Some 1-liners, and a pic

Two ladies I waited on were taking this
to their Dad, a BK founder it turned out.
I'm so honored they let me get a pic!

I use a lot of "lines" in my line of work, and occasionally some of the best have come from the very people I wait on.

Perhaps many of us in the waiting tables industry have heard some lame ones from guests.. such as when you bring the check, the host might say (older people say this, I've noticed) "Oh, we won't be staying for the drawing.." as if to say there's no reason to present them a check at the end. Like I said... LAME!

After about the third time I heard this one at age 19 or so, I finally fired back "Need not be present to win" and just placed the check in the funny guy's hand.

As another example, pretty much the worst customer line I've heard is when some redneck wants his red meat cooked extremely rare, and to explain "just how rare" he wants it, he says to me to "Knock his horns off, wipe his ass, and put it on a plate." Not funny, no not even the first time I heard it, much less the hundredth.

Conversely, I ONE TIME had a Cattle Baron guest who wanted his meat cooked extremely rare say to me a great line that I've probably re-told conversationally a hundred times or so since .. He said "I want it so rare (wait for it...) that a good vet could bring it back."

Now that's funny! And original too, which I can deeply appreciate. Just as part of making conversation and entertaining my guests, I re-tell that story at least once a week, when discussing cooking temps with guests. Just like the guy at my present job who looked over our desert tray and commented on the extremely decadent 4-layer chocolate cake that we offer "No. My insurance plan won't cover me if I eat that."

These are lines I can use, and often have occasion to repeat them to my guests, again, mainly just to keep them entertained and to keep the conversation rolling.

Anyways, I heard new good one this week from a customer.

It was a group of 8 (6 guys, 2 ladies) who had just arrived in town for a convention, and were here mostly to drink together their first night in town. I'm a big stickler when it comes to responsible alcohol service btw (read that "Stick-in-the-mud") so sometimes a group like this is not my favorite party to wait on. However, they did eat appetizers (very important to me with drinking tables, and they were walking back to their hotel, so I just wasn't too concerned about them "having too much".) Point being, they were there mainly to drink and let their hair down. They stayed about 4 hours doing just that.

Somewhere into the second hour, I learned a new funny response, that I know I will re-tell. I already have few times in fact.

Pointing at their nearly-empties, I ask these these two gentlemen "A couple more beers guys?"

"Yes" was the quick response.

"And by the way," he adds "...if we ever do say no, it's just because we didn't understand the question."

Haha. Good one. I like that, and will use it again.

More funnies coming up in Part 2, but I'm going in at Noon for a lunch shift right now.

Time to make the doughnuts.

My Most "On The Fly" Order, Ever

I've heard of it being done before.

I know a few servers who have actually done it.

But I have never, ever, in 25 years of food-service experience, actually done it myself.

Until tonight.

Normally, I might leave you hanging a bit. Regular readers know, it *would* be kind of like me to just turn this into a two-parter, and not even tell ya what STUPID thing I did tonight.

But I'm home pretty late (I closed again ;) - Doxy Lady's in bed already, so I'm just gonna keep typing, and tell ya.

I threw away a customer's remaining food, that I was supposed to be boxing up for them to take home.

Not good, I know. But nevermind all that, all I know right now is that I desperately need it replaced, "On The Fly."

For those that don't know our lingo, ordering food "On The Fly" basically means "Super-fast." It's our little in-house slang term for telling the cooks "I need this cooked and to the table - Yesterday. Or as soon as humanly possible, O please, o please o please o please, can you put this order above every other customer in the restaurant and hurry this above everything else that you're doing?! PLEASE!?!?"

Usually, the most common reason for ordering something "On The Fly" would be that.. well.. you totally forgot to order the customer's food in the first place. Just got busy and spaced it. Hey, it happens.

Maybe one in a hundred times for long-term vets, probably one in twenty tables with servers who have less than a year or three under their belts. Just guessing.

There you are, just sailing along, having dutifully removed the guests' appetizer or salad plates, or whatever, re-filling some drinks, waiting on the main course to come out, maybe kinda skillfully making conversation and.. perhaps.. just stalling until their food comes out.

You've other tables to wait on and all sorts of other micro-dramas playing out at any given time, so maybe it doesn't really hit you, at first. Finally it starts bugging you tho, and you think to yourself "Hey, these people's food seems to be taking a rea-llll-y long time to get out." So all non-challant-like, you start poking around in the back. You start looking in "the food window" for anything that resembles this table's order coming together.

Hmmm, No, don't seem to see it.

So then you study the Grill and the Saute' area, still trying to both look and feel just overall pretty casual about the situation.

Nope, nothing jumps out. Then you finally start reading all the checks closely (a "becoming obvious to others sign that something is perhaps wrong") to see where in line your/this table's food is.....

Hmmmm. Not good. There IS no check for Table 53.

Okay.

Deep breath. Keep your cool. Casually wander on over to the computer. Punch up Table 53 to make sure you actually DID ring in their dinners before panicking ... maybe it all went out 20 seconds ago, while you were walking into the kitchen. This too, happens.

Ummmm, No, no luck here either.

And that's when your heart sinks and your stomach feels about a million gallons empty.

O .......... Shit.

You stare at the computer for the three seconds it takes for reality to firmly set in, hoping that what you're seeing isn't real .. or that it will somehow change, the harder you stare at it. But it doesn't. You see drinks, and maybe appetizers or salads, but no entree orders. You just screwed up. With a capital F.

You keep your composure just long enough to ring everything you should have twenty or thirty minutes ago into the computer, maybe type "On The Fly" and then press whatever button to finalize things and make it print out for the first time to the cooks.

That's normally when the floodgates open, and you have to start explaining what you did, admitting your mistake to the cooks and management - and most of all - begin the process of honestly begging. Whatever disciplinary actions you might have to face with management - and maybe "comping the food" for your table, are minutes away still. Right now what has to be done, is begging the kitchen to get this food out, Yesterday. Or as fast as humanly possible.

I'm sorry to admit to my former co-workers in fact, that the few times I have done this in the past decade, I have more than once personally given cooks CASH-MONEY to take food cooking for someone else's tables, and piece together my order to get it out even two minutes quicker than might possibly happen if they had to start the whole order from scratch. Sorry to say so now, but yes.. your table's food has once or twice taken a bit longer to come out, because I bribed a cook or two to "sell" my order asap, just because I screwed up.

You think perhaps that I'm digressing, but I'm not.

The second most likely reason to have to order something "On The Fly" would be a kitchen error. Maybe they over-cooked something and have to start over, or maybe they forgot something and everybody but one person at a table is eating. Not my/your fault as a server, and while extremely annoying and potentially detrimental to your income, yes .. bottom line is that it's not your fault, and hopefully everything's being done that can be done to fix this one. You keep checking sure, but you've got other tables to tend to right now as well, and at this point management should be on top of fixing this one for you anyways. On The Fly is understood.

The third (oops, I'm sorry to you customers, to say) .. but the third most common reason for "flying an order" (more lingo for ya - self-explanatory I think) would be that the guest(s) themselves actually express some sort of rush for some sort of reason. Concert, movie, show, airplane, fill in the blank... Yessir okay whatever. We'll all do our best.

I told them you're in a hurry and even typed in On The Fly, so not much else I can do, maybe you should have thought about going fast-food tonight. We're on it, but you're going to have to just sit, wait, and take your turn. Seriously, what I just said does indeed reflect our mental process in such cases, I hate to be the one to tell you.

HOWEVER, what I did tonight, was just so totally new to me that I don't even have a mental box for it! This one equalled a type of On The Fly stress I had no idea what to do with!

Some kid doesn't eat even half of his "kid spaghetti with meat sauce." We dont even OFFER a "kid spaghettit with meat sauce." Just to get it done, I talked with both a chef and a manager, and ultimately had to ring in a "Lunch Burger SUB Kid Spag" and do some explaining to the cooks.

Not to mention the Dad. His kid HAD to have meat sauce with his spaghetti, but just to get this done (for inventory's sake - always an issue in restaurants today) I had to charge $15 for the meat. (Sounds high, I know, but we only use Angus or Kobe meat for our burgers, okay? A little high-end for some people I realize, but that's how it is where I work.)

"Fine" the dad agrees, no biggie. The meal progresses, the fam's about ready to leave, and as I'm clearing the table I notice that the boy didn't even eat half of his meal, and so I routinely offer to box it up to-go. $15 for a kid's meal? Of course they want a box! "No problem" I say .. I do this every day. Quite happy to.

Usually, I just walk into the kitchen, put the to-go food on a shelf, bang and scrape the other plates into our trash can, then wash my hands and box up the to-go food and print their check.

Except that I somehow reversed one of those details tonight.

I found myself with a to-go box in hand, staring at a pretty empty plate on the shelf, and thinking to myself "Oh no I just didn't."

Oh yes I just did.

Okay. Deep breath. Keep your cool. I wander casually back over to the trash can, and there's the first-I've-ever-seen kid spaghetti with some pretty expensive meat sauce staring back up at me.

On The Fly really doesn't begin to describe what it's going to take to fix this one. That's hamburger meat people. You can't just cook up more in 60 seconds and be on your merry little way. And these people are about ready to leave at this point.

I'm pretty ashamed to admit here what went through my mind next.........

But yeh, I thought about it. "You know I could just grab a box... then reach in, and take however much of it I can off the top of the trash..."

But no. I can't. Well I could, but dang it, there's coffee grounds all mixed up with the spaghetti, so that's not going to work. Seriously - again I'M ASHAMED TO SAY but it was just the heat of the moment - but except for those coffe grounds, I might have done it.

(And maybe (?) for the first time in this blog's history - aren't you glad I wasn't your waiter tonight, if I would even think this?)

I don't have a mental box for this. This has never happened to me before. I don't have any skill-set that can just make this right in 10 seconds, and it's damned frustrating. There's no one I can just hand five bucks to to solve this problem in any quick way either. I have to be immediately honest, and I have to fix this, asap.

THAT'S when the floodgates opened, and the begging basically began. I ran to the Saute' chef - whom I'll call "The Jamaican" for our purposes here. I tell him "Blah blah blah blah blah. On The Fly!"

He laughs at me, and - thankfully - puts down another burger. This is unusual, because normally (for the sake of inventory) he technically should not have done so until after I'd gone to the computer, and rang in another burger SUB KID SPAG - before he should have started cooking it. AND THEN, I would have had to go to a manager, tell him what I did, and then get him to void the second burger/spag off of the customers' check. That's just how the industry works today .. everything has to documented for the sake of inventory and the corporate's bottom line.

Yeh, but that would take a lot of time I didn't really have. Not to mention, make me look really stupid to that manger for what I just did. And that's just something else I don't need right now.

My other tables' needs notwithstanding, I keep checking back with Jamaican every 60 seconds or so. "Nope, not ready yet," but he continues getting a good laugh out of my situation, and my desperation. I keep waiting on my section, all the while staying as far away from this one table who just wants their to-go spaghetti and their check.

"La-dah-dee.." I wander by them a time or three while doing other stuff, without ever really looking straight at them.

Finally, I'm standing by the cook's line with my to-go box and bag in hand, and Jamaican is mixing the burger meat with the red sauce and pasta I desperately need. We pack it up all quick-like, and I know I owe him one. You readers aside, what just happened here is his and my little secret.

Out of nowhere I appear back at the table with their to-go kid spag, and check, in hand. I act like nothing out of the ordinary has happened, and I'm pretty sure they've fallen for it.

They pay, tip nicely, and get back to their lives.

As do I.

All this before 7:00pm.

Super Quick One: Wish It Had Been Me Working!!!

$20,000 tip makes the headlines...
  The news link reads:


"In the Dallas Mavericks' NBA Finals after-party, team owner Mark Cuban bought a bottle of champagne for his team, and then left a 22 percent tip. We also should point out that the bottle was nearly half the size of the 7-foot Dirk Nowitzki(notes), it cost $90,000, and his tip was $20,000...


"You can tell the measure of a man, or woman, by how well they tip. There are ridiculous and pointless unwritten rules about tipping that make the whole exercise frustrating to some who don't understand the practice, but at its core it shows a sincere understanding for what other people have to do at their jobs. Which is sort of the point of empathy..."




Hey maybe next year The Orlando Magic will win.


And maybe I'll wait on them!

And here I was worried about being fired for MY blog...

The following is not my story.

But it's a good one, complete with a few very important lessons for me.

The lessons learned for me are about the proverbial "power of the pen" (digital pen anyways), the "great power and great responsibility" inherent in becoming a popular blogger (not saying that I am yet), and finally, a good reminder to myself about how as a server, it is absolutely imperitive to remember to always be as nice to everybody as I possibly can.

If you can stand the f-bombs and attitude and want to read the whole story that brings all of this to my mind today, it's at http://thebitchywaiter.blogspot.com/2011/05/tortilla-flats-in-new-york-city-can-go.html

If you can't, or don't want to, here's the short version:

The Bitchy Waiter (blogger I mentioned previously) went out to eat on his birthday. The Bitchy Waiter unfortunately got extremely rude service. (Don't interpret that as "justice" btw; his self-titled appelation applies to his blog, not to his service standards while working.)

The Bitchy Waiter blogged about the expereince, mentioning the restaurant by name.. AND.. encouraged his followers to e-mail the restaurant!

The rude waiter, got fired as a result of the blog.

You might say he got fired as a result of his attitude actually, it's just that the blog brought A LOT of attention to his bad attitude. Scanning the comments on BW's FB page (he says that he now feels bad about the whole thing) the general consensus was that the rude waiter got himself fired, not BW or his blog. Others said that it's obvious the rude waiter hated his job, and should just thank BW for helping him to move on.

Wow. The power of the pen, huh?


Reminder to me: Better be nice to everyone...

You never know who you're waiting on.


BW lives and dines in New York City btw, so I don't think I'll ever have the pleasure.

But hey BW, if ever in Orlando on your birthday, let me know. Service with a smile and a free desert with candle awaits you.

Mercifully tho, I don't sing.

The Stress is Obviously Getting To Me

Being late for work totally sucks. Especially on extremely busy days.

Okay, so yes I've arrived. Yes, I'm a little late for my shift - sue me.

The restaurant sounds pretty darn packed, and the hostess points me to my regularly scheduled section, already in progress without me.

The first group (a table of four people) I go to greet seems irritated, claiming that they've "already been here five minutes, and nobody's even said Hi to us! Can we at least get some menus?" they ask.

No menus? Ah. I see. Well of course nobody's greeted you, jerks. You just walked in and sat yourselves, didn't you? Nobody knows you're even here, and I'm truly sorry for ya, but it's not your turn. I shouldn't even be talking to you people. Yeh... fine, I'll get you menus, but you're going to have to wait awhile, 'cos I've got two or three other tables I still need to get drinks for.

Twenty people in my section, and I seriously need to ask someone else to help me out. But dang, it seems like I'm the only server even here. And I have all these people to wait on. And they're all mad at me.

I start to line up the glasses to make drinks for the other tables. Then I look down, and there's no ice. I can't very well make drinks with no ice. "Who opened???????" I want to scream.

Didi walks by. Finally (!) I'm thinking.. someone who can help me.

"Guy," she says. "You have people up front trying to pay."

Aww no. Okay number ONE people.. we are NOT located on some Interstate exit. Number TWO... we do not serve breakfast. Those should be clues to you. You DO NOT pay up front at the cashier. THERE IS NO CASHIER! That's a computer monitor at the hostess stand for that matter, not a freaking cash register. You need to sit back down, and I will be all too glad to check you out, as soon as I have time.

Of course I don't say this. I want to, but then I remember that Didi was walking by me with a full tray of drinks when she told me this. Bitch. She took the last of the ice, and didn't bother to re-fill the ice bin.

Starting the lon-n-g trek all the way to the back to get a couple buckets of ice so I can proceed, I feel this odd moisture on my chest. WHAT is that?!

Ketchup? Wine? My own blood? My shirt is over a quarter soaked with a huge stain. I don't even remember how this happened, but I definitely can't wait tables looking like this.

Yes sir, I'll "bring you some mayonnaise."

And still the dark stain spreads, between your shoulder blades. A mute reminder, of the poppy fields and graves. So I have to ignore all the people waiting on me for something, 'cos dang it I need to run up to my bedroom to at least grab a clean shirt.

Throwing off this wet stained one, I start digging through my laundry, but I just find myself rejecting shirts one by one. Too dirty. Too wrinkled. Too stained.

This one has a button missing.

Hell with it, I put on a pullover t-shirt like our kitchen crew wears. Fire me, but I have all these people to wait on, and I have to wear something, right? At least it's clean.

I turn around from the closet planning to go back downstairs. Before I can even get back to my section, it turns out that my bedroom is already filled with people sitting at tables. They all looked pretty pissed off too, because of just how long I've made them wait. I go to take their orders, but then I start thinking... "Did you people just all sit and stare at me while I was half-naked and changing?"

That's pretty darn creepy. I'm about to tell them so in fact, when I see it.

Oh, please no. But yes. Some stupid, STUPID kid has spilled grape soda all over my bedroom floor. HOW did this happen? It's only a 12 ounce glass, but that has got to be at least two liters of grape soda on my carpet. My WHITE carpet. That's not going to come out.

Damn it!! We're never going to get our deposit back now. But I at least have to try, and so I'm on my hands and knees trying to soak the soda up with expensive white linen napkins.

Then the new host "Anakin" walks by and says "Guy you have a 9-top." Doesn't even tell me where. But no dude, there's no way I can take another table right now. I haven't even taken the orders for these people yet. And they're all so mad at me already. I just can't take yet another table.

I need to find a manager. He'll understand. Heck, I need to just call in sick. Well, not call in, because I'm already here. But I need to tell him I'm sick, so maybe he'll just let me leave and go home. I wanna go home. This is the worst shift I've ever been on.

I'm not really sick tho. I can't just lie about it.

Here's what I'll do. I just take off my left shoe and sock, and I start limping around the restaurant half-barefoot to go and find the manager, to show him the size of the callous on my foot. It'll be obvious I can't work like this. He'll have to send me home when he sees this.

I need to go home. I can't do this. Please just let me go home. Please.. this is just too much. Let me go home.

Please.


"Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding dong..."


It's 8:15 am. I work at 10.

Oh thank God. I'm not late.


I'll tell ya people.. and feel free ask any server you know...

We often have the strangest, most night-marish stress-induced dreams you've ever heard of.

Pt 2: How Stella Got His Work Ethic



:

IMPORTANT NOTE TO SELF!

Grown men who have accomplished so much in their lives as to be put in charge of multi-million dollar restaurants really don't appreciate pimply-faced teenaged busboys smarting off to them.

Is it possible that certain other people don't either? Hmmmm ... I dunno ... but I'll have to remember to look into that sometime.

So, for those of you joining us, my new boss had just invited me to "Sit Down" for a little pow-wow about my responsibilities as a busser, in response to a little comment I'd just made.

Now to be perfectly clear, this wasn't my first job - it's not even my first job bussing tables for that matter - and I think that I've always been thought of as a "good employee." A hard worker, even. Yes, I was indeed known as being perhaps more than a little sarcastic from time-to-time by those who knew me.. but it was normally in that intelligent/witty way you'd almost always laugh at.. not so much as in a generally disrespectful manner. I was very much liked by all my teachers while growing up, for that matter. I'll additionally offer that my former employers from my high school years would certainly say good things about me, if asked (I even moved here from Nashville with a great letter to prove this if you don't believe me, and I still have it today btw). What's more, as possibly most Southern Boys from my era might tell you - "I wuz raised raight" - and - whether by nature or by nurture - had what you'd call an overall decent level of respect for those in authority.

Nonetheless, my own personal little quirky "sense of humor" .. let's call it .. have "Yes Indeedy" gotten me into a little bit of hot water, upon occasion. This was turning out to be one of those times.

Mike's a tall gangly 6 foot 2 if he's an inch, sporting a classic Marlboro Man mustache. People don't mess with him often. Do you remember I previously (on Guy's Work Blog) mentioned that I've seen a guy fired for eating a cracker off of the salad bar? Mike's the guy that fired him.

We're seated across the table from each other, and I'm thinking that I'm about to get chewed out. He shoots me the opening volley :

"Look around. Tell me what you see."

Ummmmm ..

"A restaurant," I return.

He doesn't smile. "Be a little more specific," he counters.

"People. Lots of people, eating dinner at tables" I offer.

(To be straight with you, I absolutely DO very clearly remember Mike telling me to "Sit Down." The impact of the ensuing conversation forever altered my work habits. But from here I'm mainly ad-libbing the dialogue and the "spirit" of the conversation. The exact details are of course a bit sketchy now - it's been 25 years! So I need a little of that "willing suspension of disbelief" stuff I spoke of earlier from you to finish this off.. okay?

Thanks. Love ya!

Mike again: "I want you to pretend you're one of those people - a guest in our restaurant, eating dinner, at this table. NOW look around. Is there anything you can see from where we're sitting that you'd call ... messy? Out of place? Anything NOT PERFECT that might in any way interfere with your ability to enjoy your dining experience?"

Wow. He's not acting like he's mad at me. You might even say that he's actually being quite patient. My defenses slip, as I accept the fact that he's trying to teach me something ... something important, even. Meanwhile, in my heart of hearts, something else seems to tell me that whatever this is, I need to learn it.

I break eye contact with him finally, and do as I'm told.

I look around.

Nodding my head in one direction, I soon report to him "That looks like a crumpled up cocktail napkin on the floor over there, under A-4."

His lips might have just moved.. not sure. I keep looking around.

"There's a tea pitcher just sitting on that table over there" I add.

"It shouldn't be there, should it..." he .. asks ..? No, it was a statement.

He's totally right, of course. Tea pitchers should obviously not be sitting on un-seated tables. I'm a busser, and because of this I know that the hostess could walk up to that table any second with a new group of diners. They don't want to be met by a tea pitcher - moist with condensation - just sitting idle on the table they're about to sit down to - DUH!!! Some instinct tells me I need to go pick it up RIGHT NOW and make sure that the table is both clean and dry before this happens.

"No sir, it shouldn't" I (enthusiastically (?) .. (God, I suck) reply.

But I'm doing well. If this is a test, I'd say that I'm starting to get the hang of it. At this point, I even want to succeed. Squinting and straining my eyes for more, I finally realize (Eureka! Bingo!) "It looks like there's a light bulb out on the lamp above (Table) G-6."

By George he thinks I've got it. He asks me "Do you know where the light bulbs are?" I tell him No, and he stands up from the table. "I'll show you" is all he says. He doesn't ask or tell me to follow him. At this point, he doesn't need to. I just do.

The lesson wasn't over. Mike stops at the long wooden divider which separates the bar/lounge area from the dining tables in G-section. He asks me what do I notice about the divider? Absolutely nothing I can offer, at first. But I try to look at it with eyes that haven't seen the restaurant a hundred or more times already, and after second I realize that "It's dusty."

He doesn't have to tell me .. I just reach for the towel that's in my apron.. and wipe it down. While doing so, I notice there's a salt shaker missing from another table. Well that certainly won't do. I need to replace it, asap.

What I learned during this little excercise, remains with me still today. And at this strategic point where I seem to be already answering my original smart-aleck question all by myself, Mike finally answers it for me.

"Everything a customer can see.. THAT'S what your responsibility is."

Picking up trash on the floor of the bathroom while I'm mainly just in there to pee, or trash in the parking lot when I'm walking in or out. That's what I'm responsible for. What?!? I overhear from a table that we're out of paper towels in the ladies' room?? I need to get on that.

Someone walking around with a slightly lost look in their eyes? It's my responsibilty to see if I can help them. Maybe they're looking for the bathroom but are uncomfortable asking, or maybe they're just trying to find their server so they can pay and leave .. this too - if I see it - is my responsibiliy take care of.

And that's how I roll today, thanks to Mike.

There are other reasons I'm like this as well - reasons which I've only recently re-discovered in the past couple of months. They're more introspective, soul-searchy and self-analysis related reasons though, which I may share another time.

But now I know just exactly what my real job is, thanks largely to Mike sitting me down that fateful day in late 1986. This knowledge has served me well over the years, probably helping me to move up in most restaurants I've worked in since then in a shorter amount of time than it might take others to. (Hey as you already know, just six months here now and I'm getting closing shifts - cool). I look around a lot, I try to do what needs to be done whenever I see a need, and as a result of this I can keep myself pretty busy even on the slowest of shifts.


So, back to the topic of whether this blog is ever discovered by my current employers.. Whether I am fired or not for it I just want to say to you, "Mike" (my current GM, that is, not the original Mike of this story...) for the record ... and while I have your attention .. that

"Our bussers are not held nearly accountable enough for the condition and appearance of our floors! They look like hell sometimes, in fact!"

Mike, I know how you feel about trash on the floors (the same as I do, in fact) because I see you picking things up yourself at times, or instructing others to sweep from time to time, whenever you see the need. My point is however, that YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE TO.

Bottom line: once a table has been reset the bussers are responsible for the way a table appears, and everything a guest sees while being seated there. But more often than actually picking up the crayons and fries that landed on the floor under the table, our bussers seem to sweep crumbs OFF of the table and ONTO the chairs and floors. Dude... our guests should NOT have to see this crap.

You don't have time to be everywhere and instruct them on a case-by-case basis either. Nonetheless, these bussers we have are the last line of defense we have to make a good first impression, as people are being seated.

Please, you need to sit them down and give them a good talking to.

They may not like you for it, but maybe when they're grown men, like me, they WILL appreciate you for it.

Circa 1986 - An Early Lesson in Work Ethic

Image from this young busboy's blog

You've noticed that I call my current General Manager (aka "GM") "Mike" in these blogs. That's not his real name of course. I'm just protecting myself (and perhaps others, haha) by not *usually* using real names of *current* co-workers here.

(This policy of mine does not apply to past co-workers however. YOU are all fair game ;)

But I try to write from the assumption that sooner or later, this blog will get out to my co-workers, and my arse needs to be covered. We don't have a "No Social Media" policy here - yet - and I don't want to become "the incident" that inspires such either - and/or get fired to boot!

Anyways, I call "Mike" Mike after Mike Cochran - the GM of the restaurant where I first waited tables (Ruby Tuesday, Knoxville TN). Being my first GM, he probably left more of a lasting impression on me in some ways than most managers I've worked for since.

You've also noticed that I sometimes mention my "work ethic" and my tendency to keep busy when relating certain stories, and it comes to mind that I likely have Mike to thank for instilling this into me at such an early age. My parents' influence aside, I remember something he said to me that has probably impacted the way I work more so than any other person or event, before or since. I guess that's why I still remember it as well as I do.

And it goes a little something like this.

After graduating high school in 1986 but having no real vision or goals for my life then, I kind of just followed the majority of my friends and wound up moving from Nashville to Knoxville. I can't really claim that I so much "went to school at UT" like my friends, but I did loiter on school property with the best of them.

They all got dorms and meal plans; I got an apartment and a job. The job was much needed, as the $500 my Dad gave me to get started had run out. (In fact, I lost about 15 pounds my freshman year, rather than gaining the "freshman fifteen!")

So there I was 18 years old, living on my own, and supporting myself as a busboy. It was hard work actually, and not glorious or fun by any means. You watch for people to leave, then clean up their plates, wipe off the table and reset the silverware. This has to be done as quickly as possible when the restaurant is busy, because some waiter, hostess or manager is no doubt breathing down your neck to "get 'er done" asap, so that the next group of people can be seated.

The position also comes rife with strife amongst you and the wait-staff. Mainly it revolves around how many dishes a server left on the table. There's only so much room in that bus-tub or on that tray, and the more dirty dishes a server leaves on the table, the more trips you have to make to the dish-washer in the kitchen, and the slower you accomplish your job's primary function - which is cleaning and re-setting the tables. Arguments easily arise when a server - whether lazy, inattentive, or just overwhelmed, leaves every meal plate on a table, and you as the busser have to remove them all to get the table cleaned and ready for the next people that are waiting to sit there.

As you may recall from a previous blog entry, bussers are tipped out by the wait-staff for doing this, but this was back in the day before this process was automated. So I was constantly battling the line between wanting to do a good job for the waiters so they would give me money, and feeling shafted because I was often pulling more than my fair share of the load to clean their tables, when really, the responsibility for removing dinner plates guests are done with falls primarily on the server. You can't both fight a guy or girl for making you do all this work for them, and then turn around and expect them to pay you out some nice cash at the end of the shift. Nowdays in fact, I'm pretty appalled at how little most bussers do for us waiters, because they're going to get tipped out the same amount from us whether they work hard to earn it, or not.

But I digress...

About a month into the job, I remember Mike getting on to me for something. I think all of us in "The Ruby's Gang" from back then probably remember Mike as being, well... something of a jerk. Looking back, that probably had a lot to do with the fact that we were young, wild college-aged kids and he was just our boss, saddled with the responsibility of fighting through the sexual tension and constant making of after-work drinking plans that were the primary focus of all of our lives, and getting some actual work out of us, in-between our after-work partying.

Well I thought I knew my job pretty well after a few weeks, but now Mike comes to me and gets on to me for some sort of trash being on the floor. At first I didn't take it so well. After all, my job title was "bussing tables" not "cleaning floors" right? He explains to me that cleaning the floors around the table is also my responsibility. A no-brainer, in retrospect, but at that time, I was doing well just to get the tables cleaned quickly enough to not get yelled at by everybody.

I then made the perhaps providential mistake of (somewhat flippantly) asking him "Well then just exactly what else is my responsibility, that I've never been told?"

Bad move, Guy. Bad, bad move.

He glares at me, then turns his head looking for the nearest empty table. Pointing at a chair, Mike tells me to

"Sit down..."


Uh-oh. Am I in trouble?


To Be Concluded.

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If not, you can do so at the top of this page, and then you'll be among the first to hear the words of wisdom Mike imparted to me that day.. Words that still affect what I do at work, every single day.

An Early Lesson in Work Politics

This is from today

You may find it interesting to know that sunny Orlando Florida often experiences heavy rainfalls and even Tornado Warnings. Being located in the central portion of the state, we occasionally experience the edges of storms from both coasts, resulting in "perfect storm" like conditions, and swirling skies above us. Just don't let the Department of Tourism know I told ya so, btw.

This was such one night. There was a Tornado Warning issued, and the rain was so heavy that I was watching weather reports on the news to determine when would be the most opportune and safest time to leave the house and drive into work - whether this meant being extremely early, or being extremely late, mattered not.

Making it to work safely enough, I heard right off that our manager had called the corporate hq asking permission to close early, so that the employees could get home before things got much worse (and given that it would not be a profitable shift, even for the company). "Permission Denied" of course, and we settled in for what would undoubtedly be a slow shift.

The rains continued, customers continued not coming in the door, and we started to send a few people home knowing that just a few of us would be enough to handle things. Well, just as the final cut is about to be made (and I was going to be included in those that got to leave) "Didi" - who was this shift's "closer" - asks me if I wanted to stay and close for her. She says "Well I don't have any tables right now, and I'm not going to make any money, so I might as well leave."

My initial response was "Hey I don't have any tables either and I'm not going to make any money either, so..." Then I stopped myself. If you're not a restaurant person yourself, then you probably don't understand the benefits of being a "closer." In short tho, like it probably sounds, this shift is where the biggest money lies.

While things run differently in various restaurants, in long, our system is such that the closer comes in first (4pm) and stays the latest.. until we are closed, duh. Statistically, that person will get the most tables of course. At our place the closer is guaranteed the first two tables even - meaning that when other servers come in later - altho it might seem "their turn" to be seated - they won't be seated until after the closer has gotten a second table. This makes slower shifts a tad more profitable - for the closer that is.

Sweetest of all, if there are any "big top" reservations (large parties, like 8, 10 or 15 people) the closers are assigned those right off the bat, receiving both the most tables and the largest. Equaling bank, see? It's a very coveted shift overall, and among restaurants with a staff of around 25 or 30 servers, maybe only 4 or 5 are routinely scheduled the closing shifts. These are usually the servers who have been there the longest. This being only around my second month or so, there was no way I was going to be scheduled one anytime soon, but I think for a second about my long-term future here.

So I unstopped myself, mustering the best "make lemonade" attitude I could, and changed my tune mid-sentence, saying "Well if I'm not going to make any money, I might as well stick around and learn how to close." At our place, the closer also has the responsibility of checking out all the other servers, assigning them their individual sideworks and closing duties, signing them out when they're ready to leave - and then getting stuck with cleaning or correcting anything they didn't originally notice some slacker skated out without doing.

So anyways, in obvious suck-up-to-the-manager-so-I-can-be-thought-of-as-closing-material fashion, I stayed the entire shift, and learned how to close. But shortly after accepting the closing shift, another server comes to me with a lesson in the politics of working here..

It was Cassie. (You remember Cassie right? She took me under her wing, gave me all sorts of useful advice about getting on well here... her!) We're alone, and she says to me "Hey, some friendly advice for you.. Don't be too eager to pick up closing shifts." Hmmmm, this should be good. I ask her "Why not?"

"There's a lot of people who will be mad at you if you start closing." I'm like "Why?"

"Well there's not that many of those shift and it's the best money obviously. But a lot of people that have been here longer than you never get to close, and they won't like you if start getting closing shifts." Wellll, that's true I realize, but deep down I know I'm here to make money, not necessarily friends. But I let her keep talking without saying just that.

"For instance" she says, "I've been here three years and I don't get closing shifts."

"OH!" I exclaim. "So YOU'RE one of the people who would be mad at me if I get closing shifts."

"Well, I'd be hurt.."

We hugged, the night continued, I did an okay job, and time passes. I am of course never scheduled any closing shifts for the next few months, but I do manage to pick up one more from a guy who wanted to leave early - again just to plant the seed in management's collective brain that I can do it. And like Cassie bemoaned above, I sometimes hear murmurings from certain other servers along the lines of "been here a year and a half and I never get to close." That's restaurant life tho, it takes time and a lot of proving yourself to get there.

Well, the Spring-time Firing Spree Jamboree has continued and we lost yet another one. What you didn't know is that all three of these servers got closing shifts from time-to-time. A fourth server - who only ever worked nights and often closed - took a day job recently and only works one or two nights on weekends now.

Add it all up an-n-n-nd ... you guessed it - closing shifts have recently come available. We also have a different manager (I'll call him "Luigi") writing our schedules now, and he's mixing things up a bit it turns out. Luigi likes me I think, and apparently thinks I do a good job. I've been getting more night shifts than lunch shifts the past two weeks in fact, which is good.

You know where this is going I imagine. Politics be damned...

Ironically, it's raining pretty darn heavily now. I'm about to eat lunch, shower, iron my shirt, and go in for my first ever scheduled closing shift. And nary a week away from having been here only six months.

Wish me luck!

Well, the UFO is out of the bag

"Mike" - The General Manager - calls me around 9:00am.

"Hey Guy, hope I didn't wake you..." Yeh, he did.

There's a big convention in town, he thinks it's going to be busy, and wants me to come into work, altho I'm not scheduled.

I think you already know my answer.

Three hours later, I go to the office to clock in. Oddly, Mike greets me with "HEY, Ive been watching you! I have a couple of questions for ya ..."

What?!? Watching me work?? What'd I do wrong?? Am I in trouble? This is creepy.

".. about Operation Paperclip" he concludes.

Oh-h-h-h-h-h-h-h. He's "been watching me" ... on DVD, I realize.

For MOST readers of this blog - who are also my FB friends - you already know that I'm (ahem) "best-known" NOT for my writings about restaurant work, of course. I'm best-known - internet-fame-wise - for my decidedly alternative alternative views on UFOs and "aliens" - Sorry if this reading is the first you've heard of this.

But long story short, I moved here to Orlando FL after over a decade of living in the very small but also very famous city of Roswell, New Mexico, where I was a sort of an activist. Mike knew this when he hired me - that I'm some sort of expert on the topic in general, and on the 1947 Roswell Incident in particular.

Without directly asking, he has occasionally expressed some sort of interest in finding out what I know (maybe just to figure me out a little better, now that I've been working here almost six months, and am kind of moving up - easy to do when so many others are getting fired, haha). I finally took the hint and recently gave him a DVD of me lecturing on the topic.

That's where this post begins. I'm in the office with him, and he's pretty enthusiastic about my research. We're not alone however. The office manager/bartender (one of our six bartenders) "Joon" is also in there, and she's hearing all of this information about me for the first time. Mike punches up my website to show her. She's intrigued, especially given that her boyfriend "Benny" (also a bartender here) turns out, is an alien enthusiast. She, on the other hand, doesn't believe in aliens.

Skipping around a bit, I brought her a DVD in the next day, and when I left from our lunch shift she tells me that she and her fiance were going to watch it together that night. That's kind of an odd feeling, knowing that a young engaged couple has decided to spend their Friday night "watching me."

I'll tell ya what's an even odder feeling.. knowing that after this weekend I'm going to start being known once again as "that guy" around work. For the last eleven years in Roswell, my co-workers and repeat customers - even tourists - have known me as such. Frankly, I've greatly enjoyed not being known as "that guy" for the last six months.

"There's that guy who knows everything about UFOs and aliens."
"Talk to the bartender. He's the guy who can tell you the most about the Roswell crash."
"He's that guy who got abducted by aliens."
"Shhhh, it's that guy who doesn't believe in aliens."
"That guy was on the History Channel show about aliens."

Sigh. Insert favorite rumor, fact, or random misunderstanding here. As you might imagine, it's the kind of thing a guy could use a break from.

It's not that I mind fulfilling my calling or anything, nor the peripheral stuff that comes with it. It's just that when you're trying to focus on doing your regular job, and doing it well, such can become distracting. Annoying even. Worse, the conversations that immediately evolve from answering such inquiries almost always strike straight to the heart of people's religious and/or political beliefs. I've found that - while sometimes fruitful, no doubt - well, one's work is not always the the best place to have such conversations.

Knowing that a manager (who speaks enthusiastically about this singular aspect of my work) and that now two bartenders have all watched the video ... and at minimum are aware that I have "a" website, it probably won't be long before someone Googles me, or follows the link from that website to my others.

And then I'll be "that guy" at this job too.

I'm comforted however in knowing that at least this all came out slowly - after everyone has had ample time to form an opinion of me. They already have an opinion of me based on my work ethic, abilities, knowledge, friendliness, teamwork, etc, SO I think they have a good enough foundation to perhaps maybe NOT think of me as a total lunatic given this new information about me.

Also, it's among my best work that they're viewing at present, and is extremely well-documented, meticulously researched, and overall, quite ... sane ... given the field I'm associated with. At least (up to this point) for this go-round, I have additionally been the one in control of just what information about me got out - first, anyways. Once the bigger picture begins to emerge (and be misquoted, mis-speculated and gossiped about from people too scared to ask me direct questions) then I imagine some future conversations at work could be a little awkward for some - assuming anyone even cares, that is.

"Okay let me get this straight. You were abducted by aliens, but you don't believe in aliens? You write and speak and go on TV and have websites about UFOs, but you don't think they're from outer space? And just what's all this got to do with religion anyways?"

Those of you so inclined, please pray for my co-workers. It's not like I go into work all guns blazing with an agenda to speak of these things, but if they ask, well-l-l-l...

It turned out not to be busy by the way - the shift that I got called in for. Mike let me go in less than thirty minutes, and bought me lunch as well for coming in. Mmmmmm, free Kobe beef burger, a good review on my DVD, and the opportunity to share it with others. Not being financially profitable aside, that's still a good day.

Given their diametrically opposing views on the alien topic, I'm kind of interested to see what Benny and Joon have to say when I see them next. Expereince tells me that it won't be a short conversation, and that work usually is not the best place for it to occur. I imagine a lunch date may be in order to work this all out with them.

In the office last Friday, Mike also told Joon that the people in Roswell were probably glad to see me go. Well not all were of course, but yeh, some were, no doubt.

Now that the UFO is out of the bag, it remains to be seen how Orlando will feel about my arrival.

***
P.S. So what's the controversy, you ask? What is my DVD about? Watch it online, at http://www.TheInvisibleBattle.com

86 Jake -or- How To Fire A Waiter

How to fire a waiter

It's a Spring-Time FIRING SPREE Jamboree!        

You might remember that I reported to you that my co-worker Ruby got fired recently. Well, not two days later, another co-worker (Jake, whom I've mentioned to you already) got fired as well. 

Only this time, they were gunning for him.

Without going into detail, Jake had fallen out of favor recently by challenging a manager's integrity on something relating to his (Jake's) income. Turned out Jake was wrong with his inquiry (i.e., accusation) and in a very step-by-step way that I've seen happen once or twice before, management was just waiting to have enough on him to 86 him - without having to deal with a possible labor dispute, a "wrongful termination" suit, or pay him unemployment, or whatever.

I'm not going into whether my bosses really needed to take things to the extreme of firing the guy or not. Such is not my call to make, altho I do have my own private thoughts on the matter. I just thought you might enjoy reading about precisely *how* a waiter or waitress can be marked, targeted, then fired in an overall planned-out 1-2-3 way, when the company really doesn't have anything strong enough (like stealing; customer complaint of rudeness or incompetence) as the reason to let a server go.

In fact, I remember when working in Roswell New Mexico, our corporate president attended one of our employee meetings and for whatever reason the topic of firing people came up. He jokingly lamented to us how "Back in the good old days you could fire someone just as soon as look at them. But nowdays, you have to document everything: It's a real pain in ass ..." he said.

What he means is that nowadays - in corporate restaurants anyways - you really need to have a series of corrective write-ups and written warnings "on file" to prove that this person deserved to be let go. Otherwise, the state's labor board or perhaps your company's human resources department was going to come down on you.

Once - again while working Monday-Friday nights bartending at Cattle Baron - we were beginning to suspect some trouble with the weekend bartender, and a manager specifically came and asked  me whether I'd be willing to cover his shifts for a short period while they replaced him, if they could find a reason to fire him. (I knew they were looking for a reason to do so, based on suspicion of wrong-doing, but he'd not been caught.) So, I've seen the "pre-meditated firing when you really don't have an easily defensible airtight reason to fire someone" scenario played out before. Usually the three-strikes-you're-out rule comes into play - if someone gets written up three times for any reason - even trivial and unconnected reasons - they can be legitimately dismissed. 

So anyways I think where I work now looks at things the same way, and plays by the same rules.

Back to Jake. Well, the way I heard it (from him, btw) is that he did something that was arguably within his rights, and that almost any server might have done if we'd found ourselves in the same position. It caused the managers to unfriend him and so the process begins.

I've told you before how servers here need a manager's permission for things like smoking when it's slow, or ordering something to eat out of the way while on the clock, for instance. Welll, like most places I've worked, rules like that are sort of arbitrary as it turns out. It depends on exactly what policies are being enforced any given week. It often depends on your standing at the restaurant, or whether a particular manager likes you or not, whether little infractions like this can become serious trouble for you. 

For instance, Server A could come in two minutes late and (depending on his/her track record or combined with the above) be written up for it, while Server B can be five minutes late on the exact same shift, and greeted warmly by the same manager. Just standard work politics as I'm sure you've seen before. In our line of work, slight, or occasional, tardiness is most often met with a verbal "Glad you could join us today" if even that. A verbal warning, at the most severe, unless you're a habitual offender. Or a write-up if they're gunning for you. I once saw a guy fired for eating a cracker off of the salad bar without paying for it, for that matter. For reals.

Well, one night about a week before he was dismissed, Jake started going to the back for a smoke - without seeking permission - and a little earlier than is the norm in fact, as he told it to me anyways. A certain chef who was "in the know" yelled at him "What are you doing?!? Don't you know you're on the radar?"

"On the radar ..." words I hope I never hear. (Edit/update. Been there, done that, got the scar.) It means the chef knew the managers were just looking for a reason now. Any reason. Jake was a dead man walking from there.

A couple of days later he tells me he got written up. "For what?" I ask.

"For having a (tobacco) dip in (his mouth) while setting up the patio tables." 

I know "Ewwwwww." you may be thinking. (Like smoking wasn't already bad enough. It was the norm then tho child.) This however is a story less about what's right or wrong tho, and more about how you only get in trouble for things when they decide they don't like you. 

Just so you know, setting up the patio is a duty performed outside before the restaurant is open, and there's no customers around yet. He explained to me that he has done so for the entire year+ that he's worked there, that he doesn't spit, and that no manager has ever said a word about it - good, bad or corrective. Nope, not even a verbal "Ew. That's gross. Don't do that." Never. 

And today he got written up for it. Mmm-hmmm.

That's what "being on the radar" means tho. Everything you do is suddenly under scrutiny, and subject to being challenged. In writing. He got written up for doing something that he'd never been corrected for in over a year's time of employment. DUDE ... that's when you should know it's time to start putting in applications elsewhere ...

A couple of days later I'm about to leave from my lunch shift and I see Jake come in, and then start looking for a manager because his name is not on the "floor plan" (a chart filled in at the hostess stand every day, usually by the manager-on-duty which tells servers what sections they'll be taking that shift). It happens. Usually this is no biggie ... most likely a human error of reading the schedule wrongly ... whatever.

But unlike most times, where Jake would have just gone to the manager and had things rewritten, I witnessed the manager all tactfully say to him "Hey, can I borrow you in the office for a minute?" 

Done. I know it, whether Jake does or not. I had just left the office thirty seconds ago upon clocking out, and knew that our top manager was still in the office. I do the math .. Jake's not on the floor plan, and is being called into the office with two managers present. That tells me one manager is there to serve as a witness that whatever goes down in there gets done in a professional manner.

I walk outside and sit down, away from the restaurant's front door, but on what I am presuming will be Jake's long walk to the sidewalk. Another server on her way in to work - whom I'll call Briskette for the sake of blogging, as you know is my custom - plops down beside me and asks why I'm hanging around. 

I tell her what I just saw, and that I'm hanging around to give Jake (who doesn't drive - DUI) a ride home, in case today turns out to be "worst day ever" for him. We both know that for Jake getting into and home from work is an ordeal involving bummed rides, cabs and busses, so at least on this day, I didn't want him to have to deal with the additional unplanned hassle.

A minute later, from afar, we see Jake being walked outside by the same manager who "borrowed him" into the office. Jake's posture and body language indicate to both of us that he's still appealing something. Briskette snaps her head in my direction gasping "WOW! You blankety-blank called that one, didn't you?!"

I'm sorry to say, I did. We both get up to avoid being seen by the manager, she goes into work and I head for the parking lot, stopping just outside of the restaurant's line of sight. Jake eventually turns the corner, and the fact that I'm there waiting for him tells him I already know.

Turns out that last night he went to smoke four minutes before the allowed time, got written up for it, and this was now his third strike (he tells me of a previous write-up in his file from months earlier). I ask were there already others back there too, and he says "three people." I know the game ... none of them got written up for it, just him. 

Last thing he tells me when I'm dropping him off twenty minutes later is that the manger told him "Don't talk to anyone on your way out ..." 

Great. D'oh! 

I imagine Briskette walking into work with the gossip of how I "blankety-blank called that one" and now I've probably inadvertently aligned myself in the manager's eyes with the out-of-favor exile, by giving him a ride and hearing his version of events - which they didn't want any of us to hear. 

Twenty-one minutes too late, I shoot Briskette a quick text telling her to please not tell the story, in hopes of not falling out of favor myself. 

In hopes of staying off the radar.

Bleep My Waiter Says - "What do you do for Birthdays?" Part 2

"What Do You Do for Birthdays?"

Hey sorry no bloggie lately. Been busy.

Busy dropping off resumes, that is...

Yeh, things have slowed down considerably where I work. Our "season" is drawing to a close, and there's not as much money to be made here right now. For instance, I earned $6 for a whole shift earlier this week. So, while I don't intend to quit, I kind of am in the market for a part-time second job right now. We'll see how that goes.

ANYWAYS ... As you might remember from my last post, I got asked by an 11-year-old boy "What do you do for birthdays?" Just wanted to share with you how neat it was for me to hear what came out of my mouth, especially in comparison to what has in the past traditionally been my attitude about this question (as detailed in Part 1). I answered him,

"Awww man! We set off fireworks.. Then dancing hula girls come out and sing to you!

"And THEN, Regis Philbin comes out and starts asking you questions FOR MONEY! How cool is that?!?"

Yes, I literally said all that.. and said it just like that, right off the top of my head. Odd, huh?

Well the little boy didn't really know what to think, and just stared at me, blinking. But his parents thought it was hilarious! And tipped me awesomely too. (I'm just glad they didn't call me on the offer.)

I've never answered this question in anyway remotely like this tho. Usually that question can be met by myself with the correct answer to the question (free cake, singing, balloons, whatever) but with a tone that sounds like I'm really saying "just another day in paradise" or perhaps "time to make the donuts."

But as I've mentioned previously, this starting over waiting tables, and this place, have been good for me, sometimes drawing out forgotten or unknown reserves. Unlike so many other times in my career, I don't hate my job, I don't hate my customers, and I don't hate my life. At least not yet.

So why that answer worked so well, I think, is simply because rather than non-verbally communicating to my guests how boring and routine "a birthday table" was for me, I instead made a sincere effort to match his level of excitement and enthusiasm about the whole thing. (If you're a server, a salesperson, or a person who ever has to deal with other human beings, there might even be a sort of lesson for you in there by the way.)

I can see myself using that line again in the future (and I do have my "lines") but ONLY if I can do so by sincerely matching my guest's excitement. If you are a server, feel free to steal the line in fact.. but do so cautiously. The danger to you and me in using such a reply would be that it will crash like a led zeppelin if there's even a hint of sarcasm or same-old-boring-routine-ness in the voice when saying it. Without some genuine enthusiasm, that same line could be genuinely offensive to people, and get you in trouble.

Here, try it out yourself to see what I mean. Let's pretend you're my server. I'M going to ask YOU "What do you do for birthdays?" and I want you to answer as I did, OUTLOUD, but I want you to sound either bored, or like you're dripping with sarcasm when you reply.

Ready? Come on, it'll be fun. Let's do it.

"Hey reader, "What do you do for birthdays?"

Say it outloud for me now :

"We set off fireworks.. 

OUTLOUD .. !

"We set off fireworks. Then dancing hula girls come out and sing to you. And THEN, Regis Philbin comes out and starts asking you questions FOR MONEY! How cool is that?!?"

So, did you say it sarcastically? 

If so, then you just got stiffed.

"What Do You for Birthdays?"

We hate hearing this question. Really, we do.

The waiter only *looks* like he's getting into this. Trust me.

It's nothing personal of course, so please don't let the way I'm setting this up ever deter you from going out on your birthday, or even from asking the question. Heck, come sit in my section even. For the sake of this entry, I need to disclose that this is me at perhaps my snottiest, by the way. I'm not really like this anymore, but no lie, I used to be.

It's just that we servers have had quite a few bad experiences related to birthdays, and especially to this very question. I'll explain in a moment. The point of this entry however is that I actually answered this question this week in a way I never have before. But I need to continue what I was saying to set it up first, so maybe you can share with me why my answer today was even "blog-worthy."

This is becoming another two-parter, btw.

Servers are - by and large - a pretty jaded lot. The fact that we are in a restaurant every day has a way of making us forget that you are not. Without meaning to tho, we begin to develop this unconscious attitude problem that makes us believe that we "restaurant people" are better than anybody else, simply because we know more about the place we work than you do. We know where the bathrooms are, for instance. We know what we do for birthdays too, and if you don't know the answer to these *simple* questions... well then, that just makes you stupid, doesn't it? There's additionally something snobby in many of us that almost defaults to thinking "Well, if you'd called ahead and actually PLANNED this special occasion out a bit, you'd already know the answer to that question, now wouldn't you?"

Not really cool, is it? Yeh, we're jerks with bad attitudes sometimes. Sorry.

For us, it's often like the Pavlovian dog scenario tho. Believe it or not, the inexperience about our place of work (or dining out, in general) which you demonstrate when you ask this question immediately takes us back to numerous and certain other painful experiences.

We LOVE our regulars, don't get me wrong. If you're a regular, who planned a birthday dinner out, made a reservation and asked for a server by name (!) then You.. Are.. Golden! 99% of the time, I think most servers will go out of their way to make the event super-special for you and your guests. The fact that you already know where the bathrooms are and that we're not going to have to answer either of those questions only adds to how looking forward we are to seeing you.

But those that just randomly ask us table-side "What do you do for birthdays.....?" are usually a different story.

Aside from not being "part of our world" (Strike One) the question itself implies to many of us - based solely on past experiences - implies... well... "cheapness." The phrase "You don't get out much," thankfully fails to fall from most of our lips at this point. Again, it's not personal, it's just that past experience SUGGESTS to us that you're perhaps the kind of people who mainly come out to eat only on Valentine's Day, Mothers' Day, maybe New Years' Eve, and yes especially on birthdays and anniversaries. Oh, and maybe whenever you have a coupon.

("Not that there's anything wrong with that" (as Seinfield said). Any of that I mean. Heck, the Doxy Lady and I - IF we think we can afford to eat out - are most likely going somewhere on our next anniversary that we have a coupon for, in fact. And if you're a server reading this, don't judge me. We just moved, and times are tight.)

It's just that we love our regulars, and we love our "foodies" - those people with lots of disposable income who eat out one or two or three times or more per week. (Not that I am in this category, by any means. But it's who we like to wait on the best.)

We love these types because we're fairly sure we're going to be tipped well, first of all (and that's the only reason we're here.. same as your job... We're not generally here because we woke up and decided to make random strangers' lives all the happier today. We're just here to make money. Same as you at your job).

Foodies.. regulars... these are people who generally know how to tip, and - perhaps as importantly - know how to be waited on. They'll be patient, for example, if they can look around and see when we're busier than usual. They'll take that into account, and not judge us quite so harshly, when and if service seems to be slower than usual. On slower shifts, they'll ask us about our lives, if they've seen us before. They'll say nice things about us to the managers on their way out too. In short, they make our lives a little more pleasant, and our jobs just a little more easier. I of course know that making our lives better are not why most of you come out .. but for some guests, let's just say that for their server, such is often the net result of them coming out to eat.

Not so, the average walk-in birthday table. No, you're probably going to make our life harder in fact, partly because when you ask that question I started this with .. we discern that there's a 50% chance that you're probably not so much asking "How are you going to make our night extra special?" No, better than half the time, what you're really asking is "What are we going to get from you for free tonight?"

Steeee-Rike Two.

Infinitely worse, built into the question is the expectation that you want all of us waiters to gather around your table, and sing to the birthday person, right?

Strike Nine. You're out. Get out. We hate you with a passion.

It's not that we're not hoping to make your event special, by any means. But if you've been reading this blog any length of time, you've already seen me describe to you two or three "typical days" where we're so stressed and busy, and how often it is that being thrown off of our plans or routines by even eight seconds can make our lives just SO BAD, right?

Not your problem, I know. But the birthday song tho .. throws 4 or 5 or 10 waiters off by several minutes usually. One server starts running around saying "I need birthday singers." Oh crap. Time to hide if you've not already been gathered up in some corner waiting for the desert to be prepared, enough servers to be stopped mid-stream, and the birthday person to get back from the bathroom. You want to hide, walk away, or just get back to waiting on your own tables, but you can't. You know good and well that you might need that same server you walked away from 30 minutes ago to sing for you when one of your tables has a birthday.

So we just let our own tables (and tips?) suffer while "the moment" finally comes together. Some uber-snotty waiter comments that if the birthday person had any real friends to sing to them, we wouldn't even be in this situation right now.

Yes okay, that's crass, and I'm not like that myself. Anymore. But I've heard such a comment more than once as a server.

Again, don't let it deter you, and don't feel sorry for those that must occasionally sing for a living. The older, better, more mature me says "Just remember why YOU came out tonight, and what you're here to celebrate and paying for." Really, that's me.

I've worked both in places that do, and places that don't, sing "Happy Birthday" by the way. Things go smoother in the latter, and the upshot to you as a diner is that if you're out on a Friday night hoping for a nice intimate evening, your night doesn't get interrupted every thirty minutes by "the birthday song." Plus, your waiter is probably there for you more often than if you were eating at someplace that does sing Happy Birthday to everyone who asks.

So anyways... present day again. This 11-year-old kid asks me "What do you do for birthdays?"

All things considered, my answer surprised me.

Please return for Part 2 of this for another "Bleep My Waiter says" blog entry.

Oh just a quick aside. You might find it funny to know that my singing voice is so bad, that I have personally been banned by the wait-staff at not one, not two, but three separate restaurants from singing Happy Birthday. My pitch is just that awful, and throws everybody else off. They usually tell me "Don't sing Guy. Just stand there and clap."

True story.

External Tell-All Links for ya

(

... "Turns out this "blogging about restaurant work" is a niche that I am but one (new, minor, unknown) voice in..."

NOTE and DISCLAIMER : Most of the blogs I've found are full of hard-core, f-bomb cussing, and often mean-spirited rants about how many servers feel about those whom they wait on. Not for the timid, whether you don't like cussing, or just don't like finding how someone else whom you don't even really know feels about you. I haven't read the books below yet, so can't say one way or another.)

The original, mother of them all, is Waiter Rant. Now a book , the guy blogged anonymously as a NYC waiter for four years at what he called "The Bistro" before finally outing himself with the book. And the sequel. And the speaking engagements... go figure.

Also anonymous and quite popular and pretty witty from the few entries I've read, the blog The Bitchy Waiter serves up all that his choice of name promises, and pancakes too.

I Got Stiffed turns out, is a whole "open to the industry" collection of waiters ranting, with posts from all over. My first impression of this bunch? "Hey ingrates .. either grow up, get a job you love and move on with your lives, or just put the money in the bank and SHUT UP, willya?"

The apparently non-anonymous Manuel (accused of being British but is actually Irish) is an immature attention-seeker - according to his bio! - and authors Well Done Fillet - along with his missus! His blog has been mentioned positively by nearly every European newspaper and website that positively mentions such things.

Back to the book scene, Kitchen Confidential by a now very famous veteran chef, tells of the dark underbelly of restaurant life - the sex, drugs, rock-n-roll part of it all - that you either really do or really do not want to know about.

If I am going to choose just one of these books to read myself, it would be Waiting : True Confessions of a Waitress. Ginsberg I'd say "gets it" in a way that I can relate to. Like me, she "came of age" behind her apron, and seems to tell her secrets without griping all the way. Even after leaving serving after nearly 20 years for her publishing career, she returned to waiting tables. Like me, I suppose she's made peace with her lot in life, and more than any other "book description" I've noted in this field, she seems to have developed a sublime appreciation for her craft, for her co-workers, and for her customers that I might call inspirational. To me at least, and that's just from reading the reviews.

I might read it, but then, I don't really want whatever book I may one day write (about my experiences with this industry) to be a copy-cat knock-off either.

I'm not sure where I'm going with all of this exactly, of course, just glad to have "regulars" like you to share the trip with. Sure, eat and drink elsewhere, and if you like, read what others have to say. Professional courtesy demands that I inform you of them in fact.

Experience likewise tells me tho, that If I'm as good, better than, or offer something unique that my competition doesn't, then I know you'll be back.

86 Ruby

Whoa. I lost a co-worker last night. Canned. Fired. 86'd. Extended the left foot of fellowship...

Without too much detail, the two stories I heard first had to with him using a manger's computer code (which he should not have known - much less USED even if "okay, fine" he did know it) to either (a) cut a corner and save some time, or (b) use that same code to possibly steal from the restaurant.

Both are bad. Certain "improper procedures" can definitely get you in trouble, or perhaps fired. Cutting corners happens, but often backfires, I've found. And stealing.. well ... there exists an enormously tempting variety of ways to steal from most restaurants. The thing is, those above you have usually thought of them, personally done them, and/or seen them pulled a few times before you ever tried it, and are now watching for that clever idea you thought you alone figured out to be played out. Again. In short, any manager worth even half of his or her paycheck will eventually figure out what you're up to. And you will be 86'd as a result, every time.

I'm not even going to tell you that I've never stolen from an employer myself in fact. (Or stolen "back" I considered it, for a reason that I at the time felt was justified - perhaps I'll share such details another day.) But it was long ago, and I'm not proud of it either. I've also personally seen time and again that no matter how easy it seems to pocket a little extra cash at work... (a) that it will be found out if you do it with any regularity, and (b) that you always stand to earn more by keeping your job honestly, than you will ever be able to steal before you're found out.

I understand the temptation tho, and feel sorry for those that fall prey to it. And maybe just a tad more sorry for those that get caught.

Like Ruby (not his real name) for instance ... He's been here for years. Heck, the guy helped train me my first week here, and has additionally taught me quite a bit about our products. Whatever the truth of the matter is, I genuinely hope he lands on his feet. 

In honor of Ruby - who's most likely pounding the pavement visiting multiple area restaurants - I thought I'd likewise offer you some reading material (blogs) from servers at other restaurants too, coming up next time. 

Turns out this "blogging about restaurant work" is a niche that I am but one (new, minor, unknown) voice in....

Ladies Pt 2: Yes, this day actually can get worse

Thanks for coming back for Part 2! I had to eat something. 

You must stop here, and first read Part 1 of this if you haven't already, then come back, before proceeding.

My blog. I make the rules.

Please try to ignore the sexy girl on the left below, and read Part 1.

Not really them. Stole this from  http://theneonteaparty.blogspot.com/2010_05_01_archive.html

The ladies start showing up one or two at a time, which is always a pain, because you have to get drink orders, run back and forth, and maybe "spiel them" again and again. It's like being sat four tables sometimes, which would be okay, except that it's my turn in "rotation" again so I'm also being seated more people wayyyyy out on the patio by the time they all file in, and I am becoming busier than I like now (as far as being able to give good service to all, and stay on top of things). 

Oh, did I say they "all" filed in? That would be inaccurate, as only seven showed up, which means no automatic 18% tip. No biggie (I'm lying). It's seven women, which will most likely (and did) mean separate checks, and - while not trying to be stereo-typical or sexist - it's just a fact that you can ask any server about if you don't believe me.. but statistically speaking women typically tip less than men. Not all of course, I'm just speaking from long-term experience and a generally proven pattern. Again, ask any waiter you want to. No offense meant either! If you're a woman who knows the industry and tips 20%-ish, I'll bet you even know that you're "above the norm." And I'll bet that your servers typically love you and are SO glad to see you again...

What's worse or better (always hard to tell), these are apparently women with TONS of money. They all parked via Valet (which equals several trips for me, to validate them). Most of them have outfits that - even for lunch/day-time apparel - you'd likely compliment and possibly drool over, if you saw them yourself. Every co-worker who gets within 5 feet of the table comments to me on the various perfume odors that cannot be missed. I'm looking at a couple of the the rocks on their fingers and thinking "Wow... that's larger than my first apartment." And so on.

They're all seemingly ESL also (English as a 2nd Language). Columbian, South American, or just native Miami or even Orlando residents, I don't know.  But over the course of the day, a couple of jokes from my co-workers got dropped about the possible amount of drug money that was possibly represented at this table. Whatever. I'm new enough to Florida to not catch on to that line of "humor" or even appreciate it.

Adding to the above detail tho, it's a general fact that despite the amount of money at their disposal, white collar people almost always tip worse than blue-collar. So obviously, my financial hopes for this table and this day are falling fast. Which would be okay, that's just the business... Hey I'm still good (I'm lying again). 

So at this point, my only hope of making any money today remains completely dependent upon the size (as we say) or the "dollar amount" (for the rest of you) of their check(s).

Okay. Alright. So let's go, ladies.

"She and I-i-i-i-, are going to split the xyz salad. No blue cheese on hers, and put mine on the side. Extra for me tho. Put hers on the side for me in fact, hahahahaha!"

NEXT : "We want to split the abc soup."

"A bowl or a cup ma'am?"

"A bowl, but can you split that up for us?" 

"That would be two cups ma'am."

"But we want to split the $8.95 bowl, instead of paying for two cups. Can you do that for us sweetie?"

"No ma'am. Because of the portion size... A bowl is 10 ounces and a cup is 5.. so I have to order that as two cups." (I'm pretty sure about that anyways. Actually, I'm totally making it up, while trying to not let myself get irritated at how cheap they are. It sounds good anyways. I'm going to remain firm, and stick to this story.)

NEXT : "We want to split the mno sandwich. What can we get besides the cucumber thing that comes with it?" (Repeat long list of sides here.) "Okay, I'll have blankety blank" .. "And I want that other thing."

I am not making this up people. I have my order pad from today right in front of me as I type this, to make sure I am reporting this to you accurately and without exaggeration. I will produce it upon demand, if challenged. I'm leaving stuff out in fact, to keep this from being longer than it has to be. What they, and probably you, don't know, is how much time I'm going to have to spend at the computer typing all of these extra special instructions in. The Canadians at 107 are just going to have to wait awhile for me to get back to taking their order. Lucky for them, they've got appetizers coming.

NEXT : "I'll have the chicken sandwich."

Finally - a whole entree!!!

"But I have an allergy to eggs. Does the bun use any eggs in it?"

"Ummmm, I'm honestly not sure. But I will check for you before letting it be served, and leave it off, if so."

"Thank you! What about the sauce on the sandwich? 'Cos I can't eat that either if it has eggs in it."

You see to me allergen issues are of course serious. I mind having to go through this with her less than anything else I've been through with this group so far. Altho it's time-consuming, I am sympathetic, and of course don't want to kill the poor woman, by being lazy and not (first finding .... a task in itself sometimes... and then) checking with the kitchen manager before allowing her to eat anything that could make her sick. Or dead. Those kids on the patio who drained their sodas in about 45 seconds, are just going to have to wait a little bit longer for refills while I look into this.

NEXT : "I'll have the chicken sandwich too."

Wait for it...

Oh, silence? Clearing my throat now, "Any special instructions? 

"No."

If I had time, I would totally kiss her.

I don't, but typety-type-type away I go on the computer. Right about now the soups for a couple of them (that I didn't mention above) are coming out, and my co-worker Jake (not his real name, but one of my most and least favorite servers here whom you would already know much more about if I had begun this blog in December)) is bitc.... k'vetching at me for not having soup spoons on the table in time. He's right. Totally my bad. And I really don't want to hear it right now Jake, just shut up bring them the damn things will'ya I'm typing and busy and have to concentrate so I don't kill this lady OKAY?

Ok good, that's done. When I get back to them, it turns out the Canadian family knows exactly what they want, and orders extremely quickly, with absolutely no special instructions. I would like them, except for the fact that they're Canadian. Again not to be stereo-typical, but we American servers know too well that Canadians usually tip even worse than Europeans (a big ha ha, if you're a long-time reader of my blog).

I take soda refills to the kids/family on the patio, and in just the 30 seconds I think (wrongly) that I have to make small talk, I find out they're from Europe. 

I am not making this day up people.

WAIT! I've sincerely learned NOT to stereo-type in all the years I've been doing this and honestly, seriously, really I DO try to give the absolute best service I can to everybody and just let the money take care of itself. Really, that's me. 

Anyways, where I work, we have a food-runner or two scheduled EVERY shift (very different from most restaurants btw - he's one of the people I have to tip out every day in fact). 

He's been running food to my 7-top of ladies - and going back and forth a whole lot himself - and finally I get some sympathy. He says "These -expletive deleted- are asking me me for something else EVERY TIME I go by the table!!!" Yep. That's a fact. They are me too. "More of this..." "Another side of that." And my favorite.. "Can you take this away?" I've tried to remain quiet and calm about it all and just do my job without complaining, but this guy's young.. and now thanks to him word is spreading about about how high-maintenance these ladies actually are... My manager has I think quit judging me for the smaller screw-ups I made earlier, and at this point is both feeling sorry for, and laughing at me, at the same time.

Like any day, I've already got my next three steps (the things I need to be doing, and am kinda behind on today actually) planned out, but now one of them tells me that she needs to leave early, and would like her check. Now. Of course you do... About this time, the hostess (God bless her) tells me about a new table I have. I'm running back and forth for these ladies too much to be able to take the table honestly. Jake's right there as she tells me this. He's greedy - or needy, I'm not sure which. I ask him to take the table, and he does. 

Do you get this? This is my situation... I'm so busy with the tables I have that I know (believe) I'm not going to make much money off of, that when a new table ($$) comes in, I have to give it away.

Okay... she's paid and gone now. I'm nearing being caught up (altho both my tables and my co-workers might tell you differently, considering someone - I still don't know who - had to carry a Sangria out to the patio to the Canadians because I let it sit at the bar awhile, while running the credit card for the lady who had to leave early) .. I've cleared the plates, the silverware, and even the breadcrumbs for these ladies as best I can while they stay and talk .. and stay and chat .. and stay and gossip .. and just overall stay awhile when suddenly (!) about 30 minutes after not needing anything, they tell me that they want to see the deserts (Now) 'cos it's one girl's birthday.

Yeh.. I of course will, but that's gonna have to wait a few minutes, sorry.

Long story short (too late, I know) I spend a few minutes showing off our super-fabulous desert tray to them, and they choose the qrs (with a candle yes, but no, we don't sing happy birthday) and yup, five forks. Five people, wanting to split one piece of cake. Okay, whatever. It happens. Plus one fruit cup, for the one who has the egg allergy.

And then guess what else? TWENTY-FIVE YEARS in the food-service industry, and this is a first for me. These ladies ask me for .. six cups .. of ... Coffee?  No. 2 decafs, 1 coffee, 1 espresso and 2 cappuccinos? No. Which would take a lot of time, sure, but is really nothing new, I'd be okay with that (I'm lying again.)

But no. In addition to their desert order, they would like.. six cups ... of ... hot water. With lemons.

Really? No tea bags? No sugar? No.. just six cups of hot water. With lemon.

WHO DOES THAT? This will take me .. 2-3 minutes that I don't have right now to prepare, what with the saucers and spoons I know will be needed to just make it look right .. and makes me $0, percentage-wise. We can't charge for hot water, can we? Not that I would, but what are you even wanting six cups of hot water for? To add powdered Lipton's Cup-of-Soup to when I'm not looking?? (Hey, I've had it happen before.)

Six cups of hot water .. okay .. and I know I need to do this before the the desert makes it to the table.

Meanwhile, I've been seated again and long story short, Jake snakes it (meaning he greeted and took the table because I was taking too long to get there.. Again, I'd argue that in this case he was right to do so, for the sake of prompt guest service). But again, I just want you to keep in context that I've now lost another table and even more $$ on behalf of these ladies.

There's just no lie I can tell you that would cover up how I'm really feeling about all this now, is there? Even if I wanted to?

Back to the computer to order their desert. Back to the Europeans for another round of sodas for their kids. Back to the Canadians to clear out their plates, talk a sec, and get a to-go box and their check. Back to the kitchen to make.. six hot waters.With lemons.  The desert for the ladies gets taken out by the food runner, and the hostess comes to me (God bless her, yet again) to tell me that I've been seated again, BUT that she'll give it to another server if I'm too busy to take it right now (like I said, word about these ladies has spread).

I'm feeling kind of in limbo right now. I could take the table, or not. I'd give better service all around if not, but I'd look like a true slacker and a really weak server if I give away now a third table on what seems like to everybody else to be a slow lunch. Based on that alone, I should take it, really.

I look over to the table she's talking about, and it's a "Black-African-American-Negro-Whatever you need me to say" woman and her two small kids. The choice is easy. If I pass on this table, while completely justified because I'm "kind of" too busy for another table at the moment, I'll just look prejudiced. I walk up to them with all that I've got left to offer today, smile big and and welcome my new guests, stating that I'll be right with them. And I'm grateful that the hostess gave me the chance whether to choose this, or not, largely because I don't want to deal with the other servers accusing me of "passing this one" onto them.

Whatever.

Oh, and did I mention that the hostess is also black? She's at least half black anyways. Yeh, true story. How I handled this one could have serious long-term implications on how she feels about and treats me, for the rest of her/my time at this place together. Very good call on my part overall, I'd say.

Then Jake (of all the #$%&ing people) walks by me and says "Oh Guyyyyy..... Your girls need you again..." What now?????? I already put desert forks down .. and a spoon for the egg-allergen fruit cup lady.... "Why?" I ask. Extra plates maybe I'm thinking, but if so, why didn't you just take them to them for me dude? He just walks off laughing. Now what? Errgh!

Against my common sense, I go to see what they need. Another first...

"Can we get this cake cut up? We'd do it ourselves, but I it would look rather messy. Can we get this piece of cake cut into 5 separate plates?"

Okay that's it. I quit. I'm just going to walk straight out the door now, and jump off the nearest bridge. At least that's how I feel. For whatever variety of reasons, I don't. Instead, I pick it up, and finally go greet the lady and her kids who have been waiting.

She's super nice. After much deliberation and not a few questions later (with the cake still in my hand), she finally orders a Mai-Tai. I could've let it slide, but whatever else, I have to cover my ass, and I take the time to card her anyways. She digs it out. Virginia ID. 1977 huh? Whoa. Could've fooled me. 

Ring up her cocktail on the computer, then go back to the kitchen to ask them to cut the cake into 5 pieces, to much loudness.  I would have normally run away to anywhere else after asking this, but I had to make chocolate milk for the kids. Turns out, it's not just me. Nobody there has ever heard of such a request. If I weren't busy, I might've tried to just quietly do it myself, and been done with it. Based on past experience - assuming I'm here this long - I will not live this one down for 6 or 7 years. (I'm still "living one down" from my third week here in fact. Don't ask.) I will now also always be known as the guy who ordered a desert split into 5 pieces. Later this day in fact, I ordered a desert the normal way, and got asked sarcastically by the kitchen "... And just how many pieces do you want that split into?"

I gotta hand it to them, tho. If it were left to me, those five plates would have looked really, really messy. Will (yeh, his real name, giving him big props here) threw out the first desert, and took the time to make me five new thinly-sliced pieces of new qrs cake for these ladies, and gave all five of them a personal dollop of our made-from-scratch whipped cream as well. Whenever I got around to taking it out, it was a beautiful presentation, and all the annoyance aside, I was really proud of the final product. Gonna have to buy that guy a beer someday, now that I think about it.

So work politics aside .. The Europeans are gone now, leaving me a nice $9 on a $100 tab (rounded it to $110). The Canadians nicely surprise me, with 20% ($32 on $160ish). The other Canadians (I haven't even mentioned them here yet) don't surprise me, with a near perfect 10% ($6.60 on $66 and change) so it seems it's all coming down to my ladies now...

Interestingly, one of them takes charge of the whole table. She takes the check, and later hands me 5 cards and tells me exactly how much to put on each one, averaging the birthday girl's total into the five checks. Kind of a pain, yes, but I'm otherwise impressed with not only her take-charge attitude, but her math skills as well. Using a cell-phone calculator, she mathematically nailed it. Things are looking up, other than the fact that I now have to run 5 cards with different totals than the computer tells me that the 6 of them owe (a little over-ride action), while still taking care of the other table (Miss Virginia and her kids).

Miss Virginia by the way (buzzing from her Mai-Tai) right about this point needs some personal advice. Turns out she's experiencing this really strange sensation after a few days in Florida. She tells me her symptoms, and I confirm for her that "Yes" this sounds like "sunburn" to me. As a black woman, she's not used to this exact type of pain on her face, arms and shoulders.. No, not at all. I tell her all about Aloe (and give her directions to the local Wal-Green's) and about hot showers too - and the science behind why hot showers can help her, to boot.

Meanwhile, the other ladies can now see me paying more attention to this one woman than I am to all six of them combined (while they're waiting for their cards back from me, okay, yeh), and NOW a couple of them are acting ansty? After being here over 2 1/2 hours you suddenly have to leave?

So.. Kind of winding this down (not sure yet), I bet you're looking for the big happy surprise ending.. like where the take-charge girl slips me an extra $100, right? Or $50? Or even $20. Yeh, me too. Well, this is real-life. That didn't happen. She used the calculator to figure out 15%, and they all left me $3.63 on their vouchers. Nobody left behind a diamond ring or anything either.

For just a second, it's hard not to feel gypped. 15% is fine, but expectations can be a tricky thing sometimes. The day started with me "expecting" to make 18% from 8 people, which could have easily been a $300 check. 15% on about $130 is a far cry from that. But I'm too professional (and by that, I mean jaded) to let this bug me for long. I have to keep things in perspective. These ladies did not come to our restaurant to pay my bills. They apparently didn't come because they were hungry either! No, they came to celebrate their friend, and I can tell my inner dialogue monster that wants to rant about things to just shut up. I need to be grateful that I work at a place so nice, that women of this stature would choose to come here, and trust us with their special event. There's only a thousand other places in Orlando they could have chosen from, and they look like they could afford them all.

Another thing - the take charge lady? Maybe she knows her friends don't know how to tip, and maybe that's why she took charge of everything and told them how much to tip me - to make sure I was taken care of. I gotta consider that.

Anyways, when lunch slows down here, servers need to check with our manager for permission as to whether they can "go have a smoke" or "go ahead and order something to eat now?" They all knew what kind of day I'd had by then, and today I asked the manager, "Is it okay if I go have a nice cry now?"

I was just being funny tho. It's been twenty years or so since you people literally made me cry ... I mentioned that once already.

OKAY .... TO BE TRUE ... NO, this is not by any means a "typical day" for me. It was rather a-typical in fact, which is why I'm still here writing about it.

And you're still here reading about it?!? 

Wow, thanks. 

I don't need you to feel sorry for me or anything. It's the lifestyle I've apparently chosen, and what I've reported here is just ... what happens. I do want to thank you for hanging with me this long, and for hearing me out tho.

Okay, Miss Virginia, btw, left me ten bucks on thirty-something... well over 30%.. for those of you still looking for a happy ending.

Today was "a" day, and not unlike many others I've faced. And I'm still doing it.

And so are millions of other servers too.

If I could impart anything right now, it would be

Next time you go out to eat, don't forget to look at who - and what's - behind that plastic smile.

And have a great time too.

Y'all come back now, y'hear?