The Insane Waiter

Hi friends!

2010-04-19T00:55:00.001-05:00

Hi everyone, figured I'd give a bit of an update since my last post.
It came to my attention via bitterwaitress.com that I was mentioned on a Slashfood.com article about late diners, here is the link...

http://www.slashfood.com/2010/04/06/closing-time/2#comments

So its been since late last summer since I’ve had an updated posting, the sushi joint that I was briefly at continues to exist, somehow. They haven’t been able to keep a server for more than a couple of weeks and they continue to steal from the staff. Yet people love going there.

I guess its kind of like buying Nike products, even though an eight year old Guatemalan girl makes them for thirty-five cents a day, as long as its trendy people will go there no matter what the social cost. Not that I was a sweatshop employee or even comparable, but I’ve noticed that with restaurants, some of the worst employers get the best reviews.

C'est la vie…

The Italian joint that I was at continues to do well, I have friends that work there and I’m glad to see they made it through the hard economic times in pretty good order.

Am I sorry I left?

No.

Sometimes you gotta know when to cash in your chips and leave on your own terms. I’ve seen to many good friends get burned out by a joint and go on someone else’s terms with their head down.

But sometimes I hear the call, everyone and then I miss “the biz” as we call it. But as Murtaugh said, I’m getting to old for this shit.

Eventually things all end or change. I can feel myself changing a bit, when I go out to eat I actually find myself enjoying my dinner rather than nitpicking on what the waiter is doing or how my drink was made or watching the manager bumble around, its kind of nice.

Sometimes the dreams still come though, the restaurant is full and I’m the only waiter in sight and every food item is wrong or burned.

Then I wake up and its over. Sometimes it was like working three shifts, a double then dreams all night followed by another double.

They say that dreams are you working out unresolved issues, but really, what is so unresolved about serving a veal piccatta?

Schools is going well, I’m about to start my last semester and looking for an internship that hopefully will lead to a “big boy” job. I actually have the grades to go further and am exploring taking the LSAT or GMAT this fall. Who knows, at 29 its kind of hard to think about another three years of school, I feel like I started the race about five years too late as it is.

Well here is a brief “server story”

I was in at the old joint about a month ago, only recognized a few people, lunch is where all the “noobs” get scheduled and the biz is notorious for high turnover as it is.

A couple of my former coworkers were in having lunch so I stopped at their table to say hi.

“Hey Joe, how’s school going?” asked Jen.

“Oh good, wrapping up the semester and doing some traveling this summer.” I said.

“How is Miyabi?” she asked.

“Oh it was bullshit, wasn’t there too long, got in a fight with the chef about paying for mess ups.” I responded.

“So where you working these days?” she asked.

“Just going school, got a solid grant that is paying for some of my expenses, I’m getting by if not getting rich.” I said.

“But you need to work! Are you looking for a job?” She asked.

“Oh maybe I’ll work up the street at 801 Grand.” I said, home of a Fortune 500 company. (not that I’m delusional to think I’ll be CEO, never know in this life though)

“Oh, well I heard they make good money there, are they hiring for night shifts?” she asked. (the building is also home of a premiere steakhouse)

“No, I won’t be working at the restaurant there, probably Principal.” I said.

“Oh,” she said with a frumpy appearance, ”that sound BORING.”

“Well, its why I went back to college,” I said.

“Oh, well good luck, I guess,” she said.

I was instantly reminded of the last post I made last summer. I will never demean anyone making an honest buck, from digging ditches to hustling tables to the CEO of Principal.

But there was that tone, the fact that someone bettering themselves was in the wrong and nothing besides waiting tables is legit, that “big boy“ jobs are for bores and “I make as much money as those cubicle monkeys.”

She’s young still and sold on the biz, kind of like I was when I was her age and it is easy to be jealous of the success of others and to tell yourself a lie.

But all things change, you always have to move on, you have to know when its time to leave on your terms.

Lies we tell ourself

2009-08-24T17:01:00.006-05:00

We all lie to ourselves, its all part of a natural tendency to protect our own self-esteems and our ever precious ego.

Waiters are no exception.

It is nearly unbelievable the things fellow servers say to each other, especially when one of us is about to leave the flock.

Servers I have know who graduated college or decided to move on to "real jobs" are often derided and mocked for doing so.

"There's no flexibility."

"Really, what are you going to do with that degree, we make as much money as they do."

"Have fun in your cubicle, you're going to hate it."

These are often the words of the poor, deluded lost souls of the restaurant industry.

I have often tried to open the eyes of the blind, I have no issue with those in the "biz", however I walk with my eyes open and have no illusions on what this business is.

For better or worse.

For instance, the argument that we make as much as the "cubicle sheep."

That may be true, for now, but those cubicle sheep have things such as raises, bonuses and promotions and will quickly pass you by.

In our business you will make the same at 25 that you will at 55.

Tortoise and the hare.

As far as promotions go, in most restaurants waitstaff makes as much or more as their management. Which is why the best and brightest don't take that career path for the most part.

Flexibility? It may be harder to get a day of at a split second's notice, but in better employment you have such things as paid days off. Not to mention vacation pay.

At my last job I did have vacation and after working there nearly five years it was still only one week.

Minimum wage.

Which is shit, you might as well not even offer it.

Having cash money in your pocket is a big one.

The problem is most servers don't save enough to cover their taxes, let alone try to save or invest.

401k's in this biz?

As a general rule, forget it.

The big one though is health care. Many restaurant's either offer none, or marginal benefits at best. A friend of mine recently left his management position because it barely covered him, let alone his wife and kid.

The industry sees little sick pay, which I have discussed on here before.

Either you come in sick, cover your shift (good luck at 8 a.m. on a Saturday morning) or you're fired.

My old company did offer sick pay.

However it was minimum wage and the only notification of it was buried in the back of the employee handbook.

I did an informal survey and only one person on the waitstaff was even aware of it. The assistant managers even had no idea that it was offered and I don't recall a single person taking advantage of this while they were ill.

They just came in and infected the rest of us and most likely dozens of customers.

All the while the poor smuck at the insurance agency, bank or accounting firm was nestled safely at home, without fear of loss of income or their job.

The biz is backwards, and we deride and mock those wanting out.

Craigslist

2009-08-08T14:45:00.003-05:00

Now I'm not currently looking for employment due to my class schedule which I just expanded, but this caught my eye on Craigslist.

"As a member of the Bonefish team, you would be expected to make guest feel as if they were a guest in your home. The internal guests, your team mates would feel as if we were working in a cohesive environment to better serve our guests. If you feel you are a team player and have a passion for creating a lasting great impression for our guest then apply in person at..."

I don't think I should apply, I have many passions in life, but "creating a lasting great impression for our guest" is not one of them.

I also like how the corporate lings calls staff members "internal guests", they are not guests they are employees. What a crock, that line cracked me up though!

Closing Time

2009-08-07T14:57:00.004-05:00

Probably the worst policy (ok, maybe that's a stretch) that I have seen at a restaurant I believe I have mentioned in passing before.

We stay open fifteen minutes after the posted closing time.

I don't mean we keep the kitchen open for diners that arrived close to the closing time, I mean we keep seating.

Even if there had been no new tables for hours and the restaurant is empty.

Anyone who has seen the movie "Waiting" would recognize the scene when the entire kitchen is counting down the seconds until close and that one last table arrives fucking everything up.

Its pretty much that, except the second we close the clock gets moved back another fifteen minutes.

Now there have been managers who don't roll with this rule, and frankly neither do I.

It is one of the many contradictions that this business in general adheres to.

Well, a couple weeks ago it had just turned ten o'clock and I was up at the host station when I saw a table come hustling in.

"We're not seating this table, I've been doing nothing for the last hour and I'm not going to hang out for another hour for this." I said to the hostess.

"Ok, but you handle them." She replied.

"Hi, two for the patio." Our new guest proclaimed.

Coincidently the patio was the only place we did business that night, at it was still full of campers sipping on mojitos or whatever fad drink is in this year.

"I'm sorry, the patio is full and by the time you get out there we won't be serving. Maybe you can get a pizza or something in the bar, usually they stay open later." I replied.

"Well we knew we were running late, we'll catch you next time." He said.

Problem solved.

For now, a few minutes past close the hostess was waving me down.

I arrived at the station just in time to see a clearly well-to-do couple enter the door. They were making a big show of looking at their watch.

"We just made it!" The lady exclaimed.

Ummm, no you didn't.

"I'm sorry, but we close at ten." I said.

Not used to being told no she began to argue that her clock said, "it is only five till."

"I'm sorry, but I have five after and we are closing down for the night." I replied.

"So you're not going to serve us?" Her husband exclaimed.

This was quite different from the group that had come in right after close.

I pulled the asshole card.

"I'm sorry, but we have people that need to get home to their families, that's why we have posted hours."

"But its only five after." He said.

"Yes, but how long were you planning to stay? I'm sorry, but we're done for the night.

With that I received a dirty look and out the door they were.

Last Day

2009-08-05T21:16:00.001-05:00

I had recently taken on a part time position at a local ethnic restaurant, he is the accounting of my last day.

The only background is that a friend of mine works there and makes incredibly good money.

The chef (he will be known as “Chef” since he’s of the ilk that demands to be called the title) is well known and with all fairness to him, put out a good product.

First off, any chef that I have known that demands to be called that is a straight asshole, and this guy didn’t prove to be the exception.

He is very difficult to work with and demands high respect, well I demand that also.

He, however is not able to return any respect for his employees.

The last week working there had Chef constantly knit picking on issues that had nothing to do with service and everything to do with his ego and his need to control.

In other words he made the corporate type managers that I have run into look like angels.

I mean I have run into general incompetence, ineptness, stupidity and criminal malfeasance in my time, but never the direct rudeness of this individual.
So here is my last day on the job…

We had finished opening and with one table in the restaurant I was doing further side work with Mary, the manager.

We were setting up the to-go server station when fire trucks and an ambulance drove by blaring their sirens.

“Maybe your house is on fire,” she said, smiling.

“Don’t joke about that, some kids playing with matches lit one of my apartment buildings on fire where I live.” I said.

Just then Chef rounds the corner.

“This not necessary, I no pay you for this!” He said in broken English.

“I'm sorry, I don’t understand you.” I said.

“All this talking, we have complaints.” Chef replied.

“From who? There’s no one here.” I said.

“Don’t talk back, just say yes.” He said.

With that he was back in the kitchen.

Five minutes later…

I hadn’t worked lunch yet so I was pouring over the menu to catch the differences between that and dinner, right then Chef rounded the corner.

Gesturing wildly he said, “I don’t pay you for this” and then sputtered off in intelligible English.

“I don’t understand you, I’m sorry,” I said as I struggled with what he had said.

“I don’t pay you to stand around, this is my time, not yours.” He replied.

I explained that I was studying the menu and he asked why I didn’t have one at home.

“I don’t know why you don’t learn,” Chef said as he thrust a take out menu in my hand.

“I have one of these at home, I’m just trying to learn.” I replied.

“Just say yes,” He said.

Yes to what??

About an hour after that I was approached by Chef while I was questioning a coworker about a piece of etiquette

“This is the second time you’re talking back here, this is not necessary.

This is the second time I’ve told you about this, the next time….” (Chef makes cutting neck gesture)

Are you fucking kidding me? I guess I’m not allowed to speak, so much for getting to know my coworkers.

Later on….

“Joe, come here!” Chef shouted over the bar.

Chef then pointed to a plate of sushi, “You eat?”

It was almost a command.

Having lunch plans later with a friend I declined.

“No, you pay for it, you can try,” Chef said.

“No, I don’t pay for it, I’m not hungry right now,” I replied.

“You have to pay for mistakes, this is a mistake, you pay for all mistakes!” He said.

“No, I don’t pay for mistakes, I didn’t make this mistake they have their food,” I said.

“You rang it in, you have to pay for it.” He replied.

“This is my restaurant, you pay for mistakes when you make them.

“You can‘t make me do that, I don’t have to pay for anything and I won’t!” I snarled.

Just then the manager arrived and Chef pointed at the dish, “make sure he pays for that.”

Mary kind of shook her head at me.

I reiterated, “I did not ring this in, Mary just told me it was extra and a mistake.”

“You just say YES when I talk, I don’t need to hear all this,” with that Chef walked away shaking his head.

Mary pulled me aside and told me, “Don’t worry about that, I comped it.”

“I don’t like being talked to like this,” I said.

“He’s just very particular, you have to watch out for mistakes.” She said.

All day long I’ve been making mistakes in his eyes or was being lazy.
It’s a mistake to be pleasant with my coworkers.

It’s a mistake to study the menu.

It’s a mistake to speak to a coworker about a service issue.

It’s a mistake to ask why only half my order came up.

I think the real mistake was a Chef not having any idea what service is or how to manage a staff.

The real mistake was me taking this job.

I hung my apron up and walked out, a mistake only remains a mistake if you don’t take steps to fix it.

I was inches from the door when the chef called me back.

“You come here,” he said, once again gesturing wildly.

“It is rude not to thank me, you no leave and say nothing!” He said.

Every time I had greeted him or given him a farewell he had ignored me.

He demands that we call him chef and thank him every night for the privilege of working for him, yet he is rude in return.

What kind of respect for that? Is this how you make employees feel welcome???

Only a gross hypocrite would expect such politeness and offer none.

I’m officially done with the restaurant business for the moment. I’m a college senior who will graduate with honors, I am in my late twenties and have over a decade of experience in the industry at some of the best restaurants my city has to offer….

And I get treated like a five year old by this clearly deluded chef who thinks that employees should be subjected to this type of behavior, as if we're idiots or his dogs.

Maybe I should just concentrate on my studies for the time being, that at least is important, unlike waiting tables.

Your Opinion

2009-06-09T18:16:00.002-05:00

There has been some controversy over credit card slips recently at the restaurant.

At times the customer, oops, sorry...

"The Guest"either adds wrong or adds an extra amount on top of a table that has added a service charge.

I have always added what I thought the customer meant to leave, here's an example.

Bill Amount - $100.00

Tip - $20.00

Total - $130.00

I would enter in $120.00

Conversely, if the total would say $110.00 I would still enter in the $20 tip and not take the loss since that was the intention.

This is simplified, usually it is some odd number and it is simply a mistake on the part of the customer.

I never would want to put in the lower amount as it would hurt me, however I also would not enter a much higher tip that I felt the customer did not mean to leave.

As well I have no problem with added gratuity as long as it is noted on the bill as well as the menu.

What is your opinion on this dear reader?

It is what it is

2009-06-08T17:44:00.003-05:00

The kitchen was dark, lanterns were being blown out and the front door locked when the phone rang.

"Thank you for calling _______ how can I help you?" I asked.

"Hey we were calling because our show ran late and we'll be down in a couple of minutes," the caller declared.

"I'm sorry sir, but we're closing down for the night." I replied.

"Well we have a reservation, can't you hold our table for us?" He asked.

I glanced at the computer screen, no reservations existed after 9:00 that night, it was past eleven.

"What was the name of the reservation?" I asked.

"Umm, well, it might have been under Sandeen?"

It sounded more like a question than a statement, I was being lied to.

"I'm sorry, I don't have any reservations, and I'm afraid that at any rate we're closed." I said.

"Well we'll only be ten more minutes," he pleaded.

"I'm sorry sir, I don't have your reservation and we do have to close down for the night," I answered.

"Perhaps you could join us on a different day?" I offered.

"I just don't understand, its only another ten minutes!" He said in an irate tone.

The last of the kitchen guys were about to split, if we stayed open it wouldn't be only ten minutes for them, or for me for that matter.

It would be an hour or more.

"But we have a reservation!" He spat out.

"No, you don't, we don't take reservations for the time that we close," I said.

He started stuttering something else when I interrupted...

"It is what it is, goodnight sir."

Boy I hate it when people tell me that, I hope he does too.

another poor soul

2009-06-03T13:05:00.002-05:00

Ugh, I just read another article about a poor poor stock broker that lost his job making $200k and is now slumming it as a host at a restaurant making $25k. Their poor children had to stop taking ballet and tumbling classes.

While I feel sorry for him losing his job, I'm sick of the restaurant world being the catch all or the bottom of the barrel for people losing their swanky, high paying, glamorous jobs.

"Oh the horror of it having to work in a restaurant!"

Maybe if they didn't have to have a condo that costs them 6 grand a month or three cars or tumbling classes for the kids they wouldn't have depleted their savings so fast or they could actually survive on a restaurant salary. I had tumbling classes as a child...in the front yard of our house with our family dog as the instructor.

I don't know. Will it ever change? Will restaurant employees ever get respect for a hard days work?

The worst part, I guess, is these douches are sucking up all the jobs from the those that actually have experience and it is their only field. I do know I'm holding on to my job for a while. Maybe I'll start a bartending school for all the broke stockers.

-Chowda-

Worst Table, In the World

2009-06-01T16:34:00.002-05:00

Sure, maybe not the entire world, but since I've been on break from school I returned to the lunch shift.

Big mistake.

I actually have really been enjoying going to work this past semester as I cut down on my work load as I transferred colleges and upped my credit hours.

However if anything, this summer will be motivation to return to my studies.

So off we go to the worst table in the world!

Walking into work the first thing I do is check and see what section I have, this day I happened to be closing and there was an eleven top scheduled for 11:30.

Usually this is great news as I can flip the table in an hour and get another seating in before the rush is over, not a bad start to the day.

The first few people arrived promptly on time, the first warning sign was they refused to order drinks until the rest of the group arrived.

I really don't see what the big deal with that is, its lunch, you're not ordering Bordeaux, its iced tea and Diet Coke.

All it means is the increased chance I will spill on you when I have my tiny tray with eleven drinks on it.

So fine, of course the rest of the group is thirty minutes late. So much for flipping the table.

Taking their dinner order was normal, the usual sandwiches and sides of soup and such. Where it took a turn was the guy at position six wanted his soup out first, not as a side.

No big deal right?

Wrong

There was a line at the computer station so I grabbed his soup first before ringing in the order.

Upon dropping the soup off at the table two other people spoke up and asked for their soup first as well.

I took care of that round and then they asked, "aren't you going to bring us some bread?" In that accusatory tone that suggested that I forgot the bread.

We don't have bread service at lunch, but to provide the best service experience possible I brought them their bread.

However several people on the far side of the table were now complaining that I haven't brought them their soup.

The soup comes as a side, as in sandwich and soup.

It comes together, I didn't forget, just like I didn't forget the bread.

Then guy at seat six asks when their food will be up, since they're in a hurry.

I haven't even had a chance to ring it in yet because I was busy getting things that don't come with lunch and don't come with the meal.

In the meantime the entire group had managed to chug down every one of their beverages.

And I had three new tables.

I kicked it into high gear and rand in their orders as well as greeted the new tables.

I was once again bombarded with questions like, "what is taking so long? Well show up on time for your reservation and problems like this won't exist. Your responsibility, not mine.

Food goes out and guy at seat six, who is now self proclaimed leader, chimes in that they need their bill and are in a hurry.

Separate checks, of course.

I start dropping off their checks and "Fearless leader" asks if their discount is on the bill.

In order to stimulate business, we are offering 10 or 15% discounts to neighboring offices, the discounts are a huge hassle and vary business to business and pretty much I don't see them bringing in any business we weren't getting before.

Plus I don't get a discount on their services because I'm right next door, no 10% off insurance for me.

Well this meant that I have to pick up all their checks and reformulate them on the computer and move around the gratuity (like I'm going to take a chance on a tip with these clowns)

Five minutes later I have the separate checks back on the tables and seat six gives his right back to me with the demand that I run his first. Then a guy at seat three makes the same demand.

Here's a hint, if you have a large party and give the waiter split checks out of order and in several waves, it'll just take longer.

As I'm picking up these bills about nine people on the table make sure to let me know that they want their food boxed up to go.

To make things go even slower during this situation, the waiter is expected to box and bag each entree n the kitchen.

I'm picking up plates now too and I'm almost ready to snap on a customer.

I still have seats three and six in my pocket and haven't had the time to run their cards.

Fearless leader stops me with my hands full of four plates that need to be packaged to go.

"I believe I asked to have my card run, I have places to be." He said.

I felt my resolve cracking, a thousand things that would get me fired ran through my mind. I've been there four years and no reason to get canned and burn a bridge though.

I just shot him the thousand yard stare and made it my last priority to run his credit card.

Finally after about ten minutes of running separate cards and boxing food, the last of them were out the door.

Grand total on the gratuity, $19.46.

Hardest twenty bucks I've ever earned.

It didn't have to be hard though.

I was brought up to know that if you have to be somewhere show up on time or even early, not that I've always taken that to heart myself.

If you have special situations like discounts or separate checks let me know up front.

Don't demand extras like sides served before entrees or bread service, as if I had slighted you or forgot you.

We don't do bread service at lunch.

Where I come from sides are treated as sides and served as such, I didn't forget you, its just that we just don't normally do that here.

I guess the thing is don't be a hassle and you won't be treated like one, and I bet that you all would have been on time to your very important meeting or whatever.

Or, once again, you could just keep your commitment to the reservation time.

Simple enough.

V-R Day

2009-05-26T22:42:00.001-05:00

Victory Ranch Day

On this day, in the year 2009 a great victory has occurred over the tyranny of the lowest class dip, alleged dressing, ranch.

After a decade long struggle with overweight middle aged women who would make Al Bundy cry, there is no more ranch at my restaurant.

It has been replaced with creamy parmesan.

Mixed signals were soon in the air, however.

We were told that it was “up scale ranch” or “our ranch”

No, it is creamy parmesan.

Ranch is ranch, it doesn’t matter if it comes in a bottle or is an herb mix with buttermilk and mayo, and it is not creamy parm.

A sign soon went up signed by all managers and chefs, it declared the following.

“We are not 86ing Ranch”
“Creamy Parm IS our Ranch”

A bold statement to be sure, something worthy of Orwell.

I asked the chef if this was the same dressing on our Cobb salad.

He replied to the affirmative.

“If this is ranch, then why is it described as creamy parmesan?” I asked.

This doublespeak would not fool me.

I was told to either just serve it instead of ranch or give the “upscale ranch” spiel.

It is not ranch.

The reason I know this is this “ranch” dressing tastes good.

While I will still resent delivering pitchers of this dressing to the mildly retarded sycophants that consume such filth, I will know down in my heart that we do not have ranch dressing.

I had the biggest smile that day and that smile shall live on in my heart every time someone asks for a “bowl” or ranch to defile their dinner with.

Miss! Miss!

2009-02-24T10:35:00.004-06:00

I walk into work on Monday evening with a positive outlook for the shift. Monday nights are usually busy, and smooth.

The day shift is excited to see us, they are ready to go home by this point. I check the station chart for my section and see that two of my tables are occupied by parties from the lunch server. If the hot food has hit the table prior to transition, the day server can keep the table. One table has almost finished eating, the other will be a transfer. Mary, the day shift who has both tables, wants to go home.

"Come on, Sarah, please take table 46! I really want to leave and they already have their food so it's like free money."

"Mary, they are regulars that I can't stand. The old lady is mean and as much as I love you, I do not want to take them."

"Please, Sarah, I'll love you forever and ever!"

I sigh and give in. I really do dislike this table, but If the situation was reversed and I wanted to leave, I'd ask for the same. Mary has both tables transferred, and then she goes to introduce me to the other table she had in my section. They are two nice girls and we chat for a moment as I establish some repoire. The mean couple at 46 are still eating their meal. Not even 30 seconds go by before I hear:

"Miss! Miss!"

I stop, mid-sentence to the girls, and look. The lady at 46 is looking at me and waving her arms like there is a fire.

I go over to them. Half of the steak they were sharing is still on the plate. The lady gives me an annoyed loo and gestures at the plates of half finished food.

"We're finished. Get these plates off of the table. We want to order dessert."

I suck down the myriad of curse words stuck in my throat, apologize, and clear the plates and mark the table for dessert.

Later, when I drop the check, the woman has mercifully gone to the restroom so I don't have to look at her. It was rather embarrassing for me to be called out while at another table. The man pays the bill, and they leave.

The two girls at my other table tell me that when I walked away to get the dessert, the old man looked pissed. He asked the lady why she had to talk to me like that.

Mary, I love working with you, but I'm not taking those people from you ever again.

Martinis and Bullshit

2009-02-11T12:33:00.002-06:00

"Here you go ladies, a Cosmo and Ketel Dirty up," I said as I handed out drinks.

Ketel One lady plucked out her blue cheese olives and slid the drink right back to me.

"Now I'm going to ask you to take this back and this time bring me a full drink." She said.

I guess she didn't understand that if you remove solid mass from liquid the level went down, who am I kidding, the pickled old bitch just wanted another half an ounce of vodka.

"Get my friend another Cosmo, hers isn't full either." She continued.

So my quandary was this, get them their drinks and piss off the bartender, or argue with them and lose my tip. Then they would bitch to a manager who would certainly NOT back me up and probably reward them with free shit and I still wouldn't get a tip.

I chose the former option.

"Hey man, these ladies want their drinks full," I said to Adam, the bartender.

"What the fuck, can't you see I'm busy," He replied.

He was, he had a full wheel of drinks.

"Well they say they want full drinks, I'm not about to argue with them, I'm just the messenger," I said.

"Fuck that, those drinks are just fine, we don't fill them to the rim here," He replied.

So it was passive aggressive time for me. I grabbed a can of cranberry juice and topped of the Cosmo. A squirt of water went into the Ketel One martini.

Adam just gawked at me.

"Screw them, they said they wanted full drinks, they never asked for more liquor," I said.

I dropped off the drinks and naturally one of the old crones said something about us being cheap and what a full martini is.

I hoped they liked their juice boxes, they left a shit tip naturally...

-OG Insane Waiter

The eve of battle

2009-02-02T15:47:00.002-06:00

This is a very ominous night for some of our brethren. Of course, I speak of the free grand slam breakfast at Denny's tomorrow.

I wish you luck and pray for your survival. Many of you will not return...know that you are loved, respected, and understood.

Remember - if you have to go out, go out swinging. Take some of those cheap bastards with you.

If you are going to Denny's tomorrow to get a free breakfast, be gentle and tip well.

Good luck.

A tale from back in the day...

2009-01-22T20:55:00.003-06:00

Bella again. I read the comments on my blog entry, and I'd like to answer some of the questions.

The guy I ran a delivery to, who tried to weasel his way out of tipping on the basis that he had no cash: He did end up tipping me, a dollar (WOW!! A whole dollar!!), I could have sworn I had said that, but in re-reading, I found that I did not. The look on his face when I indicated that he could write in a tip on the cc slip was one of blank surprise (is that even possible? Maybe dumbfounded is better...) that I would dare to make such a suggestion. He didn't say anything after that, just wrote the tip in and signed it. Sorry for not covering that information, and thank you for pointing it out!

Now, on to my oldie but goodie.

I used to work in a fine-dining establishment. The owner, André, was the most awesome gay Frenchman I have ever known.

We had a prix-fixe meal (ie, lunch or dinner, six courses, set price), and an a la carte menu. When customers came in, they were to tell the maitre 'd whether they would be ordering a la carte or our prix-fixe meal. We were informed ahead of time (No particular reason, just a quirk of Andre's).

A party of seven (three men and four women, dressed formally, mid 30's to early 50's, I'd guess) came in, informed the maitre 'd they'd be ordering a la carte, and were sat in my section. I rang in their order accordingly. They raved about how great the food was, and how awesome and professional the service was...until I brought the check. Almost $2,000. They had ordered drinks, wines, appetizers, bottled water, soup, salad, entrees and desserts.

"Esscuse meee, missie, whyyyy is our beeeeel so high?" One of the men said. I explained to them that they had ordered a la carte, not the prix-fixe, which in actuality, wouldn't have saved them much, as they had ordered the most expensive of everything.

I honestly don't remember the exchange word for word suffice to say I was called a "Styoopid liddle gorl" and Andre, dressed in a tux with a silver ascot around his neck (I shit you not) happened to be walking by me. He paused, put his hand on my shoulder, looked at the man and said "Eez zere a prooplem?" (I'm trying to phonetically recreate the accents as best I can...) The man explained what happened and then asked if there was any possibility if they could switch to the prix-fixe and pay the extra. Andre explained that it wouldn't save them any money at all, as they had ordered the most expensive items, and there'd be upcharges for that. And then he said "Alzo, I see zat my server has not charged you ze gratuity...so your beel is not correct." Then when I was at my server station, he passed me and whispered "Geef zem ze 20% gratuity."

I smiled at him and just said "Thanks for backing me up. I really thought I was going to have to set it prix-fixe and eat the difference." (I was very new there when this happened) And Andre just said "People, zey will do zis all ze time. Welcome to ze world of serving. But I take care of my staff, zey're right 99% of ze time."

So this table, that was bitching about an almost 2000 dollar bill ended up having to pay almost $2400. Had they not bitched and just left a tip, I wouldn't have even been made aware of the gratuity that I had neglected to add as was the rules for parties of 6 or more.

Customers, learn from this: Bitching will not always get you your way and sometimes it will hurt you. If you have a valid problem, fine, we'll fix it. But if you walk into a place that you know is going to be expensive, don't try to haggle the bill. No matter what all those "Save money dining out!!!" articles say.

Et tu, Taco Bell

2009-01-20T12:03:00.003-06:00

This commercial has come up more than once on several other boards and so I'll add it here.

There is a current taco bell commercial where a guy is getting a cup of coffee and says 'keep the change'. The next guy in line says "what are you doing? You know you can get blah blah blah with that change?" Prompting the first guy to take back the change and say "you really just pushed a button."

I'm a firm believer in any press is good press, so on that thought, here's some free press for TB. You're advertising firm sucks ass. The commercial has nothing to do with TB other than a tag with what to do with change. Honestly, I can't even remember what you're pitching, (which is a sign of a bad commercial) but I know I'll be heading to Del Taco from now on....so maybe it did work since I remembered who the commercial was for.....

Anywho,

Where is our saviour? Where is our superman with his white apron tied around his neck? Why, in this year of our lord, 2009, are we still inundated with hollywood telling the masses that waitrons are the enemy? That we are mindless, lazy, and not worth the change in your pocket. That money is so sacred that it is better to snub a fellow human being than toss them a pittance for a job well done?

Why are we portrayed as people that need to be saved or pitied?

Who will unite us as a people and lead us in boats made of monkey-dishes and ramikens to hollywood on a sea of ranch dressing to slaughter these pigs and flood the streets red with ketchup?

To end on a positive - the only time I can remember a waitress portrayed in a decent light (no, the movie 'waiting' was not a decent portrayal of anything other than an nut sack) is the song waitress by the band 'live'. Check it out.

Chowda

Silly Pranks or Things To Do When It's Slow...

2009-01-19T13:37:00.002-06:00

From Sarah...

Do you guys play practical jokes on one another when it's slow?

We do!

Little things can be the quickest way to have me giggling like a school girl.

Last Saturday is a perfect example. We started out super slow and this was a shift I don't normally work so I didn't want to be there. We open at 11:30 and I had not yet received my first table by 12.

This one guy that I work with, let's call him Frank, was standing by the service bar putting little hats on lemons. Frank is annoying, he'll be the first one to tell you how to do your job even though he can barely hold down a 3 table section at night. So, I decided to mess with him.

I grabbed an anchovy from behind the line and snuck up behind him. I very carefully placed the anchovy on Frank's shoulder without him feeling it. I walked away and held my laughter in untill I was out of earshot.

Five years old, I am!

Frank didn't figure it out for at least a good 10 minutes. That thing could not have smelled very good. The service bartender told him it was me, so of course he had to get me back.

And he did.

About half an hour later, I felt something cold and wet on my leg. No, perverts, it wasn't that! The boy slipped an ice cube into my apron pocket without me feeling it. I thought it was hysterical. I wish I had those skills.

Not really the best story, I know, but we had fun and I felt like sharing. What about you guys? Do you any of you have silly pranks and jokes to share form the workplace?

Whaaaaa?

2009-01-14T10:48:00.003-06:00

Sarah again...

It's Tuesday night and I picked up an extra shift to cover some school expenses. Tonight I am in a great mood, laughing, joking, having great conversation with my co-workers and tables.

The night goes by incredibly smooth, I'm not in the weeds once.

Towards the end of the evening I get a middle aged couple. They order drinks, and then tell me they are ready to order. No apps or salads, just two steaks. The food comes out and everything is cooked to the right temperature. I do my quality check and everything is fine.

A short while later, I notice that the gentleman has finished his meal and pushed his plate off to the side with the fork and knife at 3 o' clock. Our style of service indicates to remove dishes once they are finished, so I do. The man smiles and asks about our desserts while the lady continues to enjoy her meal. I describe the desserts and go to refill the mans iced tea.

The lady finishes her meal, I remove the plate and the man asks for a slice of key lime pie. I mark them for dessert and order the pie. I drop check with dessert.

When I go back by the table, I see the man has placed cash down on the check presenter and I go to collect it. He tells me not to bring change and I thank him. The lady gets up and excuses herself, presumably to use the restroom. I go to the POS and see that the guy has given me a total of 121 dollars on an 80 dollar check! I go thank him profusely.

My manager calls me over a few minutes later. He tells me that the woman got up to tell him that she felt like they were being rushed and she wanted to bring it to his attention. I was like, huh?! "they guy left me a 40 dollar tip on an 80 dollar check!" I say.

Manager says the woman didn't want to say anything in front of her guy. He says maybe she just wasn't used to our style of service which is entirely possible because while we are upscale, we do pre-bus the table without waiting for everyone to finish. It isn't white tablecloth or anything.

Okay. I don't really get in trouble as it wasn't a valid guest complaint so whatever.

Five minutes later they leave. Manager comes back up to me and says the guy told him how amazing the service was on the way out.

I'm still wondering what all that was about?

Over a woody?

2009-01-10T11:06:00.004-06:00

A guy walks into the bar and starts complaining about a car parked in our togo parking spots.

We have two spots right next to the door and we have no way of telling which car is for togo and which ones are just douchebags hanging out in the bar.

Normally, I'd agree with the guy, but we know him and he's a bigger douchebag than whoever owns the car outside. He wants to talk to the manager and I don't feel like arguing with him since it's 7:30 on a friday night, we're on an hour wait and my bar is a tad bit busy. I send him to the hostess desk where three managers are hanging out and the other bartender and I laugh.

The bar gets caught up and I decide to see what he's talking about. I walk outside and a perfectly restored woody is sitting in the togo parking spot.

I walk back inside and the guy is still arguing with management that he wants the complex security contact to have the car towed. I decide to join in the fight and ask "how do you know he's not actually waiting for togo?"

"Oh he's not. I used to own beautiful cars and that's just a fuck you to everyone in here. I used to do that."

"Again, how do you know they're not waiting for a togo order."

"Because that car has been here as long as I have and I'm waiting for a togo order."

I look down at the beer in his hand, "you're waiting for a togo order too?"

"Yeah! I had to park all the way down the street."

"So you're mad because he beat you to the parking spot?" All the while staring at his beer.

"No. You're missing the point. He's not waiting for a togo order. I know it."

"How? Maybe the kitchen screwed up his order and he had to wait another 20 minutes for a remake."

"No. No way. It's been too long."

"But if that spot would have been open when you got here, you would have parked there and had a beer or two while your food sat in the window waiting for you to pay?"

"Forget it man. You're missing the point."

And with that he left his half finished beer on the counter and headed to togo. I'm sure the 16 year old togo girl got an earful.

The Woody was beautiful. I'm glad I got to step outside and see it.

so many regulars, so little patience

2009-01-08T10:47:00.002-06:00

Another guest blogger. You can call me Chowda. Thank you to Insane for the opportunity.

Quick background and History- I'm a bartender and the bar manager at....a bar. It's taken me many years and even more barrels of alcohol to become 'okay' with staying in the restaurant business for over 20 years. I am a lifer. Actually, I've always been okay with it, it's just hard to explain it to outsiders with other jobs.

There is a woman that comes into my bar her name is Margo, but we'll call her Twinkles for legal reasons. About a year ago, she started coming in because she opened a business across the street. Seemed nice, but my craz-o-meter would scream when she was around. The girl could put down the liquor. I'm a drunk most of the time and she made me say 'damn'. A few weeks later, she comes in and sits at a table with some other regulars. She finishes her first glass of red wine and falls out of her chair flat on her face. Seriously, faceplant. She didn't even try to catch herself. I cut her off and tell the cocktail waitress to get her food and get her out. She refuses the food and the regulars help her outside. She flips out and starts screaming outside, then heads back to her store and trashes the inside of it until the cops arrive and take her away in cuffs. Freak.

Her Dad calls and threatens to sue for putting something in her drink. She's in her early 30s.

She gets the honor of 86. Usually, in my little hellhole we only 86 people for a while, because all the freaks come in on my days off, knowing that no one else in the place has a backbone.

So Margo, (oops I mean Twinkles) starts coming in again a few months ago, Always hiding in the corner behind regulars if I'm bartending. Whatever. She's entertaining as hell to me and I'm not liable if she kills someone. How so you ask? Well, let's just say she enjoys a little nip at work and keeps bottles stashed all over her store.

Friday she sits at the bar. I was getting a case of beer and she didn't know i was in house. The look on her face was priceless when I came around the corner. Cat and Canary all over again.

I go down to say 'hi'. Again she freaks out with "Oh really? You're going to talk to me after what you did?"

I was kinda lost here. I hadn't talked to her in over a year and really had nothing to do with kicking her out, but I'm often a scapegoat when it comes to kicking people out or cutting them off.

"Margo, I had nothing to do with you being kicked out."

"I WAS NOT KICKED OUT I LEFT ON MY OWN!"

I just laughed, "You couldn't even walk on your own."

"Oh really do you want me to call a manager over her? I'll have you fired. I am a business owner and you are just a bartender."

So many things I could have said about her daddy is the business owner (with no business sense) and she is barely a clerk, but instead I counter with, "Actually, I'm the bar manager of all of this." I said as I splayed my arm out towards the bar and up to heaven. "And I will get you another manager."

The only reason I got another manager is so they could enjoy this too. We all know she's nuts and I'm a giver. I like to share.

Before the second manager comes out, Twinkles daddy is at the bar yelling at me and #2. Did I mention that #2 is the owners daughter. Good times. She can be a real badger if you corner her. Daddy goes off on me and how I was rude and blah blah blah. If he doesn't apologize they will leave and never come back. blah blah blah.

Owner's daughter says (I could kiss her for this) "Sorry, he's the bar manager for a reason. I'm inclined to believe him, since we've had to escort your daughter out of here before. If he wants to apologize he can, but I'm not making him do it, so I wouldn't hold my breathe."

They storm out, hopefully to never be seen again.

Strangely, it was one of those interactions that made my night. I may be JUST a bartender in the outside world, but in my bar you're JUST another customer.

I stopped serving for this?!?

2009-01-07T00:02:00.003-06:00

My name is Bella. I'm 25 years old, have been serving for almost a decade now (off and on, but mostly on...), and I work at a sandwich shop. It isn't a chain, just a sandwich shop.

I thought that by handing in my apron and walking away from serving, I would be escaping the crazies and jerks I encountered on a very frequent basis.

Boy was I wrong.

I'm a cashier, but I do other things too. I make tips, pretty decent tips for only working the counter, so I can't complain in that respect.

But I get my share of the idiots. Like the lady who asked if our tuna was white meat or dark meat. I understand there is a difference between the standard tuna, and chunk white albacore, but for crying out loud, this is a sandwich and cheesesteak joint!! I've been asked if things are organic. Kid you not.

And people always try to haggle the price with me. I honestly never encountered this in all my years of actually wearing an apron and carrying a winekey.

I also, for the first time in my life, run deliveries...and I have to share this gem with you.

It was dark and raining, and I received an order for delivery in an apartment community, with multiple buildings and a very poorly-planned road system. I searched for this apartment for 30 minutes, tried calling the number on the delivery slip, asking at the leasing office. No dice.

Finally by some luck of God, I found the apartment, got out of my car, and sank into a puddle that came halfway up to my knees. Cursing under my breath, I knocked on the door. The guy comes and signs his credit card slip, then says "I had to use my card, 'cuz I don't got cash, so I can't tip you, sorry."

My poor wet little heart burst in a froth of anger and I said cheerily (very faked cheer, needless to say) and politely said "That's okay, you can write it in on your charge slip and add it to the total.

I know that as a server, I used to think that counter-people had a far easier task, and delivery people had it MADE, but now I'm learning that both jobs have definite pros and cons.

Order by Numbers

2009-01-06T21:56:00.004-06:00

Here is your first taste of a guest blogger at The Insane Waiter. I'm Sarah, 25. I am a slave at an upscale restaurant in Western North Carolina.

It's New Years Eve and I'm actually excited to be at work for a change. The prospect of making well more than the usual on this night of many alcoolic beverages is fabulous. Anyway, I'm fairly new in town and had nothing better to do on this holiday.

Two things you should know about me.

1. I do think that the majority of the time your first table can set the tone for the rest of your shift.

2. I do not believe in generalizations. I will never make any snap judgments of how a person will tip based on race, etc. Most of the time, those people will surprise you. I can, however, usually pinpoint the tip potential after speaking to the guests for a few minutes and seeing how they treat me.

Which brings me (finally!) to my point...

My first table this evening is a two top. I greet them with the usual ditribe, offer the first-round drinks. Once I bring their beverages out, two glasses of sparkling white, I rehearse the features and ask if they are ready to order.

"I'll have the number 27 and she will have number 18."

Whaaaaaaa?

Great. They are order by numbers people. This almost never happens, but when it does it is always on a holiday when people that don't usually go out, go, well, out. So I'm faced with a dilemma. There are several items on the menu with these same prices and I need to figure out a way to get the actual order without making this poor guy feel stupid.

I take a chance.

"Yes sir, so you'll have Rib-Eye and the lady will have the Grilled Chicken Salad?"

I can practically see a lightbulb flash over this guys head as it dawns on him that maybe those numbers were actually the prices of the entrees.

"Ah, yes. Right." He utters those few words quickly as possible and I find out the temp he wants his steak cooked at so I can get the hell away from the table.

Once in the kitchen, I input their orders into the POS and peer out into the dining room. The couple seem to be laughing and enjoying themselves and I hope that the awkwardness of a few moments ago have passed. Order by numbers people always feel like idiots when they realize their mistake.

The couple finish their meal and decline dessert. I drop the check and go about the rest of my tables. Later that evening as I'm typing in my credit card tips into ALOHA, I find the receipt from that first table. I had not looked at it before because we were slammed all night. The young man left me a 30 dollar tip on a 100 dollar check. There is also a note on the back which reads:

Thank you for not making me look like a jerk in front of my date. I owe you one.

I will never forget that guy.

What are you, five?

2008-10-19T19:53:00.000-05:00

It was pretty much a nightmare scenario.

We were packed to the gills and I was handed a twenty top to take by myself, a bit of a challenge, but one I've never shied from.

The problem was it was twenty middle aged women and you know what that means...

Ranch, Diet Coke, modifications from hell, separate checks and White Zin.

The lady at position one had ordered the salmon with no sauce and steamed broccoli in place of asparagus, no problem right?

Wrong, the deal was the next lady in line modified her entree and so on down the line. The ticket I sent the kitchen resembled the combined efforts of the last five blog posts in length.

So the food came up, five trays of items that had only a passing resemblance of the actual menu description.

I set position one's salmon down, no sauce, no asparagus, sub broccoli.

"Ummm, what is this?" She said to me, pointing at her plate.

"Salmon, no sauce?" I replied.

"No, what is this?" She asked, pointing to the side of pasta that also accompanied the dish.

"I'm pretty sure that's fettuccine alfredo." I replied.

"I didn't want that, I told you I only wanted broccoli." She snapped.

I glanced at the nineteen other entrees waiting to be dropped off. The assistant manager was coming up with the last tray as well.

"Well miss, you don't have to eat the pasta, you asked for no asparagus." I retorted.

She flipped the salmon over and poked at it with her fork.

"There's sauce touching my salmon, I don't want sauce!" She exclaimed.

"Miss, is this an allergy issue?" I asked.

"No, I just don't want my food touching." She said.

I about screamed at her, "then who cares!"

I bit my tongue, at that moment the assistant manager saved me from saying something I probably would have regretted.

"Hey, drop the rest of the food, I'll take care of this one," he said.

I went about the task of delivering the rest of the dinner before it was cold.

Afterwards I approached the manager. "Hey thanks man, are we re-plating that or what?" I asked.

"No, she wants a new one." He replied. Looking at the line I saw there were about fifteen tickets on the wheel, with the kitchen rolling like a freight train on cocaine.

"Are you fucking serious, just scrape that dab of sauce off, plate it with broccoli and lets go!" I shouted above the noise of the kitchen.

"She told me her broccoli felt like it was dumped in ice water and that she'd know is we gave her the same salmon." He said.

"What is she, five? Just flip the fucking fillet over!" I said.

"Just let me handle it," said the manager.

"All right, its all you then."

Later as the dinner was winding down the manager approached me again. "Hey, we're buying her meal since it took a bit to get back out, we're also giving her a gift card."

He said. "What, so she can come back in and get another free meal? We did nothing wrong and she gets two free meals out of it for throwing a fit." I said.

The manager shrugged and said, "she's pretty pissed, we have to take care of it."

"I just don't believe in rewarding bad behavior, when I was a kid and did this kind of thing my Mom would have taken me to the bathroom and spanked the shit out of me." I said.

"Well hopefully you won't wait on her when she comes back." He said.

"Oh I won't, she's one I'll remember."

And with that I was out the door to split the checks a thousand different ways. With the gratuity added, naturally.

Class Traitor

2008-10-06T00:25:00.002-05:00

It is restaurant code/karma/tradition to tip well if you are a restaurant employee.

For my compatriots and I insane 30, 40 or 50% tips are common place.

Even shit service warrants at least 15% or the big bad karma will come for you in the dark and stiff you.

That is why I am infuriated with the "class traitor" types.

Saturday night my string of bad luck stood at nine weeks in a row with large groups, more on that next post, especially if it goes to week ten.

It was an eight top of middle twentysomething girls, the situation was a birthday party.

They knew one of the managers and he bought the birthday girl her meal, this would be fine except some of her friends wanted to buy her dinner.

So they turned on me because apparently it was my responsibility to not let my manager take care of her, and naturally there was no tip left for her comped meal from the gals either.

As the checks came out which had to be ridiculously split beyond belief, one of the girls started name dropping where she had worked.

She used insider terms that impressed me like "eight top" and asked if the "grat" was added, unfortunatly for me it was not.

As I was rounding up the tabs she gave me hers, "Here hon, its all yours."

I walked back to the service station and was organizing the cash and credit cards when I open her folder, two bucks on twenty.

Ten percent.

The next folder contained the same amount and same tip.

I returned to the table with everyone's change and credit card slips, I dropped off hers as well.

"Oh I said you could keep the change?" She said as she dismissively waved me away.

"Oh are you sure?" I asked with a sarcastic hint to my concern.

Ten percent, from a server.

That will come back to bite her in the ass. One could as perhaps it was a service issue? I've said before, I know when I'm off at a table and can see expect a bad tip coming from a mile away.

This was not the case.

I went out of my way to split checks that had shared entrees, they got a free meal, they received free desert, and despite all the extra work, half of them tipped me at ten percent post discount.

The reason I didn't apply gratuity? One girl showed up late and had no ticket of her own.

As a I little bit of positive though, two girls at the end of the table who received no discount left me a very nice tip, thank you.

Later the manager who was friends with them asked me how they were, I suppose he was friends with them and I could have used some tact.

I didn't, I told him they stiffed me, that they were class traitors who knew better and that I never want to wait on them again.

Waiter Rant the show

2008-09-29T13:59:00.002-05:00

Congrats to Steve at Waiter Rant for having his book optioned as a show.

Even though the service industry is a HUGE employer nationwide, the media has kept us much in the background.

Where we generally are kept anyways. However besides Cheers or a few sub par movies like Waiting there hasn't been much to say.

At work to shoot the shit sometimes we have talked about a TV comedy taking place in the restaurant. Certainly every restaurant has its drama, its romances and naturally its characters.

I hope they get it right and let Steve have his creativity get invloved and not have some over-produced glossy mess.

Myself, I'd see it as one part Clerks and one part The Office, if I had to give expectations.

Waiting tried to be the Clerks of the restaurant world, and but for a few moments, failed largely.

Flipping around the networks it is hard to find an actually well written, funny show. Most try to follow the Friends trend or to pick up former stars and put them in an unrecognizable situation.

Sure I like Barney on How I Met Your Mother, but without him the show would be crap.

I hope Waiter Rant the show would be something unconventional, just like The Office is funny because it is something most people can relate to, so could Waiter Rant.

I mean how many people have put time in during college at a bar or restaurant, how many have as a second job? Tens upon tens of millions.

We all can relate to an egotistical chef, clueless manager, manager with the heart of gold, shady waiter, wisecracking bartender.

Every restaurant has their own characters, so did Waiter Rant the book and I'd like to see a good translation to the screen.

Once again congrats Steve!

Line of the week

2008-09-14T02:17:00.002-05:00

After a hard shift waitstaff everywhere gather for a solemn moment.

No, not the debauchery of blow, whiskey and "the grass"

That comes later.

The after shift meal.

That is unless a table comes in late in the shift, the moment after I ring my food in (happens 100% of the time)

Well, we were gathered for our hard earned meal when a couple from the patio walked past.

"Oh! I see they let the help eat!?" Exclaimed the lady of the couple.

Yes, they "let" us eat, we just don't go recharge in the closet after we fetch you your third martini.

Retort

2008-09-05T20:47:00.002-05:00

In my experience hosting is similar to waiting tables, anyone can do it, but not everyone can do it well.

Unfortunately the author of the comment is one of the terrible ones. Her attitude is reminiscent of the worst this business has to offer.

I'll juxtapose this to one of our hostesses, we'll call her Marie.

Marie is twenty four years old, married and has been hosting through her pregnancy. She is probably in the top five percent as far as hard workers go.

She rotates sections and keeps up with the number of covers each server has. She treats us with respect and since she earns hers by the boatload she get it back.

Marie spends her free time not text messaging or hitting on managers to get the day off, she spend it confirming reservations and setting up the dinning room.

Never would she feel she has to "punish" waitstaff by screwing them. Not because we respect her, but because it is just wrong and bad for business.

Any host that takes delight in messing with a waiter's income should be fired.

Period.

Yeah, I've tangled with a few like our guest commentator. They are the type that refuses any sort of direction and are quick to assign blame instead of avoiding problems by using very basic problem solving.

If you ask them to do something or to follow procedure a snotty "you're not my boss" or "don't tell me what to do" follows.

Poor parenting I think.

I recall recently being screamed at by a 17 year old brat because she sat a couple in my section at a dirty table. Apparently it was my fault because I didn't get to the table quick enough.

I calmly found the host manager and had the girl chewed out.

She embarassed me and embarassed the restaurant by simply not following the chart. This is why hostesses can't make their own decisions and have to be guided by someone who can.

Marie is someone who can guide.

The real problem is that with few exceptions there aren't Maries to be found, most at that age and maturity have moved on to server, where the money is.

That or they simply found that a degree in event planning or disaster relief probably pays more rent than a minimum wage job at a greasy spoon.

Both careers which require discipline, decision making skills, respect and communication.

All which are also requirements of a good host.

P.S. I graduated last semester and have several college visits with the admissions offices of noted private schools in the area.

I've decided on Human Resource Management, maybe I can find a bridge between management and staff and make a difference in the plight of the employee rather than just rattle on about it here.

And yes, I may retire from the biz in the next months, or cut down to a shift or two a week at most.

Yes, this grease stays in the blood and its hard to get out.

Someone forgot to feed the hostess :(

2008-08-31T16:37:00.003-05:00

From the "Comment" section:

okay.

sir.

ive been reading through your blog for a few days now, and honestly im flat INSULTED by the way you talk about hostesses.

i am a hostess. at a chain restaurant. at the bitch of ALL chains at that: ihop

believe it or not, we're not all 17 year old bimbos just doing this cuz daddy said we needed to get a job. some of us are legitimately just trying to pay the bill until we find something better. something i would say you are trying to do, except you've been a waiter for YEARS, and honestly, i never see you doing anything else with yourself.

im a 24 year old college graduate. why am i hostessing, you ask? because what i really want to do (either music promotions or disaster relief, i havent decided yet) doesnt pay. and i have rent to make.be fucky with the hostess and see how often you get a quality table on a slow day. we can definately fuck with the pay in your pocket if you piss us off enough. you have no idea how often ive sat a section with one and two tops for an entire shift because the server was fucking with me and treating me like shit. and there wasnt fuck all they could do about it. cuz i run the show up front.

and yes, the hostess does run the show. as much as you would like to think that you, the big bad server, runs the restaurant, its simply not true. you try running the front without one for just one night and you tell me how fast the entire place falls into ruins.

oh and also, we're fucking human. treat us accordingly. talking to me like im trash will seriously fuck with your tips. oh and another thing: we're not fucking PSYCHIC either. i dont know whats going to come through the door any more than you do. sometimes double / triple seating cant be helped. the fact that ALL the tables are in yoru section and the last 4 ppl that walked in wanted tables? not my fault. dont yell at me for it.

so basically: respect the hand that feeds you.

literally.

Well I'll give this about a C-

For poor grammar, punctuation errors and weak vernacular.

Good job college girl, you just made me look like an English Grad student.

Retort to come next.

Clocks ticking

2008-08-26T16:56:00.000-05:00

Lunch rush, almost weeded but not quite yet.

Twelve-top’s food is in, two two-tops are eating and just sat a new one, four-top is all set to order they tell me.

Unfortunately the table of four are the ladies who lunch. These are typically menopausal types living on either their husbands handsome salary, or their ex-husbands handsome alimony package.

They seem to have nothing to do but harass waiters and baristas apparently.

“I just can’t decide?” Said the last lady at the table.

“Well if you would like a minute I certainly can stop back.” I offer, more out of necessity for my other tables than her convenience.

“No no, we’re ready to order, I just need a second,” she replied.

I figured she had all the time she needed, by the time her friends had modified everything on the menu beyond recognition, she had at least two minutes extra to decide.

I started an experiment, I counted down from thirty.

When I reached five seconds, she asked me to go over the lunch features, again.
For the third time.

I counted down from thirty again, by this time I really needed to be at my new table.

“I just don’t know, what would you recommend?” She asked.

I went over my prefab “ladies who lunch” favorites and she just shook her head.

I started counting down again. By this time my new table was looking for their waiter, the tables with food required refills.

Worst of all my pager was buzzing in my pocket, that meant my large parties food was up and getting cold.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1...

Another thirty seconds counted off with me standing in from of her silent like an idiot.

“Oh I’ll just have what she’s having!” The lady exclaimed.

The table between their indecisiveness and ridiculous special orders just cost me five minutes away from my other customers.

How difficult is it to read a menu and tell someone when you’re really ready?

I hightailed it to my new table.

“Oh, we’ve already had a server.” He said.

Great, management sent over another waiter because I couldn’t get there, that just cost me one of my tables and a tip.

I ran past my twelve, apparently another server had dropped their food.

As I was about to grab refills for my other tables the difficult lady stopped me.

“Is it too late to change my order? I want the special.” She asked.

“I’m sorry miss, your dinner is almost done.” I said.

“But I really don’t want that now.” She replied.

“Well I can order it for you, but that means we probably have to throw away the dinner you ordered.” I said.

A look of discomfort crossed her face.

“I really want the special.” She said.

“Fair enough, I’ll tell the kitchen.”

“Hey guys, cancel table ten’s order, she wants the special.” I shouted to the kitchen,

The chef at expo groaned, “We’re to busy for this shit, I can’t resell this, it’s a special order.”

“I’m just the messenger,” I protested.

“Just be sure to tell her a kid just starved to death in Africa,” said the chef as he dumped her plate into the garbage.

Something tells me she couldn’t care.

Rookie

2008-08-06T23:31:00.003-05:00

The Noob.

I’ve mentioned before that its hard to befriend rookie servers, because you never know how long they will last.

Could be a week, could be year.

About half seem to make it, and half of them are actually quality employees. Yet another reason behind turnover.

Today I’m going to talk about the half that don’t make it. They seem to spout off catch-phrases like, “Well at my old place we did it this way” and “I thought Zinfandel was pink.”

Its best to filter them out as soon as possible. The downside to that is I’m a trainer.

That means I get to train wave after wave of replacement servers, the faster we turn over, the more work for me.

A month or so back, I had a kid from the Cheesecake factory, chain restaurant disciples are the worst.

They’re the type that actually believe in the mantras of corporate life, they’d make good little comrades if this was a police state.

The kid observed me for all of five minutes when he started to criticize my service.

“How come you didn’t tell them your name?” The kid asked.

I gave him the usual “I prefer to be called sir” bit and he was lost.

“At Cheesecake we’re required to tell our names and ask if they’ve dined with us before.” He replied.

“Why?”

“So we can guide them through the menu if they haven’t been here before.” He said

“Listen, you’re not at Cheesecake anymore, you can give whatever spiel you want and as long as you talk about the features you can do it anyway you want.”

A bit later in the shift I was jockeying about four tables and I had him help me set up a fourteen top.

“So do you have to split the table or are you taking it yourself since you have me today?” Asked the kid.

“Uh, yeah I’m taking it myself, I don’t split tables.” I said.

“I think you need to split it, at Cheesecake we have to split groups like that so they get the proper experience.” He replied.

“Kid, they’ll get the service they need, and if you want an experience I’d suggest something a little more adventurous than eating lunch.”

Part of what I teach noobs is how things really work.

For instance I don't push dessert at lunch.

My job is to get people in and out as fast as possible, they have places to be, I have tables to turn.
What he couldn't understand is that although my actions benefit me, they benefit the customer.

I suppose its that selling Cheesecake to people in a mall is hardwired, but he insisted on talking desserts to all my tables.

He didn't sell a one, they asked for their checks, not a description of Panna Cotta.

As it goes, lunch continued and I dazzled him with my ability to take more than three tables.

Fast forward a week.

I catch the kid crouching down to take an order, now my spot is pretty decent, maybe not fine dining but a good restaurant nonetheless.

We don’t play that Outback suck up shit, we give real service.

“Listen kid, we don’t kneel at our tables here.” Said I.

“It’s a good way to get tips, it brings us down to their level so they don’t feel we’re standing over them.” He replied.

“Okay, this corporate bull doesn’t fly here its embarrassing, you know how I said that we do our own thing here, well make sure it isn’t out of TGI Friday’s handbook.”

“It was Cheesecake Factory.”

“Same difference, its embarrasing to the other staff and we don't debase ourselves in front of customers,” I said.

He lasted about a month

His replacement came in, nice gal with a couple notable local restaurants under her belt.

She was corking the wine on the first table I gave her no problem and she was on the floor a day early.

Was the difference that she wasn’t corporate?

Nah, we all started somewhere.

The difference was she believed in herself, not an employee handbook.

Customer, right?

2008-07-18T02:36:00.003-05:00

Well, here’s a first for Insane Waiter, I’m going to side with a customer instead of the house/employees.

I came across this on bitter waitress and there is a nice discussion on their forum which I find interesting.

Now I may snicker when someone orders a well done filet and then asks for ketchup, and I bitch about shitty wine and the mother of all fuck-up, ranch dressing.

However, at the end of the day I’ll get it for you, I may make fun of you on here or perhaps have a laugh over a shift drink on how someone ordered lamb chops well done with a side of 57 Sauce, but I’ll get it for you.

This whole debate comes from a barista that refused to give a man a simple triple shot over ice. Apparently it ruins the integrity of the coffee.

It wasn’t something that was hard or impossible to due, but apparently espresso has become more sacred than the Holy Sacrament and deserves a higher level of veneration than the Lord of Hosts.

Here’s both sides, for fairness sake.

I Am Not Lying

And

MurkyCoffee

Bad Guy

2008-07-11T18:35:00.002-05:00

That’s right, I’m the bad guy.

I have a weekend night off for one and apparently I’m not a team player because I declined to pick up the shift.

The thing is, earlier in the week the banquet that I was supposed to bartend at cancelled, fair enough. I went around to everyone that worked on Friday night and sought out to pick up their shift.

All refused me, and I am fine with that. I resigned myself to having the night off and I made plans for later in the evening, after all I never have Friday night off.

This morning when I woke up I was greeted with a text message wanting me to pick up the shift, “no thanks,” I replied, “I have plans.”

That was fine, nothing wrong with asking.

When at work a highly hung-over co-worked approached me.

“I heard you were looking to pick up tonight,” she said.

“Well I was earlier in the week, but I have made plans.” I replied.

“I don’t feel very good, you should work for me.” She countered.

“Sorry, but I have plans.” I said.

“Like what, you going to the bar or something?” She said with a snotty tone.

“What I do on my free time is my own business.” I replied.

“Well I think its pretty rude for you not to work for me, you have the night off.” She said.

With a nasty tone.

I replied, “having tonight off doesn’t obligate me to do shit for you, I don’t know how it is rude for me to refuse you when your “illness” is self afflicted. I worked all day yesterday and I was hung over as fuck, deal with it.”

The next thing you know she’s throwing a fit to the manager about how I won’t cover for her.

“But I want tonight off and he won’t work for me!!!” She whined.

“I can’t make someone work on their night off, that isn’t how we run,” replied the manager.

“But I don’t feel good, he was supposed to work tonight anyways.” She said back.

“Look, there’s a whole list of people not on tonight that you can call, if you cover the shift then fine, if not I expect you to be here,” said the manager.

She stormed off in a nasty mood.

Later in the shift another hung-over waiter came up to me and started pitching a fit that would only be a repeat from the above if I wrote about the situation here.

Then I received another text message asking me to work, from another employee, I replied with a no.

They replied with a “why not!?!?!”

At the same time the other hung-over server came up and joined the fray.

“I just don’t see why you won’t work tonight, you wanted to the other day and I don't think its fair,” she said.

“You want to know why, its because no one took advantage until the last moment, after I made plans. You’re right, I’m probably going out to dinner and then to the bars with friends. I don’t have to give any reason at all to be honest with you, I have the night off and its my own time. Just because all of you make this restaurant your entire life doesn’t mean that I have to. I’m going to go out and I’m going to have fun and I am not obligated to any of you.” I ranted.

“Well you don’t have to be a dick about it, maybe some day you’ll want the day off I won’t cover for you.” Said the other server.

“That’s fine, I won’t ask you then. The fact is I almost never ask anyone to cover my shift and I usually only cover for other people if its an emergency. I plan my life around the fact that I have a work schedule, unlike you. Its not my responsibility to let you go home because you drank too much last night, and the fact is that I’m only being a dick because you two didn’t let it go. No one wanted the day off until it was convenient for them, now its not convenient for me. If you asked me to work and I said no and you said ok, there wouldn’t be a problem. But, you had to whine to management and to anyone that would listen that I’m not a team player and you had to question why I wouldn’t work for you. Frankly I could have no plans but to sit on my couch and play video games and I still wouldn’t have to give you a reason. Now that’s the end of it.”

Thus ends the rant of the bad guy.

The Grat

2008-06-28T18:50:00.001-05:00

Normally I’m a big fan of the service charge on a party. This ensures that I get paid for my time and I apply it blindly, regardless of color, age or sex.

I’ve known people that apply “the grat” on only tables that are women, or only tables that are black.

Not I.

I also know servers who never use it, preferring that their good service earn them a tip, perhaps a better one than the service charge would leave them.

Myself, I believe that I have forged a bit of a work ethic and thus take the safe money, however I do make sure I earn it and don’t rest on my laurels.

Usually its just business for me, but every now and then I do take a little bit of joy in applying “the grat.”

This is because I can read people very well, its part of my job, and I can also read when a table is going to leave a shitty tip.

So I hit the 20% button and out goes the bill and the magic of technology turns a shitty tipper into a good tipper.

I feel happy.

They feel confounded, after all 10% on a party of twelve is more than fair, at least in their minds.

That's bull

2008-06-22T20:29:00.000-05:00

My trainee came up to me last night with a message that my eight top wanted to see me about their bill.

I knew it was trouble right away, nothing went wrong with the table, but I had a feeling they’d cause trouble.

“Did you have a question about the bill?” I asked the gentleman I gave the bill to.

“No, but he does,” the man said with a look of embarrassment.

He was pointing at the self appointed leader of the table, his brother.

“Question, sir?” I asked.

“Yeah, this bill is too high, you charged us twice.” He said.

I took a look over the tab, I clearly did not charge them twice.

“Sir, the bill is correct.” I said.

“Then what are all these charges, you can’t seriously expect us to pay this much for our drinks.”
He said.

“Sir, if you ordered the item I do expect you to pay for it.” I replied.

“Is the tip already on here?” Asked his wife.

“Yes ma’am, I have it circled on the bottom.” I replied.

“Well then why is it on here twice?” She asked.

“Ma’am it is listed in both the sub total and at the bottom of the bill.” I said.

“How much is the charge?” Asked her husband.

“Fifty dollars,” I replied.

“Well I think that’s bullshit, we don‘t tip that high.” He said.

Mind you he wasn’t paying the bill.

“Sir, it is clearly posted that we apply a service charge to groups of eight or more.” I replied.

“Well that’s bullshit, I’ve never heard of such a thing.” He said.

“Sir, we charge service of eighteen percent, which is industry standard.” I said.

“Bullshit, how come there’s all these other charges?” He asked.

“Sir, earlier you asked for separate checks, your friend offered to pay the bill and I had to combine the tabs again under one total.” I replied.

“We didn’t order three hundred fifty dollars worth of food, it wasn’t even that good.” He slurred.

“Sir, there’s nothing on the bill that shouldn’t be there, when I asked how everything was everybody was very satisfied.” I replied.

“Here, here, give me the bill,” said the man’s brother.

“I have to apologize, my brother lives in Huxley.” Said the man paying the bill.

“I have an old girlfriend from Huxley,” I said with a smile.

“Well I think you did a fine job, thank you for everything,” he said as he handed me his credit card.

“I still think its bullshit,” fumed his brother.

I applied the bill to his card and thanked him (he left me extra on top of the gratuity).

Later, my trainee declared that I was her hero.

“Nothing I don’t deal with on a daily basis,” I replied.

Typos

2008-06-22T18:39:00.006-05:00

Ah, an article after my own heart, given my many grammar critics.

Via "Stuff White People Like"

http://www.stuffwhitepeoplelike.com/2008/06/19/white-problems-typos/

It brings to mind Randall’s rant in “Clerks” of how it must be so satisfying to point out the shortcomings of others.

If you have the time and energy to go through a menu with a red marker you really need a hobby, or some help.

Name games

2008-06-09T16:13:00.003-05:00

So this past week I worked a private party that was grossly overstaffed due to the fact that the group was, "a prominent name."

Not only did we make money befitting a slow Tuesday night, but the prominent name wasn't there. The customers in question shared nothing in common with the guest that was specutated upon except the last name.

That wasn't to say that they weren't good people, hell they even left us extra on top of the service charge, saving us from money befitting a slow Monday night.

Naturally we questioned the decision to run more staff on the party than necessary, and we were answered with, "they are a prominenet name and we need to give them the best service."

My question to you dear reader is...

It they weren't a prominenet name would they deserve lesser service?

Grass not always greener

2008-05-19T19:48:00.000-05:00

Waiters are similar to migratory animals, they head to the lands with the most seasonal promise. Or breeding grounds in some cases.

Sometimes this can be a new restaurant, or perhaps a established restaurant with a good reputation for food, money or management.

That being said any experienced server has friends all over town, sometimes it leads to a foot in the door for a new job, other times for just good gossip.

A friend of mine works for (insert bistro here) and recently I had a bit of a conversation on how he liked his new joint.

The answer was he walked out, now I was a bit surprised as the new restaurant had been open for several months and word on the street was positive.

“So how us it going at the new joint?” I asked.

“Biggest load of shit I’ve ever seen, I walked out on my shift.” said Charles.

“How so?” asked I, eager for the story.

“Well last Friday night we were rocking and I was ringing back my orders, the thing is I forgot to hit the dressing on the side button and I hit the kitchen to tell them before they made the salads. No big so far right?” He said.

“Happens all the time.” I said, concurring.

“Thing is I didn’t make it in time and the salads where just coming up as I told the chef.” He said.

“So I take it the situation turned into a big deal somehow.” I responded.

“Fuck yea it did, the chef started screaming at me about fucking up his orders and he pretty much went nuclear. Also its an open kitchen, so my table was sitting about ten feet away hearing every word, fucking embarrassing.” Charles said.

“Next thing you know he screaming at me about costing him money, so instead of the restaurant eating the cost of the salads, he was making me pay for them.” He continued.

“So how much are side salads running over there?” I asked.

“About eight bucks each.” Charles said.

“Fucking ridiculous, for what, some field greens and homemade dressing?” I asked.

“Pretty much.” Was his response.

“So I take it this is where you decide to walk out?” I asked.

“Yup, I told him where he could stick those salads, then I told the manager I quit and left with a full section.” he said.

“That’s what I would do, several years back a manager tired to get me to pay for glassware after I slipped and fell, breaking some crystal.” I said.

“Did you walk?” Charles asked.

“Didn’t have to, I told him he’d have my resignation before he had my twenty buck, he backed down.” I said.

“Eh fuck it, there’s always another restaurant,” said Charles, continuing on he said, “This is the best part though, then the chef wouldn’t let me get my paycheck, he said he’d get it to me as soon as I paid him his sixteen dollars.”

“Fuck that, I would have punched him,” said I.

“He is pretty big so that would have been a bad idea,” said Charles.

“What are you going to do about it? You can’t let this asshole get away with this sort of thing.” I said.

“Well another one of my friends there walked out Saturday night, chef blamed him for a mistake and wanted him to cover the price of their full meal.” he said.

“That’s super fucked. Naturally all the foodies just love your place, kind of like people who love their Nikes, even though little kids make them for pennies.” I said.

“Maybe that’s a bit far,” said Charles.

“Maybe, but what are you two going to do about it?” I asked again.

“For one we contacted the Labor Department, they spoke to him and he sent me my pay check, problem is he refused to sign it.” he said.

“What an ass.” I said.

“Guess we’ll have to take it to the hearing.” Said Charles.

“I guess so.” I said.

Continued Woes

2008-04-29T00:07:00.003-05:00

I swear people will do anything to save the smallest amount of money and make themselves appear as stupid as possible.

The other day a woman came in with her group and tried to protest her way out of paying the gratuity.

Her reasoning was that since they would be splitting the check three different ways that would mean it would be akin to a group of four, three and two. Each being smaller than eight and thus being exempt from paying a service charge.

Naturally management backed down and allowed this to occur, despite the fact that this goes completely against policy.

The reasoning behind service charge is not how many checks there are, but how many people. In fact separate checks make the matter slightly more complicated and add to the value of a gratuity in the eyes of restaurant staffers.

Apparently the HBIC* of the party threatened to go elsewhere with their group. I say let them, we were on a wait and I challenge them to find another decent restaurant that could accommodate a walk in of nine at seven o’clock on a Saturday night.

The best part was when another, more rational person, paid for the entire bill, gratuity included. HBIC had an absolute fit, it was great.

The best part of my day was my first table, they were your typical demanding types, two women.

I made more trips for them than the aforementioned nine top. It was a literal relay race between the kitchen and their table for such crucial items as six ounces of ranch for their side salads, straws for water, then lemons, then extra sweetener, extra ranch for their fries and so on.

In fact I believe each one of them consumed an entire bottle of ranch throughout their meal, something that is becoming semi-common.

I dropped their bill which was just above twenty five bucks.

When returning for the pick up the presenter had exact change.

“We didn’t bring our cards so there won’t be a tip today.” One of the ladies proclaimed.

I opened the book and a handful of change presented itself to me.

“Well that’s perfectly all right.” I said with a sarcastic sneer.

You mean to tell me that they had exact change for their meal and not a couple bucks to throw in? Or that between both of them and their suitcase sized purses not one credit card was to be found?

I wasn’t expecting much of a tip from the type that they represent, but to openly tell me they won’t be leaving one, well that takes some balls.

Either they are liars and just felt like leaving nothing, or they truthfully couldn’t afford to tip.

Either way neither of them have any business in a restaurant, other than one containing a drive-through, that is.

Spring also saw the return of one of my favorite types, the ghetto lemonade drinkers.

When I informed the kind guest that we offer lemonade, I was told that her way tasted better.

With a roll of the eyes I brought out a lemon and a knife, there was no way I was going to give her one of the lemons I just spent ten minutes cutting.

So myself and a few of the other servers had an experiment. We made our own ghetto lemonade!

Guess what?

It tastes like shit.

People would rather drink a glass of shit than pay a buck fifty for all the refills one can enjoy.

Here’s your moment of Zen:

Ghetto lemonade

*HBIC - Head Bitch In Charge

Full Moon Customers

2008-04-20T23:05:00.001-05:00

One mainstay in the restaurant “bizz” is that when shit goes down, shit goes down. An example would be this weekend, when it seemed like every degenerate customer in the city came out to eat.

A table walked in and sat in a neighboring section at around 5:30. As I was closing server their waitress asked me to do her a favor and take over for her, this was at 10:30.

That’s right folks, a new record. The table camped out for five hours. This was on a Friday night, where turning tables is key to the restaurant, the customer and the server.

Four hours after they had finished and paid they then declared that their stomachs had settled enough for them to order after dinner drinks. Unfortunately I had to tell them we were closed.

Another record, a customer enjoyed 14 refills of tea, beating the previous record by three.
I had a walk in ten top fifteen minutes before I was supposed to clock out, that was also a joy.

Apparently they felt they could order multiple martinis and use them as samplers, declaring each round to be nonpotable they ordered again and declared the same.

When asked how a signature Cosmo tasted, I grimaced and told the gentleman asking that the ladies sure love it, though I drink Ketel up dirty.

I’ll tell you, the kitchen wasn’t pleased when I sent an order for several medium well NY Strips to them ten minutes after we closed.

The customers weren’t pleased either when I refused dinner service to two unexpected friends that joined them at midnight, an hour after close.

A different dinner party had a reservation and tickets to a show. Of course they arrived a half an hour after their reservation time, ordered multiple courses and ordered deserts when they should have been driving to their venue.

They called in a complaint that service was slow and that they had accidentally left extra on top of the gratuity. Apparently they meant to leave me a ten percent tip on a three hundred dollar bill…

Apparently its my fault that they can’t schedule themselves appropriately.

On our side of things our rookie, yet braggadocios young chef managed to burn the shit out of a dozen medium rare filets, yet he plated and sent them out anyway. It sure is fun to four hundred dollars worth of steaks.

Also a belated thanks to the party that double booked for fourteen, yet only showed up with six.

It was nice that on a Saturday night two sections had to be closed off for an hour in the middle of the rush, for no reason whatsoever.

I figured myself and the other server lost about fifty bucks each in that transaction. I suppose the other customers that had to wait an hour for a table should thank you as well.

Another party came in, only five showing up in a group of ten. They refused to let their server pull the tables apart as they wanted to spread out with the extra space, as well as use it as a coat rack.

Another customer allegedly saw an employee leave the restroom without washing their hands.

This lead to a twenty minute seminar by management on how to wash your hands.

Now we are keep the paper towel until we enter the restaurant as proof we washed and dried our hands. They treat us like ten year olds and lecture us on the dangers of bacteria from unwashed hands, yet force us to work sick.

I wonder what has more potential to spread illness?

And yes, I always wash my hands.

Rules of the Restaurant

2008-04-09T21:11:00.000-05:00

If for any reason you have plans or commitments after your shift (school, other job, date, picking up your kids) a table shall arrive two minutes before closing and camp out for an hour after close, ruining said plans and causing general discomfort.

If a party argues over who gets the bill, the one to receive it will be the least likely to leave a good tip.

Anytime a compliment is passed on to you by a guest it will be accompanied by a ten percent tip or less.

A table of “bad regulars” will always somehow wind up in your section, run you like nobodies business, then still leave a shitty tip. Being regulars they will come in the next week and do the same. Rinse and repeat.

When looking for someone to pick up a shift because important plans/an emergency , you will never find a coworker to fill the shift.

However you will be ostracized if you refuse to pick up someone else’s shift. Naturally they want the night off to go drinking.

Another server shall never NARC on another server for any infraction short of theft from another server, or possibly murder. Possibly. We have our own justice, mafia style. However stealing from the house itself is not only tolerated, but encouraged.

When a server or bartender want to give a customer a drink on the house that means they’re a great customer.

When a manager wants to do the same it means the customer in question is a POS.

No matter how well the shift is going, you will always get caught in your one screw up by the worst manager on staff.

The second you buy your shift meal and sit down to enjoy it, you will be triple sat and have to eat the cold leftovers. That is if the other employees don’t eat it first.

When you are behind on bills and really need the money, your twenty top no shows and you get sent home without a table.

When you don’t need the money you will have great shifts, however you will blow the money and the above rule will take place a week later.

A waiter will get away with nothing short of burning down the house, however a triviality will lead to one’s termination.

Waiters who grab a drink will be terminated on the spot.

Managers, however will be drunk on the clock at all times.

On the rare occasion that you need a manager, you will never be able to find one. See above rule.

An employee walking in fifteen minutes late will never be noticed by management.

An employee walking in two minutes late will be written up immediately.

The worst server on staff will be the management’s favorite.

Likewise the best server on staff will be living on borrowed time.

Part timers will somehow always make more money than those who work ten shifts a week.

There will always be at least one capable and fair manager on staff. However, the rest with pretty much suck.

On a day you feel like shit, an old classmate, ex-girlfriend or family member will be in to dine. Upon saying hello they’ll ask, “are you still doing this?” and tell you how wonderful they are.

The kitchen will run out of the one thing everyone wants to order.

If you stock a private event with three cases of light beer, they will only order an obscure microbrew that you have a twelve pack of. Likewise when you stock the next party with the obscure microbrew, you will run out of domestics in five minutes.

Only those who deserve it will always double tip you on a gratuity ticket.

The best customers never ask me my name, they call me sir.

If there is more than one split check, at least one of them will stiff you, figuring the other people in the party “took care of you.”

A group consisting only of women will always have split checks, they will each leave you 12%, except for the person listed in the above rule.

A group consisting only of men will have at least one of them speak up for the bill, he will then leave you 20%.

There is always at least one server who drinks the Kool-Aid that the management/owners serve us. They will be lowest on the totem pole of the staff.

The hardest working people in the restaurant probably don’t speak your language.

The very poor treat you like shit and tip likewise, so do the very rich.

Necessary to get through the last shift of the week are Febreeze, a bleach pen and a bump of cocaine.

The only people who use more mind alternating substances than the restaurant staff are the customers, only we get our from the busboy, not a psychologist.

Inspired by Bitterwaitress.com

Top 5 reasons why “The Customer Is Always Right” is wrong

2008-03-31T16:51:00.006-05:00

From positivesharing.com

Top 5 reasons why “The Customer Is Always Right” is wrong

1: It makes employees unhappy

Gordon Bethune is a brash Texan (as is Herb Kelleher, coincidentally) who is best known for turning Continental Airlines around “From Worst to First,” a story told in his book of the same title from 1998. He wanted to make sure that both customers and employees liked the way Continental treated them, so he made it very clear that the maxim “the customer is always right” didn’t hold sway at Continental.

In conflicts between employees and unruly customers he would consistently side with his people. Here’s how he puts it:

When we run into customers that we can’t reel back in, our loyalty is with our employees. They have to put up with this stuff every day. Just because you buy a ticket does not give you the right to abuse our employees . . .

We run more than 3 million people through our books every month. One or two of those people are going to be unreasonable, demanding jerks. When it’s a choice between supporting your employees, who work with you every day and make your product what it is, or some irate jerk who demands a free ticket to Paris because you ran out of peanuts, whose side are you going to be on?

You can’t treat your employees like serfs. You have to value them . . . If they think that you won’t support them when a customer is out of line, even the smallest problem can cause resentment.

So Bethune trusts his people over unreasonable customers. What I like about this attitude is that it balances employees and customers, where the “always right” maxim squarely favors the customer - which is not a good idea, because, as Bethune says, it causes resentment among employees.

Of course there are plenty of examples of bad employees giving lousy customer service. But trying to solve this by declaring the customer “always right” is counter-productive.

2: It gives abrasive customers an unfair advantage

Using the slogan “The customer is always right” abusive customers can demand just about anything - they’re right by definition, aren’t they? This makes the employees’ job that much harder, when trying to rein them in.

Also, it means that abusive people get better treatment and conditions than nice people. That always seemed wrong to me, and it makes much more sense to be nice to the nice customers to keep them coming back.

3: Some customers are bad for business

Most businesses think that “the more customers the better”. But some customers are quite simply bad for business.

Danish IT service provider ServiceGruppen proudly tell this story:
One of our service technicians arrived at a customer’s site for a maintenance task, and to his great shock was treated very rudely by the customer.

When he’d finished the task and returned to the office, he told management about his experience. They promptly cancelled the customer’s contract.

Just like Kelleher dismissed the irate lady who kept complaining (but somehow also kept flying on Southwest), ServiceGruppen fired a bad customer. Note that it was not even a matter of a financial calculation - not a question of whether either company would make or lose money on that customer in the long run. It was a simple matter of respect and dignity and of treating their employees right.

4: It results in worse customer service

Rosenbluth International, a corporate travel agency, took it even further. CEO Hal Rosenbluth wrote an excellent book about their approach called Put The Customer Second - Put your people first and watch’em kick butt.

Rosenbluth argues that when you put the employees first, they put the customers first. Put employees first, and they will be happy at work. Employees who are happy at work give better customer service because:

They care more about other people, including customers

They have more energy

They are happy, meaning they are more fun to talk to and interact with

They are more motivated

On the other hand, when the company and management consistently side with customers instead of with employees, it sends a clear message that:

Employees are not valued

That treating employees fairly is not important

That employees have no right to respect from customers

That employees have to put up with everything from customers

When this attitude prevails, employees stop caring about service. At that point, real good service is almost impossible - the best customers can hope for is fake good service. You know the kind I mean: corteous on the surface only.

5: Some customers are just plain wrong

Herb Kelleher agrees, as this passage From Nuts! the excellent book about Southwest Airlines shows:

Herb Kelleher […] makes it clear that his employees come first — even if it means dismissing customers. But aren’t customers always right? “No, they are not,” Kelleher snaps. “And I think that’s one of the biggest betrayals of employees a boss can possibly commit. The customer is sometimes wrong. We don’t carry those sorts of customers. We write to them and say, ‘Fly somebody else. Don’t abuse our people.’”

If you still think that the customer is always right, read this story from Bethune’s book “From Worst to First”:

A Continental flight attendant once was offended by a passenger’s child wearing a hat with Nazi and KKK emblems on it. It was pretty offensive stuff, so the attendant went to the kid’s father and asked him to put away the hat. “No,” the guy said. “My kid can wear what he wants, and I don’t care who likes it.”

The flight attendant went into the cockpit and got the first officer, who explained to the passenger the FAA regulation that makes it a crime to interfere with the duties of a crew member. The hat was causing other passengers and the crew discomfort, and that interfered with the flight attendant’s duties. The guy better put away the hat.

He did, but he didn’t like it. He wrote many nasty letters. We made every effort to explain our policy and the federal air regulations, but he wasn’t hearing it. He even showed up in our executive suite to discuss the matter with me. I let him sit out there. I didn’t want to see him and I didn’t want to listen to him. He bought a ticket on our airplane, and that means we’ll take him where he wants to go. But if he’s going to be rude and offensive, he’s welcome to fly another airline.

The fact is that some customers are just plain wrong, that businesses are better of without them, and that managers siding with unreasonable customers over employees is a very bad idea, that results in worse customer service.

Top 5 reasons why “The Customer Is Always Right” is wrong

Run, don't walk...

2008-03-24T23:45:00.000-05:00

As I walked past a table that had just vacated I noticed the credit card poking out of the payment folder, being that the customers were just exiting I picked up the book and gave chase.

Background: These were the type of customer that a server hates, impatient, demanding and incapable of ordering anything on the menu.

In fact they declared that, “They don’t do menus.”

Being that they were the type of sophisticated who apparently make up whatever they want wherever they go I was less than thrilled to have them.

They declared that although they won’t eat any animal products, that they will eat fish, which I found amusing, aren’t fish some of God’s creatures?

I guess not to pseudo-aristocratic fools.

I digress…

I gave chase out the doors.

“Sir, sir! You forgot your credit card!” I shouted.

The group turned around, the man who made payment had a look of alarm on his face.

“Here you go,” I said breathlessly as I opened the book to retrieve the card.

The moment I did that I froze as I saw the tip they left me and my motions hesitated.

“Oh thanks, did we take care of you ok?” Asked the man.

“Well if you think eight percent is a proper tip then you should feel pretty good about yourself.” I responded.

I then froze in my tracks, it just sort of came out, I’m known for having a smart mouth and usually I can control it with customers, well not this time.

He gave me a queer look and took his card.

That is precisely the reason why I don’t make any effort to chase down customers who leave items, whether it be leftovers, credit cards or laptops.

That is unless I notice 15% or more on the tip line.

Dear...

2008-03-22T03:06:00.002-05:00

Dear table 47...

I want to thank you for the little note this afternoon.

While I know I am not the perfect server I am thankful for the note you left this afternoon.

I haven't received a complaint in about four years, other than the letter protesting the gratuity on a new years eve, because they didn't feel like tipping.

Well the note was interesting to say the least.

The first claim was that I didn't deliver your drinks and that you would never come back.

Well I recall pouring your water and one Iced Tea, when I offered to refill you waved me off.

Naturally you asked for a lemon and a straw, something every tap water should come with.

The second claim was that I never checked back on you, however when I offered a refill on your tea I was waved off as I made sure the meal was satisfactory.

I know it was awful that I ignored you and I want to apologize, but I won't.

As well I didn't offer you your bread and oil, though I know it is a precious commodity, we don't offer such at lunch and I know it is a travesty.

As well the table next to you left me a shitty tip because they figured I forgot their bread as well, my mistake I suppose.

Naturally the next insult was far overboard, I didn't offer you separate checks...

Even though you both ordered the same thing.

Even though I carry the tickets on me that I fell will need them first.

I guess it was worth writing a message to the manager though, damn a waiter who dares assume two ladies who order the exact same thing may be on one check.

Even though it took me perhaps thirty seconds to rectify the "situation".

Thank you for the complaint, we always welcome feedback from our guests, even if it is the stupid writing of an idiot.

Thank you for stiffing me on both separate checks as well, it was a pleasure to pay a dollar each for the pleasure of waiting on your type of white trash…

so true

2008-03-13T20:03:00.000-05:00

"Waitresses"

The new hiring manager had but one promise to me when he took over...

"If I'm going to hire a dumbass, I'll at least make sure they're hot as hell."

So I'm off tonight!

2008-02-14T19:53:00.000-06:00

“Is that really what you think you fucking yuppie?” Asked hippie waitress.

“Just how am I a yuppie?” I asked.

Being called a yuppie is as bad as it gets in this business, its get back time, and I’m the best there is.

“Well you’re rich.” She replied.

“How so, I work in a fucking restaurant as a waiter.” Said I.

“Well you go to college, your parents have a lot of money.” Hippie girl said.

“I pay for tuition with the money I make here, my parents are middle class, so how does that make me a yuppie?” I asked.

“Well my parents have a lot of money.” She said smugly.

I looked her up and down, ratty hair, shitty work ethic and patchouli smell.

“Well you must be a big disappointment to them then.” I said sharply.

Her jaw dropped, lip quivered and eyes watered..

“I told you, don’t fuck with me.” I said as I walked out of the kitchen.

If you can’t take a hit, don’t talk trash.

On a brighter note I managed to avoid a Valentine’s night shift. If I score Mother’s Day and

Easter off it marks my goal of avoiding all amateur hour holidays this year.

So happy day for me, made a hippy cry and avoided a night of guaranteed douchebaggery.

Drunken Retort

2008-02-09T02:46:00.000-06:00

"Youre a dip shit Pack it tight and get to work on time. THE WHOLE WORLD KNEW A WEEK IN ADVANCE THAT IT WAS GOING TO SNOW. Plan ahead and quit trying to blaze a new trail back to the stone age. DIP SHIT"

First off nice spelling, one of the semi-frequent criticism I face.

Secondly, if a vehicle gets stuck in the snow, not much you can do about it but find alternate modes of transport, which I did find at much inconvenience to myself and to my employer as I was well over an hour late. I was up a half an hour early in anticipation of poor driving conditions, not anticipating my lot being covered in drifts of snow.

I pushed for not coming in, my time is my time and I’ve always said, if you can’t use me, lose me.

My time was wasted by a timid GM who can’t make an executive decision. I went through great trouble to get to work only to be told I wasn’t needed.

If I ran my own crew I would have assessed the situation in a different manner, a fair manner that took the staff into consideration, something this business rarely does.

I was recently offered the position of service manager and I turned it down, frankly because I value my education and have different goals.

As well I was awarded employee of the month just yesterday, beyond that I have missed three shifts in six years.

That type of employee is one I cast doubt upon when they are stranded by weather or illness.

This business can be B.S. much of the time, and so can many customers and commentators such as yourself, good day sir.

Calling in

2008-02-07T17:50:00.000-06:00

Well it happened, it snowed a damn foot.

Being as I live in an ill managed apartment complex, they hadn’t plowed the lot yet.

Braving 12 cold inches, I managed to get my car out of my spot, only to get stuck mere yards from the street outlet.

I was giving a neighbor a ride to work and I looked over at him.

“We’re fucked.” Was what that look stated.

Run after run up the incline I made, with little to no avail. Driving around the building yielded little in the way of progress as well.

I was stuck, and having to make a call I dreaded.

For I was about to dare to call in.

I thought to myself, who is the opening manager?

It was Wednesday, that meant the GM, the same guy who somehow thought I faked a flat tire so I could be late, the same guy who refuses to let us call in sick unless we find a replacement for the shift, the same guy who thought I snuck in and looked at the side work chart and called in when I found out it was easy.

I called.

“Yeah GM, I don’t know if I’m going to make it in today, my lot is still snowed in.” I said.

“Really, well other servers are already here, maybe you should have gotten up early.” He responded.

“I did get up early, I’m stuck and can’t get out, I’m not just running late.” I said.

“Well we need you to get here, other servers haven’t had problems.” He said.

I’m not other servers, my car can’t get out of the lot, I’ve been trying for twenty minutes.” I said.

“Well you should have gotten up earlier.” He countered.

I hate circular logic, its what small children use when they have no leg to stand on, them and small minded middle managers.

“ Well nonetheless, I’m not going to be able to drive to work today, I don’t think you’ll need a full staff due to the weather.” I said.

“That’s up for me to decide, can’t you take a cab?” He asked.

If you want me to wait two hours for one, it did snow a foot after all.” I said.

“How about the bus, you can take that.” He responded.

“The next bus won’t be along for about forty five minutes, that really isn’t convenient to get me back and forth from work on a day like today.” I said.

“Well just get here as soon as you can.” He finished by clicking off.

Man, your boss is a dick.” My friend said.

“You should know, he fired you,” I said with a smile,” looks like we’re taking the bus.”

An hour and a half later I arrived at work, the bus was running slow in the poor weather.

“Oh, we don’t need you today, I had the bartender try to call you.” Said the GM as I entered the door.

I glanced at my phone, they had called only five minutes prior.

“Well what fucking good does that do?” I sputtered, “why couldn’t you just let me stay home when I called?”

“We didn’t know how busy it would get, we might have needed you.” Said the GM.

“It snowed a foot overnight! How busy do you think it could have been?” I said with dismay.

“I just wasted two hours of my time trying to get here and none of it would have been necessary if you would have let me call off.” I continued.

“Well it was to early to call.” he said.

“We’re not even open yet, you’re in the same situation as when I called you, we’ll be dead, and you just wasted half my morning and now I have to wait another hour until the bus comes by again.” I said, right before I walked out the door.

Today I asked another waiter how busy it got yesterday.

“Man, it was fucking dead.” He said.

No shit, it snowed a damn foot.

Bread Nazis

2008-01-25T17:45:00.000-06:00

I hate bread Nazis, they troll restaurants and bars solely to run their sever for complementary bread and freak out if anything gets in the way.

Their close cousins are the Tortilla Chip and Snack Mix fascists that inhabit Mexican joints and bars.

A fond memory of mine is running my ass for refills of chips and being balled out for charging for queso and guacamole when I was a working bar at a local sports bar. Chips and salsa are free, other sides cost us more money and they will cost you money as well.

But I digress, back to Nazis.

Lately I have taken a stand against them, this has been an off and on battle for me for years. The fact is we don’t serve bread and butter, or bread and oil for that matter during lunch service.

The reason is this, we don’t want to have the guest stay for any more time than necessary and since the cost of meals is lower, complementary items such as bread, olive oil and butter aren’t figured into the cost of the meal. Bread also takes away from money making appetizers and salads.

Try telling that to a customer.

Today for instance when I asked a table if they wanted any soup or salad before their dinner they responded with, “Well the bread you’ll be bringing us will take the place of that.”

I kindly informed them that I didn’t plan on bringing them bread ahead of time as we don’t offer bread service at lunch, if they wanted something while they waited for lunch I’d certainly offer them a cup of our delicious corn chowder.

They weren’t takers.

The secondary reason I’ve taken a stand is the domino effect. The second a neighboring table notices someone with bread service they feel they’ve been slighted and demand to know where their precious bread is.

“Why didn’t you bring us bread?!” They ask with an accusatory tone.

I’ve even had a group complain to a manager that I, “didn’t even offer us bread,” in their words.
That’s because we don’t serve it, give an entitlement junkie an inch, they’ll take a mile, something that this business is known for.

The other afternoon I had a fifteen top ask when I was bringing out their complementary bread.

My choice was round up butter that gets lost in the cooler, oil bottles that had been emptied and cleaned, oil for the bottles, baskets, bread and bread plates for all fifteen guest. That or I could say no.

Guess which choice I took.

Instead I used that time to get refills for my section, orders for a few other tables, I bussed a table and I also ran food for that fifteen top.

I suppose I could be chastised for denying the wishes of the guest, but what is better service? Attending to actual needs or attending to wants that aren’t even being offered at the time.

Now myself I occasionally make an exceptions, especially when people ask politely and just don’t assume I forgot to bring them something or that I’m somehow trying to slight them.

A, “may we please have some bread,” goes much further than asking ,“Aren’t you forgetting something? Our bread?” in a presumptuous and annoying tone.

Bread is not a right, its a privlage, act like children and I will take it away, even at the risk of a subpar tip.

Of course, one acting that way pretty much means I wouldn't expect much of one anyways

No taxes on tips?

2008-01-18T00:48:00.000-06:00

Damn, I almost would have caucused for Ron Paul just based on this...

http://www.ronpaul2008.com/issues/no-taxes-on-tips/

I never really minded paying my fair share, but I wouldn't mind my check actually coming to me with money on it instead of this.

$0.00

Guess we'll see if this goes anywhere. I know some people have commented on here and other sites such as bitter waitress that we servers are somehow flush with riches due to us not declaring our tips.

Let me put it this way, most restaurants automatically claim charge and debit card tips as taxable. True, we might not always claim all of our cash tips, but saving a hundred bucks or so a year in gyping the government is hardly putting me or any other restaurant worker ahead of the next average worker.

Really we get the screws put to us because our substantially small wage rarely covers the taxes we do claim, giving us no idea where we sit at April 15th.

Some years I have received hundreds back, most others I've owed, the $1200 bill I received by the state was a nice surprise for this full time student.

It was also nice to be denied a Pell Grant because I made to much, I guess if I wouldn't have squandered all my tax free earnings on food, rent and heat my tuition would have been easier to pay this last year.

In related news our pay went up to a whopping $4.30 an hour, causing mass panic amongst restaurants used to exploiting cheap labor. There were all kinds of editorials about how prices would soar, wall would crumble and the doors would close.

Small businesses wouldn't be effected by the minimum wage and frankly all those restaurants owned by large chains can afford fifty more cents as a slight penance for their sins against both the working man as well as the palete of Americans in general.

Passing through Minneapolis this summer I couldn't help but notince restaurants about ever block or so, and yet their servers get paid in excess of the federal minimum wage.

A friend of mine lives in Oregon and they pay even more than that, yet somehow the restaurant business isn't on their knees.

I'd love to see the day comes when tips are really treated like management claims, as a gift, and the day when we get an actual paycheck instead of a bill.

But I'd believe it when I see it.

Lipton's 10 Questions

2008-01-16T19:15:00.001-06:00

1. What is your favorite word?

Acquiesce, as I will not acquiesce to your unreasonable requests.

2. What is your least favorite word?

Fantabulous or Gianormous, I know that's two, but do these words even exist? I just want to punch the people who use them.

3. What turns you on?

Tits.

4. What turns you off?

Female moustaches.

5. What is your favorite curse word?

Douchebag.

6. What sound or noise do you love?

Running water,

7. What sound or noise do you hate?

Senseless prattle from groups of middle-aged women drunk on White Zin.

8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?

Fighter Pilot

9. What profession would you not like to attempt?

Restaurant manager

10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?

"I forgive you."

IFH Mondays

2008-01-16T16:33:00.001-06:00

I think this adequately explains how I feel if I'm asked to sing or asked if I "do anything" for birthdays.

I never figured out why we pay for a person's dessert, after all isn't that what the friend or family member pays for? Its not like anyone ever pays for their birthday dinner, we're giving their friend a free dessert in effect, not the birthday boy.

Thanks

2007-12-23T21:14:00.000-06:00

Since I’m a such a thankful person I’d like to thank the following this Christmas season.

I’d like to thank Kevin for coming in and leaving me $5 on a $118.00 tab. It’s the nice thing to do before a holiday, to show one’s generosity.

I’d also like to thank him for subjecting me to his faux romantic ambitions as he ordered for his horse faced date. Thank him for pondering the wine list for half an hour to order the perfect glass of wine, which was naturally the house Chianti which tastes of sweat socks and ass.

Thank him for insisting on a four top for the two of them and also thank him for camping out and costing me my 7:30 reservation. Which incidentally tipped their waiter $40.

I’d also like to thank him for his verbal tip, thus showing myself and the readership that it wasn’t a service issue that necessitated the tip but pure cheapness.

I’ll not forget you Kevin and I assure you the next time you come in you will receive service from myself or others that befit a 4% tip.

As for myself I generously kept fifty cents after tipping out the support staff and bar, thank you for two hours of my life that are truly unforgettable.

I’d also like to thank all the campaign staff’s for the various candidates of both parties. It is truly a honor to wait on privileged political science students taking a year off college with daddy’s credit card. I’m so happy that you are gracing us poor hick Midwesterners with your cultured selves.

Truly endearing was several staffers calling in to the various restaurants with reservations for Obama, Hillary, Romney, Richardson and so forth giving the impressions that “the man” or “the woman” in one case would be joining us for dinner.

Certainly we put the reservations in the prime spots, put our best staff on the section and readied the restauraunt for super suck up mode.

Naturally the VIP's were nowhere to be seen, but a bunch of drunken twenty-something politicos were.

Thank you for not honoring reservations, or for throwing tantrums when you show up with twenty people five minutes after close, thus necessitating keeping the staff into hour past the a.m. mark. That was quite a privlage waiting on you when I had to be back to open the restaurant in eight hours the next morning.

I’ll be sure to vote for your candidate based solely on your behaviors.

As well I’d like to thank our foreign visitors.

Truly the Christmas season would be at a loss if not for your bemoaning the boorishness, arrogance, ignorance and hatefulness of our culture.

All while ignoring a simple and well known custom called tipping.

I’d especially like to thank the Spanish journalists who came in three days in a row, racking up enormous tabs, and yet on all occasions left not one peso, Euro or red cent as a tip.

If I went to Spain I would be expected, and expect myself to learn the day to day customs and what is an insult and such. As well I doubt I would sit there in a café and make snide comments about their nation in front of a Spaniard that knows English.

Now I am certainly not fluent in Espanol, but really, making digs at my country when I myself have Spanish blood and know a bit of the lingo isn’t such a good plan.

As I was their waiter on their third day and had heard about them, I was sure my service standards were at the level necessitating a 0% tip.

I would genuinely like to thank the many regulars who have come in recently and left great tips to their servers as a thank you for the past year’s efforts as well as in the spirit of the holidays.

I’d also like to thank those who make polite requests instead of rude demands.

Those who say “I understand” rather than “that is unacceptable” to the word no.

Those who are appreciative.

Those who understand the concept of operating hours.

Those who say please and thank you.

Those who genuinely are interesting in dining our rather than shoveling food in their face.

Those who rely on common table manners.

You are in the majority, so truly thanks.

Guest of the Week

2007-12-08T22:54:00.000-06:00

Really, one of the benefits of working with the public is seeing how stupid or entitled they can get, I’m not sure which category this table falls into, but they’re idiots.

A two top walks in the door, they are typical corporate suits and probably have some form of higher education.

They sit at their two top table and take their jackets off and arrange their briefcases and coats.
One of the “gentlemen” uses the table to the right of him as a coat rack, the other gentlemen uses the chairs on the table to the left of them as a storage area for his bags.

Now this wasn’t my table, however the table to the left of them was in my section, and there was no way in hell I was about to sacrifice a money making table because of their ignorance/stupidity of thinking that they deserve three tables for the two of them.

Now, I had three choices, I could offer to check their coats, I could politely explain where the coat rack was, or I could make them aware of their stupidity.

I think we all know what choice I took.

As we were starting to rev up for a busy lunch in which surely we would need all tables, even those that were transmogrified into coat racks, I decided to help out the hostess.

First I took a four top to the table that was being used as laptop storage. The two businessmen started fidgeting uncomfortably when I approached their neighboring table. The new table kind of froze as they saw their seats filled with someone else’s crap and the businessmen grumbled an apology as they moved their crap to the table on the other side of them, my table.

“Sir, I need that table cleared as its reserved.” I said with a strained tone.

“Um, well were are we supposed to put our coats?” One of them replied.

“On the coat rack.” Was my obvious answer.

“What about our laptops, where do you expect us to put them?” The other man asked.

“Pretty much anywhere that isn’t someone else’s table.” I said. “Thank you gentlemen!”

Cutting Corners

2007-12-05T21:31:00.000-06:00

A few weeks ago I was training a newer server on a small banquet of about twenty, when I decided to pass a bit of my real world knowledge on to her…

“So here’s the mini-menus for the party,” the assistant manager said.

I took them in hand and started setting them out on the table.

Looking over the menu I noticed it wasn’t bad, one seafood, one meat, one vegetarian and one pasta dish, all mid-range so that was safe.

I also noticed that there was a short wine list by the bottle at the top of the page, excellent.

I had a little time on my hands so I started to polish Reidels and grabbed my partner to start doing some table set-ups.

The next thing you know the other waitress was at my side.

“Did you notice what wines are on the list?” She asked.

“Not yet, anything good?” I asked.

“Well I don’t recognize half these wines.” She said.

Looking over the list neither did I.

“Shit, they’re brining in their own bottles.” I said with a grimace.

“Fuck this crystal shit, they’re getting regular glasses.” I said.

We all know my disdain for bringing bottles from home, and really, I’d rather go all out for people buying our product rather than bringing their own.

“At least we can charge corkage.” My partner said.

“Yeah, I’d rather charge $15 a bottle than forty buck or more, or not.” I said.

“Well its better than nothing.” She replied.

“Actually according to the restaurant it isn’t, you might not have noticed this but corkage doesn’t count as sales applicable to the gratuity, meaning we won’t see a cent of tip off that.” I said.

Oh yeah, its true. The restaurant I work at makes a profit off corkage, but the waiter doesn’t see his 20% of the cut, at least on banquets. Small parties are left to their own discretion on what gratuity to leave, as usual.

Being a crafty bastard I had figured a way around this dilemma which would guarantee that my partner and I would at least get a piece of the pie.

“Here’s what we’re going to do, we’ll wait until we see how many bottles we have to open, take that number times fifteen and then ring it in as an open wine charge.” I said.

“But won’t the bartenders question that order?” My partner asked.

“No, here’s a bit of advise, get in close with the bartenders, your drinks will come up faster and they won’t question you on issues such as this.” I said.

“Another way to make sure you’re tipped out on corkage is to assign a dollar amount gratuity instead of having the computer do the math with a percentage based grat, that also gives you a tip.” I continued, “ that doesn’t work so well on separate checks which is why I taught you the open wine method.”

“But won’t the managers care that we’re charging them more?” My partner asked.

“I really don’t think they’ll notice or care, believe me I learned this the hard way after working a wine dinner and walking out with jack shit instead of a nice tip.” I said.

Continuing on, I said, “The restaurant is getting their money, but we’re the ones expected to do the work and one way or another we will get paid for it.”

Diced or Sliced

2007-11-28T19:05:00.000-06:00

“Um, like I want that salad that has cheese and tomatoes and stuff.” Asked picky drink girl.

Earlier she had asked for a Mudslide and when told we don’t offer blended drinks asked for a

Strawberry Daiquiri, she wound up ordering an iced tea with “a bowl of lemons.”
I brought her two lemons, but I digress…

“I’m sorry, we don’t offer a salad of that type maybe we can come up with one if you know what kind it is.” I said, knowing full well she wanted a Caprese salad. I just wanted to watch her struggle after she reacted like a little snot when informed she couldn’t have her TGI Friday’s drink special.

“Well I don’t know, it has some kind of weird mozzarella or something.” She spurted out.

“You must be thinking of buffalo mozzarella, you must mean a Caprese salad.” I replied.

“Yeah, well I want that.” She said.

I did a mental checklist, while we could do the salad theoretically, the presentation would blow as well as the flavor, fresh heirloom tomatoes are out of season and the romas we were getting wouldn’t cut it.

In other words chef won’t make it, I won’t serve it.

I offered her a similar dish.

“We could do our bruscetta mix as a salad, if I add oil and balsamic with some basil it would be very similar.” I said.

“That might be ok, is it chopped?” She asked.

“Well the cheese and tomatoes are cubed, but not chopped as if a relish.” I replied.

“Well I don’t want it chopped, why can’t I have it like at (insert random Italian restaurant here)?” She said in a bitchy tone.

I got to use one of my favorite lines…

“Because we’re not (insert random Italian restaurant here), I don‘t have the buffalo mozzarella to be sliced as our fresh mozzarella is either chopped or shredded.”

“So what, do you expect me to eat it with a spoon?” She shot back at me.

“Well you can always use a for.” I shot back.

She sat there thinking for a minute.

“How much would it cost?” She asked.

Normally alarm bells would be going off in my head about a shit tip, lucky for me it was an eight top with auto-gratuity.

“I would charge you the price for a bruscetta appetizer.” I replied.

“Well I don’t want the bread, I shouldn’t have to pay the full price.” She said, wanting a discount on one of are already inexpensive items.

It overjoyed me to deny her.

“Miss I will still have to charge you full price, the cost of the product isn’t in the bread, but our imported fresh mozzarella, plus I will be making additions to the salad so it would be in the lines of a true Caprese salad.”

“I don’t think so, I’ll just have the crab cakes then.” She said.

Chock another one up for Captain Insano!

Reservations

2007-11-26T18:00:00.000-06:00

This holiday season, and yes by that I mean Christmas. Do yourself and those at your favorite local restaurant a favor and learn how to make and keep a reservation.

I’m specifically thinking of those with groups of six or more.

Its easy to flip tables of two, four and such and maybe you can get squeezed in without a reservation.

However I’m getting a little tired of groups of six or more throwing some kind of tantrum when we tell them it could be an hour wait, that they won’t get a premium table or that frankly we won’t be able to serve them period.

It’s your responsibility to arrange your party with us, not ours.

A halfway accurate head count might be nice as well. Don’t say there’s going to be fifteen and twenty five show up. Saying there’s twenty five coming and fifteen showing up doesn’t work either. I can understand a variable of a few people adding or dropping out of a group, but this season things are getting ridiculous.

The other day we couldn’t fit a party in because eight additional people had showed up, oh yeah and the restaurant had no available tables or space into which to fit them.

So we improvised, naturally the group didn’t inform us before they were seated so they stood in both our way and other customers as we jammed in table extenders and made a “kiddie” table out of bastardized patio tops that we had to bring out of storage in the basement..

The opposite has happened as well. A friend of mine has a theory that people exaggerate the numbers of their group purposefully at times as a way to get a better and larger table so they can spread out.

At first I thought he was being paranoid, but there’s nothing quite like watching your available money making seats being eaten up as coat and purse racks as patron spread out over a table meant for twice their number. I’ve taken up a crusade to end this practice and have kicked people off tables that they clearly aren’t using and giving room to other guests and making sure
I see profit off every seat possible.

Then there’s the no-shows and people who double book restaurants.

Both can go to hell.

I find it unacceptable that people make a reservation and are to lazy to call to cancel. That screws the restaurant out of profit, the server out of tables and other guests out of their own intended reservations or available seating.

As for those who double book, screw that. I don’t care if you’re group is debating among three different restaurants and so you book at all three until whatever Head Bitch In Charge makes a decision.

What I care about is the restaurant running on all cylinders. Be adults and make a simple decision where to go. Its called an executive decision, something I make all the time when the management is too busy checking if the table legs are dusted as the kitchen is on fire.

So here’s what to do to involve any embarrassment or assholish behavior. Call in advance, be prepared to be flexible with the timing as many other people like to make plans ahead of time.

Don’t throw a fit if things don’t go your way. We’ll try to work something out as a compromise.

Personally if you’re an asshole with me on the phone I won’t work with you and will be far less than accommodating with your group.

Either you won’t get in at all or I’ll be sure to put you back by the shitter or kitchen door.

Pet Peeve Cop-out list for the third week of October.

2007-10-18T22:13:00.000-05:00

Been busy with classes so sorry for the slow post schedule.

Pet Peeves of the week:

1. Customers demanding that I use my god-like powers to control the actions of others. This has mostly applied to patio diners. The first guest was sitting in another section and was demanding the waitress stop that irritating “humming” noise that was emanating from another building, then he pouted when he was reminded that we don’t control the air conditioner from the building across the street. It didn’t help that he then told the waitress there was no need to be a snot and that he usually is a good tipper, not this time I suppose.

2. People who want to order off menu. The other day a patron about had a conniption fit over the fact that I wouldn’t order him an omelet. The fact is we aren’t a breakfast joint, look for a menu that proudly boast 24/7 breakfasts and all you can eat Johnny cakes if that’s what you’re in to.

The customer asked, “well you have eggs, this is a restaurant isn’t it?” Yes, we have eggs, but I’m not going to throw a wrench in the engine that is the kitchen while they chop up some peppers and rustle up some ham for you.

This also goes for trying to order anything you’ve seen on “Iron Chef.” Just because you’re a foodie doesn’t mean you know shit about preparation or actual cooking.

3. People who place their refuse on the table. The two grossest things I have seen this week was a little pyramid of spent olive pits as well as a pile of shrimp tails, placed on the table. My friends, keep your food on the plate, just like mommy always tried to teach you.

4. Peanut Butter sandwiches. Yes, a person who cannot be called a customer because a customer spends money, whipped out a peanut butter sandwich and Diet Coke instead of ordering. Stay at home or the office please, restaurants aren’t a place to just hang out, you have order their products as well.

5. If the restaurant is closed go somewhere else. Don’t bang on the door, don’t bitch me out on the phone because I won’t take your reservation. The other night we were closed for a private function and a customer on the phone was told no take out orders, the customer proceeded to scream at the server who answered the phone and demanded to speak to the manager. For once the manager backed up the waiter, naturally the caller threatened an email to the corporate office. Its only dinner folks, and there’s always tomorrow.

6. Gum goes in a napkin, not a plate, nuff said.

7. Flavored Tea. This has become the new indicator of a shit table beyond ranch and White Zin, not that people want raspberry tea or peach tea, but that they throw a fit when we carry plain old regular fresh brewed Iced Tea.

8. In that vein, people who wonder why we don’t carry Diet Berries and Cream Dr. Pepper or some other nonsense fringe soda flavors, because we carry soda that sells, that’s why.

9. The wine samplers. Now sampling a glass or two is ok, but I think the Olive Garden experience has soiled wine sampling for every other restaurant. I don’t need to pour six different glasses for free, only for you to settle for some shitty White Zinfandel of other swill.

And no, I won’t open a bottle that is sold only by the bottle, much less a reserve wine, just for you to drink a 1 oz pour and decide you want something else. We can’t sell that bottle after we open it and I don’t believe in that kind of waste.

10. Management and owners who keep a tip for themselves. My friend who brought me to a different restaurant reports that the owner once again kept $200 of a tip on a private party. This time he took it directly out of the tip pool as there was no assigned gratuity and there were individual checks. She confronted him on this issue, the legalities, as well as pointing out that it was the reason I quit my position.

He refunded her money.

Strike another one up for the good guys.

To go means go

2007-10-07T22:09:00.000-05:00

I was covering the bar the other day when I had a fun reminder of old times when I was a full time bartender. This seemed to be the case at my last restaurant as well when I covered a few bar shifts during the week.

The first point I am going to make is the whole take out at the bar issue, to tip or not to tip. Take out orders at a full service bar are often compared to getting fast food, they are apples and oranges.

Besides the general quality of the food (hopefully) being better, there is much more preparation involved. At every restaurant I’ve worked at the person putting the order together generally has to hunt down silverware, make salads, prep the soup, get sides of ranch, condiments and everything else you would expect.

Most restaurants are not set up to handle to-go very efficiently except those with car side service such as Applebee’s. Much of the reason is that restaurant food has more components that only last several minutes in a box. If you’ve ever opened you steak sandwich you bought you know what I mean, condensation and a soggy bun. Or if it’s a pasta, the sauce may have broken down, etc.

So basically it’s a big pain in the ass to track down everything you need for take out. The real pain in the ass is being away from your station, the phone is ringing, servers want their bar drinks. Any cocktail tables are being neglected and anyone sitting at the bar is pretty much screwed for a couple minutes.

Now I’m not trying to completely bitch about a facet of the bartending job, just pointing out that yes, there is service and effort involved beyond handing someone a bag of a rapidly deteriorating product.

Service where I come from is rewarded with a gratuity. Generally the bartender is stiffed in this exchange. From what I’ve read on Bitterwaitress the to-go people that chain restaurants often employ are stiffed on many occasions as well.

Reasonably I can’t say that we expect the traditional 15-20%, but a few bucks or even 10% is not only appreciated but generally earned.

This brings me to a second point, a sub-section of the aforementioned non-tippers.

And its always the non-tippers that do this.

As I was covering the bar for a few hours the other day a couple of I answered the phone and a woman on the other end started giving me a take-out order.

Of course it was a huge pain in the ass.

Side salads with no onions, RANCH, iceberg lettuce only, none of that “purple stuff“ and pretty much none of what makes a salad good or healthy, but extra sides of ranch“, naturally.

This was followed up by some vague request for a lunch feature from “a couple weeks ago” of which they knew none of the ingredients other than it contained fettuccini.

So after taking the order, which naturally will suck because ordering random ingredients with fettuccini when you have no idea of how to cook is pretty much a bad idea, I resumed bullshitting with a couple random bar patrons.

About twenty minutes went by when three bubbly, dumb looking Hollywood wanna-be type girls wandered into the bar.

“Um, yeah, we called earlier, is our take out order ready?” One of the girls asked in a great “Valley Girl” impersonation.

Not impressed I replied with, “It’ll be thirty four eighty five, I’ll go check on it for you.”

So I headed back to the kitchen and rustled up bags, silverware, napkins, TONS of ranch, bread and all other requited items. Double checked the order for accuracy, and yes the fettuccini looked greasy from all the crap in it, and bagged everything up.

“There you go and here’s your change.” I said as I took payment.

“Did you bring me extra ranch?” The girl asked me in return.

“Sure did.” I replied.

Of course, no tip.

About thirty seconds later my bar patrons and I looked in horror as the girls started busting out everything that I had just bagged all over the bar.

“Oh we decided that we have time to eat here!” One of the valley girls squealed.

Great.

In thirty seconds they managed to trash the bar area more than the entire lunch rush had. They threw the portion cups, napkins and bags all over the bar counter and started wolfing down their ranch salads, there was literally shit all over, including on the floor.

Maybe half the ranch made it to the salads, the other half all over the counter top.

This happened many times during my stint as a bartender and I really forgot how I hated it. People eating their to go food at the bar and making a mess with no tip, now back on my pet peeves list for sure.

Effin Hippies

2007-10-03T16:59:00.000-05:00

Seriously, we have a deluge of new employees and about half of them are hippies.

They are slow and ignorant, they feel that since they are hippies that they are entitled to this laid back lazy brand of working, they even speak lazily as to show how laid back and cool they are.

They aren't cool.

They take years at the computer and have no sense of urgency when it comes to their jobs, thus causing longer waits for us "square" types.

They don't take any sort of direction well from the senior staff members, head waiters (myself) or management. I think they hate working for the man and expect everyone else to do their jobs for them

The other day I asked the hippie on the linens side work to make sure the hamper was lined with a bag so linens wouldn't pile up on the floor.

"Don't worry about it man," was all she could say.

Well during the middle of the rush I came thought the kitchen and another, more responsible, server picking up linens that had been piled up on the floor, blocking traffic and creating a safety hazard.

Looking down on the floor I said, "This is what happens when you leave a hippie in charge of something, shit all over the floor, its a good thing they don't run the world or we'd all be fucked."

When confronted the hippie said something like, “I’m too stoned and laid back to work.”

I responded with a ,”Do you fucking job, we’re not here to clean up after you!”

Later in the shift hippie girl wanted to check out with the closing server, myself.

“So what did you do for your side work?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Well I took a bag of dirty linens to the basement.” She responded.

I looked over by the dishwasher, sure enough the hamper was filled to the brim.

“You need to take those down also,” I said, pointing out the hamper.

“But I already took a bag down, man!” She said crossly, or as crossly as a hippie can get.

“You have to take all of the linens down, sometimes its one bag, sometimes its three, I don’t care.” I said.

“We also need five bags of linen napkins brought up from storage while your down there.” I said, pointing out another of her duties she neglected.

“Whatever man, this is bullshit, the night shift can take care of it.” She said.

“What’s bullshit is that you’re passing the buck to someone else so you don’t have to do your job.” I responded.

“Whatever,” was all she had to say.

While hippie chick was in the basement I looked over her other side work duties, stock tablecloths?

Not done.

Stock water glasses?

Not done.

It became apparent that she hadn’t done a single item on her list, yet she had the balls to try to check out with me.

She almost cried when she came upstairs and I confronted her on this.
Hippie chick #2 wasn’t much better.

The other day her opening duties were to set up the parties in the restaurant for lunch and straighten the other tables.

There was a party of eighteen, two of twelve and a twenty top.

The Twenty top was in my section.

After I had spent about thirty minutes setting up the kitchen and helping other servers with their work I noticed hippie chick struggling to put my table together. She hadn’t even started on the other parties or straightening the sections.

“Having some trouble I see?” I asked.

She had the tablecloths on upside down and in disarray with each table having cloths of varying length on them.

“Uh, I think I have it dude,” she said.

“I think you don’t, we open in fifteen minutes and you still have three other parties to set up.” I said.

“I’m almost done with this one.” She said, struggling to count the twenty seats (there were only eighteen).

“Not really, you have to tear this apart and completely reset it, the tablecloths need to be straightened and arrayed in diamond shapes so it looks nice, and you don’t have enough seats.” I said.

“Whatever man, I know how to do my job.” She said.

“Apparently not, go worry about you other parties, I’ll set up this one.” I said.

“Why would you even care?” She asked.

“Because this is my party and my tip, I want it to look nice.” I responded.

“Whatever,” she said,

“Yeah, whatever, go blaze up another one smoky.” I said.

Now it may sound like I have an anti-hippie bias, well maybe I do.

They are generally poor tippers, smell like patchouli and have gross hygiene. They are even worse to work with. Now this is a generalization, but they are among the least motivated employees, this may be because they feel they should give their attention to activism such as saving baby seals or global warming or poverty,

Well I have an answer for the last on that list, do your fucking job and show a sense of urgency,

I’m sick of picking up the slack for you and sick of you slowing down us who really want to get shit done.

Como Se Llama?

2007-09-23T23:42:00.000-05:00

Well our fearless leader the GM, who inexplicably still has a job, really out shined his past performance this week.

Apparently he can't be bothered to learn at least the first names of some of our Latino employees so he resorted to some middle-school trickery.

Remember that old game where the class bully would slap you on the back and leave a taped on sign that said "kick me" or some other lame sign?

Well GM decided that it would be cute to write out some stickers and walk around the kitchen slapping the Mexican cooks and dishwashers on the back with name tags so he wouldn't have to remember who Javier or Gerardo are.

Apparently he thinks the Latinos have the mindset of a small child and wounldn't notice his little gag.

Rest assured they did.

So did a few of us second, third and fourth generation Latinos.

There's been some talk of a lawsuit.

Its a shame he gets away with firing people at will that get on his bad side for criticizing his many flaws, yet the company won't can him for a blatant racist offense.

Closing the shift

2007-09-18T20:53:00.000-05:00

“Hey could you come check me out?” said Aaron.

“What’s your side work?” I asked hurriedly, in the midst of ringing in my orders.

“Well I was supposed to fill the grinder and wash out the sinks” Aaron replied.

Shit, what else was on his list of duties, at a glance I noticed he didn’t fill the grinder or wash the sinks, what else did he skip out on?

“Top off the coffee grinder and wipe down the sink area, then I’ll be back to sign you out.” I said.

“This is fucking bullshit!” Aaron said, ”the sink was clean a minute ago and I can’t fit any more beans into the grinder.”

“I can still see air, either do it or don’t, I don’t want this half-ass shit right now.” I snapped back.

I hustled out of the kitchen to service my nine tables I had rolling. I was stopped by another server, Bill.

“Could you check me out?” Bill said.

“Give me a sec, I’ve got to take another order.” I said back.

“But I’m on a double and meeting a friend for lunch!” Bill whined.

“Jesus, I’ll be back in a minute,” I replied.

After taking another order and dropping off some food I went to attend to the inpatient servers.

I glanced over the side-work chart and noticed Bill was on take out implements and that Aaron was to fill the ice bin, which was woefully nearing emptiness.

“Bill, I need more to-go bags and large boxes,” I said.

“But I’ve got to go…” Bill pleaded.

“I don’t care, don’t bother me unless you have your work done, look , you haven’t done a single thing on the list!” I snapped at him.

He retreated out of site in a huff.

Then I noticed Aaron giving his cash-out paperwork and money to the assistant manager.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” I asked, “I haven’t signed you out yet.”

“This is bullshit, I only made twenty bucks today and I want to get the fuck out of here!” Aaron bitched, “I can’t fill the grinder any more, where the fuck am I supposed to put the coffee? On the floor?”

“What’s up with you letting him go without my signature?” I demanded of the manager, ignoring Aaron.

“Just let him go, he’s had a bad shift.” Said the manager.

“I don’t give a shit, I’m sick of wasting my time checking out people who are trying to skip out,

I’m getting my ass handed to me out there and I’ve got to deal with this bullshit?” I yelled.

Aaron took the manager and I arguing as an opportunity to slip out the side door.

“We’re almost out of ice and I just got sat a new table, who the fuck is going to stock it? You? Its his job, I don‘t care how much money he made.” I said.

The manager had no answer.

I stormed back into the dinning room.

A few minutes I was getting ice in the bar since we had since run out in the service station when a waitress came up to me.

“Could you check me out?” She asked.

I took a deep breath, she was one of the newer, more unreliable servers.

“What did you have?” I asked.

“The second service station.” she replied.

It took me a second’s glance to tell she hadn’t done shit, glasses weren’t stocked, the counter was full of trash and empty pitchers stood haphazardly on the counter. Worst of all there were two ice buckets containing puddles instead of ice.

“You haven’t done a fucking thing up here, why are you wasting my time?” I said sharply.

“But, but, it was clean a minute ago, someone must have left this here.” She stammered.

“That’s likely given that enough time has passed to melt ice into water, I want this spotless.” I demanded.

Shit, I still had nine tables at this point and I was getting a little sick of people taking advantage of me being in the weeds to try to skate on their work.

Work that I myself would have to do if I checked out with management and it wasn’t done.

About half an hour later things had calmed down, the flow entering the restaurant had stopped and most of my tables had cashed out with me. It was then I noticed that the to-go station was nearly empty of containers and take-out bags.

“Has anyone seen Bill?” I asked to several servers.

“I saw him walking to his car.” replied one of them.

“Fuck,” was all I had to say.

The next time I saw the assistant manager I cornered him.

“Bill was the second waiter to leave without doing his work, what’s the point in having me check them out if they aren’t going to do their shit?” I asked.

“Bill had the GM check him out, he said you were too busy.” he replied.

“Bill deliberately checked out with him so he wouldn’t have to do his work, I checked him out and he was one of three servers who hadn’t completed their work and along with Aaron got away without doing shit.” I said.

“Well maybe we need to crack down on side work,” said the manager.

“I’m trying, but it doesn’t help that you and the GM are undermining my job and that of the other closers, now I have to go down to the basement to get ice and take out containers or the GM won’t let me leave. I don’t care if people want to leave early or have plans or didn‘t make any money today, if they don’t do their jobs I’m held accountable for it. The other closer just let me know that Aaron skipped out on rolling silverware also, why bother having me check side-work at all? Why don’t we just let the staff decide for themselves when they’ve done enough.” I said ranting.

“Well I’ll talk to the GM about this,” said the assistant manager.

“What good will that do, he’s more worried about how we roll up our sleeves and how many earrings we can wear than how this restaurant actually runs.” I stated.

The manager just shrugged his shoulders.

What else was there to do but that?

Discover

2007-09-18T17:50:00.001-05:00

How a restaurant operates, 101

2007-09-06T17:13:00.000-05:00

Oh I had to comment on this one, I’ll run it by you, many people don’t have any idea how this business works, my answers are in the bold fyi!

Not edited for spelling or grammar. But you should be used to that, hah!

Ok, run this by me.. Front door, thats right - nobody opened it for me.

So what? We’re servers, not servants. The only people who open doors for others are boyfriends trying to get laid and kindergarten teachers, you’re a big boy, do it yourself.

Front desk / hostess - 17 year old annoying chick who is mumbling to her coworkers and eventually gets around to asking me "how many". ( Not "Hello, welcome. How are you... etc", just barks out the 'how many' ) This chick makes about 7.50 an hour, and at 17 years old that’s usually more than most of her friends.

Actually with all the minimum wage bumps, that’s about average.

other hostess type person - Again, 17 or so, making $7.50 an hour also. Puts me wherever the front desk person said to. Doesn't care if the table is slightly dirty or junk on the chairs, walks back up to front desk, sometimes mumbles 'someone will be with you soon'.

Actually you are right, hostesses are pretty much worthless eye candy, though there are some exceptions.

random water person - "Would you like some water?". This person usually doubles as the coffee, tea, and busser. Bussers make at least minimum wage. Bussers who know any more english than "Water?" might make 25 cents above minimum wage. (This is their choice to work there, not educate themselves for a better job, and not learn more english to make more money doing some other position/job ).

I don’t believe you have any right to judge a person’s position. I bet your immigrant forefathers jumped right off the boat with a degree, knowing the Queen’s English and landing a position as a CPA. Nice way to lump bussers in a group as well, many are in High School or college and are using this position as a step up, as part of their choice of life. And who cares if they aren’t? Most bussers I know do a lot more shit work than you probably do, I gotta respect that.

Actual Waiter - Usually doesn't ask how we are or how our night is going. Usually tells us about the special we already read about at the front waiting area.

So he's reciting the features, its his job, or would you prefer them to just scribble shit down?

Asks if we want any other drinks.random drink person - this is usually another 17 year old who doubles as a food runner. They almost never know who gets what drink. They probably have access to that information, but it's easier and quicker to just ask the people at the table.

I don’t know where you go out to eat, but unless it’s a sommelier, who is more learned than yourself in these matters, I’ve never had a drink runner.

waiter again - either comes by every 2 minutes upset that you don't know what you want yet, or doesn't come by for 5-10 minutes because they are somewhere fucking off or bullshitting with a different table. Some of them even sit down with you and pretend to socialize, but the majority who i see do this are doing it simply because they are lazy as hell and want to rest their legs/feet.

I’ll cover this a bit more in depth in my upcoming “how to order” column, however while it is understandable to chat a bit before deciding, after the waiter stops by once or twice its probably a good idea for you to decide upon dinner. If they are gone for a bit its usually because they are at work or tired of checking on you because of your indecisiveness.

As far as the whole sitting down thing, I am not much of a fan of that. I try to keep it professional and polite and only reserve true friendliness for good regulars or people who seem open to joking around.

The sitting down/squatting thing came about with chain restaurants doing a study that claimed customers felt less intimidated by servers who were pretty much debasing themselves, sucking up or making the guest feel superior. In most cases I do feel superior so I refused to do that whole thing while working for corporate in years past.

food runner - again, has no idea who gets what food. It's quicker and easier to just ask the people at the table. Some times if there are only 2 people at the table, they'll toss the food on the table and just hope for the best. Usually to be polite, we wait till they leave and then trade plates. The better food runners will stick around long enough to ask if you need any condiments, but this happens less than 20% of the time.

Most food runners that I have seen do a simple thing, read the ticket. Unless you are one of those tables who plays musical chairs, and I bet you are, the food will be delivered in order of how the waiter took the order, its called pivot point seating. Food runners typically get paid out of the server's tip as well, often being paid a low wage.

waiter - Usually has no idea how long your food has been on your table or who delivered it to you. So they either ask 45 seconds after you have gotten the food, which is too soon to know if you really like it or if you have any issues - or comes by 10 minutes into it - and at that point half the people at your table are 1/2 done eating so why slow everyone down by sending your order back or creating a big stink?

Erroneous, I know exactly how long your food has been taking or when it was delivered, true I have 15-20 other customers I have my mind on as well so me checking back could have a little variance. I try to live by the two minutes/two bites rule. Unless I sense you’re a bad tipper, then I just cut you lose. That probably explains a lot about how you feel you’ve been treated.

random busser - Someone eventually comes by grabbing plates or glasses. Again, this person is making at least minimum wage. Many cases they don't know enough english so if you ask them for something they have to send a food runner or find your waiter.

English is capitalized, btw. Their job is dirty and hard, while they may be able to get simple items like an extra plate or glass of water, they aren’t versed on the menu or bar list in most cases. Usually the busser makes under minimum wage, especially in chain restaurants.

The server actually supplements their wage by paying them out of our own pockets, something that was legitimized with tip credit laws, enabling employers to pay under minimum just like servers. Weird system and one that benefit’s the owner for certain, its akin to your boss asking you to pay the maintenance man out of your own paycheck.

I’m not necessarily happy all the time with this system as often I find myself doing more than my fair share of the work I’m supposed to be paying for.

Legally if the busser makes over minimum wage it is illegal to force staff to tip them out, however management usually finds a way to intimidate or threaten if you try to refuse.

waiter - will either try to upsell you into some coffee, desserts, or could care less and just slips your check onto the end of the table as they walk by.

Um yeah, that means dinner is over and its time to pay or order further, you know this, how is that even a point?

SO, By all means.. Tell me why I would tip big????? 80% of the help you got were from hourly people who couldn't give a damn. 20% of the help is from the waiter who does nothing but scribble down your order and hope that 3 other people don't fuck up making it or serving it. WHAT IS SCRIBBLING AN ORDER WORTH???

You should tip because it is a social norm. You should tip because if you don’t you’re pretty much a cheap asshole. If you want to make a statement about tipping by stiffing the wait staff, you’re talking to the person with the least ability to change the system. I do a hell of a lot more than scribble the order and pray someone takes care of anything, read this or any other article/blog on dinning, that’s all the proof I need.

Often the people you have been griping about depend on the server's tip to bring them above minimum wage. The server has to pay that regardless of what you tip, meaning waiters actually have to pay out of their own pocket for the privilege of waiting on some tables who leave absurdly low tips or non at all.

The actual restaurant is making 300% profit on most of the food, and 800% profit on most of the liquor you order. They hire the cheapest staff they can. So you end up with half a dozen people who really don't care what you want or what went wrong, and as long as you keep tipping 20% they don't spit in your food???????

Its obvious you have no idea of the overhead that a restaurant maintains. Salaries, rent, mortgage, business loans, equipment, electricity, licenses, taxes and countless others cut the profit to 5-7% in most cases, Thom and JP could weigh in on that one. The mark-up may seem unfair, but at the end of the day you’re not just paying for the food itself, but everything that supports the restaurant’s ability to serve it.

Long story short - Restaurant needs to tip their own staff by paying out a % of profits. Not gouge their customers and underpay their staff!!!!!!!

I’m fine with that, when restaurants inflate the rate of their dinners another 20% to accommodate the service staff’s desired income I’ll be the first to line up for my first paycheck in three years.

More P.C. Fun

2007-09-04T21:33:00.000-05:00

If I had these little drunk scumbags do that in my section I'd throttle them.

Of course I wouldn't lump Asians in with a stealing stereotype, I'd leave that to the Gypsies or Mexicans...

Ouch, I can say that because I'm Gypsican!

"Stiffing is not cool"

2007-09-04T00:30:00.000-05:00

Eight on $164??? I'd be pissed as fuck as well, this is how stereotypes continue. I like how she gave no reason to stiff the guy other than a couple lame ass excuses, comparing a dinner at a nice steakhouse to Taco Bell.

Yeah, this is 2007, fucking tip unless you have a reason, the waiter probably had to shell a buck or two out of his own pocket for the privilege of waiting on this woman.

I've seen a patron or two called out on stiffing and its funny as hell, maybe not professional, but hey, still funny. Wish I have this woman on my last shift ever, make my fucking life!

Back into the hornets' nest

2007-08-27T19:26:00.000-05:00

Coming back from vacation is usually an ok thing as far as work goes. A bit of a re-charge is sometimes necessary in life and I was looking foreword to a good couple weeks before classes start.

Of course when I returned I walked into a shit storm instead of the relaxed pace of late summer.
Recently we were given employee surveys from the corporate office, it seems like they finally wanted our opinions on management/business issues.

I refused to fill one out, I worked for a company that surveyed their employees once and they openly mocked the opinions of the surveys directly in front of the staff. No changes were made that would positively impact the business and if anything management held a grudge against the people who gave their opinions.

Well back to present day. They surveys were turned in and management released a memo to the staff with certain changes to policy as well as addressing policy that was already in place. As usual they ignored the entire concept of communication and made their usual arbitrary and petty decisions.

Most of the memo was common sense, a manager read the memo in a staff meeting and much of it was the same show up on time/have a clean uniform type deal that should be expected. There was a couple of points that they tried to rush past that clearly had some people upset.
In the last year our place of business has had a complete reversal in the culture of the restaurant. We were originally a hip restaurant (how I hate to say that, I hate hipsters) with a quirky staff that displayed their individuality in both their appearance and their personality at their tables. This was encouraged by the management and owners at the time. Short of walking in with green hair and a Mohawk you were fit to work.

Apparently this “vision” of how the restaurant is to be has changed. The memo addressed a this, and many were upset.

First off women are pretty much encouraged to dress like men, hell I’d even rather have them look like the Stepford Wives rather than the frumpy clothed, minimal make-up and no personality mold that the restaurant wants.

This is all fun and games for a corporate restaurant, but come off it, the reason many of us wanted to work for this restaurant was because it was the exact opposite of what it has become.

If you’re a male who has ear-rings, tattoos or facial hair you’re screwed as well. The memo states restrictions on the above as well.

It seems you have to ask permission from management to change hair styles, color or to grow facial hair.

That is the funniest part of the new policies to me.

You’re allowed have a beard/goatee/mustache/sideburns…

You’re just not allowed to grow them.

A bit more was mentioned on the whole scheduling thing. They reiterated that we were not allowed to call in sick and had to cover the shift with another employee, that one is always nice.
As well they are restricting the way we trade or pick up shifts from other employees. I’ve found that if the manager on duty doesn’t like the person you are trading with they simply won’t allow it.

Even more difficult is the new policy preventing shifts from being traded as long as management has shifts they still need to cover. We have been running short staffed for most of the summer, as turnover has been unusually high (I wonder why).

Every week management puts up a sheet detailing shifts that they need covered (mostly from former employees that have fled or been given the ax).

Well if each and every one of the open slots in not filled, there can be no shift changes, doesn’t matter if the desired shift is on a day that isn’t covered. Its their way of offering us an “incentive” to cover the shifts that they themselves cannot.

The issue of request off dates and such has been hardened as well. It has also been reiterated that if we need time off we are to clear it through our management and take our vacation “pay."
Since most of us are part time there is no vacation pay.

That means no guaranteed time off.

So pretty much everyone is pissed off.

Management is pissed off at us for being pissed off as well, making a shitty work environment in the last couple weeks.

Every pre-shift meeting is the same, the GM harping on unimportant issues repeatedly while the place burns around him due to the actual issues that matter. Then they ask why morale is low and wonder why people aren’t walking around with a smile on their faces.

“We want to be a place where you should be proud to work!” GM declared.

Ok, treat us like adults and at least look at issues from our point of view, not your biased view or
that of the oh so holy “guest.”

A manager shouldn’t necessarily bow to the demands of the staff, but a view that takes into concern the consideration of the staff would be appreciated. After all when one man thinks you’re an idiot that’s one man’s opinion, when the world feels that was I wonder if they might be correct.

And so it goes when you ask the opinion of the staff, instead of consideration to the issues we brought to the table, we were responded with petty regulations and petty vengeance that can only be wielded by those with middle management authority.

Out of town

2007-08-12T14:08:00.000-05:00

So yeah, taking my vacation after all.

I covered my shift by trading for a crappy Saturday lunch shift, which I promptly gave away to someone else. Even though I still feel it was management's responsibility to cover a shift that was in the middle of my vacation.

Here's how unreasonable and irresponsible this whole thing turned out to be. Not only was I the first person to request off that day, apparently I was the only person. So it was not like there was a deluge of requests that had to be met, so pretty much there was absolutely no reason to be scheduled.

Since scheduling manager was no help I went to her nominal superior, we'll call him the "good" manager. Every store has one, and usually they are the only reason things go right.

In asking for an explanation of why I was scheduled in the middle of my time off when it was apparent that I would be out of town, I found out a few things.

First off he told me that the scheduling manager thought she was doing us a favor by only scheduling us one shift during our vacation. That way it would be easy for us to cover said shift by trading or giving up the shift to another employee.

Except two people were disciplined because no one could trade of pick their shift up. They technically could have even been fired.

Here's a favor, if I'm out of town and have communicated this fact with you, don't fucking schedule me. I shouldn't have to scurry around looking for someone to work for me. What if I can't find someone?

Am I supposed to drive back, work the one crap shift, and then continue my vacation? Am I supposed to give up my vacation for only one shift?

So I communicated with management and told them they had six employees that they did this to and that we are all ready to head up to human resources for a little chat if this situation is not resolved.

This issue has been taken to the GM, so we'll see what happens.

Other than that I'm off, catch you all next week!

Denied

2007-08-07T23:52:00.000-05:00

One of the few tangible benefits of working a service industry job is the flexibility. Whether it be a schedule that works with classes, a full time job or vacation, it is one of the true perks of this job.

Well I suppose I should be careful what I wish for, I’ve always been a proponent of wait staff/bartending being treated like a “real job” in many areas such as paid time off, benefits, respect towards sick days as well as following Department of Labor statutes, shocking, I know.

Of course we won’t be getting any of that on a decent scale, the one thing they have decided to give us is a static schedule, taking away one of the few things I like about this type of work.
First off, fearless leader wanted to take away “request off” shifts completely and let the staff work out days we need off amongst ourselves.

Because that’s what we get paid the big bucks to do, the management’s scheduling and “work it out ourselves.”

Secondly if we wanted be able to take time off we were to use out vacation pay (I made $150 for the week after taxes at minimum, the usual amount I make for one of my shifts). I suppose the part timers (32 hours and under) just wouldn’t be able to take a week off since they don’t qualify.

However one of out few competent managers managed to talk him out of it. I’ve seen server revolts before friends, it isn’t pretty, and one was brewing. I made it quite clear the shit-storm myself and others were preparing in response if this arbitrary decision was to come to pass.

Since this initial plan fell to the side, fearless leader and the minions did what they do best. Exert their authority in the lamest ways possible, be reactive instead of proactive, vindictive instead of professional and most importantly, to show who is in control.

They start fucking with our schedules and our request offs.

Requests off work kind of like this at my and many other restaurants. Usually you talk to a manager a few weeks to a month in advance and write it down. We have a book that has a certain amount of slots on each date, get in early and you should have no problem. As in all realms of life, fail to communicate and get in late, well it may be questionable if you get the time off.

So far a half a dozen of us have been affected. All of us communicated our vacation/time off needs months in advance, all of us put it in writing so there would be no questions. This is what happened to the six individuals, the names have been changed as usual to protect the innocent.

Jessica was the first case. She had requested when she was HIRED that she needed a week off in July to go on a cross state biking event. Cara put it in writing and was given the week off, with one exception. Management had scheduled her a crappy Tuesday lunch shift in the middle of her time off, like she was to drop her vacation plans for one shitty shift.

Alicia is our second case, she has family in Ohio and was visiting them for the first time in months. She had plane reservation for certain dates and certain times, management was aware of this in writing. They scheduled her for a shift that would occur while she would be sitting at O’Hare Airport on a layover. She missed her shift, was written up, and threatened with termination.

Third case is Tony and Cara, they are a prototypical restaurant couple. Been together for years, work the same shifts and pretty much kick ass. Every summer they go on a week long camping trip, they requested off two months ago. I think you see where this is going, Tony was scheduled one shift in the middle of his request time, Cara scheduled two days before they were to return.

They barely covered their shifts.

By this time every one of these employees had talked to management. In some cases they were listened to politely, in others certain managers took liberties with their income, sections and cut them off of profitable parties. As well they are mysteriously in trouble all of a sudden and being scrutinized instead of being allowed to do their job and make a living.

At any rate nothing was done…

Tim was scheduled the night he requested off , his girlfriend who he cares about was leaving town.

Stella was scheduled on a weekend she had her child and a family function, request off denied.

Then there was my situation. Every August I go up north and fish for a week. Frankly the prospect of this trip is the only thing keeping my sanity intact as far as work goes. A month ago I went to the scheduling manager and told her what week I wanted off. I was told to put it in writing and I did, as well I filled out the request off book, I made it to the very first spot on every day I needed off.

I bet even you 10% tippers could figure out what happened.

I received every day off I needed, except for Thursday’s lunch shift, three days after I leave the state, three days before I return.

I immediately went up to the scheduling manager to issue a complaint, I tied the nice guy approach.

“So what’s up with that lunch shift next week? I won’t be in town.” I said politely (believe it or not).

Using incompetent manager byline 173 from the handbook she snidely said what I expected her to, “That’s why they’re called requests and not days off.”

“What am I supposed to do if I can’t cover it, stay in town and work one shift for the entire week, and miss vacation?” I said, my demeanor taking a sharp, condescending tone.

“If you have a problem with it we can talk about this in the office.” She snapped back at me.

Which is manager code for I’ll find some reason to write you up, reduce your section size or otherwise act like an ass.

“I don’t think that will accomplish anything,” I said, “maybe I’ll take it to human resources instead.”

“They’ll tell you the same thing I told you.” She replied.

“I wouldn’t be to sure about that, regardless, I won’t be in town next week, that you can count on.” I said.

She just shot me a dirty look and returned to leaning on the wall, the only thing she does with competence.

To be continued Thursday, after I get some results…

What to do?

2007-08-03T03:35:00.000-05:00

All right, I’m going to answer this one because the exact situation happened at a restaurant I worked at a few years back…

“Related topic: I'd like to know -from your perspective - what I should have done in this story.Location: upscale steakhouse near Hartford, CT. Price: Apps, Drinks, Entree's, Desert & tip ~ $120 for 2 people

My wife got a babysitter and went out to celebrate something or other. Since we were dropping $25 on the babysitter and $100+ for dinner, we only do this every couple of months. Hey - living in New England is expensive! Anyway, we go to one of our favorite restaurants. It is a nice steakhouse near Hartford, CT. You do occasionally see kids there, but mostly it is couples or groups. Anyway, we are about 30 minutes into our meal (steaks had just arrived) when the FIRE ALARM starts going off. The assistant manager (I think) comes around and tells everyone that it's ok, it was just a malfunction but they have to wait for the fire department to arrive. He then opens some of the emergency exit doors. Now it is early April and about 45 degrees outside. The draft from the outside air is starting to feel cold (my wife puts her coat back on) and the FIRE ALARM IS STILL GOING OFF. They do no evacuate the building (it was just a malfunction, he said). After 20 minutes of trying eat and have a conversation with my wife (with the FIRE ALARM STILL GOING OFF!), I give up and we put on our coats and go outside to the patio to get away from the noise. After about 10 minutes on the patio, the fire trucks show up and 2 minutes later the alarm is off.

We go back inside and finish our (now cold) meal. The assistant manager comes by again and closes the doors and offers a personal apology, but nothing more. How should I have handled it?If I get an actual response, I'll let you know what I did.Thanks!”

First off tip the server still, regardless of what the manager did or did not do.

Secondly, the manager sounds like an idiot. Open the doors when it is cold out? Its bad enough that there are sirens blaring. I don’t understand why he would open the doors if it was just a malfunction.

As far as the alarm still going off, most businesses don’t have the option of turning alarms off, either security, the police or fire department have the ability, surely for insurance/legal reasons.

It has nothing to do with turning off the alarm from the inside, you pretty much have to wait for the authorities to show up.

So after all of that, the restaurant has a damned if you do, damned if you don’t situation. Pretty much at an upscale restaurant you will be dropping minimum $50 a head, before tip. If the management comps everyone in the house not only will that cost thousands of dollars, it could cost him his job. If there is no compensation they risk having every customer in the joint not returning. The old management saying that goes a dissatisfied customer will tell ten friends and they won’t patronize the business could be applied as well, though I think that one is mostly bullshit in the company manual.

On the other hand you do deserve compensation for the inconvenience. I have always been a proponent of compensation that can guarantee the return of a customer and not a straight out comp, such as free drinks next time or a free appetizer on your next visit, something along those line. In this case compensation on your current visit seems in order. I would do a combination of both.

If I was a manager in this case I would personally visit any tables that I could and authorize my
staff to grant 50% discounts on entrees and appetizers, that way the business could at least cover product cost or defray the cost at the very least. As well I would personally hand out my business card to each table and apologize, on the back of the card I would sign my name grant some kind of discount/free item for the next visit.

That way the guest is covered and feels all warm and toasty about a manager sucking up to them and the business is covered as far as any loss and the customer is more likely to have a return visit.

As far as what happened at my restaurant, the alarm went off for about five minutes, we were mostly empty due to a holiday weekend and most customers were fairly understanding. Except for one.

They were a name dropping friend of the owner and decided they were the owner by proxy.

They demanded the manager pay for everyone in the restaurant and set them up with drinks (They weren’t even eating, just having cocktails).

Management promptly ignored their demands and stated that our management, not they, were in charge and would decide on the proper response.

Name droppers threatened to tell their good friend, but like most name droppers they didn’t do shit.

We bought drinks for each table and all was good, name droppers sulked in front of their pink martinis and weren’t comped shit.

86 Creme Brulee

2007-07-16T15:25:00.000-05:00

So you go out to your favorite dining spot and find out that they won’t be serving risotto tonight, or that they only have prime rib available in certain temperatures, or that they don’t make blended drinks, what would your reaction be?

Mild disappointment?

Indifference?

Or anger? Anger that you take out on the person least responsible for ensuring that stock is ordered, food prepped or that the bar is set a certain way?

Most people choose one or two, and why shouldn’t they? I’ve always maintained that the vast majority of people are reasonable, sometimes they are even a pleasure to wait on!
But much like motorcyclists have their 1%ers, we have our 10%ers that can’t act like they belong in a society. Case and point are the following situations that I’ve been a part of or personally witnessed.

The other day we ran out of rye bread, no more Ruebans unless they wanted to substitute bread, which is no good in my books. I made it a point to explain this to tables as I greeted them so they wouldn’t get their hopes up for getting the sandwich.

Most people took it fine and didn’t care, not this guy.

“Unfortunately we’re not offering our Rueben sandwich today, which I want to point out to you before you look over the menus.” I said.

The gentleman at the table wasn’t so thrilled.

“Well that’s what I wanted for lunch!” He said, as he threw down his menu like a wounded child.

“Sir, if you’d like to substitute bread we could still make it.” I said.

“That wouldn’t be a Rueben would it?” He said with a sneer.

“No sir, it wouldn’t, now moving on we do offer several lunch features today…” I said, continuing with my spiel.

Upon returning to take their order he had this to say as well…

“Yeah, I’ll have the salmon, its really not what I want, but it’ll have to do.”

His friend started to order a sandwich on the menu when he interrupted with this…

“Wait, what was it that you wanted for lunch today? That’s right, you said you wanted a Rueben, I guess you can‘t have one today though.”

Really, I get your fucking point, you want a Rueben, well be a big boy and understand that sometimes things don’t go your way. At least the friend he interrupted seemed embarrassed by the outburst and left a nice tip to boot.

Next up was the middle of the week. We had a run on the feature and ran out, the item in question takes far more time to prep and cannot be made to order.

So a customer came in and was informed by another waiter. Instead of just accepting the fact that we were out the customer threw a fit, apparently we ran out of the feature the last time he was in. He threw down his menu and told his waiter that it was unacceptable that we ran out.

Well accept it or no, you’re not getting it for lunch. The customer vowed never to come back as he stormed out the door without ordering.

Here’s the third situation, a while back one of the other servers was in the weeds and asked me to take the desert tray out to a table for them.

It seemed like they were a nice couple when I approached them, I guess I was wrong. We had committed the sin of running out of Crème Brulee, another item which takes time to prep.

I went through the typical desert spiel and pointed out to them that we were out of the item, this time it was the lady that spoke up.

“We were looking forward to having the Crème Brulee tonight,” she said.

Obviously.

“There are several other great deserts we are offering, maybe some Tiramisu?” I counter offered.

“Well can’t we have that one?” She asked, pointing at the display desert.

“You really wouldn’t want that, its been sitting out all day.” I said.

“If I order the Tiramisu would I have to pay for it?” She asked.

“Uh, yes you would.” I responded.

“Well I don’t think its fair to have to pay for a desert if you don’t have the one I want.” She said.

I shot her a look and said, ”That’s unfortunate, I’ll give you a minute to decide.”

I went back to the kitchen and found their server.

“What’s the deal with table ten?” I asked.

“Why were they bitchy to you?” She replied.

“They want free desert, we’re out of the Crème Brulee,” I said.

“They’re not getting shit, they want something they gotta pay for it.” She said.

And that’s that, most people just shrug their shoulders and move on. Some people have an entitlement fit.

Lemons and Oranges

2007-07-03T02:28:00.000-05:00

Apples and oranges, or lemons and oranges in this case.

I usually adhere to the man-law of not “fruiting” a beer and only do so when forced to drink Mexican sewer water (hey, love Modelo, no lime) and to serve it as well.

However, being both a waiter and a bar tender for the last several years I do know what fruit comes with what beer and I stick to local customs. That was when I was dismayed when a table had a near fascist attack on me for allegedly fruiting their beer incorrectly.

Well actually it was 100% correct and the knowledge that I have and keep of fruiting the beer is in the part of who I am that is correct 99% of the time, the other 1% being my negligence in the relationship department, which at times I begrudgingly admit that I may be wrong.

So I was delivering a Boulevard Wheat beer with a wedge of lemon as is customary when a gentleman at the table had an inquiry…

“Hey, where’s my orange at?” He asked, clearly perturbed. He then threw his lemon wedge on the ground (we were on the patio, but hey, only an asshole would do that, yes I mean guy who is reading this and would do something like that).

“Sir if you would like an orange all you have to do is ask.” I said, clearly annoyed at his manner, and the fact that I was only halfway though a double shift.

“This was supposed to come with an orange.” He said, nearly pouting, his sense of self importance clearly damaged.

“Traditionally we serve this wheat beer with a lemon, if you’d like an orange I’ll bring you one.”

I said.

“No, no, I suppose it will have to do, but this is supposed to be served with an orange,” He said, looking at me as if I was to acknowledge my grievous error.

“Sir, Belgian whites are often served with an orange, such as a Blue Moon.” I said. I would never drink one with an orange myself as they ruin the head and change the flavor too much for my liking.

Time passed, and I serve up their salads and dinners, modified beyond recognition so much that you could never match them to an item on the written menu.

“Sir, another beer?” I asked, keeping it short and sweet.

“Yes, and don’t forget the orange this time.” He said, still defending his fruiting righteousness.

“Of course, I’ll substitute an orange for you.” I responded.

His response was only a dour face, such as a child gets when denied a second glass of soda by their parents, guess most of you don’t practice that anymore either considering the hopped up caffeine freak children that run around my restaurant. Well at least Starbucks won’t be concerned about keeping their product viable for the next generation knowing our children will be wanting to continue getting their kicks from that speed freak of a coffee-bean mutant on their backs.

I digress, again…

“Maybe you should bring him two oranges, being as you didn’t bring him one earlier.” His wife said haughtily.

I responded with a blank stare back.

Of course the wife was fruiting her Pepsi and demanded another one with her next breath.

Here’s were I slipped up, most soda fruiters use lemon with diet, she had a regular.

I poured her a Diet when I was waiting at the service station for the beers.

I dropped off their drinks and turned around to greet a new table.

“Folks, would you care for a nice chardonnay or a martini to…” I started to say.

“Sir! Sir! SIR!!!” The woman with the soda started to shriek. You’d think the Rape of Nan8king was going on in her granny panties.

I turned around and stopped her conniption with one hand raised, stop-sign fashion.

I returned to my new customers and finished my greeting and took their drink order before taking my attention back to my other friends.

“This is a DIET!” The woman said as she thrust her glass to me.

“I’m sorry, I must have poured you the wrong one.” I said.

“I can’t drink diet, it makes me PHYSICALLY sick!” She shouted back.

“Ma’am, its easily fixed, really.” I said calmly.

“Whatever, just take it out of here,” She said.

I returned with her replaced drink.

"I told you it was a diet,” She said, satisfied that she knew I made a mistake.

“Like I said, easily fixed.” I said as I set it down.

“Oh he has a question.” She said as well, pointing at her mid-twenty something son.

“Yeah, when you brought me my beer you didn’t ask me if I wanted an orange too.” He said.

“Of course.”

Of course…

I want to work here

2007-06-21T18:10:00.000-05:00

From Craigslist:

Reply to: job-347399212@craigslist.orgDate: 2007-06-07, 11:52PM EDT

Face it, waiting tables (and it's sidekicks bussing and running) is often a pretty crappy job. Anyone who tells you otherwise is either:

a) lying

b) trying to sell books

c) is about to offer you Kool-Aid.

Psycho bosses, long hours, annoying entitled New Yorkers ("ugh, you said 20 minutes 15 minutes ago!"), strollers, damn strollers......ahhh, but you do leave with a good amount of cash in return.

Well here's a thought - how about leaving with your self-esteem in tact, too? Yes, I think it is entirely possible (call me a fool) to work the front of house and not die a little bit inside each night. If you do too, and you can find Brooklyn on a map, maybe we can work together.

I sincerely believe that a good dining experience starts with the owners and staff being happy. I don't let people talk down to my staff (including my staff). I don't own high chairs. My coke comes in a can. And is actually Pepsi.

I'm looking for several hard-working, sane, wine-savvy and reliable people to take the stage (and you should know it's all about taking control) at my little Brooklyn restaurant and wine bar. We serve primarily pizza (in Brooklyn, the wonder of it all) from a normal old pizza oven, the kind with gas heat and metal doors. No bricks. I know, a borough shudders. There will be some exotic ingredients thrown in, but for the most part I am aiming for simple, fresh pizzas and esoteric wines in expensive stemware. There are about 35 seats. I should have over 200 labels on the wine list by the end of the year.

I am more interested in finding the right people and building a team (ugh. i hate that word. better than coven i suppose) than in saying I need " x number of waiters, x number of bussers, etc." Hire adults and these things tend to work themselves out.

Here's what I am looking for:

- be hard-working, reliable and operate on intuition.

- be able to go eight hours without sending a text message (for real) - have solid wine knowledge. Knowing that Caymus is an expensive CA red (and white) is not enough. Tell me the process of Recioto and then we're getting somewhere.

- have good general food knowledge, like knowing whether turbot is a vegetable or bird

- be personable, articulate and attractive (define that last one for yourself. it does come from inside)

- speak profoundly fluent English

- not bitch about Brooklyn (also two hosts or hostesses who are GREAT with the phone. and not just texting - see above)

Pay is above minimum wage, but real minimum wage (plus tips), and not that crap most places (under)pay you while charging you for family meals that suck. The front of house is pooled, including bar. I intend on the opening staff to help determine steps of service and such. I want to make this the restaurant job you leave one day and wish they could all be like that. For me and for you. We are opening at the end of the month for dinner and two weeks later for lunch. We DO NOT serve that Sunday meal whose name shall be neither spoken nor typed. I expect to rather if not very busy from the outset. But who knows?

So if you have two or more years of New York or equivalent experience (SF, Chicago, NoLA, but not LA. The food sucks in LA) send me a resume. A photo is nice too. Maybe a story about your worst or best table. A haiku about how much you hate Southern tourists. Something. I know you may earnestly love food and wine and be quite bright, but you must have some serious experience for this work. I will be checking references, so tell your friends to be creative.

You know the formula: more skills + harder work = less staff = more money = Prada. Or grad school. (How shallow) Please write with any questions you may have.

Keep it Simple

2007-06-10T23:15:00.000-05:00

I felt that I had to write about his issue because there seems to be some confusion. The topic is pretty simple, or at least it should be.
How to pay your tab.

The first step is to actually acknowledge that your server/bartender/waitron/personal whipping boy has indeed left you a bill.

It's hard work, I know, believe it or not I have to eat as well and on occasion I pick up the tab, ok on almost all occasions since I am a male and it seems to be my assigned duty, though I would like to thank that nice girl from a couple weeks back that at least made an effort to reach for the bill.

I digress.

Acknowledgement, that doesn’t mean become squatters and hang out for an hour and the sheepish, “oh, I forgot!” doesn’t fly well either.

But at least that’s better than the occasional, “Yeah, we’ll pay when we’re ready/are you in a hurry for us to leave?” being snapped at me.

You are ready, you aren’t ordering anymore, you said you were finished or you even asked for the bill.

This goes double for the hated late night diner that wants to camp out, yes I am in a hurry for you to leave and I’d rather have my paperwork set for the office so I can get paid than to sit on the other side of the room with my thousand yard stare being glared at you as you dawdle.

I’ve also noticed two bad habits that the diner has taken up, the first is the most insidious. The diner picks up the check presenter, looks it over, then puts it in front of them leans on it for what seems like hours.

That’s not an armrest, that’s something you put fucking money in.

The second habit is putting a credit card or cash in book so it cannot be seen and then placing it exactly in the position that I left it in. Most servers just tip toe around the table after that not knowing if they should pick up the presenter, as they don’t know if payment has been made. As a rookie server many moons ago I was accosted by an unruly guest for not making their payment in time due to this. I learned quickly and now have no problem asking if payment has been made.

So you managed to actually pick up the check by now, here’s step two, actually read the fucking thing. This counts for credit slips as well. Yes your waiter will make mistakes in their life and dicking up you check is one of them. Its much easier to ask questions when you are there than to make angry phone calls to your credit card company or our office.

Another good reason to peruse your bill is the inclusion of gratuities/service fees corkage fees or any other fee or tax. Yes your server should cover this or make a note on the check, but at the end of the day its your responsibility as well to look at the bill and its far easier than to haggle over the phone for refunds and such.

I have been on the end of nasty phone calls and sit downs with management over getting the double tip or people plain pissed that we charged money for them to bring in their own wine.
As for corkage fees, fucking deal with it, if I had my way there would be no outside food or beverages brought in, period. The other day I had a twenty-five top with a limited menu, I was excited until I saw the wine listed for the evening, not a single bottle was on our list.

Guess how much I lost out on that because they brought their own wine?

I estimated my loss at $100, not to mention that was my only table of the night since they camped out and I lost my later reservations to the closer, so maybe it was more like $200 I lost, however we will just deal with the corkage for now.

I’ve always placed it akin to me not wanting to pay for a bottle of beer at the bar and walking in with a six-pack of High Life, I don’t care if your bottle is special or not, use it at your own dinner party, not where the sale of wine is the bread and butter of both the restaurant and its staff.

But back on track to the checks…

I’m a big fan of Keep It Simple, Stupid.

1. Pick up the check within a minute or two of receiving it.

2. Read the fucking thing.

3. Fumble with the credit card slot like an invalid or place cash in a conspicuous manner.

4. Place presenter on the edge of a table.

5. Fucking leave, squatters don’t pay rent.

How hard was that? School’s out kids.

But the last time I was here...

2007-05-28T02:45:00.000-05:00

“Yeah, this isn’t what I was expecting.” The woman at table 42 said to me as I checked on them.

She had ordered a veal dish served with a crab meat garlic cream sauce and garlic mashed potatoes, not really good make out food.

“Oh, I’m sorry, what seems to be the issue.” I asked.

‘Well this wasn’t what I was expecting, the last time I was here it was different.” She responded.
I rolled my mind’s eye, I knew exactly where this was going to go. She was three quarters finished with her entrée and looking for a comped meal, well I don’t comp unless absolutely necessary.

“Well ma’am, how was the dish prepared the last time you were here?” I asked.

“It came with pasta, like fettuccini or something, and it came with crab.” She said.

The dish had never came with pasta and while it had been garnished with small, split crab legs, they were only useful as a garnish as they had little meat, we had switched to several crab claws as the garnish for the time being as they add more color to the dish.

“Well ma’am, the claws have taken the place of the legs and there is crab meat in the sauce as well” I said.

“That’s not the way it was last time.” She said.

Now it is sometimes prudent to pick your battles, in the restaurant industry we might as well be the French Army since we surrender at the first sign of hostilities.

However I am neither French nor prudent.

“Perhaps you had a different entrée last time, perhaps a dinner feature.” I said diplomatically.

“No, no, no, I wanted pasta and instead I get this.” She said as she gestured toward the vague remnants of her potatoes.

Now I love it when the guest uses the phrase, “the last time I was here,” or, “well you did it for me last time,” generally the customer is full of shit when they utter this. Or if they’re right I don’t mind reminding them that this is this time, not last time. However, on this occasion I was sure, in fact 100% sure that the dish came out as it should have.

“Well ma’am I am confident that the dish was prepared properly, next time you come in if you want to request pasta instead of potatoes I am sure we can accommodate you.” I said. This was my last attempt at diplomacy.

“I don’t think I should have to wait until next time to receive what I ordered.” She snapped back.

“Ma’am, you received precisely what you ordered, would you like me to quote my written order?” I replied.

“No, I just want this to be what it should be.” She said.

“I can get you a menu to look at if you would like, the description is thorough and will match what you received.” I replied curtly.

“Well the menu has changed since the last time I was here, I was just expecting what I had last time.” She said.

“Ma’am, I assure you the dish always has been sided with potatoes since it was on the menu.” I responded.

“Maybe it came with pasta before you worked here.” She said, desperately trying to legitimize her claim.

“I’m afraid I have worked here from the first day we opened our doors” I replied.

“This still wasn’t what I was expecting.” She said stubbornly.

“Well that’s where we’re at then.” I said, recalling a compatriots way to end an argument. I smiled and left her with a quizzical look plastered on her face much like the drying mashed potatoes on her lapel.

This was one I was prepared to cut lose, sometimes you have to do that with a table. I wasn’t planning on much of a tip, but I wasn’t planning on comping her meal, which was prepared properly as well as eaten and frankly I didn‘t want to give her the satisfaction on any more of a debate.

Unfortunately she managed to flag down one of the managers, the writing was on the wall, we were going to pay for her dinner and I knew it.

Tim (not the same Tim from other stories, but all GM’s will be known as Tim) has sat with her for five minutes, as I traveled past the table several times, I caught pieces of their conversation, pretty much a replay of what happened earlier.

I caught up with Tim at the POS station (Point of Sale computer, or as well waiters call it, Piece of Shit).

“We’re not buying that entrée are we?” I asked.

“Sometimes you just have to smile and not, Secret.” Tim said.

“That’s horseshit, either she’s a scammer or an idiot, and I have respect for neither, we shouldn’t buy her shit.” I said angrily.

“Sometimes its best just to get them out the door, I’ll drop off the check.” Tim replied with a grimace.

“Fuck that.” I said, storming off. I made sure to swing by the table after they slid their shitty ten percent tip on their bill‘s discounted total.

“Thanks a lot folks, I hope to catch you next time.” I said with a smile and a nod.

The woman shirked back from me.

I patted the check, ”hope you got everything you wanted, have a good night,” I said still smiling.

I may have picked this battle and seemingly lost, but the moral victory belongs to me, I don’t comp shit unless its legitimate, and this certainly wasn’t

Calling In

2007-05-24T22:54:00.000-05:00

Click, click, click…

Damn, battery dead and I have to be at work in fifteen minutes, I love it when this happens. I flipped out my cell and dialed work, no answer. I dialed the office number next, same result.

Nice.

Luckily I live on a bus route that takes me close to work, unluckily the next bus doesn’t swing by for another forty five minutes.

I ran back up to my apartment to wait it out, I called work again five minutes later, still no luck.
There’s a possibility that a manager is of doing something or on the other line, knowing our management they were running late, the same offense they’ve been writing people up for with all vigor as of late.

I wait five more minutes, still no answer.

Finally they answered about five minutes after my shift was scheduled to start, fate was against me and it was our fearless leader, the GM, we’ll call him Tim for this occasion.

“Tim, I’m running late with car problems.” I said.

“Well why are you calling me now?” he asked, “Didn’t your shift start already?”

“I’ve been calling for twenty minutes, I’m sure you were just busy.” I added with a sarcastic note.

“Well when are you going to be here?” Tim asked.

“The bus doesn’t arrive for another twenty minutes, but I won’t get there until about ten forty five or so.” I replied.

“Can’t you get here any sooner?” Tim asked,

“Umm, the bus is on a pretty set schedule and a cab would take even longer.” I replied.

“What about your side-work?” He asked.

“It’s easy, I just have to set up the server station and make coffee.” I said.

“Uh, how do you know what your side work is?” He asked suspiciously.

“Because I really have no reason to be late and I snuck in the back door to check out the side-work chart and decided to go drink coffee for forty five minutes,” was the answer I wanted to give. However I gave him the truth…

“Because I’m closing server today and that’s what the side-work is.” I said.

“Well if your closing server then how are you going to get your work done if you’re late?” Tim asked.

“I was hoping someone would implement this teamwork you’re always talking about.” I replied sardonically.

“Well get here as soon as you can, bye.” Tim said, finishing his interrogation.

I don't know what it is about this guy but he would second-guess the second-coming if Jesus stood right in front of him. One of my biggest pet peeves is being questioned or second guessed without reason. I may only be a waiter, but I'm not a third grader either. I don't know if I've ever had that kind of hassle with a simple late call.

So I rode our delightfully pathetic public transportation system and had to sit next to a guy who mumbled to himself for the entire trip, then I had to walk the five blocks to our place of business. I arrived just in time for the pre-shift meeting.

“Secret, you better get on your side work, we open in fifteen minutes,” Tim declared in front of the assembled staff.

“So no one decided to help me out?” I said accusingly to both Tim and the staff.

One girl announced, “I made coffee.”

“You’re quite the humanitarian,” I stated.

"If you would have been on time this wouldn't be a problem." Tim said.

I just sneered at him and walked to the server station.

Of course it was a mess and the other opening staff had their shit all over it, oh well, it had to be done. Later I learned that Tim made no effort either to ask anyone to jump in and help out or to roll up his sleeves and do it himself. Some teamwork, and I really didn’t appreciate my car trouble being second-guessed as later Tim gave me a load of grief over me covering my close shift to get a ride to jump my car.

With these ass-clowns its always teamwork until it becomes their work it seems.

The Unholy Day

2007-05-15T04:59:00.000-05:00

So I almost escaped unscathed for the four “unholy” waiter holidays of the year.

Almost.

I switched out for New Year’s Eve, skipped out of Valentine’s Day and had family plans on Easter.

I knew it would catch up with me, my karma might be getting better, but it isn’t perfect.

I was scheduled for Mother’s Day, the most feared amateur, evil day of the year when the entitlement pricks show up for their “special day”. It has been three years since I’ve worked one and I can’t say I missed it much, sure there is money to be made, but it is hard money and I really don’t need to put myself through that kind of hell to make it.

At first I protested, Sunday is my day off after all and I had a date that night (yes it went well) and beyond all of that I detest Mother’s Day.

Not because I hate my Mother or hate the idea of a day to honor mothers, its how they honor them that sometimes bugs me.

I suppose I could point out a few years ago when a table refused to pay the gratuity on their bill, that was a nice one for sure.

Being inundated with angry people trying to make last minute reservations wasn’t too fun either. If it is such a special day perhaps you should take the time to call in advance like considerate people do.

Its not our fault we don't have a table for you, its your fault for not calling ahead.

Well this year was no different, it didn’t help that I was scheduled lead server the night before and had a table camp out until about 12:15 A.M. or so. Waking up less than eight hours later for my next shift didn’t seem like such a good idea either, the fact that I was so wound up from my shift and couldn’t fall asleep until 4:00 A.M. didn’t help matters much either.

I crawled out of bed like a good subservient worker after four hours of sleep and made sure I was at least on time for this unholy day.

The shift didn’t start out so well either, the floor chart was plotted and full, the plan made and double checked. Of course in the restaurant business the plan is the first thing to go out the window when the shit hits the fan.

The first kink in the plan, for me at least, was I wasn’t to get a party until 11:15, that’s pad because I get to sit around for two and a half hours before I can get a table. Kink two was my second party in the other half of my section was in at 11:30. Murphy’s law of restaurants states that either the first party will show up late or the second party would show up early thus double seating me with two ten tops.

Murphy is a bastard because he was right, me on those tables was the equivalent of a Delta ‘88 being expected to go from 0-60 in 4.1 seconds, it wasn’t going to happen in other words.

Kink three was my fault, due to the sections being split up for parties the normal sections went out the window and many stations had tables that were off to the side or tables that were usually in other sections. In addition to my two parties I also had one two-top table, a table I didn’t notice on the floor plan and therefore didn’t notice when it was seated.

Due to their unusually long wait before I got there we wound up comping their bill, so there you have it folks, I fucked up and was a bad waiter, I’m sure some of you are loving that. Of course the table was a friend of the owner and a well known name around town, at least they were understanding and left a good tip, I just hope they don't leave a complaint as well.

Kink four was your fault, yes you, the customer.

It seemed that several reservations decided to cancel or change their dinner plans without telling the restaurant.

I don’t know what kind of bullshit goes through peoples minds when they do this. One thing I have noticed is that many people make reservations at multiple restaurants and when their party gets together they chose whatever restaurant suits their fancy, then they never call to cancel their other reservation.

Fuck that, is all I have to say.

Here’s how it works out for the server and the restaurant. Holding tables like this screws other people who want to reserve also, as well walk-in groups are turned away. Those tables sit empty leading up to the time of the reservation and we hold the table usually 15-20 minutes just in case the party is running late, that screws the restaurant. Empty tables means empty pockets for all those involved, we had 46 covers no-show their reservation. Ten in my section alone, that cost me between 40-60 dollars when my afternoon reservation didn’t bother to call in, I hope they get the trots from wherever they wound up going.

After all of that some snatch went up to our hostess, bitched her out and reduced her to tears.

“You know, I just want to tell you’re not doing a very good job.” The lady snapped. “Look at all these empty tables and you just turned those people away.

“Well those tables are reserved for other parties.” The hostess stated.

“I’ve been watching you and its apparent that you have no idea how to do your job.” The lady snapped again.

I was furious, I don’t know what I would have said to that bitch, but I hardly think that she would get away with that talking to a grown man rather than a mere child. Its also too bad the manager wasn’t up there, we had the one manager on that actually backs up the staff, he was probably more pissed than I was at the situation.

Naturally the other managers didn’t help out much, after drafting several servers that have Sundays off due to their availability, the General Manager and the other assistants didn’t even make an appearance, they left one of the most difficult shifts of the year to one front of the house manager. Maybe in retrospect it was a good decision as he’s the only competent one of the lot and I’m sure the GM would just have fucked shit up more than it already was.

Then there was the kitchen, I had a table order medium well beef tenderloins that came out looking like a plate that a massacre had taken place on, side dishes were missing, items not fired and various other calamities.

It was just poor caddying all around and the lamest Mother’s Day I’ve ever had. Not the worst mind you, but instead of an ass raping it was like getting it one inch at a time instead.

The cherry on top was this situation. A group called in and were told that we were booked for the afternoon. Then they became a name dropper, "We're such and such's cousin and he told us we could have a table."

So we grabbed a few tables and threw them together. Naturally the party didn't show up, at first.

Then they walked in the door, an hour and a half late and fifteen minutes after we stopped serving.

Luckily my karma isn't too poor, the group wasn't in my section.

I did feel bad for the server that did have them, not only did half her section sit empty for an hour and a half, only six of the group showed up. That meant no automatic gratuity and name droppers are notorious for their shitty tips. As well that also meant no lunch break for her and the equally grueling night shift fast approaching.

On my way out the door one of the Sous Chef's stopped me.

"Where are you headed?" He asked with a sly grin.

"Out the door, what does it look like?" I said.

"I was wondering if you want to work expo for me tonight, I'll buy you dinner and pay you hourly." He said.

"No chance, I have plans." I responded.

"Well I'm short a guy, I need you to stay." He said.

"Sounds shitty, but I have plans." I said.

"What kind?" He asked, as if they weren't legitimate.

"I plan to sit on my couch and drink beer while watching The Sopranos." I responded, knowing full well I was going out for dinner.

"But we need you!" He pleaded.

"Too bad hotshot, see you in a week." I said. And with that I was out the door to get ready for my date and my well earned week of fishing up North.

See you in a week friends!

"We're going to have to let you go..."

2007-05-08T17:40:00.000-05:00

So I was fired.

Many moons ago silly, not from my job today, I’m far too stellar of a waiter for that.

So many moons ago I was a bartender for a BBQ joint. Now that could sound good, who doesn’t like eating out with the common people in a roadhouse BBQ joint with B.B. King on the juke and a huge plate of ribs on your table with a checkered bib over your shirt to prevent the inevitable spillage?

Except this was a corporate restaurant with a fake roadhouse look with fake antiques on the wall and a decidedly TGI Fridays feel to it.

And the “common folk” were a bunch of suburbanite entitlement junkies with appetites for whatever restaurant opened in the last six months.

This was the place I was accused of being a racist for apparently shorting a nappy headed hoe on her dozen chicken wings.

Oops, I should be fired for that one, well I digress…

So I rolled into work one morning for my bar shift and I’ll be honest, I was about five minutes late. Of course in the restaurant world time runs a bit faster and five minutes means twenty in the eyes of both management and the customer.

Example #1: If a table waits five minutes for their bar drinks because it is busy, then it turns into twenty minutes magically when they bitch to the manager.

Example #2: If a party has to wait twenty minutes for a table, they go to the host desk and claim they’ve been waiting an hour, even when the host has what time they checked in, it is still an hour and they’re “HUNGRY/Have a show to get to!”

So walking in I checked the computer and noticed a large to-go order for a corporate account that wasn’t quite up yet, so I decided that I should use that few minutes to “drop the Cosby kids off at the pool.”

Shit, maybe I am racist.

So returning to the bar I find one of the waiters behind there getting the large to-go order ready, I thanked him and sent him on his way.

About that time the General Manager, who we’ll call Tim*, walked by and gave me a queer look as he made his way to the back office.

* A note about General Managers, they are always named Steve, Tim, Brian or some other short name as such.

About five minutes later, Bret*, the Assistant Manager came behind the bar and said, ”Secret, could you come back to the office, I need to talk to you.”

* All Assistant Managers are named Bret, all.

I acquiesced to his request and we made our way back for “the talk.”

We passed Tim and he shot me another queer look.

As he pushed a write up towards me Bret said, “Secret, Tim said you were twenty minutes late today and he wanted me to give you this.”

“Well I was about five minutes late, sorry about that, but twenty, I don’t think so.” I said as I studied the write up.

Bret responded, ”Well he didn’t see you until twenty after.”

“I went to the restroom about five minutes after I checked in, the to go wasn’t ready and I needed to go so I went.” I said.

“Did you ask anyone if you could go?” Bret asked.

“I’m not in kindergarten, I’ll go when I need to.” I responded.

“Well I more meant did you tell anyone, in case the phone rang or something.” Bret clarified.

“Anyways, Tim wanted to you to sign this and he wanted me to tell you that we’re letting you go home.” Bret said.

“Ok, are you letting me go home today, or am I being let go?” I asked.

“We’re letting you go.” Bret said with trepidation.

“Really now, after two years, for being five minutes late?” I said.

“Well Tim says you have a history of this and here’s a write up for tardiness that we documented.” Bret said.

“Why isn’t Tim here to tell me this?” I asked.

Continuing I said, “Look at the date on that write up, I remember when that happened a YEAR ago when I overslept my shift, so I’m getting fired because this is my history of being late?” I stated.

“Well maybe you can come in and talk to Tim next week about your job…” Bret stammered. “Fuck that, if he had any balls he’d be here right now instead of sending you.” I said.

“Further more, he’s been on my ass for weeks since I dropped down to part time for school, what, is he pissed that he has to do bar inventory now and all the other bitch work?” I yelled angrily.

“I don’t know, this isn’t my decision.” Bret said.

“You know Bret, I always liked you, but Tim is a chicken-shit fuck, why isn’t he here to do this himself?” I demanded to know.

“Just wait a week, I’ll talk to him and maybe we can work something out.” Bret said.

“Seriously, fuck that shit, I can walk into any restaurant in town and work, I have friends managing across the street that would hire me in a second* and I don’t have to sit at home for a week hoping I can have my job back, you can tell Tim to take this job and stick it up his ass.” I countered.

* I did just that and was training on the floor that very night.

“And I’m not signing shit.” I said as I crumbled up the write up and dropped it on the floor.

I walked toward the front door, I was right, Tim had been riding me for weeks now that I wasn’t of use to him and making his job easier anymore.

Tim was behind the bar talking to the suit picking up the catering order, he shot me his look again, one that was filled with fear.

“Hey Tim, I just wanted to tell you you’re a fucking chicken-shit and you can go fuck yourself.” I said to him as I leaned over the bar and grabbed my soda.

The suit looked startled and offended Tim winched back.

I felt free.

Tim always talked shit about employees that were let go, I think he took some pleasure in it actually.

He always said, "We were here before you and we'll be here after you're gone."

So I was feeling a bit nostalgic and I stopped in for take out seven years after walking out the door.

As I picked up my order Bret came and was quite surprised to see me, we shot the shit for a minute and I asked if he was running things yet as GM.

"Well Tim's still here, he's doing the best he can with what he's got." Bret said.

I laughed as a shook his hand.

"Catch you later Bret," I said making my way out the same doors I did seven years earlier.

I guess Tim's aspirations for a corporate management promotion didn't work out, but he was right, he's still there long after me.

L.A. Waiter Returns

2007-05-08T04:26:00.000-05:00

Oh boy has this happened to me, men are suckers for female co-workers...

But last time at least I got a little play out of it ;)

Writer's Block

2007-05-07T22:34:00.000-05:00

So absolutely dick has happened this last week at work, no controversy, no asshole customers and no server drama.

So a long time ago I did an "Ask the Waiter" type thing, so anyone have any questions on the industry go ahead and ask and I'll try to give my opinion.

And actually if anyone has any questions about my "real" life go ahead as well.

Another sad thing has happened, the author or "Wide Lawns, Narrow Minds" has called it quits to focus on her real life and to quit her destructive job, I wish her well and hope she puts up an archive.

Well fire away kids and sorry to seem lazy for topics this week.

-Insane Waiter

Insults and Answers...

2007-04-30T22:54:00.000-05:00

“How are we doing tonight folks?” I asked.

The first thing out of the guest‘s mouth was him spitting out a contemptuous, “It’s our anniversary, do we get anything?”

The first thought in my head was, you’ll be lucky to get anything at all, looking at the displeasure on his wife’s face.

“Sir, we offer any dessert on the house to help you celebrate.” I said.

In my mind I was betting he’d order the generic chocolate lava cake, well he can have that freezer burned microwave treat, much better than a homemade Crème Brulee.

But I digress…

“Well I suppose we should start off with a nice bottle of wine,” the guest stated.

“Is there anything you had in mind?” I asked.

“Can you give me a recommendation?” He asked.

“Well sir, do you think you’ll be having seafood, beef or pasta tonight?” I asked in return.

“Does it look like we’ve looked at the menu?” He retorted.

Great, someone that doesn’t know even the basic principals on which to order wine.

“Sir, do you know if you prefer red or white wine, a sweet or dry wine?” I asked.

“Dry?” He asked with a confused look. A look that stated that he didn’t know that a drink, which is wet, could also be dry as a characteristic.

“I think I would like something sweet.” His wife said.

Well at least she was decisive, but I knew what was coming next.

“Do ya’ll have White Zin?” he asked.

I shuddered to the core of my soul. I thought I would do her a favor and expand her world slightly on her anniversary, call it my little gift.

“Yes, but as well we have a selection of Rieslings that may interest you, this particular line is known for being very light as well as sweet.” I said.

“Honey, can we try it?” She asked her husband.

He grunted an affirmative.

I returned with their bottle and proceeded to present the wine in the proper form.

“Sir, would you care to see if it is to your liking?” I asked after he stared at his sample for a moment, not knowing quite what to do with it.

“Just pour,” was his response.

I started my spiel, “Well would we care for any appetizers to start the evening, we have a wonderful bruscetta…”

“Prime rib,” said the gentleman, interrupting me.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“We want prime rib, medium well for both of us.” The guest stated.

“Ok, well we have eight, twelve and sixteen ounce portions, which would you like?” I asked.

“We both want the eight ounce, you charge an arm and a leg here.” He responded.

I gritted my teeth.

“No appetizer then sir?” I asked.

“As long as you keep this full we won’t need one,” he said as he pushed the bread basket toward me.

“Ok, well I’ll get everything started for you.” I said as I prepared to flee.

“Doesn’t this come with a salad?’ He said, stopping me in my tracks.

“Yes sir, we serve a family style salad with a balsamic vinaigrette…” I said, knowing what he was about to ask.

“Well I don’t want that, I want Western.” He said.

Of course, Western, the only thing worse than ranch.

“We don’t have Western sir,” I said.

“What kind of place is this? I guess we’ll can settle on ranch.” He said.

“Yes sir,” I responded.

It’s pretty bad when you have to settle for ranch, when we don’t have that high society dressing that is Western. Too bad we had ranch for dipping on kids meals and appetizers, I would have loved to say no to that one as well.

Time goes by, I wait on other guests and finally their prime rib is ready.

“There you go folks, anything I can get you for the moment?” I asked.

“This looks kind of small,” the gentleman said as he gestured toward his plate.

I looked over his dinner and in fact his prime rib looked a bit bigger than our usual eight ounce piece.

“No sir, that looks like a pretty good piece of steak to me,” I said.

“Well I raise beef for a living, I don’t need you to tell me what a good piece of meat looks like,” he said.

I just turned around and walked away, he’s lucky he received that large of a cut, you want a larger cut, pick a better piece of meat. Luckily the rest of the dinner goes on just fine, my section fills up and for the moment everything is running smoothly. The gentleman’s demeanor shifts from adversarial to almost human…

Almost.

“Say, that’s a pretty good wine there,” the gentleman said as I poured him a taste of his second bottle.

“Thank you sir,” I said, taking full credit for picking it out. It wasn’t fine wine by any means, but you have to read your customer and I knew it fit them exactly, and I knew the lady would love it.

“Can I buy a bottle off of you to take home?” The gentleman asked.

“I’m sorry sir, but we don’t have an off-sale license,” I responded.

Continuing I said, “ I bet you can pick up a bottle at the Wine Experience and I’m almost positive you can get it at the grocery store right up the street.”

“Ok, we’ll check it out,” He said.

“Sure, besides you’d save a bit compared to what we charge for it.” I said.

That was where it all turned sour again and it was my mistake.

“How much would this cost in the store?” He asked.

“Oh about twelve dollars or so.” I responded.

“And how much are we paying for it here?” He asked.

“Around twenty eight sir,” I answered.

“That’s what I thought, and here I thought I was buying an elegant bottle of wine for my wife on our anniversary.” He said angrily.

“Sir, that’s just how the bar markup goes.” I countered.

“I don’t mind paying for a good dinner, I just don’t think I should be making the owner rich.” He spouted out.

Continuing he said, “I thought I was buying a nice bottle and now you tell me I can buy it at any grocery store in town?”

His face was starting to turn red and he went on some rant about how he felt cheated by paying that much for a cheap bottle of wine. I tried to diffuse the situation a bit, however my patience for asshole customers was nearly gone.

I put it this way, “Sir, the principle is kind of like this, when you go to the bar you pay what, three fifty for a beer, if you buy it at the store it costs about a buck fifty, I’m not trying to cheat you or insult you, its this way anywhere you go.”

“Whatever, I think I want to talk to a manager,” he said.

“Yeah, I think that’s what’s best.” I responded.

I sent Mike, the assistant manager over. Mike wasn’t too happy with me when he returned.

“What the hell did you say to that guy?” Mike asked.

“He’s just pissed about what he has to pay, its not my fault the asshole doesn’t know how to go out to eat.” I said.

“He wants to speak to the General Manager, I don’t know what you said, but he’s pissed off as shit.” Mike said.

So the GM went over to placate the insulted guest and we bought his chocolate lava cake.

I went up to pick up the payment decided to do what I do best, apologize without apologizing.

“Sir, I’m sorry if you felt I insulted you, I was just trying to help you out.” I said.

“Whatever, keep it,” he said as he pushed the check presenter toward me.

I picked it up and looked over at his wife, “Have a good night,” I said.

She gave me an apologetic smile and shrug as if to say hey, I’m the one that has to live with him.
I hope he slept on the couch given the pittance he left me.

Here We Go Again...

2007-04-16T21:24:00.000-05:00

So after work on Saturday night a gathering at a local bar took place.

There were servers and bartenders from three well known local restaurants and invariably the subject went to how our nights went and the usual bitching about customers and whatnot.

One waitress bitched about her twenty-top of prom kids that ran her ass off for Mountain Dews and Shirley Temples, with a bowl of cherries accompanying, of course.

I whined about my table of girls celebrating their friend’s birthday, along with the one entrée and few appetizers the whole table ordered.

One of the bartenders with us laid out his plight as he had his bar top customers toss him the occasional quarter rather than folding money.

We all understood.

Then Misty showed up, she works at a high-end steakhouse in the area.

“You guys bitching about work?” She asked.

“You know it,” we answered.

“Well I have the story of the night, listen to this bullshit.” She said.

“Tonight we had this thirty-top roll in and they put four of us on it, huuuuuuge party, they spent over eight thousand dollars.” She started.

“So they tipped us another $350 on top of the twenty percent gratuity.” Misty said.

“Well sounds better than my night, I only made forty bucks on my twenty top.” I said.

“Here comes the good part, since we made extra on the party the Executive Chef decided that we should tip out the kitchen four hundred dollars.” Misty said.

“Well that sounds familiar,” I said.

“Isn’t your tip-out already a third of your tips?” I asked.

“Yeah, we already had to pay five hundred dollars to the bussers and the bar, even though we had all the wine bottles out on the table and did all the wine service ourselves.” She said.

“So you ended up paying almost a thousand dollars in tip out then?” I asked.

“Something like that, I walked with about two hundred, but really should have made three after the tip-out.” Misty said.

“So what did the Chef say to you anyways?” I asked.

“He said that the kitchen really worked hard and deserved extra since we got extra.” She said.

“Was there any protest? I would throw a fit,” said another server at the table.

“Well we protested to the General Manager, but he talked to the Chef and agreed with him.” Said Misty.

“That’s bullshit,” another in our party added.

“Then the Chef tried to pull a guilt trip on us, he said we were all just greedy and implied that we didn’t deserve to make that much money.” Misty said.

“That’s fucking illegal, I just read about another place that was taking the staff’s tips, he just can’t do that.” I said.

“Well we called our human resources department and they agreed with us, but the General Manager still wouldn’t give us our money.” Misty said.

“Fuck that, management has no right to distribute your tips, the guest left it for you, not the kitchen. Kitchen gets salary and hourly, they aren’t tipped out employees, your Chef is a thief and it is illegal for him to distribute tips to non-tipped employees.” I said.

“He even gave the dishwashers $50 each, to wash thirty fucking dishes!” Misty exclaimed.

“Fuck that, call the state Attorney General’s office or the labor department, these fucks can’t get away with this shit, I quit a job because of this shit and these managers have no right to take away what you earned.” I said.

“I make three bucks an hour, where was management when it was slow and I was pulling fifty bucks a shift, that’s ok but if I make three hundred I’m being greedy and don’t deserve it?” Misty asked.

“They have no right to determine what you make, report them tomorrow, I swear I’ll call it in myself!” I said.

Misty sat there and sipped her beer with a pissed off look on her face, “fucking bullshit,” she muttered.

"And to end it all, we are allowed to take home wine that our parties don't finish as part of our reward for such a group, they had Silver Oak and Stag's Leap so we had some good bottles to take home, except the Chef wouldn't let us and took them home for himself." She said.

"Sounds like he's the one that's greedy to me, he's pretty liberal with other people's money, and other people's wine as well, fucking travesty." I said.

"Fucking bullshit," Misty said as she took another sip of beer...

Obnoxious Inebriation

2007-04-14T03:22:00.000-05:00

Dear chain restaurant/chain restaurant manager…

Right now I am mightily drunk, I had deep conversations on life, racism, the war as well as our beloved restaurant industry in the last few hours, here's a few things that may infuriate you...

As well as the grammar Nazi's out there.

First off I violated the rule of having three tables/12 "guests" in my section.

I had eight tables at the height of tonight's rush (did I spell tonite wright?)

And a total of twenty four guests rolling in my section at the same time.

I suppose I could have had several (ten) less "guests" and had a better ability to give proper service, after all my chief purpose in this business is to service the "guest".

Was that period in the right place? Last time I messed with a period I got dumped, but I digress.

I guess I was a greedy son of a gun (not a bitch, my Mother's a Saint!) but with that extra ten people I made another$1,000,000 or so, at any rate a higher number than any server should deserve.

I probably could have made a bit less and provided a marginal bit of extra service, but rather than sell desserts or coffee I pushed you out of my section for another table.

"Dessert, well they're oooooooooook, no we don't have expresso...

(Apologies, espresso)

Bamn, another $200 table instead of a camper with their $5 desserts.

Then I took seven tables, one was an eight top, to the chain restaurant managers I do apologize, I should have split that table, but I was greedy.

Instead of pulling $35 on a split I put myself ahead and rolled with $70.

Oh yeah, I won the sales contest and brought home a nice bottle of wine on the house.

I guess I don't care about the guest as much as my own income...

But they are related now aren't they, I care about the guest as much as my income is involved.

But time to go, "Rocket Queen" is on my stereo and its time for one last beer before I have to wake up and play an actor again.

As we say "Peace, Love and Chicken Grease."

Was the period in the right place?

Small Victories

2007-04-02T23:42:00.000-05:00

Well in life we all have our small victories. I have been back at my old restaurant following the debacle at the bistro where the owner felt that he deserved a slice of the tips.

I made that decision for the simple fact that if I trained at another restaurant for another week I would lose pretty much a full month's income and I don't think my landlord would take to kindly to that one, plus I had just dropped $600 on textbooks and for some of us of the proliterate class that can be a bit of a hit.

Initially I was just going to work the holidays and move on, but there has been a few developments along the way.

Mostly the loss if about 50% of the staff.

That being so there were fewer top servers left as the winter rush picked up and that meant more money for me and a few others that had managed not to get fired or decided to move on.

The one real issue for me upon my return was the fact that the general manager, who was a corporate yes man in the highest sense, had brought the chain restaurant notion of small sections that theoretically would lessen guest complaints and such.

Well that theory in my eyes is just that, a theory, while the reduction of my section by 15% is more a bit of reality.

So several of us were on a campaign to human resources and the other new assistant managers to improve section sizes to what they were for four years, because although our new GM had been there for three weeks, he apparently had a better idea of what changes needed to be made than, oh say the entire staff, other managers, owners and anyone with a nervous system.

So for several months we went on with smaller sections and weaker servers to fill them. The staff we had to replace was pretty much the best one I have ever worked with, their replacements belonged at the Olive Garden.

Well, weeks of bitching, complaining and a few talks to one of our restaurant's owners payed off.

"How come your section sizes are so small?" He asked me on one occasion.

I was sure to let him know my opinion, one that he brought up in a management staff meeting, he was concerned about our lack of tables and its effect on our incomes. That can be a true rarity in this business.

So the next week the GM gave us some BS story about how impressed he was about how we handled the holiday rush and such so he was going to enlarge the sections. Like it was his idea, really it was the efforts of the service staff and our protest above his head that did it.

Personally I think it would have been better if we just kept our strong staff and those capable of being proficient servers instead of hiring sub-par staff, but that's just one man's opinion.

Irregardless we won, and the only good part about this whole deal is there are few servers that they feel can handle the largest sections and large parties, apparently I am one of them.

So I guess every cloud has a silver lining, and in this one I am cashing in on the inexperience of the staff with a larger section than they can handle and first pick on large groups.

Damn, it make it hard to quit, I think I might make this work for the moment.

Catchphrase of the Year...

2007-03-31T05:09:00.000-05:00

Drunk guy at the bar: "You're an asshole, you know that?"

Me: Yeah? Well I've been called far worse by people better than you."

Flashback

2007-03-13T19:17:00.000-05:00

Place: The server line, random corporate steakhouse.

Time: 7:35 p.m.

Situation: Madhouse

“Ok guys, we need all of you to do a birthday roundup on table 65!” Shouted out the floor-dick GM.

Response: Groans of frustration and disgust.

“Come on guys, they’re here to celebrate with us!” GM quotes the handbook, which he erroneously believes in.

Really, celebrate with us? I'm in the mood for a celebration

Everybody starts to line up to go shout a bastardized version of “Happy Birthday” to some frightened six year-old who probably will start crying due to all the noise.

“Hey Server, get in line!” GM shouted to me.

“Fuck that, I just got triple sat!” I shouted back as I loaded up my drink tray.

“Maybe your section is too big for proper service then?” GM threatened.

Now this is corporate management threat # 27, immediately threaten the server’s section size and thus income with the excuse that we’re not providing good service.

If we argue against this threat we are a threat to the drone-like employee model that they point out that we don’t care about the service a customer receives.

“No its not too big, I’m just to fucking busy and don’t have time for this stupid birthday deal.” I grumbled.

“What’s with the attitude, do you want me to send you home?” GM threatened.

Corporate management threat #132, immediately threaten a server with either being sent home, termination or suspension if they show any sign of stubbornness or will.

Of course in my mind I do want to go home, a three table section is nothing that I can’t easily handle, and I remembered my old job when I was given five to six tables on a consistent basis.

Taking this job was obviously a mistake, one that I would correct in a few weeks.

So I put my drink tray down and followed the group of unenthused servers to the table. We had to clap the entire way and put on a big spectacle for the entire restaurant to see, pretty embarrassing for everyone involved.

So after the public humiliation I ran back to the kitchen for my drinks, of course someone had thrown them all out. I started over with new glasses and the assistant floor-dick came up to me.

“Haven’t you been to your tables, they don’t have drinks on them and we have a thirty second greet time around here if you haven’t figured it out.” He said.

“You know I’m pretty fucking busy right now, why don’t you just let me do my job.” I snarled back, after all it was management that hindered my ability to get to my tables in the first place.

“What, do you want to fucking go home?” Assistant floor-dick snarled back.

Yes, yes I do…

Fast foreword five years:

“Sir, do you do anything for birthdays?” A customer asked.

“Sure, any desert is on us tonight.” I replied.

“I mean can you get everyone to sing for us?” He asked.

I looked around, it was about 7:30 and we were getting creamed, a flashback of the night at random corporate steakhouse went through my mind.

“Sorry sir, we don’t sing here, and if I did it I’d probably lose my tip.” I said.

The customer chuckled.

“I’ll be right back with the desert menu.” I said.

So much simpler than, “Happy happy birthday, we’re so glad you came, happy happy birthday, on your special day!”

Damn, I still remember the lyrics

Oh this made my day...

2007-03-06T20:57:00.000-06:00

Oh I just love how mature customers can be. Yeah this takes it to a bit of an extreme to be sure, but I thought it was pretty funny, both the story and the consequences.

Also I love how the manager refused to ask the table to leave, classic behavior there.

From: Naples News

"A former Naples city councilman was sentenced today to undergo a psychological examination and take anger management classes after pleading no contest to spitting on two women at a restaurant in December.

Gary Galleberg pleaded to the misdemeanor charge of battery this afternoon before Collier County Judge Mike Carr. Galleberg, a former Naples vice mayor, also must fulfill 50 hours of community service, pay a $500 fine and serve six months of probation.

Prosecutor Mara Marzano had pushed for a guilty plea but Carr agreed to Galleberg pleading no contest. Carr also agreed to withhold a formal finding of guilt.

If he violates probation during that time, he could be sentenced to up to a year in jail.
Galleberg, who lost the 2004 race for mayor to Mayor Bill Barnett, was arrested Dec. 14 on the misdemeanor charge of spitting at the two women and on their food during an incident the evening of Dec. 7 at Blu Sushi restaurant at the Third Street South Plaza.

He spent a night in jail and was released after posting $1,000 bond.

Outside court, Galleberg denied that he spit on the women or their food, saying it was a large table. He admitted his behavior was rude and inappropriate.

The police booking sheet identified the women as Kate Piscatori, 28, and Erin Wilkinson, 33, both of Naples. Piscatori couldn't be reached for comment and Wilkinson said she wanted to speak with her attorney before talking publicly.

In an earlier interview, Piscatori said they reported the incident to police because Galleberg's 4-year-old daughter, Laura, was on his shoulders when he spit on them.

Several affidavits filed by the women and witnesses say a table of eight women were celebrating an event and were dining outside Blu Sushi, when Galleberg’s daughter banged on the restaurant window for at least 10 minutes. A woman at the table, Rebecca King, 27, gestured for the girl to stop, then motioned to Kristen Galleberg, who didn’t understand. So King went inside and asked Galleberg to stop her daughter and she apologized for the behavior.

“A little while later, I was startled when I heard very loud banging on the window,” King’s affidavit says. “I turned around to see the woman banging on the window as hard as she could. She sat back down and gave a coy little wave. We ignored it and went back to talking.”
“After a few minutes, I was again started to hear banging on the window,” her affidavit says. “This time it was the husband banging as hard as he could.”

They asked management to have them leave, but were told they were regulars and it was the holiday season. About 45 minutes later, they said, the Gallebergs were leaving, when Galleberg's wife insulted King and Galleberg cleared his throat loudly and spit on them and their food.
Galleberg, a former corporate lawyer from New York, is now a private investor and serves on the board of directors of WashingtonFirst Bank in Washington, D.C. He served on Naples City Council from 2000 to 2004, when he ran for mayor."

Nature of the Beast

2007-03-01T00:56:00.000-06:00

Its 6:50, and I’m nervous.

My 6:30 ten top is running late, they didn’t answer their confirmation courtesy call, they didn’t answer when I called them fifteen minutes ago either.

I have had three of my tables blocked off for the first hour and if they don’t show I’m out a round of tables, and a round of income more importantly.

As well there is an eight o’clock reservation in my section for twelve, they are to be in the same section that my late party was to be in.

I’m pissed, this has happened all throughout the holiday season to both myself and many other servers. Sometimes the group never shows, other times like tonight they are late.

The party showed at five till, they were below my expectations, much like their tardiness foreshadowed.

No appetizers, no salads, only one or two drinks…

Management was all over me trying to have me move them out as fast as possible, we were booked and both the restaurant and myself needed that space open for the later party.

But they were campers, I did my best to hustle them out, abbreviated a desert spiel, meaning they didn’t get one, didn’t offer coffee either.

I almost had them out with ten minutes to spare.

I had the check in their hands, then the mom brought up the subject of dessert.

“Please just go, please just go, please just go,” was running through my mind while I stood there with a fake smile as they discussed the subject.

They didn’t go.

I watched bussers jam in tables from the party room to accommodate the other group, they had to wait in a crowded area while the table that was late held up their reservation.

Twenty minutes later the group finally left, I watched in envy as my other group was sat in another section.

I watched in envy their server opening bottles of wine, selling steak, appetizers and ports for dessert. Sometimes it’s the luck of the draw with these things.

The next night we were getting all set up and it looked like another good one. I had a couple eight tops to turn and burn and my friend Scott had two twenty tops back to back.

So we rocked out and set up the restaurant and got ready for our big night.

“So gonna break three bills tonight there Scotty?” I asked.

“Well I hope so, I better not get some bullshit like you had last night.” He said.

“Yeah that was crap, at least you have more than an hour and a half to burn out that first one.” I said.

“We’ll see…” He responded.

So around six or so I see Scott tearing apart his section.

“No show?” I asked as I helped him straighten tables and pull off sweat laden water glasses.

“Yeah, they’re a half an hour late, management didn’t even take a phone number.” He said.

“Jeeeeeeeeesus, not again, we really need a deposit or something on this type of thing.” I said.

“No shit, but that wouldn’t fly in this town, we have no backbone.” Scott pointed out.

“So what’s the story with your section?” I asked.

“Eh, they’re trying to throw me a couple four tops before the other group comes.” Scott replied.

“Well hope they spend five hundred buck,” I said.

“Humph! We’ll see.”

Scott didn’t get any four tops, just a couple two tops that at on the cheap, and apparently tipped that way as well.

“Fucking five dollars on fifty, what a stain!” Scott exclaimed after another stellar gratuity.

“Nature of the beast, nature of the beast.” I said

So we hurriedly threw his tables back together and put out twenty fresh setups and twenty fresh iced waters.

About twenty minutes later Scott was doing the time honored ritual of throwing shit and cursing in the kitchen.

“This place is run by fucking chimpanzees!” He declared.

“What, another no-show?” I asked.

“Fuck it, lets grab a cigarette.” He said.

“Yeah, but I quit…” I said.

“Lets. Have. A. Cigarette. Now.” Scott said firmly.

Another time honored tradition, smoking by the dumpster. (Don’t worry, we wash our hands before we serve you, snicker*)

“So what happened this time?” I asked.

“Apparently the first two couples sat down in the bar for half an hour before they bothered to notify the hostess that instead of twenty there would only be four of them.” Scott said.

“That’s crap.” I added.

“Yes, apparently they didn’t bother to see if the other sixteen people were going to show up, so yeah, now only four.” Scott said.

“People like that should be eviscerated. Assholes.” I said.

“Well fuck it, I’m going home, I don’t give a shit what the floor dicks (managers) say.” He said.

“So how much did you make on your three hundred dollar night?” I asked.

“Counting that last five bucks, well I made eighteen dollars.” Scott said.

“Ouch, that hurts, what the hell is up with these parties this week?.” I asked.

“Nature of the beast man, I’ll be down at the pub, drinks?” Scotty asked.

I responded with, “Yeah man, drinks.”

Another One Bites the Dust

2007-02-27T03:51:00.000-06:00

A few things about this week.

One of the managing owners came in the other night as a shitty snow/ice storm hit the area.
His entire extended family was supposed to come in for dinner, about twenty five people or so. We all were looking forward to it as he probably was going to take care of the bill and he is a pretty good tipper.

Well we had the entire party set up, had to move tables from the basement and fun stuff like that, then they cancelled.

Understandable considering the weather.

Well I came up to the owner and said, “Hey, we had that set up so nice and it took all that hard work!” in a jesting manner.

“Man, its treacherous out there, they can’t be expected to drive in this!” He responded.

“Well I made it in, apparently you expected your staff to drive here in this weather.” I said.

He was speechless and kind of gave me a queer look, then walked away.

And it was a dead night, I had three tables and a few of the reservations showed. Most cancelled, or rather I should say we called them to confirm and they cancelled.

As well a very good friend of mine was fired this week for a bullshit reason because the new management had it out for him. I might get into that another time, but it was this guy that was 86‘D with me many years ago.

He’s been with me at the last three restaurants and damn, I just hate this corporate restaurant style bullshit. It would have been one thing to be fired for fucking up, but because some ego centric manager is an impotent dick and incompetent is a totally different situation.

All of the other managers know how pissed I am and are keeping me at arms length, he was a popular guy around the restaurant and basically a legend around town as a waiter. The mood at work after he was fired was that of a funeral.

The whole day after I was furious and ready to explode. One of the assistant managers came up to me and asked if I was going to quit.

Don’t think that I didn’t think about it.

But for the moment I could use this job, I have no illusions about it, at this point I’m only in it for the money and for the short term. Sometimes I just hate this business, but that’s why I go to college, I just have to get through this year.

Not that I haven’t said that before…

Saturday, Feb 11th

2007-02-21T02:32:00.000-06:00

“Thank you for calling, how can I help you?” I asked.

“Umm, yeah, can you get four of us in at 6:30?” The man on the phone asked.

“I’m afraid we’re booked until eight thirty sir, I can get you in either then or if you make it here by 5:30 I can pencil you in then as well, “ I responded.

“Well I have tickets to a show tonight, I need to be there at 6:30.” He said firmly.

“I’m afraid I can’t fit you in there sir, we’re quite busy tonight, it is Saturday, after all.” I said.

“But its my girlfriend’s birthday, we’re going out with friends and she really wants to go there before the show,” his voice had gone from firm to pleading.

“Sorry sir, we’re very busy tonight and I can’t fit you in, thank you for calling.” I said.

He grumbled a “thank you” and hung up.

I don’t know why I did it, I can’t believe I picked up a host shift on a Saturday afternoon.

I guess I didn't escape unscathed after all with the Valentines Day weekend.

Once again, “Thank you for calling, how can I help you?”

“I’ll be coming in tonight with a party of six at seven o’clock, the name will be under Dr. Rosenrosen,” The man calling stated.

“Well Doctor, the soonest I can get you in would be eight thirty.” I responded.

“Well we have to eat at seven, that time is unacceptable.” He replied haughtily.

Actually calling in a group only hours before you want to eat with that attitude is unacceptable.

“I’m afraid we’re booked solid, its impossible to get you in before eight thirty.” I said.

“Well that just won’t do!” He exclaimed.

I was just about to reply with an oh so sincere apology, but there was nothing but dial-tone.

Another call…

“I want a reservation of two for eight and I want a window table.” Was the request.

I look at the floor, a ten top and a fifteen are taking up all the window seats.

“Sir, I can squeeze you in at eight thirty, but I can’t promise you a window seat.” I said.

“Well we eat there all the time and we’re friends with _________,” He said.

“Sir, there are no window tables available.” I said.

“That’s unacceptable, is _________ there, I want to talk to him.” He demanded.

“No he’s not in today, would you still like to dine with us tonight?” I said.

“Well I guess, I just don’t see why we can’t have a window seat!.”

I penciled him in for a section that was a long ways from mine, with a shitty waiter.

Just then a group of three ladies came in the door, thirty minutes before opening.

“Hello there, what can I do for you?” I asked.

“Uh yeah, we’re here eat?” One of them stated, while making a motion that implied that for some reason as a restaurant employee I wouldn’t know why people would come in to eat.

“Well miss we don’t open for another thirty minutes…”

She interrupted me, “Well your door is open, that means you are open.”

“Nonetheless, we won’t be serving for another thirty minutes.” I said.

“Well we want to be seated,” she replied.

I looked over my shoulders, the sections weren’t set up and the servers were bustling about preparing for the shift, no way was I going to take one of them away from their side work.

“Ladies, the bar is open if you would like to wait in there and have a drink,” I said.

“I just don’t see why we can’t have a table NOW!” She replied.

Just then the phone rang, I never thought I’d be so happy to hear that noise.

“Excuse me ladies while I take this,” I said while pointing in the direction of the bar.

They just huffed and stomped off.

“How can I help you tonight?” I asked.

“I called earlier about coming out with my girlfriend tonight, I don’t know if you remember me.” The caller stated.

How could I forget.

“What can I do to get in at 6:30? I’ll do anything, I’m begging you here.” He pleaded.

Normally I wouldn’t be above taking twenty bucks, but there was no way I could fit him in without bumping someone who actually was responsible and that had made their reservation in a timely manner.

Instead I said, “Sorry sir, there’s nothing I can do, if you want to come in earlier I can get you."

He hung up.

Just then the night host came in.

“I don’t know how you can put up with these people,” I said.

“It’s a special kind of hell,” he replied.

Yes it is.

I put my tie on and started to do my opening side work. After we were all ready the chef went though the features and management did their usual BS rah rah motivation speech that was met with apathy. The host came up and asked the managers if we were ready for table, he was given the go ahead.

The first table went right in my section.

It was the three ladies who threw a tantrum.

“We just don’t understand why you didn’t seat us, you were here the whole time!” The lady exclaimed.

I briefly stated we weren’t ready with our preparations.

I asked them for their drink orders, white zinfandel of course, and was about to go into my feature spiel when I was interrupted…

“Don’t you have something that you should be telling us?” She asked with an accusatory tone.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“Aren’t there specials you should be telling us about?” She clarified.

Sure, I went and rattled them off.

“Oh, and if we did seat you when you came in I wouldn’t have been able to tell you what the features were, just thought you should no that.” I said

‘What did you say?” She asked sharply.

I was already back turned, heels clicked and headed to get them their sickly sweet hobo wine.

I Am Here

2007-02-17T02:44:00.000-06:00

Ok, well spelling, grammatical and errors of such aside, I am still here.

Am I posting as much as I had in the past?

No.

Am I posting as much as I would like?

No.

Am I retired and pulling a "Server Stories" with no posts for six months?

No to that as well.

I appreciate people reading this site, there are many posts in the archive for new readers, I am happy some people have enjoyed this blog, equally as happy that some people have been pissed or aggravated.

The fact is this, I am working part time in this industry as of now with an increased amount of credit hours in college. Beyond that, the fact is that last semester I had upwards of what end up being forty some pages in essays, tem papers etc.

I will have as many or more this semester, so I am limited on what I am expecting myself to write.

I am not out of stories or controversies, nor am I wanting to stop as of now.

As a goal I would like to post at least once a week, something I have fallen sort of for the last few
months, something that I do regret.

I ask patience, or if it is your desire, this is a free country and you can choose something else to read or comment on.

I am just as happy having ten hits a day as a thousand as this has been a forum for me to vent on what I deem as a release for me or as what I view as injustice.

I enjoy your feedback and comments, and as always any and all are free to read, comment or disagree,

The Secret Server.

And Now a Reading...

2007-02-14T22:13:00.000-06:00

From the book of Servitude: 4:20

Lo, a rumbling in the East, the sea of red roses was replaced with the thrifty and the meek.

Behold the seas shall boil and fire and sulfur shall rain from the heavens.

False idols shall be worshiped and moneychangers at the halls of mark shat profit from man’s foolishness.

A holy meal of sustenance shall be prepared, and though there is much want on the bodily plane, cartons of transport filled with the fruits of grain shall be forgotten by the absent minded.

And it shall come to pass that the chosen one will not toil this eve nor be subjected to the wrath of the petty and cruel…

A sacrifice of a young virgin shall take his stead at the alter of judgment, the cruel overseers thwarted at last.

The serving gods have been pleased and the hours of the day shall be spent in glee and…

Battleground 2, Modern Combat on X-Box 360 Live!

All praise the cruel and all knowing god of Servitude.

Thus ends our reading…

You Must Be In Proper Uniform

2007-01-23T15:36:00.000-06:00

Every restaurant has a uniform, at some establishments the dress requirements are far from uniform.

For instance one may only be required to wear a certain color, the make of the dress can vary.
Other places have silly t-shirts, logo polo’s or even pit crew button ups, Hooters has, well hooters, TGI’s had the silly flair, then there is the standard white Oxford that seems to be prevalent among Italian, French and Moldavian restaurants.

Other standards of the uniform can include a lighter, wine key and a smile.

Yes, our written uniform code requires us to have a smile for work.

I wonder if they’ll threaten me with a write-up if I forget mine at home.

But I digress.

The purpose of a uniform is so one can physically represent the restaurant as an employee, be easily identifiable to the guest as well as look professional.

The uniform inherently strives to take away one’s individuality, this is one of its latent functions.
Now I am not a conformist, I was brought up to question everything, just ask my present and former managers.

If you can imagine I may have been a slight irritation on one or two occasions,.

But I digress again…

The uniform can take away one’s individuality, now I have worked in a few places that actually seem to encourage an employee expressing themselves with hair style, dress, facial hair, ear-rings and so on.

At my current gig it seemed to be sort of in the middle, true, we had to wear the ever famous Oxford and bistro apron, but that was about it.

That and a smile.

Well as we have gone to the dark side of corporate management we now how the aforementioned written uniform “code”

We have to receive management approval if we change our hair cut, with what ear-rings we can wear, no more fun hair styles, no more individuality.

We are uniform.

Gone are the days of the quirky memorable waiter, corperate wants everything to be the exact same every time you come in, and that includes vanilla, bland drone waiters.

So when the new management came along they decreed as well that we would be required to purchase our shirts from them and from no other location.

So we turned in our shirts that dared have buttons on the collar.

No more pockets either. Turns out that those two little shirt details were mocking the code of uniformity. So we bought the shirts.

Except since they come from a cheap uniform company they aren’t sized like a regular Oxford would be.

They don’t fit.

The women’s sizes tended to unstuck anytime they reach for something or bend over.

The men’s are far too big in the body, but so tight around the neck they can’t be buttoned. And they are a polyester blend, goodbye comfortable cotton.

Hello sweltering heat.

Whoever came up with this line of shirts obviously has no idea of a functional, comfortable restaurant uniform. I literally gag when I button up my top button, so do several other employees.

One of my friend’s neck is of the size that he literally chokes when buttoning his up.

So we pull up our ties, leave the top unbuttoned and make the best of it.

It went ok for a bit, then management started harping, threatening write-ups and such for us flaunting the uniform code by refusing to choke ourselves out or vomit.

My friend Derek came in and was threatened with a write up for violation of the uniform code.

He even buttoned his top button to show that he could not breath.

He literaly turned purple and started choking, he had to un-button his shirt.

“Derek, that doesn’t look professional, if you don’t button it up I’ll write you up.” The manager said

He took the write up.

“It isn’t our responsibility to make sure you guys have shirts that fit.” One of the managers proclaimed.

“Actually when you tell us we must buy our shirts from the restaurant, it DOES mean its your responsibility.” I replied candidly.

I noticed the manager’s shirt was unbuttoned at the top, hypocrite.

Well with the Derek situation the manager decided to be pro-active.

He decided to make a trip to K-Mart and buy Derek a shirt that fit, without telling him.
The manager returned with a shirt that was two sizes too big and he said that Derek either had to wear the shirt or go home.

So it was considered more professional to wear a puffy shirt of Seinfeld like proportions rather than simply pull the tie up. Even more than that the shirts violated the uniform code by offering such features as a pocket.

Then the management gave Derek the bill for the two shirts.

$95, at K-Mart.

I didn’t even know they had shirts that cost over twenty bucks.

The shirts we are to be provided with by management cost $17 (no wonder they suck)

I can go down to Yonkers and buy one for $20.

But Derek’ cost $45, so far he has refused to pay for them, so would I.

Oh Joy

2007-01-10T03:01:00.000-06:00

Well I made it through the holiday season suitably scarred as usual. I have a couple good yarns but those will have to wait a week or so.

Although a few good things did happen along the way.

Not with tables, of course silly.

The serving gods had seen fit to reward me with my self flagellation with not only Christmas Eve off but New Years Eve as well, too bad the only kiss I received was off my buddies drunk girlfriend, but there's always next year.

But yes, I made it through the first "amateur night" of the year without having to work and I can only hope my sacrifices to the gods will allow me Valentine's Day off as well.

Hope furry white bunnies will quench the gods' bloodthirsty appetites.

Juuuuuuuuust kidding.

Wink*

Well class started yesterday and I decided to celebrate by skipping the first week and going on vacation.

No books for now, just the beach and looooooooooooooootsa booze.

So take care all and will catch you all next time!

Outbreak!

2006-12-26T19:45:00.000-06:00

Well here’s what happens when the majority of restaurants have call in policies such as this or oppose offering health benefits to their employees such as stated here.

In the news during the last couple weeks there were articles and newscasts reporting the Norovirus outbreaks that have been attributed to The Olive Garden restaurants.

Locally there was an outbreak at Trostel’s Greenbriar (excellent dining btw) and the same employee was found working at The West End Diner (not so excellent), article here.

Well enough with the hyper linking for now.

My point is this, many restaurants make employees feel obligated to report to workif they are ill.

If I were to call in to work with vomiting or diarrhea the assumption from my management staff would be that I am nothing more than hungover and need to get my ass to work.

This can be applied to anyone that works in many restaurants, particularly corporate chains.

Personally I have worked for three corporate restaurants and the staff was intimidated into coming in sick with the threat of termination or write ups at all places, my peers can attest to the same treatment where they have worked.

In the restaurant environment if you do stay home ill you are virtually marked as a troublemaker and risk losing shifts and prime sections as “punishment” for the crime of falling sick.

As well there is no sick pay, so if you stay home you lose out on a shifts pay.

You might be required to go to the doctor to bring a note excusing yourself from work, never mind that health insurance is often not offered and that a simple doctor visit can cost $150 just for them to tell us we’re sick.

But really that’s noting I haven’t said before.

So what do most of us do?

We suck it up.

We go to work with sore throats, the flu, bronchitis, diarrhea and what have you.

We’re told to wash our hands often (which we should do)

But in most cases, when half a dozen people touch your food before it gets to your table, this approach is just a feel good safety method.

So what happens is the customer and other staff members fall sick when we either are forced to work or can’t afford to take off.

Most of the time it is a simple cold bug that gets around, no one traces these things back to restaurants because they aren’t that much of a risk.

Hell, I’ve seen half or a restaurant’s staff come down with a cold or the flu, I wonder how many of the customers came down with it as well?

But when a Norovirus, E. Coli or Salmonella outbreak hits it spreads fear which a head cold won't.

People are afraid of tainted spinach, lettuce, green onions or stomach flu and the restaurants that they are traced to.

Is it because some server, some cook didn’t wash their hands?

Or is it because the employees might lose their jobs or income because management can’t manage the shift when employees are ill?

So Olive Garden will lose many customer’s and the owners and investors will take a hit, servers will have less customers and the good reputation of a local restaurant will diminish.

They might have staff meetings reminding everyone to wash their hands, wear gloves and all of that common sense.

But at the end of the day when someone calls in sick they’ll be told…

“Either come in and work or you won’t have a job.”

The same thing that was said to me a several years back as a rookie server when I had the flu.

I came in.

Customer, right?

2006-12-17T23:45:00.000-06:00

Another bit of wisdom...

"The phrase ‘The Customer is Always Right’ is the single worst philosophy that has ever been adopted by American culture. It gave an entire generation of people the green light to be as impolite, unreasonable, and demanding as their little hearts desired because they were always going to be considered right. It destroyed the entire concept of courtesy and rendered manners obsolete. People began to treat their peers in the service industry like incompetent morons, lacking in feelings or human dignity, who deserved to be browbeaten and abused for no other reason than they had the audacity to run out of a particular brand of coffee. Furthermore, instead of suffering negative repercussions for their appallingly disrespectful behavior, they are awarded with free coupons and plenty of ass kissing. In reality, they should be shunned and humiliated for behaving like such self absorbed little children."

More at:

Violent Acres

Common Sense

2006-12-17T04:02:00.000-06:00

Caught this on Bitterwaitress, how to be a good customer. I agree full heartedly

Customers can fall short too:10 Tips to be a good one

By Tucker Shaw, Denver Post

A couple of times over the past month I've made the point in this column that the standards for restaurant service in the Denver area are, in general, not as high as they should be. But that is not my point today.

Today, instead of griping about service foibles and frustrations, it's time to turn the tables and see a different point of view. Because it's not only servers who are falling short. It's us too. We've all been there: You're at dinner with someone whose attitude and behavior make you cringe. He or she complains about everything, scoffs at and speaks condescendingly to your server, throws attitude and leaves a miserable tip. You find yourself smiling extra broadly to your server to make up for it, even slipping a few extra bucks under a glass of water on the way out to make up for the difference. It's a horrible feeling.

On behalf of overworked, and underpaid and underappreciated servers, here are 10 things the rest of us need to keep in mind.

One: Your server, (not your servant) is a human being and deserves your best manners. A moment of eye contact and a smile up front, the most basic and respectful way to acknowledge a fellow human being, can make the difference between a smooth evening, and a bumpy one-on both sides.

Two: Your server works hard. Quite likely, they work even harder than you do. Staying on your feet for four to six, or eight hours at a stretch is a lot to ask of anyone. Throw in having to schlep plates, fight with chefs, absorb customer frustrations and maintain a positive outward attitude-this is a tough, demanding job, worthy of out respect and admiration.

Three: Your server doesn't make much money. Few and far between are the restaurant jobs in Denver that pay servers to say, buy real estate. And benefits? With very few exceptions, forget it.

Four: Every night is a gamble for your server. Most of us know much we're getting paid every week, whether we're busy that week or not. But beyond their sorry base rate (usually around $2-something an hour) restaurant servers are paid based on how much business the restaurant does that particular day-and how generous people are with their tips. If it's a lucky night at an expensive restaurant, a server can net up several hundred bucks. But $40 and $60 nights are much more common.

Five: You are not the only one in the restaurant. Ever had to do more than one thing at a time at your job? Then you can relate. Don't hog the server with endless questions. Ask about the menu, yes, but think first. Questions like "what should I have" are about as unreasonable as "what size am I?" when you're on the phone with J.Crew.

Six: Your server cannot read your mind. If you need something, say so. Don't stew on the fact that your iced tea needs more ice. It's unfair to resent your server for not noticing, then punish them with a bum tip. Seven: Patience is always appropriate. Berating the host or hostess will not free up that patio table any faster. Stay in sight so you're not forgotten, and be willing to give them a few minutes' grace. And if the wait for your table is longer than you're willing to wait, just say goodbye (A good restaurant will at least buy you a drink if you wait more than a few minutes.)

Eight: Your server deserves the benefit of the doubt. If, for example, the wrong entree is delivered to your table, you can be sure it was an honest mistake. (who would do this on purpose?) Before you go busting chops, give your server a break. Point out mix-ups politely.

Nine: Remember, you chose this restaurant, not vise versa. What's on the menu is what's available. Don't make unreasonable requests, like asking for the three-cheese lasagna without the cheese, or a cold beer for your 14-year-old son.

Ten: Don't skimp on a tip. It's 2006, and a 10 percent tip isn't cool anymore. Between 15 and 20 percent is appropriate. When in doubt, leave a little extra. It's good karma.

Long story short: Good service requires honest participation on both sides. So, if we expect our servers to do a better job, we must be willing to step up too.

I've Been Tagged!

2006-12-11T03:44:00.000-06:00

Ok, I normally don’t do blogger things like memes or tags or anything but I was tagged by Strip Club Server and she’s a sexy beast so I better comply, beside, I really don’t talk too much about my real life outside the restaurant so here we go!

5 things about me that you don’t know.

1. You know I’m a wine snob, damn White Zin drinkers! Well I also am a beer snob. I actually don’t look down on customers, friends, et al, that order domestics. Except maybe the “Boooosh Light” and “Keeeeeeers” . So when I go out I pretty much drink good stuff like Czechovar, Spaten and any type of IPA that I can find, pretty much stuff that will put hair on your chest, and evidently your back as well. Plus I’m a big fan of Brew Pubs, if you’re from the central Iowa scene you’ve probably seen me bellied up at Court Ave or hanging out at the “Coon”. And although I may be a beer snob, really there is nothing like an ice cold PBR on a hot summer day.

2. I am absolutely terrified of public speaking. Which is very strange considering that I get up in front of strangers everyday and speak for a living. Not only that but I usually go on a lengthy and detailed spiel about any features and such. I’m finally taking a speech class and I’m pretty sure I’m going to wind up having an anxiety attack in front of everyone. This all stems from a business law class I took and halfway through a presentation I froze and forgot everything I was talking about. I stumbled through the rest and decided law isn’t the right career for me. Evidently selling a twenty top on the virtues of Ruffino Gold label is ok though.

3. In high school I once had my paintball gun confiscated from me by the police for shelling our arch-rival’s school busses with them. As well we did all kinds of fun stuff to incoming freshmen such as chase them around with paddles (I know, we stole that one) shooting them with paintballs and spraying them with super soakers filled with Kool-Aid, nice sticky mess. Pretty much a bunch of hick style fun straight out of Dazed and Confused. By the way my Mom knows nothing of these events, but she will now I suppose!

4. I’m a huge movie buff, have about 300 DVD’s and a Netflix subscription. Going to see Apocalyto tomorrow, and really I don’t think this one will be anti-semetic. Top movies in my list are The Big Lebowski, All Quiet on the Western Front, Caddyshack and Goodfellas. As well I’m starting to collect television series such as my personal favorite Seinfeld, Curb Your Enthusiasm and The Sopranos, of course, next up Buffy!

5. I absolutely love history. I take every course I can take, though unrelated to my major, and probably should teach it. Unfortunately I probably make more as a server and I really don’t have the patience to try to get through to a bunch of kids that probably don’t care and are more concerned about degrading a kid that want to learn or purging their lunch before they gain a calorie. That being said for some reason I find the decline of civilizations interesting, there’s something about being at the end of something that is kind of special, if a bit sad. I always find it interesting that the Aztecs foretold the end of the world, and it pretty much came true on the year that they predicted,, So I read about the fall of Rome, destruction of Nazi Germany, the fall of Alexander’s Empire, pretty much the end of decadent societies. It can be noted that there are many parallels to our own, I could list some, but that would be a bit preachy and a downer.

Well there you go, a few absolutely random things about me. If you want to know more, field a question! I might answer it. I’m not really going to tag any bloggers, especially since pretty much all of my little circle has already been tagged by others! Catch you next time everyone

Oh How Cute!

2006-12-05T16:32:00.000-06:00

“Oh your table has just the cutest little girl at it!” Exclaimed Nikki, one of the female servers.
I only could give her a grimacing look.

“What, you don’t like kids?” She said accusingly.

“I don’t like many things,” I said.

My eleven top had turned into a nightmare of two couples and their seven kids, they had taken over my section and the toddlers of the group were running rampant past customers that might actually spend some money.

“Um yeah, can we move over to that table?” asked one of my other customers.

The table was out of my section, I would have to give them up.

And they looked like the type that would drop some serious cash, including a twenty spot for me off of their two top table.

I grimaced again.

“Sure, I’ll get you set up over there.” I said.

I didn’t blame them for moving, hell I’d move too if I was them.

I blamed the eleven top and their demon spawn.

Nikki had come up to the table in the meantime and was fawning over the little girls, just as one rushed out in front of a waiter trucking through with a heavy tray over his head.

“Oh my! They are so adorable!” Nikki gushed.

As she said this one of the other little girls started breaking her crayons and throwing them across the restaurant.

“Sir, you might want to keep an eye on your girls, I wouldn’t want one of them to get hurt.” I said.

“Oh they’ll be fine.” Their father replied nonchalantly.

I spied another toddler crawling on the floor.

“Well there’s a lot of people coming through here.” I reiterated, thinking of customers and servers with drinks and heavy trays.

The man just waved me off.

Parents.

Jesus, if I acted like that when I was a kid I’d be on the way home by then, with the prospect of a hard hand against my ass.

But these days it might hurt the poor self-esteem.

So the group finally gets settled down enough to order.

Except the kids at the end of the table, they managed to fortify themselves under their chairs.

“Ummm, yah, she would like pasta with sauce on the side, not too much butter, but with chicken, can she get that on the side too? And can she have marinara instead of alfredo? And she can‘t, I repeat can‘t, have anything green on the plate, she won‘t eat it! That means no parsley or anything.” The mother requested for her daughter, for a kids meal.

No wonder people these days are so finicky and entitled.

Parenting.

“Sure sure,” I answered.

So after similar orders for the other kids I’m sitting at a $100 eleven top, not the best table sales wise.

After taking the order I was doing the usual, dodging kids in my section why trying to appease the eleven top’s annoyed neighbors.

I could tell who and what they were going to take their “ruined” dinners out on, me and my tip.

So as I was returning to my table with the adult’s salads I spotted the adults standing together in a group, with concerned looks on all faces.

“We need a band aid right away!” One of the mothers shouted.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Just get me one now!” She snapped.

“Yes ma’am.”

Returning with a band aid I asked again, “what happened?”

“We found this!” The mother hissed as she placed a sliver of bloody glass in my hand.

Yeah, I want a bloody sharp object in my hand, thank you much.

“My daughter cut herself on this, I want to speak to a manager now!” She said.

“I just don’t know how this can happen.” The dad said.

Oh man, I wanted to speak up.

It happened because you feel you don’t need to control your children.

It happened because they were crawling on the floor of a restaurant.

A floor that can get quite filthy from the hundreds of people that walk on it, drop food on it, and yes, break glass on it.

Instead I fetched the manager.

I caught part of their conversation, mostly the manager groveling and offering comps on their dinners.

The parents just couldn’t believe we ran the place with broken glass strewn about.

Well in a darkened restaurant it might be hard to find a sliver of glass that slid under a table leg.

That’s one reason out of many that children should not be crawling on the floor or under the table.

It wasn’t acceptable when I was a kid and it sure as shit isn’t acceptable now.

Late, Sunday Night

2006-11-29T00:59:00.000-06:00

It was right before close a few years back on a typical slow Sunday night when I noticed I had a new table.

They one of the regulars, one of the ones that we wish weren’t regulars and hoped would move on soon. They were a young couple in their mid-twenties, and the man of the relationship was a snide jerk.

Every time he came in it was something.

I understand every now and then the service is slow, food cold, dinner not what you expect or even a long wait at the door.

But I had waited on this guy for the last three weeks straight and it was always something.

He always wanted a free dessert or a comped meal…

And he always tipped shit, like 5% style.

So being set up for disaster I took the table with my usual Oscar Award caliber performance.

“Well hi folks how are we tonight?” I asked.

The gentleman looked at me from under his troglodyte like brow.

“Iced Tea.” He replied.

I wasn’t shocked at his answer, it was one I’ve heard many times before.

“And for you miss?” I asked the lady.

“Ya’ll have Mountain Doooooo?” She asked.

“We sure do!” I answered enthusiastically.

She had ordered Mountain Dew the last three weeks straight.

I know, I refilled it at least six times.

So they ordered the usual basic Italian, Chicken Marsala and Lasagna…

Hell I still know what they ordered and this was three restaurants ago.

So by the time I had placed their order with the kitchen they were in need of refills.

These definitely are the type to down as many as possible, although my record for customer refills was eleven raspberry iced teas, they never did quite break that feat.

So naturally I slip up.

The gentleman’s drink had begun to perspire and as I set down his refill of tea it slipped from my hands, and although I caught it about a third of it had spilled on his brown shirt and blue jeans.

He almost exploded out of his chair at me.

The man started freaking out about how I ruined his shirt (brown, no stain) and how I ruined his experience.

“Sir, It was an accident, let me get a towel.” I said reasonably.

I almost had to reassure myself that indeed it was an accident.

But I’m not that petty to spill on someone purposefully for a few weeks of hassle and bad tips.

His girlfriend had to almost hold him back.

“Its ok honey, just let it go, let it go.” She said soothingly to him.

He was still breathing heavily.

For a second there I thought I had a fight on my hands, then he eased back in his chair and started breathing normally.

So a few minutes pass, I talk some smack about the nutcase at table 102 to the kitchen staff, and their dinner is ready.

After dropping it off a minute or so pass and the bartender catches me in back grabbing a coffee.

“Hey man that wack-job is looking for you out there” He said to me.

Fucking great.

I reapply my oh so genuine smile.

“How is everything doing so far?” I asked.

“This is crap, what is this?” He said pointing to his date’s dinner.

“Chicken Marsala.” I replied earnestly.

“I worked in a kitchen for two years, and this shit isn’t Chicken Marsala, that’s just gravy over a chicken breast.” He said menacingly.

“Well sir that’s our Marsala sauce, not gravy, and that’s how it is prepared.” I said.

“Well I want you to get her a new one, right now!” He exclaimed.

“Sir, I’d be more than happy to do that, but that’s how our chef makes the Marsala, it’ll come out the same way.” I explained.

“I want another one.” He said.

“Hey Jeff, I need a remake on this Marsala.” I said walking back in the kitchen.

“What’s wrong with it?” Asked Jeff.

“I don’t know, nothing, they didn’t even take a bite. Guy says that it isn’t Marsala, its gravy.” I said.

“We don’t even have fucking gravy!” Jeff replied.

“Just make it, please, this guy's being a fucking prick.” I said.

Jeff graciously complied and out popped a new Chicken Marsala, looking just like the first one.

Why? You may ask.

Because it was prepared properly the first time.

So I went back to the table with the new dish

“Well apparently your chef doesn’t know shit, he can’t even make a fucking Lasagna, mine’s cold!” The gentleman said as I arrived.

Probably because he didn’t eat any of it in the time it took to replace his girlfriend’s dinner.

“This is bullshit, I don’t even know why I come here, your chef sucks, your food is shit and you spilled crap all over me, I want to see a manager now!” He said.

So I went on the hunt for the shift manager, this would be a fun one to explain.

The search took me past the kitchen.

“Hey man how was that Marsala?” Jeff asked.

“The man says you can’t cook and your food is shit.” I replied.

“Yo fuck him!” Jeff replied.

“No shit man, no shit,” I said.

So by the time I had snagged the manager the bartender had ran in the back.

“Hey, your shithead buddy there just walked out the door and was bitching me out on the way.” He said.

Great, a walk out on top of everything.

Sarah, the shift manager just sighed.

“At least I don’t have to talk to them.” She said.

She voided their ticket and it was almost like they were never there.

They never returned to the restaurant, and thank goodness for that.

I hate that type of regular, if only I hadn’t accidentally spilled his iced tea. Then he’d be back the next week with another complaint and another shitty tip.

Sell Out

2006-11-28T15:51:00.000-06:00

Management has cracked down on all aspects of the restaurant due to the owner's new totalitarian regime.

Write ups were threatened and management warned us that they were keeping a secret police type log on any rule infractions and that they may write us up without us signing the documents or being aware we are being disciplined.

Well about a week ago one of my coworkers that I am friendly with was called back into the office to discuss a card that was filled out with him as the waiter.

Apparently a table had come in later in the night when we ran out of the fish entree, being that it is the lent season we have been running friday features as an alternative to our red meat dishes.

"Nick" as we will call him, informed the table and went on to the other features and such.

The table made a comment about us running out of the dish, but if we don't have it there's not much we can do, there are other seafood entrees on the menu as it were.

Around that time Nick was seated another party, this time of eight.Once again they were not able to order the features, no big deal this time around.

So Nick received a comment card from the first and smaller party.

Apparently their side of the story was Nick told them we were out and then went on to sell the other party the fish feature.

They said Nick lied to them and was a bad waiter and yada yada.

Nick relayed his side of the story and that no, the party of eight did not receive any fish features as we were out.

Why would he lie?

A party of eight is automatic gratuity so he wouldn't have held out for a larger tip from them.

Maybe if he didn't like the table he would lie, but that would be rather petty and since the feature spiel is at the beginning of a dinner he would have no motivation to lie for that reason.

Well the manager heard him out, and pushed the write up towards him.

When you sign a write up it pretty much means you admit to the actions described, which means he would have to admit to lying to his table while serving the dish to the other party.

Apparently Nick tried reasoning a bit further, but they made him sign it anyways.

Once again way to back up your staff.You take a very honest and hard working guy like Nick and call him a liar.

Management is so afraid that the almighty customer might call the owner, hell they probably sent the assclown that wrote that letter a free gift certificate as a reward for being a lying piece of crap.

Way to sell out your staff once again restaurant industry, and yes this type of behavior is the rule for these middle managers, not the exception, unfortunately.

Side Note, I may have posted this a long time back, it was in my document file, though not on my archives here.

Benefits

2006-11-14T15:58:00.000-06:00

So it is rather well known that most restaurants offer little to no benefits.

This includes sick pay, vacation pay (remember I received 150 for an entire week off), profit sharing, 401k, regular minimum wage and health and dental benefits...

Well I did have a 401k at a former spot which was nice...

And they do offer insurance where I am currently employed, unfortunately since I make $3.09 an hour my checks wouldn't cover it so I purchase my own private insurance.

One staff member had their insurance deducted from their checks, and at the end of the year it was realized due to the deductions, the taxes weren't paid to the IRS, thus they received a $2,000 tax bill.

Yet another reason I pay out of my pocket.

So I anticipate the arguments that we all need to get real jobs, after all restaurant employment is non-skilled and thus undeserving of benefits. I do believe that when you treat restaurant staff as real employees that they respond with doing a great job and actually sticking around instead of contributing to the ever high turnover of our industry.

Turnover which is far more expensive in the long term than insurance, for instance.

And I tell you pretty much everyone is glad when they can receive health care of all things.

Well the city of San Francisco has made an effort to require all businesses, including restaurants, help uninsured employees receive benefits.

Under a new law San Francisco requires employers to give them health benefits!

How radical!

This would cost between $1.06 and $1.60 per employee worked hour.

Not bad when you consider the low wage of service staff.

Of course this is unacceptable to the Golden Gate Restaurant Association (the same group which opposed living wage regulations for restaurant employees)

Here is the article from "The Examiner" by Joshua Sabatini.

"SAN FRANCISCO - A group of restaurant owners filed a lawsuit Wednesday that could jeopardize funding for The City's ambitious plan to provide health care for more than 82,000 uninsured residents.

Pushed by Mayor Gavin Newsom and Supervisor Tom Ammiano, the recently adopted health care ordinance was unanimously approved by the Board of Supervisors, but largely opposed by the business community, which will have to pay a portion of the program's estimated $200 million price tag. The program is expected to begin this July.

The Golden Gate Restaurant Association, a nonprofit group representing the interests of restaurant owners, allege in a lawsuit filed with the U.S. District Court in San Francisco that The City's health care ordinance is pre-empted by a federal law, known as Employee Retirement Income Security Act, which sets national standards for employee benefit plans. The federal law prevents states and local governments from dictating specific terms of an employee benefit plan, which includes health care benefits.

"ERISA broadly pre-empts all state and local laws relating to the administration of federally governed employee welfare benefit plans, the lawsuit said. If implemented, the ordinance would intrude both directly and indirectly upon the administration of such plans.
The health care ordinance requires businesses with 20 employees or more to invest $1.06 to $1.60 for each employee hour worked for health care.

"The judge will rule that the intent of ERISA is violated by the funding mechanism of the health care program," said Kevin Westlye, president of the Golden Gate Restaurant Association.

While not having seen the lawsuit yet, proponents of the health care ordinance were quick to defend it against a legal challenge.

"This law was written very carefully to avoid pre-emption under ERISA," said Ken Jacobs, chairman of the UC Berkeley Center for Labor and Research. "This law is like the minimum wage law. It sets standards for spending on health care. The law says nothing about the content of the health services, which is what ERISA addresses."

"I haven't read the details of the lawsuit but I am confident we'll prevail and it won't stop our momentum over the course of the next year to begin the process of implementing the San Francisco Health Plan," Newsom said.

Westlye and other business leaders wanted to explore other options to fund the program, such as a quarter-cent sales tax.

"[The lawsuit] is an example of what happens when a process like the health care mandate does not seriously take into consideration the financial impact of legislation on small businesses and restaurants," said Steve Falk, president of the San Francisco Chamber of Commerce. "It doesn't surprise me that a lawsuit has been filed just out of frustration of not being listened to."

So restaurant owners are claiming that they can't afford to pay their employees a dollar more per hour because the policy could have an adverse effect on their profits.

These owners would risk having all people who would be positively affected by this ruling the loss of their health care, as this could hold up benifit plans in all industries.

They would rather have a tax hike that would effect everyone in the city...

Rather than pay their employees $1.06 more in the form of health care investments.

That is why I can't stand this business at times.