I think that's what this is really. One of those typical blogs, but hopefully with a twist. I've been blogging since 2005, and while my personal blog is random and haphazard, this one has a direction and a focus to it. I'm ready to dangle my feet into the pool of internet users that are dying to know more about the restaurants they choose to visit.
While I'll never name the restaurant I work for (would never want to put a job/company in jeopardy) I will be open, honest, and blunt about the stories I share. Be ready for some stories that will have you burst out laughing at the office, or grimacing in disgust and agony as you really learn what it's like to serve.
Life As a Server:
Serving. I don't think there is anything that is more depicted by the cliche a "love and hate relationship" better than this. I have served for three years now, and spent at least ten years on top of that working in customer service. Believe me. I've been through it all. I've had cake thrown at me, almost been in a gang fight (gave my shift away that night, lucky me!), dropped countless amounts of food, pretended to be romantically involved with regulars (lord knows why), been touched inappropriately, yelled at, kissed on the cheek, and left so many notes, I wouldn't even know where to begin.
It isn't all fun and games however. Some days are terrible. Some days make you want to drop everything and leave without ever looking back. I mean seriously people, deducting my tip because I forgot your PICKLES? Oh, and don't forget the frown face that accompanied a note on the bottom of a boat for food saying "you forgot my pickles." You're clearly ignorant. And if you are that desperate, go BUY some pickles next time. Or, better yet, how about asking more than just that one time in the way beginning of your order? I promise I had no intention of forgetting your pickles. Honest.
There are good days. Great days actually. Days where you are told you've done an amazing job, that you handled the party of 30 with grace and politeness that they've never received before. There are the days where they are so happy with your service, they need to speak with your manager right away. And the table that says nothing, but leaves over 20% for the tip with a big grin on the bill. These are the days we live for.
Why do I do this, you ask? People. I'm drawn to people of all kinds. They all have stories, they all come to eat at this same place and bringing them altogether in a room like this... well there's something amazing about it. And hey, let's be real for a minute. The money will always bring servers back. I can't count the number of servers who say "This place is a black hole and I hope I die so I don't have to come in tomorrow" or "God I hope this place blows up tomorrow" or even "I swear to God I'm walking out and never coming back." Don't worry... they pretty much ALWAYS come back... and pick up a double when they do. They come back because they know they need the money, and that's it's fast and easy to make. You are short $30 for your rent this month? Pick up a shift and you'll be flying high.
Now, my knowledge is a bit limited. I don't work in an upscale restaurant, or a unique jazzy Office Space-type place that makes me wear "flair." Nope. No flair here. I don't even get to work at a mom and pop's place that can be discovered by Guy Fieri from Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives. It's just a regular serving job in a regular city in a regular restaurant. But the stories are not regular.
What will I leave you with so that you are drooling wanting more? I guess I'll leave you with two stories. The first is about a note that was left to for me once. I remember the day clearly. Night I should say. It was busy, and I had at least five or six tables... all needing, all wanting. The table I meant to close out was two younger gentlemen, probably in their early 20's, and had just eaten a massive amount of chicken wings (traditional, not that pansy boneless stuff). I didn't realize until later than I charged them the wrong tab, which actually made their meal a lot cheaper than they were probably expecting. This may have been the reason they left me this note, or they thought I was a young pretty girl who was serving them. Whatever the reason, they felt the need to leave me this:
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| Extra Points for trying right? And sorry ladies, can't give you their phone number! |
Story number two, well... it's not really a story per-say, but more of an anecdote. The restaurant I work at has a full bar, so we do get a lot of interesting requests. Some drinks my bartenders have never even heard of (although we haven't heard of a lot). One day, I get a table of two women. They are loud and obnoxious and I knew from the moment they walked in and waltzed themselves to my table that they would be trouble. (pssst... did you notice that person standing by the door behind a stand? Yeah, she's called a greeter and she would just love to seat you!) While their lack of respect boils my blood, I paint a smile on my face, and in the most chipper voice known to mankind, I ask them what they would like to drink. No joke, this is what the woman said:
"I would like a margarita."
Me: "Oh yes, perfect. Would you like an original or a flavored ki--"
"I want original."
Me: "Sure thing. Blended or on the rocks?"
"Blended. But make sure there is no ice."
As far as I know, that.just.doesn't.work. You cannot blend liquid. It's ALREADY liquid. I proceeded to tell her that this is not possible. Not that I wouldn't do it, but that it literally is impossible to have a "blended" drink without ice in this matter. She continued to be trouble. But after this, you almost have to feel sorry for the people who don't understand... well anything.
Alright, that's enough ranting for today. My goal is to share stories of the serving world as often as the ideas come to me. Be on the lookout!
Thanks for stopping by!
Always, your server
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