fingers. Whichever you'd like." Whatever you say management, you'll appreciate my hard work later. Right? Eh... Right?

While many of the servers I've seen come and go at our restaurant couldn't have found their ass with both hands, ran around like there was a four-alarm fire on top of their heads every time they got double sat with a couple of two-tops, or couldn't shake off their drug-induced stupor long enough to bring an old woman her water with lemon in under twenty minutes, I've always felt that I have been fairly competent at my job. Perhaps this has to do with the fact that I try to always be "working" when I am at "work". Because of my perception that I do my job well, I have always assumed I would be acknowledged as what we call a "good employee".

In their infinite wisdom, however, our management has promoted a policy of fairness at work. "Fairness" in this context, is similar to another concept you may have heard of before: Communism. Don't shit yourself just yet, I'll explain. While most things in America have traditionally been "merit based", particularly in a corporate environment, our management sees things differently. We reward mediocrity every day. If you happen to be bad at your job, our management is incapable of firing you. They just can't bring themselves to do it. If one person chooses not to do any work, they can safely assume that someone else will come and do it for them, with no fear of actual reprisal from a manager. Fifteen guest complaints? No problem! Don’t show up for your scheduled shifts? No problem! Now, on top of all of this, our management will also ensure that those same lazy servers have just as many hours as you. To keep it fair.

This concern for fairness also extends to which sections we can work. Do a great job every day? Suck it! We need to be fair about who gets what section. We sure wouldn't want anybody to feel bad. In addition to having to wade through a sea of people texting on their phones, fixing their tables so that we don't have to deal with the customer's plaintive and hungry stares, and generally cleaning up after everybody who was too lazy or slow to do their own job, we now have to be concerned with the equitability of the situation. I'm pretty sure management is going to start checking my pay stubs and forcing me to redistribute or burn all the extra money I make so that our less than stellar servers don't have to feel bad. Great.

In a strictly capitalist work environment, productivity would be rewarded. In a communist work environment all people are rewarded equally, regardless of their contribution. You see, Red Lobster has more in common with Red Russia than good ol' Red White and Blue America. Since I agree with this new corporate standpoint, I have some suggestions which may help bring us closer to our communist aspirations.

#1 - Do away with "The Brig", and add "The Gulag". Because it is necessary for the new "Red" Red Lobster to maintain some level of output from all of its employees, the forced labor camp theme of our new room will help "reeducate" our bad employees. You can't fire all the lazy people. But you can force them to stay on the clock for free until they can figure out how to refill the glass racks in the alley. Douchebag Dan comes highly recommended for the position of taskmaster.

#2 - Vodka will be on tap. It helped keep the Russians happy in the freezing Siberian winter, and it will work for us too. Having a bad day in section 1? Have some Vodka! Getting two shifts a week? Have some Vodka! There is no amount of bullshit that a bottle of vodka and a rousing song won't help you forget. (AMEN!)

#3 - Red Lobster will actually pay for my rent and food now, regardless of the pay cut that I take in the interest of fairness. Can't make any money because management won’t cut the fat? Don't worry, Communist Red Lobster will take care of all of your needs! Bread lines for everyone!

#4 - Big Furry Hats. With Lobsters on front.

An alternative to all of this, however, would be to require everyone to do their jobs. America-style. Hosts will host, servers will serve, and managers will manage. That includes firing people that don’t do their job. Glasses and ice are perpetually empty? Write the server up! Then fire them when they do it again! Busser doesn’t know how to clean a table, but has been working there three years? Fire them, and give their hours to someone who wants to work!

Nobody who does their job should ever have to apologize to someone who doesn’t for getting “special treatment”, so long as that “special treatment” is merit-based recognition for a job well done. A good schedule and a good section isn’t a reward. It makes sense from both an ethical and a business perspective. Good employees = happy guests. If I’m wrong, then perhaps we should ask Marlene if she wants to work backup on a Friday night, or Donna if she wants to roll silverware. That’s the equivalent of asking a strong server to work a bad station. These people don’t have the jobs they have because they are special, they have them because they are hard workers. If anybody doesn’t understand that, they should question whether or not they are doing their jobs the way they should. Or maybe they are just Commies.

Thus, my aforementioned critical decision. Do I put up and shut up? Or do I search for new employment? Alternatively, I could just start having fun with the job, and see how long it takes for someone to notice that I’ve gone postal. Or I could plead with my management to grant me something that I rightfully earned to begin with. I suppose that every server who works hard should be pondering the same decision. Perhaps we could all just start a revolution instead…

Signed,


The Democratic Lobster League of America

P.S. We only write this because we care.

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Here are my responses and ideas to add to the above: I'd add a line about hard working people in this economy can't find work and we've got people with jobs who won't do work - I think there is a solution. :-)

BTW, I'd fax it to your regional director as well - if you don't have his/her fax # it'll be in the office where the fax is, often on a business card tacked to the wall. The solution to this problem is to have a GM who has an eye on a higher position. When the GM's nose is so far up corporate leaders asses that all they see is brown, this crap doesn't happen. It does mean you goose-step to mindless corporatism, but they strictly adhere to the "law". I've experienced both, and while both are evil, I'll take the corporate brown-nosers if I have to pick my poison.

And if you really want to go commando you can sneak into the office and fax this to corporate from your RL's fax machine! If your store is anything like ours they leave that office open frequently, and long enough it wouldn't be hard to do it without getting caught. They have to fax so much crap that few of the managers would even bother looking what was spooling through unless there was only 1 manager in the store.

Asbestos hands

I have worked in a lot of different positions across the restaurant industry. Through that, I have built up a very high heat tolerance in my hands and forearms over the years. Literally I can grab hot things that the average person would never attempt. This isn't unique to me, many servers and cooks are like this (as are welders and glass blowers to name just a few others). Added to this, I have a pretty high threshold of pain, so I can "take the heat" so to speak.

A while back a reader Red Lobster Blog shot me an email asking how I deal with hot plates. Her complaint was that her cooks are throwing the plates in the windows too early and are getting the plates smoking hot.

First - why are the plates so FRICKIN' hot? I've run into this as well, and it is a direct response of the cooks to pressure from the managers, who themselves are taking boat loads of heat from the regional directors. Simply said, one of the things that Red Lobster tracks is food temp scores (ever called in a survey? It's on there.). The easiest way for a manager to get a regional manager off his ass for low foot temp scores is to have the cooks par the plates early. This loads up heat in our plates, which keeps the food sitting on them warmer longer. We honestly have a couple of tables in our restaurant where you can see where the hot plate has melted into the lacquered top and made a light oval. So this is a serious issue for servers.

The worst thing is when you pick a tray up out of the window not knowing someone has just loaded some blistering hot plates on the tray. You run out to drop it off, and just about the time you grab that Admiral's Feast and get ready to set it on the table, Granny decides to put her purse on the table to look for her ticket stub from when she rode the Titanic, thus blocking your landing spot. Now the distance from your hand to your head isn't all that far, but it still usually takes a moment for your hand to phone your brain to let it know it is melting. The brain tells the hand to hold on, and starts pushing beads of sweat out the forehead. This is where tray jacks are a server's best friend, because if you use the tray jacks like you are supposed to, then you have a tray you set back down on. If not, you're screwed, grab some ice on the way back into the kitchen.

Some of my worst burns as a server have actually come from grabbing an empty service tray that was sitting in the window under the glow rays. There is something about the material they use to make the large food service trays that make them extra hot. I've smoked myself good on these a number of times (slow learner!). It's like the fiberglass multiplies the heat or something.

I have blistered my hand holding onto a plate handed to me by another server. I sucked it up and played through it, but I was pissed that she handed me a plate that hot without warning.

So back to the question that prompted all of this - what do I do? I used to have some cloth hot pads that I kept in my server apron. These worked for most things, but the regional director started to raise a stink that these hot pads (not just mine, all of us who used them) were a cross contamination threat. I always kept mine clean, and I actually kept a spare set in the jacket I always wear to work (holds my keys/phone etc.) that I could swap in if my first set got soiled. But it is a potential hazard, and while I didn't like the change, I understood the need. What I switched to was a small round silicone hot pad(s) made by Le Creuset. Mine are black in color so they aren't visible when not in use (though I don't see them in that color on Amazon.com). These little pads are hand savers. They are small enough to fit in a pocket or an apron. And they could handle the space shuttle during re-entry. They are incredibly well designed in that they dissapate and deflect the heat, with the ridges adding to the insulation as well as increasing the grippiness. I've never struggled to grab things with them. The bonus is that they aren't cloth, so they are immediately cleanable. If they get soiled in any way, I just have the dish guys run them through the Hobart dish machine and they come out super clean on the other side. I haven't specifically asked the regional manager if I can use them, but he's seen me using them and hasn't busted my balls on it so I think it is OK.

Honestly, these pads should be standard issue and a required part of the uniform. All my trainees have started to get them, and some others are catching on as well.

NEVER loan them out though. You won't get them back. Servers are a sneaky lot, and when they realize just how good these things work, the pads "grow legs". I do have two sets of them (with my spare set kept in my vehicle now). I have lost one, and had another one get damaged due to my own stupidity. The pads are about the size of a coaster, and they work miracles.

Maybe Le Creuset I should inquire with Le Creuset now that their hot pad division will be working over time supplying servers...

Seriously - go buy some. Either from a high end cooking store or via Amazon or another online retailer.

Love/Hate Existence

Over the years I have been asked numerous times if/why I hate my job. The truth is, I don't hate waiting tables a lot of the time, but it has its days.

I think the best description for what I feel at this point is numb indifference. Anyone who has waited tables long enough can probably relate. The day to day grind makes our job pretty mundane if you are reasonably competent at it. When you are a new server, waiting jobs is a thrill, an adrenaline rush, always trying to keep up, always hoping to get a step ahead to make that extra dollar.

As time passes, you move from being stressed as a server into a comfort zone - again assuming some level of competency, not everyone gets there. In this comfort zone, it takes a lot to knock me out of my auto pilot system of service. Over the years I've made nearly every mistake possible (often numerous times) and eventually learned my lessons. Over the years I've served nearly every combination of people. I've been asked nearly every question - from the insightful to the bizarre. There is very little that screws things up for me. Yes I still get angry when a jerk-off stiffs me or when a crazy scammer tries to get free food. But as you progress, all of this becomes like water off the back of a duck.

I've also seen the good side, probably more than my share, and those things too impact you less and less over the years. I've had a handful of tips over $100 (all while working at Red Lobster), none of which came from large parties. I've had family members of rude ass-munches slip me an extra $20 at the end of meal and apologize. I've had more regulars than I would honest care to admit (regulars are the result of being good at the job, and being there for a long time). I have regulars who only visit a couple of times a year, but they always want me. I have regulars who I wait on weekly, and I have even had a regular who was nearly daily, though he is long dead and gone now. I've outlived numerous GM's. I've watched (and trained) more managers than I could possibly remember come and go. And the number of employees I've worked with is honestly mind blowing when you multiply things because I have worked in more than one store.

I worked for Red Lobster through a ton of uniform changes. When I started we wore white oxfords and ties. I've worn ugly polo shirts. And the clown-puke hideous fish shirts. And back to white oxfords, this time no ties. And I'm sure there are others I'm forgetting. And the menu has changed so many times my head spins when I think of all the different things. I remember the green screen computers where you had to learn the product number codes (2022 Admiral's Feast?) to enter your order quickly. I remember when we could go out drinking with our managers after work, and they even bought the first round.

I've been here a long time. My years of service at Red Lobster do have some breaks where I worked at other places, and even at times in other industries. I haven't made a career out of serving tables, I have other business ventures, and revenue streams. There have been times where I worked full time at Red Lobster, and other seasons where I worked the minimum hours/shifts allowed.

This is all to say that through all this, I have a love/hate relationship with my job. It pays my bills, and is quite honestly easy money for me. I'm good at it, and have all the experience I need to make it easy. But there is no future in it because of my unwillingness to enter management. And it is still frustrating when I have to polish the latest turd our newest clueless manager hired expecting for me to miraculously make them into a competent server. It is still frustrating when kitchen staff screw things up, blame someone else, and fail to fix my tickets. I still get angry when ghetto trash come in stoned out of their minds, with children in tow. And it still chafes my ass when people screw with my schedule. It is always enough money, just enough to keep me coming back, but never enough to really set me free. That is why I diversified my work portfolio years ago. That is why serving tables brought me through both undergrad and grad school, and might someday get me through a doctorate (we'll see - do I really need/want more education?).

So I love my job. I hate my job. Ask me again tomorrow, and I might change my mind again.

Easter is insanity!

Easter is one of the two best/worst days of the year in the life of a server at Red Lobster.

You have to bring your "A" game because there is a lot of money to be made by most involved. I say by most because it happens where some ignorant family tips like crap after sitting for 3 hours on the busiest day of the year. You'll often see those servers throwing things at cars as they leave the parking lot and/or swearing and crying in back.

Easter is like being on a treadmill set to go one speed faster than many are comfortable, except done in the middle of rush hour traffic.

Easter can kill new people, so when we have green staff we often put them in as food runners and in other places where they won't get so buried and cost us customers.

Easter is where we go on wait (or on line) from the moment the doors open until often when we close that night. A big Easter day will bring in as many guests on a single day as we get in 3/4th of a slow week in our slower season.

Easter means all hands on deck. You cannot request it off. Not even if you are a regional manager. All the managers will work that day, the regional managers will often stick their head in every store within 100 miles of where they live, and will call a half dozen times beyond that.

Easter means no smoke breaks. Period. For anyone. Which makes my addicted co-workers all the more pleasant to work with.

Easter is the day where if you go down bread (our Cheddar Bay Biscuits that are like CRACK to fans of Red Lobster) your baker will struggle to catch up for a couple of hours.

Every square inch of prep space will be used. Every rack filled. Every fridge and shelf packed full. And at the end of the day you feel like you've been violated, abused, run over, and beaten - but happy because you made your cash.

I love Easter honestly, but I remember my first one when I was green so many years ago, and it honestly ate my lunch. I had only been serving for a few months at that point, and it was my first really big day. Not any more though, I can do this in my sleep. If you look for me I'll be the guy watering/coffeeing other tables, pre-busing for the new kids, and praying that I don't get a large table.

There are two ways to go for Easter, and you don't want to be caught in between. If you can get a section of all 4 tops take it (four people per table, like a section of all booths in most restaurants - I say most because some RL's have larger booths for parties). You can turn and burn your 4 tops and make a killing. Easter rarely has tables of less than 3 people, though we do get a few 1 or 2 people tables.

The other way to go for Easter is a section where you are assigned a party table - meaning you are going to take parties of 8 or more all day long. 8 or more means gratuity is added, and that means certain money. The drawbacks here are A) getting paired with a bad server and B) parties take longer so your turnover rate is lower. But I do well enough on bigger parties to make up for this (rarely does a party leave me just the added gratuity). Overall having a party section is easier because you have other people assigned to help you out, but it does take a lot more coordination and timing - so that all the food comes at once, so everyone gets salads at the same time etc. You'll hear endless complaints if one server brings salads for half the table and the other server take 2 minutes longer. Teamwork is not optional if you want a fat stack at the end of the day.

The worst place to be is the indifferent middle. These are often the sections surrounding the large party sections, and this means you'll get pulled in on a party here or there, but not for the whole day. So it jacks your section around, moving your tables and making it hard to get in a rhythm. Plus, it means your other customers (non-party ones) have to sit next to the hulking table, which is often filled with large women who are exceptionally loud. If I was a guest, I'd refuse to sit next to a large party table on Easter, even if it meant waiting a bit longer.

So to those of you who will be working rather than spending time with family this Easter, make a fat stack, and have a tall cool one after work, because Mother's Day is just around the corner!

When you work in food service these are the idiots you deal with

True story - straight from the Dallas/Fort Worth Fox News station. I'm pretty sure I've had this lady, and all her idiot family. Yes ma'am, a dozen shrimp does mean twelve.

Diner Dials 911 over Shrimp Order

Created On: Tuesday, 07 Apr 2009, 10:17 AM CDT

HALTOM CITY, Texas - A woman dialed 911 on Monday afternoon to report that she didn’t get extra shrimp in her fried rice order.

The incident happened at A&D Buffalo's in the 4000 block of East Belknap Street.

Restaurant' employees said the woman originally left with her order, but came back claiming she did not get her full $1.62 worth of extra shrimp. Since she had already left the building with her food, they refused to give her a refund.

"She started yelling and screaming, brought her boyfriend in and they started making a scene in here," said Alex Kim, the restaurant's attorney.

Employees said that's when the irate woman called 911 to try to get help from the police.

"I always get the shrimp fried rice, so I said I'm going to get extra meat this time. But he didn’t even put extra shrimp in there," she told the 911 operator.

• HEAR: 911 Call

The woman also told the operator that she demanded either a refund or the additional crustaceans, and that she decided to place the emergency call when she was met with resistance.

"I'm just saying, to get a police officer up here, what has to happen?" the caller asked the operator.

A Haltom City police officer was dispatched to the scene, but the woman was no longer at the restaurant when he arrived.

Police spokesman Cody Phillips said she likely will not be punished for her call.

"You have to make a phone call in a non-emergency situation and remain silent or be abusive or obscene to the 911 call taker. She was none of those things," Phillips said.

The incident mirrors a March episode in Florida in which a woman dialed 911 about her McDonald's order. In that case, police arrested the woman.

Restaurant employees said they actually expect to see the woman again. She is a frequent customer. And if she does come again, they will be more than happy to take care of her, they said.

The bastard farts

Comment overheard the other night in my dining room. Background two crotchety old men were drinking a few beers while eating some crab legs.

Old guy #1: "Know what surprises me now that I am getting old?"

Older guy #2: "What's that?"

#1: "My farts. They hurt a hell of a lot more! I had Mexican and beers last night and I'm farting flaming clouds of lava!"

#2: Laughing..."Yeah, I call 'em the bastard farts. Those burnin' bastards sneak up on ya' and try to light your drawers on fire!"

Both men laughed till they nearly had coughing fits. I laughed hard enough I had a tear in my eyes, which only caused them to laugh harder.

Calling in a Domestic

I'm going all PSA on you asses today.

One of the more painful things I have had the misfortune of experiencing in my career in food service in the domestic disputes that take place at my place of work.

You'd be surprised how many people overstep the boundaries of normal social interaction with their loved ones in public places, especially ones that serve alcohol. I've broken up fights between lovers in bars that I've worked in. Usually there people are with them and they could go their separate ways to cool off for a period. That often isn't the case at a restaurant.

Years ago a group of my co-workers and I observed a lesbian couple whose relationship was clearly on the rocks. I have no idea why they thought Red Lobster would be the place to work out their differences. They sat in my section for a couple of hours during the early afternoon, going back and forth about who did what to whom. Then they brought out the big guns. Who wasn't paying bills, and who cheated on who with each other. It became quite heated, and one of the ladies apparently went too far, causing her former lover to start bawling and bolt out of our restaurant.

It was at this point other servers took notice because these two ladies had been in a remote corner of our dining room where no other servers had been on for a few hours.

I had been watching this play out, but wasn't close enough to hear what happened. They were already cashed out, so I wasn't honestly too worried on my end. Their conversation was much too heated for me to interrupt anyhow. So the lady bolts out of the restaurant, leaving all her stuff behind - purse, sweater, keys were all still sitting there. The lover left behind gets up and walks over to where I am rolling silver and asks me to watch their stuff, and that she'll be right back. "Sure thing ma'am."

Now at this point of the story, you need to know that the crying lady who ran out was a very attractive and quite thin woman, about 5'7" and leggy. I think she had come from work because she was wearing heals and a professional looking skirt and blouse. The lady left behind was a fairly stout butch looking lady, with short cropped hair, blue jeans with a chain and leather wallet. I would guess she was also about 5'10" and at least half again the weight of crying woman.

So everyone sees the woman run out crying, and a few servers make their way to the windows where the woman is crying and leaning against a car.

Moments after the larger lady left my section, a friend literally runs back to where I am still rolling silver and shouts - "You've got to see this" and runs off. Curious, I take off after him.

Out in our parking lot skinny crying lady is now pounding the shit out of her larger lover. It appears something has snapped in her, and all the rage is now coming out. A manager yells at the host to call the cops and runs outside. Wisely, he doesn't physically intervene.

While being much smaller, the skinny lady had more than enough rage to overcome any size advantage. Plus, she was much quicker. I'm guessing she does Tae Bow or something, cause she's raining down blows on the larger lady like MMA ground and pound. The larger lady tackles her (on the paved parking lot) and proceeds to roll skinny lady onto her stomach (while skinny lady kicks away, and at one point manages to get a shoe in hand and uses that as a weapon for a few strikes). Large woman then just sits on the back of the smaller woman and asks over and over for her to calm down (we're all watching out the front door at this point).

The story ends with the arrival of the cops a few minutes later, and the two bloodied women being carted off in the police cars. I had to go back in with an officer and collect up all their belongings, and on the way in the officer kinda snickered and said "That must've been a pretty uneven fight, the one is twice the other's size."

"No, not really." I replied.

"That little lady has quite a bit of bull dog in her from what I saw. She won the fight no contest."

Stupid me, opening my mouth, now I had to give a statement. Thankfully the officer didn't have a lot of questions, and I was about to take a break between shifts anyhow.

But in the end, it made for an entertaining but very sad afternoon. I enjoy fights, things like boxing and MMA (especially MMA!), but not so much when it is like this. I can't help but think of the ramifications. I've seen parents carted off with kids present in other sitations. There are no winners in a domestic altercation.

If you or someone you know is being abused, don't put up with it, leave and get help.

A great place to start is HelpGuide.org and DomesticViolence.org.

This is just a test

Blog is acting buggy, and trying to see what is wrong. RSS readers don't worry!

God hates shrimp apparently

Check this out to see what I am talking about.  It cracked me up.  Mind you, any 12 year old kid from the local Christian school could demonstrate the poor hermeneutics employed by this site, but it is funny nonetheless.

It's the most wonderful time of the year

And no it isn't the holiday season.  It's LOBSTERFEST!  Note that it is FEST not FEAST, though most of the platters are indeed feasts.  People have nearly as much problem with differentiating those two words as I do between lose and loose.

I haven't mentioned a promo here in a long time, but Lobsterfest cannot pass without note by me.  Because you see, Lobsterfest is perhaps the only redeeming time of the year to work for Red Lobster.  Our average ticket prices jump by quite a bit (though we'll see what effect the economy has on this), especially on Friday  through Sunday shifts.  But even lunch and afternoon shifts can become worthwhile if you hit the right customers who are ordering these big ticket item dishes.

Now to all you servers out there, I know Darden has pulled back A LOT on the idea of suggestive selling, but I for one will tell you it works.  Push these meals, but not in a pushy way.  When someone asks what you like, don't hold back, you like a fat wallet, and you get it from big ticket item meals.  Lobster Lover's Dream is the place to be.

So get out there and sell your asses off, it'll be worth it!

Why does Lobsterfest rock extra hard?  Because one of the few wise things Darden has ever done, they paired it with Lent.  Lent means Catholics not eating meat.  Lent means Catholics flocking to seafood restaurants after mass.  Lent means Red Lobster servers all saying "Praise Jesus" for the traffic it drives our direction.

Lobster Lover’s Dream® A succulent rock lobster tail and sweet split Maine lobster tail, roasted and served with shrimp, lobster and langostino linguini Alfredo. 31.50

Cape Cod Lobster and Salmon A roasted split Maine lobster tail with wood-grilled, fresh salmon topped with Maine and langostino lobster meat in a creamy lobster butter sauce. Served over wild rice pilaf. 25.99

Roasted Rock Lobster and Grilled Jumbo Shrimp A roasted rock lobster tail paired with skewered, wood-grilled jumbo shrimp topped with creamy lobster butter sauce. Served over wild rice pilaf. 24.99

Rock Island Stuffed Tilapia Fresh tilapia roasted with crab-and-seafood stuffing and topped with langostino lobster meat in a creamy lobster butter sauce. 16.50

Seaport Lobster and Shrimp

Two wood-grilled petite Maine lobster tails, savory garlic shrimp scampi and a skewer of garlic-grilled jumbo shrimp. Served with wild rice pilaf. 24.50

Wood-Grilled Surf and Turf*

Two petite Maine lobster tails and a lightly seasoned center-cut sirloin, grilled over a wood fire and served over wild rice pilaf. 25.99

Ultimate Feast®

A tender split Maine lobster tail, steamed snow crab legs, garlic shrimp scampi and Walt’s Favorite Shrimp. 24.99

Steak* Lobster-and-Shrimp Oscar

A wood-grilled NY Strip topped with Maine lobster meat, tender shrimp and fresh asparagus in a white wine and lobster butter sauce over mashed potatoes. 23.99

Lobster Nachos Crispy tortilla chips topped with langostino lobster meat, creamy Cheddar and Monterey Jack cheese, fresh pico de gallo, jalapeño peppers and sour cream. 9.50

Sex in a stall

Ladies, just how much do you have to have to drink before you'll slink into the men's room to bang your boy?

I have yet to meet the lady who jumps at the chance for bathroom stall action that is a keeper. Just a note for you guys out there.

This comes to mind since February is the month of "love". More like the month of morons if you ask your average server.

I mean seriously - getting it on in a chain restaurant bathroom? How romantic. Hey baby, watch out, there's a booger on the wall above you left shoulder and I want to thrust harder.

Oh honey, it's so hot when you blow me while the guy next door is deucing the Mexican special #7 from last night and just a bit too much tequila. No baby, just hold your breath and you won't notice it too much...

And how about these creeps who bring their paid ladies to the Lobster. Buddy, if your negotiations involve "chedder bisquits" you need to find a new trick. She's not worth it, keep rolling.

It's funny when we see different guys come in with the same ladies. We know of at least 3 ladies who have something working at our store. One lady is in at least once a month, so she's pretty easy to keep track of. The other two are more random. A couple of months ago, one was in twice in three nights. Different guys both times. And believe me, the ladies are never the ones who are paying. For any of it.

And then from time to time, we hear via the news of people getting busted snorting coke in the bathroom of a club. Have these people never been in a club bathroom? I'd rather do a line off a homeless guy's balls. At least then there is a chance of them being cleaned in the last month. WTF? I understand you're stupid enough to be using, and it is likely you are already coked up, but are you really that out of your mind that the best place you can snort your blow is sub third-world stanky?