When we were in Florida we met in the hotel Tiki outdoor bar before we headed out.

It was a cute space.

There were about 20 people in the bar.

There were about 700 employees.

A man who looked like he was born when Eisenhower was in office.

A woman who had the energy of an upside down turtle.

A kid who we didn’t see do any work the two days we were there.

There were seriously about 10 more employees than guests.

There was no service bartender. They all came into the bar to make their own drinks. Everyone was in everyone else’s way.

They all took forever to make their drinks.

They were very NOT busy.

At one point my chef heard an employee say, I’d someone comes in tell them they can’t sit because we are short staffed.

They were not. They were only cocktailing. Hardly any food.

Over the two days it was insane the stuff we saw.

Two employees sitting at the bar bitching about the bar.

I was told I couldn’t get a beer because they didn’t have a glass.

I asked for a corona I got a Blue Moon.

I stood at the bar day two waited 15 minutes because they were all talking and couldn’t be bothered.

A girl chipped a glass. The piece of glass flew over a guests head. She put ice into the glas any way and serves a drink in it.

I could continue.

Adam had lunch with a friend today. He said the server approached the table with a stack of dirty dishes from another table.

This has led me to start putting together a list at work of things servers and bartenders should never do.

If any of my friends would like to share their stories, pet peeves or things they hate, feel free.

I’ll add them to the list.

Stories from McDonald’s.

The soda water saga continues.

Tonight on the way home I stopped for a soda water.

I order and am told it’s $1.08.

I approach the window.

I hand the lady my card.

She turns to process it, then comes back to the window.

She says, can I ask you a question? Do you order this anywhere wise?

Other restaurants or other McDonald’s?

Both?

I look to see if anyone is behind me. There is no one.

I say, funny you should ask.

It doesn’t matter the McDonald’s. It’s always a different price. .22. 1.08. 1.22. Or free. It’s always an adventure.

She says, I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t being an asshole for charging you.

I said no. The cup. The lid. The straw. You. The machine. There’s a cost associated with all of it. So I appreciate when it’s free. But I never expect it.

I tell her thank you for not charging me.

And.

Yesterday.

I went to get a soda.

The woman means to give it to me free but inadvertently charges me for the car behind me. She was getting a manager to process the refund and I told her just to tell the car I paid. It was 5 bucks and some change.

I’d never done that before.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

We open the restaurant every day we’re open at 5:00.

And on busy days we get several tables in the lobby at the same time. This continues every fifteen minutes until we get everyone in for the first turn.

We often tell people we’ll get them seated in just a few minutes and they can have a seat if they like.

And the people can start to pile up until we start seating the next time slot.

Sometimes, people get very, very, very angry if we seat someone before them, when they arrived first.

I’ve had people shout at me over this.

Fun fact:

When you made your reservation you gave us very pertinent information.

How many are in your party.

What time you want to be seated.

Where you’d like to be seated.

What kind of table you’d like.

So.

When we take someone in before you it might be that:

Their reservation was actually before your reservation.

They are two. Being seated at a 2-top.

That they are being seated in the bar.

That they are part of a larger group.

That they requested a booth, you requested a high top.

That it’s chef’s mom and she never has to wait.

There are a million reasons why they are getting seated first.

Patience. Is. A. Virtue.

I promise this blog won’t become just about my waiting tables job. But for the moment, it’s what’s happening.

And I’m fucking tired again tonight. I ran my ass off tonight, just so my trainer could make a shit load of money. Some how it’s a fucked up system but what can you do. The night started out a little less frustrating. I got to the restaurant about an hour early so that I could start to fill out this booklet that must be completed before I’m official. For a company that prides it’s self on it’s environmentalism, it sure as hell produces a lot of paperwork. So I used my little cheat-sheet and filled out about 1/2 of it while waiting for my shift to start.

And then it started.

And for as good as the waiter last night was. Tonight’s was awful. For the first two hours she drove me fucking bonkers. When a waiter is super busy it’s called being in “the weeds.” Don’t ask me why. I’ve never been told.

Well for the first two hours my trainer was acting as though we were in over our heads and completely in the weeds. For the life of me I couldn’t get her to calm down. Eventually, I took her computer card (everything has to be entered under her number since she’s the one who is getting the money) and took over all the tables. I told her to stand back and just let me do my thing and help if I needed it.

I didn’t need it. I ran the whole section for the whole night. Not only that, at the end of the night she walked with 20% of her net sales, after tipping out the bartender, busser, food runner, and me. That’s right and with the amount of selling I did tonight she’s well on her way to paying rent. I didn’t learn a lot tonight, but I realized I’m back in the groove of this and that I CAN do it.

As they say it’s just like riding a bike.

As for my training.  Seems the manager was even more impressed tonight.  So I get to cut another day off the total and will finish after tomorrow night’s shift…if I pass the test.  Of course this makes me nervous because I haven’t taken a test since 1989.  I’ll of course report in and let you know how it all goes tomorrow.

And I’ll end on things that piss me off.

I don’t understand people who find it a surprise they have to pay.

Tonight I waited on a table of 6 college age students. After the meal, I dropped off their check so they could pay.

And I waited, and I waited for them to put out their money or credit card. What I eventually found out was that one of them had to go and get money from the ATM. This took about 30 minutes. (Don’t ask me why, there are about 50 ATM’s within spitting distance of my restaurant.) The question is, who goes out to eat and doesn’t bring money? Or a credit card? Or an ATM card? You knew you were going to eat. You knew you’d have to pay. Get the fucking money before you eat.

And along the same thought.

Why do you have to wait till the cashier has finished ringing up your purchase and put it in a bag BEFORE you start searching through your over-sized purse to find your money? And for the record the purse is big enough to fit all of New Hampshire in it. Did it not occur to you, while you were waiting behind the 12 other people in line that you might have to pay for what you wanted? Did it not occur to you that you couldn’t have it for free. You want something from a store. You pick it out, go to the counter AND PAY for it. This is not a surprise. Your fucking around in the purse caused me to miss the 2:00 A.M. train home tonight, and forced me to wait 30 minutes for the next train. Causing me to not get home till almost 3:15. In the fucking morning. Would they have really convicted me if I had slapped you right there in the line?

I’m curious.

I often stand in the wait station.

I can see the whole dining room

I can see if a server is struggling. I can see if someone isn’t eating their steak.

I can see a lot.

So on Saturday night around 7:15 that’s where I was.

I hearing weird chatter.

And I look over at table 31.

It’s right next to the wait station.

The couple at the table is FaceTiming with their dog.

The phone is turned toward me and the dog is looking at the camera and they are baby talking with Fido.

The couple next to them is not amused.

This went on till their entrees arrived.

They said their goodbyes.

And ended the call.

We’ve had Wagyu tomahawk ribeyes on the menu all weekend. The steak costs $165 dollars.

Trust me when I say it’s worth it. The meat is so delicious and practically melts in your mouth.

Tonight we had a party of 6 get sat around 7:30.

And they ordered a Wagyu.

Medium well.

Chef recommends medium rare.

And definitely nothing over medium.

Mostly because the meat near the bone can only be cooked medium rare by charring the rest of the steak.

The sever tried to persuade them to order it rarer. To order a different cut.

They insisted.

The server checked with the chef to make sure he’d do it.

He said if that’s what she wants.

So he did it.

She loved it.

Said it was worth every penny.

Since I became a manager I’ve walked around with a piece of paper and my favorite pen.

I take notes throughout the shift.

Don’t do that.

Good work on that.

My staff sighs when I pull out my note pad.

Yes.

Sometimes I’m making a note about the staff.

But these days 75% of my notes are reminders of things that happen to write about.

I have about 15 sheets on my desk with notes.

Reminders of stories to tell you.

I write a couple of posts.

But some nights the list has 10 things I want to share with you. Each list has three or fours things left to write about.

When I come home stuck. I look through my list.

And there you have it.

A new post.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

We have lots of wealthy folks come in.

They all sit on one side of the spectrum or the other.

They are either average tippers.

Or.

Amazing tippers.

Tonight a family came in.

Ate dinner.

Left 17%. The server was not pleased. But then chef reminded her that they don’t tip on the wine.

Yes. It’s a real thing. Many people don’t tip on the wine.

Tonight the husband paid.

If the wife pays they flip very far onto the other side of the spectrum.

Then last night.

A family who comes in every so often was in.

They eat. Are super gracious.

And their check was $600.

And they left 80%.

Yes. You read that right.

Two wealthy families.

Two different responses.

Both very nice.

Each on a different side of the spectrum.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Table 25 arrived yesterday.

We’re seated.

We’re greeted.

Drinks were served.

Then the server went over to take the order.

She gets two people in when the 14 year old orders the Wagyu tomahawk ribeye.

32 ounces.

$165.

The server looks at the mom and says, I did tell you how much that cost right?

The kid looks at the server and says, I don’t think that’s any of your business.

The mother is horrified.

She shuts it down.

But the kid gets the steak.

At the end of the meal the mother was very apologetic.

The server telling me the story said, clearly the kid thought he was a Beckham.

The thing that occurred to me was that the first time my parents spent anything close to that on me was my first car.

$200 bucks for a 71 Chevy Impala that I started with a toggle switch. I opened the trunk with a screwdriver.

It lasted four months.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Please.

Please.

Please.

Do not leave your FLOSS PICKS on the table after dinner.

It’s gross.

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk.