Today was touch and go at the restaurant. The day started out pretty strong for me during the lunch shift, then the whole place completely died at dinner. I honestly didn't mind, this weekend was pretty crazy.
A reservation for an 8-top was being sat in my section in the early evening so I figured I'd make a little money, then get cut and be on my way. If only it were that easy...
The 8-top comes in on time (about the only thing halfway decent they actually did). I did my greet and they do the classic "I'll start with water..." routine. Eight waters later I have the lamest drink order to hit the table that night. This is when it gets interesting, and by "interesting" I mean completely fucking ridiculous.
They had coupons, not *a* coupon, but multiple coupons, and they insisted on using all of them for their dinner. I explained that we only allow one per table. They spiked the ball back at me by insisting that I work something out (split all the checks) because it doesn't say anything about one per table on the coupon (well played, cheap asses).
The meal came and went without event, nothing cold, nothing being sent back. After about an hour of useless conversation, water drinking, and stuffing their faces, they were done eating.
I threw out the old "Did you need anything else?". One woman looked at me and said "no", two men started discussing the idea of sharing a dessert but I was long gone. All I needed was that one person to say, "no" and I was off printing the checks.
The saving grace was that since it was technically an 8-top, gratuity was added, and on our computer system the gratuity is calculated BEFORE the discount. They made a face when this was explained to them but there was nothing they could do. Game, set, match.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
I was absolutely raging on Sunday. I am usually very good at holding my composure, but it was honestly one thing after another after another after another.
We opened early for a private party. It had nothing to do with us servers, but it adds stress to set up to have customers putzing around, asking us where the restroom is.
My first table decides to argue with me about the carbonation (or lack thereof) in his fountain soda. I have been down this road before, sir. It's not that there's no carbonation, it's because it's fucking fountain soda. Enough with the dramatics and stressing to me how "horrible" it is. Order something else and get off my back. I care very little if you're impressed with our soda.
A few tables later was the lanky, outspoken gentleman (on some sort of drug and alcohol bender) with his mother who was sat at the very same table (Isn't it something how that always happens? It's like the table is jinxed for the day!). The man wanted a carbomb and his mother wanted an iced tea, no food, in the middle of a family restaurant with children everywhere. Said man winds up getting kicked out for cursing himself out in front of children. I know it sounds like I got something wrong there, but that's what happened. The guy cursed himself out. Can this day get any better?
A little while after that was an extremely friendly family who had one man translating for everyone since no one spoke english. I smelled trouble but brushed it off. In addition to the four meals they ate in house, they ordered four *to-go* as well. The tab was $88 and they gave me a very generous $6 tip.
It was just one of those days where everything weird keeps happening, tips are minimal, and it seems the fates are testing your sanity threshold.
Add this to the fact that I was the closer and received 3 brand new tables (one of which was an incomplete party) at 5 minutes to closing. I came so close to losing it, sometimes I thank God that I have good friends at work to talk me down from the edge.
We opened early for a private party. It had nothing to do with us servers, but it adds stress to set up to have customers putzing around, asking us where the restroom is.
My first table decides to argue with me about the carbonation (or lack thereof) in his fountain soda. I have been down this road before, sir. It's not that there's no carbonation, it's because it's fucking fountain soda. Enough with the dramatics and stressing to me how "horrible" it is. Order something else and get off my back. I care very little if you're impressed with our soda.
A few tables later was the lanky, outspoken gentleman (on some sort of drug and alcohol bender) with his mother who was sat at the very same table (Isn't it something how that always happens? It's like the table is jinxed for the day!). The man wanted a carbomb and his mother wanted an iced tea, no food, in the middle of a family restaurant with children everywhere. Said man winds up getting kicked out for cursing himself out in front of children. I know it sounds like I got something wrong there, but that's what happened. The guy cursed himself out. Can this day get any better?
A little while after that was an extremely friendly family who had one man translating for everyone since no one spoke english. I smelled trouble but brushed it off. In addition to the four meals they ate in house, they ordered four *to-go* as well. The tab was $88 and they gave me a very generous $6 tip.
It was just one of those days where everything weird keeps happening, tips are minimal, and it seems the fates are testing your sanity threshold.
Add this to the fact that I was the closer and received 3 brand new tables (one of which was an incomplete party) at 5 minutes to closing. I came so close to losing it, sometimes I thank God that I have good friends at work to talk me down from the edge.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
The Season Begins.
It has been absolutely beautiful here for the past couple of days. This means two things in the restaurant business (or at least where I work).
#1 - The freaks start coming out of the woodwork (where have these people been hiding/eating all winter?)
#2 - People start going crazy with the re-fills.
I honestly don't know where they all came from, but last night was an absolute collection of freaks and weirdos. Snotty and demanding they waited until late into the dinner shift to start showing up and set us on a wait. At least we eventually got the hit, but there's something about waiting around all night to finally get tables that just starts to set you off.
It's one of those instances where you're basically all ready to just write the night off as a slow night, get cut, and have a few drinks before heading home. Somehow, as soon as you get the "I just want to get cut," idea into your head, people start flooding the host stand.
Another thing the warmer weather brings, as I mentioned before, are people taking advantage of the endless re-fills most places offer. I'm going to preface this by saying that I actually have no problem working in a restaurant that offers endless re-fills. It gives me a chance to increase my tips. You'd be surprised how many people can't believe that you thought of bringing them a re-fill before they even ask for it, and I love doing that. It saves me a trip later, keeps the guest happy and increases your tip because they know you're paying attention to them but not hovering over them, it can be a win/win most of the time.
The other side of this, of course, are the people who drink their soft drinks and water as if they've been stranded in the desert for the past month with nothing to drink but their own urine. Always waving that fucking finger in the air, or showing you the empty glass. I really don't expect them to understand that I have other tables (what do they care?), but I do however, expect them to understand that I'm there to help them as needed, not in excess. Downing that drink at an unreasonable speed is your problem, not mine, I just brought you a refill less than 3 minutes ago. I always have an eye on my tables, and I'm always bringing them what they need (most of the time) before they even need it in a reasonable amount of time. If you're drinking at the rate that requires extra attention from me, if you're drinking at a quicker than normal pace which requires me to go out of my way for you, don't be surprised if you wind up having to wait for your drinks.
I'm here to help you at a normal rate, I'm not here to go out of my way or fun myself ragged for your excessive needs and I will not allow myself to.
I understand it's hot, I understand you're thirsty, understand that I have a job to do and I will get to you when I can.
#1 - The freaks start coming out of the woodwork (where have these people been hiding/eating all winter?)
#2 - People start going crazy with the re-fills.
I honestly don't know where they all came from, but last night was an absolute collection of freaks and weirdos. Snotty and demanding they waited until late into the dinner shift to start showing up and set us on a wait. At least we eventually got the hit, but there's something about waiting around all night to finally get tables that just starts to set you off.
It's one of those instances where you're basically all ready to just write the night off as a slow night, get cut, and have a few drinks before heading home. Somehow, as soon as you get the "I just want to get cut," idea into your head, people start flooding the host stand.
Another thing the warmer weather brings, as I mentioned before, are people taking advantage of the endless re-fills most places offer. I'm going to preface this by saying that I actually have no problem working in a restaurant that offers endless re-fills. It gives me a chance to increase my tips. You'd be surprised how many people can't believe that you thought of bringing them a re-fill before they even ask for it, and I love doing that. It saves me a trip later, keeps the guest happy and increases your tip because they know you're paying attention to them but not hovering over them, it can be a win/win most of the time.
The other side of this, of course, are the people who drink their soft drinks and water as if they've been stranded in the desert for the past month with nothing to drink but their own urine. Always waving that fucking finger in the air, or showing you the empty glass. I really don't expect them to understand that I have other tables (what do they care?), but I do however, expect them to understand that I'm there to help them as needed, not in excess. Downing that drink at an unreasonable speed is your problem, not mine, I just brought you a refill less than 3 minutes ago. I always have an eye on my tables, and I'm always bringing them what they need (most of the time) before they even need it in a reasonable amount of time. If you're drinking at the rate that requires extra attention from me, if you're drinking at a quicker than normal pace which requires me to go out of my way for you, don't be surprised if you wind up having to wait for your drinks.
I'm here to help you at a normal rate, I'm not here to go out of my way or fun myself ragged for your excessive needs and I will not allow myself to.
I understand it's hot, I understand you're thirsty, understand that I have a job to do and I will get to you when I can.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
A Light-Hearted Comparison
If one more person references the movie "When Harry Met Sally", and uses it as what they suspect to be a cute way to tell me they're a pain in the ass, I'm going to snap.
It's not clever, it's DEFINITELY not cute, and all it does is waste more time while I'm standing there listening to you explain the comparison and giggle at how clever you believe yourself to be (after all, you're about to send me to the kitchen 80 times to check on ingredients, and see if we can do this or that to accommodate you).
Don't suggest that I go rent the movie, I'm not as young as I look. I've seen the movie, I've seen the scene you're talking about and now I dislike you very much.
Seriously, the next time I'm looking to rent a flick I'm really going to think of you, the fucking pain in the ass at my table who put me in the weeds. I'm going to remember your suggestion. I'm going to rent "When Harry Met Sally" and guffaw at that very scene you made your comparison and I'm going to fondly remember you sitting at my table and say to myself, "Awww hee hee... those ladies were right, she IS like Sally, it's hilarious when people are an absolute pain in my ass."
It's not clever, it's DEFINITELY not cute, and all it does is waste more time while I'm standing there listening to you explain the comparison and giggle at how clever you believe yourself to be (after all, you're about to send me to the kitchen 80 times to check on ingredients, and see if we can do this or that to accommodate you).
Don't suggest that I go rent the movie, I'm not as young as I look. I've seen the movie, I've seen the scene you're talking about and now I dislike you very much.
Seriously, the next time I'm looking to rent a flick I'm really going to think of you, the fucking pain in the ass at my table who put me in the weeds. I'm going to remember your suggestion. I'm going to rent "When Harry Met Sally" and guffaw at that very scene you made your comparison and I'm going to fondly remember you sitting at my table and say to myself, "Awww hee hee... those ladies were right, she IS like Sally, it's hilarious when people are an absolute pain in my ass."
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Introductions
I figure I might as well get started.
The purpose of this blog, is to offer me a place to vent freely about what has been a big part of my life for the past ten years.
Being in the restaurant business has been both a blessing and a curse for me. I started being hired as a hostess for a chain restaurant when I was 18 and had absolutely no idea what I wanted to do with my life and future. The restaurant environment allowed me to break out of my shell, socialize, and put a ton of life experience under my belt. I was trained as a server and really started to learn about human behavior, while making a lot of money (a lot more than other people my age who were still in school).
The blessing is that no matter how many times I strayed from the biz, it always welcomed me back with open arms and a lot of money.
The curse is that the money I have made in my years of waitressing has in some ways allowed the years to go by very quickly and here I am, ten years later, still waiting tables, wondering where all the time went.
The thing I do love the most about this business is the person it has made me. Witnessing social dysfunction on a daily basis really helps you learn how to and how not to act in a public setting. It has also taught me how to have a thick skin and to let things roll off of my back when they're extremely unimportant.
These will be my personal experiences in this field, and life in general. I want to use this to be a place to vent that I do not have to censor in fear of my co-workers or bosses seeing it. The names will be changed because I'm a paranoid bastard sometimes, but the stories will be real.
Love,
Red-Headed Waitress
The purpose of this blog, is to offer me a place to vent freely about what has been a big part of my life for the past ten years.
Being in the restaurant business has been both a blessing and a curse for me. I started being hired as a hostess for a chain restaurant when I was 18 and had absolutely no idea what I wanted to do with my life and future. The restaurant environment allowed me to break out of my shell, socialize, and put a ton of life experience under my belt. I was trained as a server and really started to learn about human behavior, while making a lot of money (a lot more than other people my age who were still in school).
The blessing is that no matter how many times I strayed from the biz, it always welcomed me back with open arms and a lot of money.
The curse is that the money I have made in my years of waitressing has in some ways allowed the years to go by very quickly and here I am, ten years later, still waiting tables, wondering where all the time went.
The thing I do love the most about this business is the person it has made me. Witnessing social dysfunction on a daily basis really helps you learn how to and how not to act in a public setting. It has also taught me how to have a thick skin and to let things roll off of my back when they're extremely unimportant.
These will be my personal experiences in this field, and life in general. I want to use this to be a place to vent that I do not have to censor in fear of my co-workers or bosses seeing it. The names will be changed because I'm a paranoid bastard sometimes, but the stories will be real.
Love,
Red-Headed Waitress
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