Funny things part 2

Some more gems delivered to me at the workplace...

"Are you our server? We'd rather have a girl...with boobs...I mean, you know, with nice ones."

"You look like a smolderingly handsome version of Angelina Jolie's brother."

"The people you have to take care of are at this end of the table. The rest of the table is my family and all they need is a bottle of white zin and some ice."

"Isn't the waiter cute? I just want to put him in a box and take him home with me."

"No, my son won't be eating because he has a smart mouth. So he can watch the rest of us eat and when he's hungry later he'll think twice about talking back to his mother."

"Did you always want to be a server?"

"I'll bet you'd like to go to school one day." (I have a B.A. which I obtained five years ago from a respected university

"Don't leave too big a tip. They'll start expecting them if more people do that."

Funny things said to me this week...

"Go ahead and tell him. Tell the waiter how you're the first one of us to turn 50."

"I'll have the apple juice and I'm ready to order at your convenience." - as said to me by a seven year old

"What's black and white and red all over? The newspaper." - as told to me by a five year old

"Please hurry. We need coffee and hot rolls now!"

"I need a drink recommendation. You should know I'm an ex-marine."

"My friend doesn't drink so I'd like her portion in my glass as well."

"Please try this card. If it doesn't work I'm running."

"I don't want to share my dessert. Please don't bring extra spoons."

"I'm on a special diet. It's terrible. I can only have things that have been boiled."

I'll have the waiter with a side of creepy

One of the first things said to me at work tonight was, "Go check out 306, he's so cute." At another point in the evening I found myself asking a coworker, "Did you see blue shirt by the host stand? Hurry before he gets seated." There's a funny sexual tension that always hangs around a restaurant. As employees we know that sex sells and some of us act accordingly. Some employees know just how to wear that uniform in such a way that you feel compelled to throw a few extra dollars into the tip. Working for a corporate restaurant in an issued uniform, there's less room to play. When serving on our patio however, we are allowed to wear any black shirt we like, and as such this station at times looks more like a runway show of tightly fitted, low cut black shirts that are more flattering thant the corporate smock. Ask any bartender especially if they are aware of flirting with the customers as a means to earning a better tip. Everyone enjoys it. It's nice to receive a compliment or some special attention. It can even be fun to engage in a bit of cheeky conversation with the server. As long as no one becomes too overbearing it can be a fun game to engage in some harmless flirtation with the server...on TWO CONDITIONS.

You may not proposition the server, hit on the server, or undress them with your eyes if you plan on leaving anything less than 20%. And under no circumstances is it okay to joke or imply that the tip is dependent on the server playing back.

The minute we begin feigning an attraction or hitting on you out of some sense of obligation is the minute we become whores. You're no longer paying us to bring your food and drink, you're paying us to stroke your ego with some verbal fluffing. In an informal survey of my coworkers I was hard pressed to find more than a few that have never been propostioned by a guest. And further, I was shocked at the number of servers who have been invited home for a threesome! Apparantly there are times that the customer is looking for something not on the menu. One of my favorites was the gentleman who left me his card with the name of his hotel and room number written on it. He also the took the time to circle the prefix before his name: Dr. I was tempted to show up with fifteen of my coworkers and show him how waiters party when they get off work. Another time a guest started hitting on me while I was using the urinal. He continued to talk with me while I zipped up, washed my hands and dried them. I assured him that while I do like to travel I don't plan on visiting St. Louis anytime soon, no I don't know what time I get off, and that I would be more than happy to answer any of his questions back at the table. When it came time to deliver the bill to his table he requested separate checks and wrote a message, including a ;), next to his 10% tip. That's just plain tacky. If you're bold enough to assume that the waiter is going to sleep with you, you've pretty much put it out there that the waiter is a bit of a whore. In doing so, please also assume that we are of the highest class and as such require you to tip accordingly.

One of my coworkers once had a guest by her a bottle of champaign to take home and invited her to join him in his hotel room the following evening for some more. Another coworker's table told her as they were leaving, "please read the comment card. You were wonderful." The comment card read, "Call us, we'd love to see you outside of work ;)" Again with that winky face! It's awfully silly and naughty with that winky face. What's a little threesome at the end of the shift? All in a day's work! And I've heard all kinds of propositions used on my coworkers. "I'd sure like to dip you in that chocolate sauce...why don' you just have one drink with us...you like to eat beef?" For the that last one, remember that I work in a steak house and when said with the right tone of voice it becomes one of the creepiest pickup lines I've heard yet.

I could go on forever about the sexual character of a restaurant so I'm going to call it a night here. And if anyone reading this plans to proposition a server in the near future please remember to tip accordingly, but not so much so that it appears you are trying to buy it.

There's a reason you're a waiter

I was recently reminded of this little gem. People love to throw out that condescending, pretentious zinger at the help. "There's a reason you work at the gap...there's a reason you're a waiter...there's a reason you're a telemarketer." And God love them, they are right. There is alwasy some reason we do the work we do, it just might not be the reason you had in mind. For instance, I wait tables because I make over ten thousand dollars more a year than I ever did in social service, I have the best benefits package I've ever had, I never work overtime, and I can pretty much get any shift off with minimal effort. Many of my coworkers choose to wait tables for similar reasons - they have their days free to go to school, or their nights free to be actors or artists. They can work only a few days a week and still cover all their monthly expenses. One of my coworkers only works Saturdays and Sundays as a cocktail waitress, and she makes more money working eight days a month than many people do working twenty. She was the recipient of some customer hate a month or two ago and got to hear those magic words - "There's a reason you're a waitress!" Actually yes, there is. It's so she can go to nursing school full time while still earning a full time salary working only eight days a week. It's best not to judge the help too quickly. The majority of my coworkers have bachelor's degrees and many possess masters degrees as well. I once had a coworker who was working toward her doctorate when she wasn't busy fetching your rolls and water.

The main source of the problem, I believe, is that waiters are human. And as such we make mistakes. Especially when you consider the number of people we serve in a day, week, or month's time. I probably serve at least forty people every night, assuming I get three rounds of tables in a mid sized section. Bearing in mind I usually work four dinners a week, that equals 160 guests each week, which becomes 8,320 guests a year...not to mention all of my lunch guests. Logically, I am bound to make a mistake at some point, while processing over eight thousand orders a year. There's going to be an incorrect order or two in the bunch. When I make those mistakes does it mean that I am some sort of stupid monkey forced to wait tables because I am too ignorant or lazy to do anything else? Or are those mistakes a reflection of my human nature, my inability to be perfect all day, every day?

But what if? What if your waiter really is so ignorant there is nothing else he or she could do? What if they really are your server because they are too stupid to suceed elsewhere? Well lucky for them everytime someone reminds them of that. Thank God there will always be those customers out there who smugly take joy in the fact that someone else has to be their servant. And what a relief that those customers also happen to be perfect - never making any mistakes of their own.

Waiters are liars

It's true. We lie to you. A lot. But to our credit many of those lies are things we tell you to make your dining experience a better one. Yes, there certainly are those times we lie to you because we want to upsell you a more expensive item (no, the boneless ribeye is terrible, get the porterhouse instead), or because we don't want to do something (actually the cappucino machine is broken so I can't make you any). Those lies will be reserved for another entry, as today I would like to focus on the times we lie to you for your own good. I have the perfect example from one of my last shifts.

I was waiting on my last table of the evening - a very low maintenance eleven top of twenty somethings. Everyone was happy, I was always a step ahead with my service and the meal was going well. As I cleared the empty dinner plates a request was made for the dessert tray. WHY?! Why does the last table of the night always have dessert...and coffee...and after dinner drinks...and then more coffee....and perhaps another drink? It's like they know they are your last table. They see the dining room thinning out, take note of the sea of empty tables around them and settle in for an extended post dinner stay. Sometimes referred to as "campers" these guests revel in their ignorance, lounging about until the lights go up and an impatient waiter has cleared everything off the table, including water glasses and even the salt and pepper. BUT, that too is an entirely different entry. Back to the task at hand - waiters and the lying lies they tell.

I brought the dessert tray to the table and began presenting our disgustingly huge desserts to everyone. As I rambled on about the delicious chocolate cake I spotted it. An enormous cockoach running wildly about the tray. Mind you, our restaurant is not exceptionally dirty or unkept. This is just the reality of restaurants. They are full of foody treats and as such will always have bugs to some degree. You can never get rid of those ingenious roaches. They are nearly indestructable, crafty little fellas that can and will live anywhere. This ambitious roach happened to make it all the way to the middle of the dining room and set his sights on a true prize, the dessert tray. I quickly brought the tray up high. near my face, so that the table could no longer look down on it. They all began arching their necks and straining to see the desserts as I quickly plowed through my descriptions. One guest attemtped to pull the tray back down, prompting me to lift it higher and take a step back from the table. All the while the roach ran about, back and forth over the display desserts, no doubt planning his next move up my arm. Worried that it would be spotted and not wanting to make contact with the beast, I excused myself from the table and returned the tray to its stand in the corner. When I returned to the table I explained, "I'm just going to tell you about the desserts. You don't need to see them. I love talking about them." "No," someone said, "we'd really prefer to see them. Why can't you show us the rest of the tray?"

Hmmmm. Tell the truth and give out lots of free stuff? Or tell a lie and look like an idiot? Valuing job security over my image at the table I chose the latter. "Actually," I went on, "I hurt my arm pretty badly this morning and that tray is so heavy. I'm sorry I just can't hold any more trays tonight. Which desserts would you like?" It was the best I could come up with in the moment. Glad to see I learned something from all those years of improv in college. I was about as clever as a rock at that moment. The table pondered this for a minute, one person replied, "Um...okay, I guess," and they eventually ordered several desserts. I had no choice. I was forced to lie to the table for the greater good. They didn't need to know about that roach and have their meal ruined. My manager didn't need to waste his time apologizing to my table and issuing comps and I certainly didn't need the grief of supervising the whole debacle. Clearly this lie was justified,as are many others that waiters tell. It's sad but true - there are times we must lie to you. Not because we want to, but because we want you to come back.

When bad waiters happen to good people

Tonight I made my (not so) triumphant return to the restaurant after four sick days. I am in no way ready to return to work, but as stated in previous entries, no work=no money. So I mustered all the positive energy I could, drank an extra big cup of cough syrup, took a couple hits off the fun inhaler the doctor gave me and set out for my dinner shift on the patio. I have Bronchitis and a nasty head cold at the moment, so there is constantly an insane amount of pressure in my sinuses. It leaves me feeling sluggish, angry, and hearing things as though I'm at the bottom of a well. Only able to capture about half the things my guests said to me this evening, I frequently just shook my head at them while smiling and repeatedely saying, "Okay...Okay." Understandably, there were quite a few miscommunications tonight. "Oh, you wanted extra barbecue sauce? I'm so sorry I thought you said potatoes." I was constantly apologizing for bringing someone the wrong item. About halfway throught the shift there was a moment when my ears popped and I could hear everything perfectly! Then the hearing in my right ear went out completely and the hearing in my left ear took on superhuman or robot like abilities. Thankfully I could hear what people were saying to me, as long as it was all directed toward my left ear.

The high note of the evening came with table 717. While serving their drinks I misjudged the weight on my tray and dropped all of the drinks onto the table - more specifically onto a cell phone, into one man's lap, and mostly into another guest's expensive coach purse. I really did an impressive job of filling the purse with delicious Caribbean Long Islands. They were very understanding as two of my managers miraculously appeared at the scene instantly and began handing out cards and apologies. We got them dry and offered to pay for any cleaning or replacement costs and I carried on with the meal. Things were going great...until I spilled a beer onto another gentleman's steak and mashed potatoes. I had now spilled five drinks on two separate occasions at the same table. I'm not sure if they could tell I was having bad night, if I came across as mentally challenged, or if they were just nice people, but God love 'em, they went with it. They were able to laugh about it as I assured them I am actually a very good server and that I was most sorry about the beautiful purse. My managers comped their entire meal, which helped ease the mood some more at the end and also secure me the twenty percent tip I probably wouldn't have gotten otherwise.

Overall I was slow, unfriendly and looked miserable. I am shocked that none of my guests comlained and that I actually made twenty percent tips all night. It's terrible having to serve other people when you're sick but it certainly helps to be serving good people. Thank you to all my lovely tables tonight. Except for Sloppy Joe Rib Man, my last guest of the night. You sir, with your extra roles, your extra sauce, and your spooky ability to eat every ounce of meat off the bone while coating every dish on the table in barbecue sauce, as well as your .80 tip - you get no thanks from me.

Sick sick waiter

The silly waiter has had to give up two shifts this weeks due to illness, so I guess it's time to finally see a doctor. It's funny that I have put off seeing a doctor, in that I pay a small fortune every month for a benefits package. It's pretty cool that the restaurant offers us benefits - one of the few perks of the job. It's time to finally use them and get well. So no posts for a while, as I have arranged my schedule for the next four days off. It's time to lay on my couch, take medicine, watch a ton of tv I've been wanting to see, and eat PBJ's and drink calcium enriched orange juice (for some reason I find this food combo very comforting when I am sick). Check out the blog in a week or so - more gems to come.