There are so many things to hate about DC that, really, it's hard to narrow down one point to write about. But sometimes -- once in a douche moon -- something comes along that is so horrendous, so unnecessarily retarded, that a mere double flip of the bird just doesn't suffice. Sometimes, just sometimes, it's necessary to make a complaint known to the whole world...wide web.
This is one of those times.
Marvin is a pretentious, overrated sh*thole with wack food and even wacker waitstaff.
Actually, the food is pretty decent (unless you're a vegetarian [sidebar: sucker!], in which case the French toast is the only item on the brunch menu you can eat).
The waitstaff, though? I'll see them in hell. OK, well, not all the waitstaff. But one. I will see one of them in hell, the one that is apparently known throughout the land as "the WORST waitress ever." And by "throughout the land," I mean by another friend of mine who happened to dine at Marvin last week. If only I'd've known...
Now this is the time where I debate whether to out this particular waitress, but after thinking about it for a second literally just one second ago, I decided not to. And it's not because I don't remember her name. Trust me, I do. It was noted on the receipt. No, the reason I'm refraining from outing "the WORST waitress ever" is because, really, it would probably be a reward for her to get fired, after which she'd discover what she really wanted to do with her life and then do it. Instead, I'd like to know that she's continuing to toil miserably at a low-paying job she clearly hates. I am a cruel and heartless human being.
Anyway, the event in question happened yesterday around 1 p.m., prime brunch time. Luckily, Marvin wasn't that crowded so I and my two friends (equally cruel and heartless) were seated right away. And after passing several four-person tables, which I would quickly learn are called "four-tops" in restaurant lingo, we were seated at a "five-top." And in case you didn't pay much attention to that last sentence and your deductive reasoning skills equal that of a brain-damaged platypus, that means a table for five.
The waitress came, took our orders then disappeared. All was good. But then about two minutes later she came back. To yell at us. Well, to yell at me in particular, the one who ordered a $4 fruit bowl and a glass of water in place of something more expensive.
"Just so you know, there's a minimum tab of $10 per person," she sneered.
"Oh. I had no idea. That's not written anywhere," I said.
"Well, FYI," she noted with a ridiculous dollop of sarcasm rivaling my own patented variety, "That's the policy. Especially when you're at a five-top."
"A five-top. This table is for a larger party. It's a five-top and you're only three."
After that, she went into a tirade during which she inexplicably said "five-top" about 18 more times.
After she was done, my friend noted, "You know, we didn't seat ourselves..."
Looking around, "the WORST waitress ever" must've noticed the numerous empty, smaller tables the hostess passed by when she chose to seat us at the mythical "five-top" because she looked at us and said, "Well, I'll let you keep your original order this time, but you can't do this again."
After she walked away, all three of us collectively noted that we definitely won't be doing that again because not one of us ever plans to return, unless of course, we ever get a craving to be treated like second-class citizens...
Now, don't get me wrong, I understand why the waitress might be upset about my small order and having a trio sit at a table for five. Less tip. But 1) this $10 minimum "policy" was never conveyed to me; 2) like I said, we didn't seat ourselves at that ginormous table and, in actuality, would've preferred a smaller table, which would've made talking to one another easier; and 3) in order to get a tip, you have to actually do your job well, which doesn't involve unnecessarily bitching out paying customers.
Moreover, it's not like there was a crowd of people storming the place to eat there, which means my business, as measly as it was, should've been at least a little appreciated. I mean, maybe it's because I'm not a communist and/or terrorist, but isn't a paying customer who's willing to order $4 worth of items better than a quintet of could-be people with could-be money? Then again, although the answer to that question seems obvious, this is DC, a city that appreciates common sense about as much as a normal human being would appreciate contracting herpes.
But seriously, Marvin. You've made one angry hobo out of me. Albeit, a hobo now with an extra $4 to spend. All I need is one more dollar and it's off to DC's most reliable establishment for a $5 footlong. Now that's a brunch I can get behind.