*Fair Warning: If you have never worked in the service industry, a lot of this may not make sense to you. And even if you have, all Iam about to do is bitch, so you may want to skip this whole post.

Quitting. For real.
Tonight I was in a section that had eleven tables. All of them have at least four seats, and several of them have six. The waitress who has the most experience who was working tonight had eight tables, and three of them have only two seats each. The manager was new. But she also knows that I am new, since we trained at the same time. Now, I may not be an expert, and I certainly have never run my own restaurant, but it seems to me that when you have a very busy place you should consider having a busboy or two.
At this restaurant, the waitstaff is responsible for taking orders, making all non-alcoholic drinks, putting together soups, salads, and some appetizers, firing each ticket, delivering food, delivering the check, taking payment, running a credit card or making change, removing all dishes and trash, wiping the table down, sweeping the floor (when there have been children, which is often the case), wiping it down with sanitizer and re-setting the silverware.
I was triple sat twice in fifteen minutes, and then the new manager/hostess was scolding me for not clearing my tables. I was already on the verge of snapping, and then another waitress came up to me and said "This is exactly what happened last Monday!"
That was the point at which I decided I was done. Because apparently these people do not learn from their mistakes. Or maybe they just don't care. I however, am incapable of feeling good about giving less than good service.
On the bright side, more lessons in How Not To Run A Business.
Thank the gods for Dogfish Head Squall. I was smart enough to put one in the fridge earlier.
Now I'm going to watch Ugly Betty and try to forget the night.