Posts tagged ‘day jobs’

October 1, 2007

Various Nightly Conversations at My Restaurant Job That Disprove the Following Stephen Hawking Quote:

Speech has allowed the communication of ideas, enabling human beings to work together to build the impossible. Mankind’s greatest achievements have come about by talking, and its greatest failures by not talking. It doesn’t have to be like this. Our greatest hopes could become reality in the future. . . . All we need to do is make sure we keep talking.

—–

Manager: Okay, guys, we need to talk about what went wrong last night, because clearly something did, and I know you guys work hard, and I want to hear from you suggestions of what the problem is and ways we can fix it-

Server #1: –Well, I think what happened was-

Manager: –Because it’s all about communication here, and you know, guys, I can tell you and tell you and tell you, but at the end of the day it’s about communication and communication is a two way street-

Server #2: –the problem was that the kitchen didn’t-

Manager: –And let me know these things, because I’m not going to yell at you, I know you work hard, and we all have the same goals here, so I just need suggestions, because if you suggest something, I will implement that suggestion, okay, guys, because nothing is written in stone-

Server #3: –I think what would fix the problem-

Manager: –Okay, guys, right now, though, we need to get these napkins folded, and get on the floor because we’ve got a 6:00 curtain at the Met, and they’re piling up in the door, okay? On the floor, guys. Now.

—–

Server #1: Where’s the ticket for table 57?

Sous chef: What table?

Server #1: 57. Table 57!! I fired their food twenty-five minutes ago, where is it?

Sous chef: I don’t see no ticket. Did you ring it in?

Server #1: Of course I rang it in! Did you lose the ticket?

Sous chef: I don’t see it. You should always check your tickets.

Server #1: Oh, my sweet Christ. You lost the damn ticket. Oh, shit, they had a steak mid-well and a lasagna! They’ve been waiting thirty minutes, this is a disaster!

Sous chef: If I don’t have no ticket, I don’t know I’m supposed to do anything.

Server #1: You lost the ticket!

Sous chef: You should always check.

Server #1: I should always check to make sure you haven’t lost the ticket?

Sous chef: Sure.

Server #1: Oh, fuck you, man!

Sous chef: I’ll help you out this time, but next time, you should check the ticket.

Server #1: What do you mean, help me out? It was your mistake!

Sous chef: Your mistake.

Server #1: Your mistake!

Sous chef: You!

Server #1: You!

—–

Customer: Could you do the stuffed salmon with no spinach in the stuffing?

Server #3: No, I’m sorry, the salmon stuffing is pre-made. You can have a plain grilled salmon filet.

Customer: But I’d like the scallops, just not the spinach. Could you just stuff the salmon with scallops?

Server #3: No.

Customer: Why not?

Server #3: Because we don’t have a stuffing with only scallops.

Customer: Could you take some plain scallops and put them in the salmon?

Server #3: No. We could do a plain grilled salmon with a side of scallops from the antipasti bar, how about that?

Customer: Hmmm. I really, I tell you what I’d love is a salmon stuffed with like a scallop and cornbread stuffing. Could you do anything like that?

Server #3: No.

Customer: Could you ask the chef?

Server #3: He’ll say no. We can’t do that, I’m sorry. Because, you see, the stuffing, it comes with spinach and scallops. We can’t create a new stuffing and stuff a salmon with it, especially not pre-theatre.

Customer: It’s just, I’m allergic to spinach. Allergic.

Server #3: So get the plain grilled salmon, side of scallops. I think you’ll love it!

Customer: It’s just, I’d so love it to be stuffed inside the salmon, you know? Maybe if you talk to the chef.

Server #3: Tell you what, I’m going to give you a minute to think about it, while I go take orders for these nine other tables I just got.

Customer: Well, hang on, hang on, we’re ready to order. So, could I have the stuffed salmon, only without the spinach?

Server #3: No!

—–

Coffee guy: Eh! Eh!

Server #1: Sorry, Miguel, I know you don’t like me in your station, but I don’t have time to explain to you-

Coffee guy: -eh, eh, eh! What? What?

Server #1: –what I need, and so I’m just going to – out of my way, man! I’m just going to grab it myself real fast-

Coffee guy: What you want? What you want? Eh! EH!

Server #1: One minute, uno momento, I will be out of your way, muy hurry, hurry, no tiempo-

Coffee guy: Eh?

Server #1: Just need to grab a cup here, and some milk, milk, uh, leche-

Coffee guy: Cago en tu leche.

Server #1: Very good, bueno, gracias. You’re my main man, Miguel!

March 30, 2007

Your Waitress Responds II

The restaurant where I work is across Broadway from Lincoln Center, and the vast majority of the waitstaff are aspiring actors. A lot of our patrons like to ask their server if s/he is an actor, which annoys me because hey, maybe I’m just a server – is there something wrong with that? And two, did I ask you what you do? No. No, I did not.

Anyway, I’ve come up with the perfect response to that question, and this is how I hope it plays out:

Nice, but Tactless Old Lady: So, tell me, honey, are you really an actor?

Me (squatting down and resting my elbows on the table): You know, it’s a funny story about that. Years ago, when I was just a little girl in East Tennessee, my mother found herself in possession of a small amount of mad money. After careful consideration, she decided to spend that money on a trip to the Big Apple, where I had always wanted to go. We were here for four, glorious days, and on one of those days, we visited Lincoln Center, right across the street there. It was my wildest dream to one day attend Julliard, and then to sing at the Met. My Mom drew a picture of me standing in front of that fountain, and then we ate lunch at this very restaurant. I had the berries with mascarpone cheese. They tasted like hope.

(I stand, and smile at the distant past for a moment, lost in happy reminiscence. Then, glancing down at the sticky bussing tray in my hands, I am brought back to the present.)

Me (Cont’d): Well, that was years ago now. I never made it to Julliard. And I certainly never made it to the Met. I don’t sing anymore. But I did get a job in this very restaurant! So, every day, I can look out those big, front windows at that paradise across the street and remember…a little girl’s dreams.

(I pause for a moment, gazing out the large front windows that afford a view of Lincoln Center, then blink rapidly several times, and swallow.)

Me (Cont’d): I’ll be right back with your bloody Mary.

[Scene]

March 22, 2007

Your Waitress Responds

I’m a server at a restaurant in Manhattan. I find that, this time around at least, I actually quite enjoy dealing with people…most of the time. As anyone who has ever worked in the service industry knows, however, there are more than a few real winners out there. Because I (a) have a horrid temper, and (b) don’t really give a shit about this job, I am afraid that I may very well say what I’m really thinking to a customer one day, at which point I’ll be immediately fired. So, in an attempt to preempt this event, I’m going to use this blog (it’s my blog, after all, and I can write whatever I want) to record all the things I really want to say to my customers. It’s possible that the people who need to hear these things might accidentally stumble upon them, and hopefully the knowledge of this (admittedly unlikely) possibility will grant me enough relief to continue providing smiling, patient service to my more horrid customers.

This past Tuesday evening, a lady wanted my opinion on the wine list. There is nothing I hate so much as people wanting me to give my opinion on our extensive, totally-unfamiliar-to-me wine list. I am not a sommelier. I am a waitress. You should know that if you ask your server about wines, your server just makes something up. We all do it – our aim is to make you look smart in front of your dining companions, because that is what you really want. You never know what you’re talking about, and you never complain when the wine arrives (because you wouldn’t really know a pinot from a grape Kool-Aid), unless you were planning to complain all along because you’re the sort of person who likes to make a big stink and get a lot of attention (i.e. an old and/or French person).

The woman in question asked which of the three (nearly identical) reds she was considering was the most full-bodied, and when I said, ‘Uh…’ and paused half a second for inspiration, she said, in a tone dripping with sarcasm,

‘Do you drink wines at all?’

What I really said was yes, and then I pointed to the most expensive of her three choices and told her that was the most full-bodied and she’d love it (and she did), but what I thought was:

‘If you’d like to know which is the least repulsive magnum you can get for $7.99 to obliterate the consciousness of having danced attendance on rich, superior bitches all day, I can help you out. Otherwise, as you can clearly see, I am a waitress, and so do not make a habit of buying $30 bottles of wine to compliment my microwave burrito.’

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