Things you don't want to see at a restaurant...

As a server and a patron, there are things you don't want to see in a restaurant...
Things servers don't want to see...

* An 8 top that consists of 4 kids or more...honestly, I like kids, I even have kids, but too many at your table is a recipe for heart burn and low tips.

* When waiting on a group that includes adults ranging in age from 30 to 60+, seeing the 60+ people grab the check and insist on paying (including the tip). Seriously, it's not the frickin' Depression (at least not yet).

* Any group that consists of people 21 years old or less where all of them are dressed up in prom/formal clothes. These tables will run you to death and leave a 2% tip (not out of spite usually, but out of ignorance or necessity).

* Any customer whose face looks as if they just came from a lemon sucking contest. Particularly if they are perfectly dressed and coiffed.

* Any one who looks at the menu, checks his or her wallet, then tells the hostess to seat them.

* Really obese people (not just fat, but really, really obese) who order gobs of very unhealthy food with their diet soda.

* The Red Hat old ladies. Holy shit, I mean, they show up in groups of 12 that seem like groups of 1200, all want separate checks and all leave horrendous amounts of coins for their Victorian era tips. The red hats are supposed to be 50 or older, but you'd be hard pressed to find anyone under 65 in our local chapter.

* Coworkers from other jobs. It usually results in a good tip, but most servers I know find it uncomfortable if you aren't actually friends with the coworker. Constant jokes about waiting on them at the other job generally ensue...

More to come...

Putting stuff behind you...

It was the way they looked when they came in, their posture, their physical interactions with each other, which led me to think they were not exactly on good terms. So when I walked up to the table I tried not to be apprehensive as I rattled off my intro spiel.
“So, would you like something to drink while you look over the menu?”
The woman glumly shook her head no. The man looked as if he were about to order something, then said no thanks.

I returned after a while to take their orders. As I approached the table, I heard them talking.
“So, did you take her to this restaurant?” I overheard her say. The emphasis on the “her” left no doubt as to what that meant.
“No, of course not. Why would…”
His reply was cut off by my approach.

They ordered entrees only and as I was turning to leave he said, “Why don’t you bring a bottle of the house cabernet? Does that sound ok honey?”
“I don’t want anything,” she said.
I stood awkwardly as he looked at her. She refused to return his look.
“Should I bring the wine?” I asked. There is really nothing more uncomfortable than having to be an unintended observer to a situation like this.
“Yes, bring it.”

I returned with the wine, went through the rigmarole of wine service, then left. I brought two glasses, but noticed as I walked by later that her glass stayed dry.

The entrees were served and I checked to see how they were doing. I tried to stay away as they ate. Neither talked much. One time as I passed I saw her looking directly into his eyes as she said quietly, coldly even, “fuck you.”

They man finished his food; the lady still had a full plate. I knew, unfortunately, I would have to go to the table and start clearing it.
This time as I approached, they did not stop talking.
“I thought we put stuff behind us,” he was saying.
“I thought I could,” she said.
I stood for a moment or two, and cliché though it is, those moments seemed like an hour. Finally I reached for his plate and asked if I could take it. He motioned for me to take it.
“Are you still eating?” I asked her. “Or do you want me to box it up for you?
“Just take it. Throw it away.”
In my best fake happy voice I asked if they would like to see a dessert menu – I’m nothing if not professional.
The woman laughed, and for the first time her face lost the cloud that circled it the whole time.
“No. God no.” she laughingly replied.

I dropped the check, took their money and got a decent tip. As I cashed out the check I watched two people leave together and knew I wouldn’t be seeing them together again.

Entertaining Blog

I've been reading the blog of the Lone Waitress as of late. Very entertaining, check it out.

No Mo Nano

Well, I've officially given up writing a novel in a month. Why? To wit, I lack the discipline, and more importantly, I was churning out crap. I like the idea of the NANO, but for me, the reality of it not so much...

NANO novel

I'm trying my hand at writing a novel in a month (well less than that now). Check out what it is all about at National Novel Writing Month.

States of Mind

So I’ve been working some. Not a lot - other parts of life getting in the way. One thing I’ve found out, the less hours I wait tables, the harder it is to drag my ass in. I think about all the other wonderful things I could be doing, about how I don’t want to deal with assholes, about how I wanted to be waited on for a change.

And yet, once I get there, once I have overridden the initial inertia, I’m glad to be there. I enjoy my coworkers, enjoy doing something relatively mindless, enjoy, of course, the money.

How to explain the paradox? I don’t know. I think it goes beyond just having to get moving and go work. I think it might have to do with a frame of mind shift. If I’m working a lot, I’m in a server state of mind, so to speak. But if I’m working few hours, I’m spending most of my time in a customer state of mind.

And who wants to switch out of that?