It's all you buddy

I've been thinking about the way people talk to the help. There are certain things, that when said to us, often solicit a very specific reaction. For instance, the phrase, "it's all you buddy," usually makes the hairs on the back of my next stand up as it usually prefaces a ten percent or verbal tip. Another one that usually send my heart sinking is, "thank you so much, you were the best waiter we've ever had." Anytime a guest feels the need to tell me I am the best waiter they've ever had, it is usally because they are compensating for the 5-8% waiting for me in the check presenter. And also, while it really is a nice sentiment, it also hits home in strange way. I am the best waiter - hurray! It's like being the big fish in a small pond or being the best at a sport when all of the others don't know the rules. Is it really something to be proud of, being a good waiter? But that is something for an entirely different entry - one that I'll post when I'm feeling especially full of self confidence and a genuine joy for my job.

There are myriad statements that trigger a Pavlovian response in the waiter.

"Can you bring us lemon and sugar please?"
This makes me think you are a cheap bastard who is audacious enough to make lemonade in front of me instead of paying the two dollars it costs to actually buy one.

"Don't worry, we'll take care of you."
That special gem is ususally spoken by someone whose heart is in the right place. They mean well. They somewhat understand what it is like to weight tables -all the issues of timing, pleasing guests, and managing a station. They know that one table making constant demands can upset the fragile harmony of the station. They also know that they are going to be that table and believe that by apologizing in advance with the offer of extra cash, it is okay to run the waiter like some kind of personal slave. Nine times out of ten that "hook up" is nothing more than 20%. Wow, you left me the industry standard? Thanks!

"I'm a waiter too." or "We're all servers also."
This one really boggles my mind. I eat out fairly often and I don't feel the need to tell the waiter that I'm also a member of the club. The waiter who feels the need to share this with the waiter is usually about to break some cardinal rule of serving. Don't be a demanding, outrageous guest to another server! Typically it goes something like this, "We're all waiters too, so we're really sorry about this, but can we get ten separate checks?" Or, "I'm a waiter at _____, do you think you can order me this on the fly? I need to be out in twenty minutes." No no my friend, you are really saying, "I don't mean to be rude, BUT..." This person is also fishing for a discount. Once again, no no. If they are a regular or I have some kind of rapport already established, then by all means, yes, I'm going to bring some free goodies to the table. But I'm not going to comp that dessert just because you don an apron a few nights a week as well.

"We need to hurry. We have to get the airport."
Really? Really? I might not be the smartest person in the world, but I have figured out over the years that when pressed for time, when in a rush, when facing possible missed flights and the loss of hundreds of dollars it might not be the best time to head out to a sit down restaurant. There are these really nifty places out there called fast rood restaurants and grocery stores that actually make food available to you cheaply and within minutes. Highly worth checking out when in a pinch.

"Can we get a chair for the doll?"
I work within minutes of the American Girl store and hear this one more often than you might think. No, no you cannot get a chair for the doll nor can you have a height chair for the doll. You might find it cute and your daughter might find it cute. But you are not here to be cute. You are here to eat a meal. If the doll orders a cocktail or at least an appetizer, than maybe I'll bring out a chair.

And because this entry was a bit of an angry rant, here are some of the funny things I've heard people say to their mothers/grandmothers while waiting tables:

"Look out Grandma! They might put you to work flipping burgers."

"Do you want some ice cream Grandma? No, no ice cream? You're too full? Then how about some fudge cake Grandma - you want a little fudge cake instead?"

"Grandma, they can probably make those gin gimlets you like so much."

"You remember what happened the last time you ate pork chops Grandma."

"Grandma, don't order anything too hard. We just paid for those teeth."

"You've always enjoyed a good beer or two haven't you Grandma?"

Who cooks all those manly meats?

I was going through some of my notes last night and happened upon one of my favorite customers. She was a well dressed, fairly attractive, middle aged business woman who dined at the chef's counter one evening. The chef's counter is a diner style counter that curves around the end of our open kitchen, allowing guests to view the excitement of the grills while they munch on their steaks and other such treaties. This particular woman and I established a nice rapport, discussing different foods and wines we enjoy. We made our way through the normal small talk over the course of the meal, hitting on the weather and Chicago landmarks among other topics. Near the end of the meal, she waved me over the counter and asked me, "Michael, are any of these men the chef?" She was gesturing to a pack of frantic line cooks sweating over the enormous grills, and drinking sprite from pitchers. "Oh no ma'm," I explained, "these men are the cooks. They prepare all the dishes but the chefs are the men in white coats, running the line from the other side." "Well, are any of these cooks Brazilian? Do you have any great Brazilian men to prepare the meat?" Hold up. This is probably where I should have excused myself from the conversation under the guise of another table in need, but I couldn't help myself and I plowed forward. "Well it's hard to say. Our kitchen staff is from all over Mexico and Latin America. They represent many different South American countries." "I asked because you know how those Brazilians love their meat. They grill all of those manly meats down there you know. Like at that Fogo de Chao restaurant - all of those manly meats being prepared by those Brazilian chefs." At this point I was choking it was so difficult not to giggle over this woman's constant repetition of the phrase "manly meats." "Oh yes, Brazilian steak houses are certainly well known," I replied, "but I don't know if any of these cooks are Brazilian." "Well I'll have to ask them. I'll have to ask these manly grillers where they learned to cook meat. They must really love it you know, to be slaving over these hot grills, cooking all of these meats, these manly meats." Seriously? I mean, seriously? Was that woman really saying those things to me, and how could she possibly think it's okay to say such strange, oddly graphic things to the waiter? I couldn't hold in my laughter any more and blurted out, "gross." "Excuse me," she replied. "I'm sorry ma'm, but could you please stop saying manly meats so much to me. It's really the most comical way you could describe the meat." Thankfully, she also began to laugh and we both agreed it was a very silly conversation we were having. I excused myself to fetch a refill for another table and thanked the woman for her conversation and for the unintended giggles as well. People say the most outrageous things to their waiters. It's nice though, every shift is different.

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.