Well Hannah tells me I have to post on my blog. I think it's so I'll stop talking at her to tell her the silliness that have been my nights at work. She even went so far as to lend me her laptop so I can post while they watch tv. Riding high on my sugar rush thanks to her homemade gluten free cheesecake I feel invigorated and especially chatty.
I am now out of training at the french joint in the heart of Buckhead. The vests are turning out to not be the worst thing ever. The lack of pockets on my apron however is a real pain in the ass. The vest has plenty of pockets but since I am not built like barbie I have an abundance of room in the chestular area and not so much in the waist area. Any necessary things I may put in my inside vest pockets like washcloths, crumpled splenda packets, wine keys, cough drops and a watch well these just make me look like I have a small lumpy dog wrapped around my waist. The waist looks stuffed full while my chest fits like nothing has since I was a 13 year old flat chested girl. The uniform is the biggest cock block I've ever seen. Better than a grandmother for zapping your self esteem. The only other really weird part is having to carry a pager for the kitchen to reach you. I usually tuck this into the waist of my pants so I don't confuse it for the vibration of my cellphone. This usually works out well until the hostess gets happy with the buzzer while you're at a table. I nearly dropped a bottle of wine on my table this afternoon when it started to buzz as I bent over at the waist.
I have had some awesomely weird tables in my many lunch shifts these past two weeks. The best one being my first table Sunday. I was folding napkins when the hostess seats a middle aged man with a puffy gray David Hasslehoff mullet. He was with a very trim, very made up brunette. The doop (the paper that tells me their name, how many reservations they've made before, when they sat etc.) said they were a recommendation from a local hotel concierge. Awesome, so that means they're too lazy or think they're too busy to make an actual choice on restaurants and blindly go where someone tells them to. This bugs me, who is so important they don't have time to be adventurous, this friggin' guy. I glance at the top of the doop, the last name is french, ok no big deal. I greet them and welcome them, give them the whole deal about how our water is filtered a whole song and dance basically asking them in they want sparkling or flat water. After some debate they and by they I mean he told me what they wanted. I turned and told the new server assistant what they wanted while I went to go do something in the back. As I came out the s.a. told me I'd told him the wrong kind, they wanted flat water not sparkling. Oops, well it's just water, no big deal. OH BOY was I ever wrong. When I went over to let them know the specials, he literally puts his hand up in a stop motion while I'm talking and interrupts me. He points to the water glass in front of him and says "You brought me sparkling, I OBVIOUSLY asked for flat. If you can't understand my accent because I'm french tell me now"...The brunette accompanying him looked pained. My mouth nearly fell open, I understand you're a dick. Prick is the same in Swahili, Vietnamese, English or French. A dick is a dick no matter what language, a dick with a stupid haircut is especially annoying. If you're this picky about your water this is going to be a VERY painful table. I smile and tell him it was a simple mistake, one that I will not repeat. I manage to tell them the specials even they they're not listening. The inspection of each others cuticles was far too engrossing. Did I mention they were sitting side by side at a four top table? Yeah, I hate that. If you're going to be that couple that insists on sitting in a 4 top booth, don't be so lovely that you need to sit next to one another and whisper,it's wierd. You're adults, not 4 year olds no one cares what you have to say it's ok to sit across from one another. You're not exactly communicating confidential nuclear secrets here. So he orders the hanger steak, but it's not that easy no, of course not. Mister frenchyhoff wants it Black and Blue. "Do you know what that is?" "Yes sir I am familiar with that temperature." WHY would you want your HANGER steak Pittsburgh? You're an idiot. "Good, because you didn't understand me before, blue is VERY rare, cold and rare. Do you understand?" Diiiiiiiiiiick. I nod and smile and write "temp-D bag" on the slip of paper in my book.Not only B&B he wants the sauce on the side, of course. His lady friend orders the salmon. It's too early on a Sunday to play your psychic friend ma'am I need to know which salmon? I ask her what temp she'd like her salmon and she just stares at me. I know this means she has no idea what this means, I think she's probably only eaten her salmon smoked or from a can. I kindly tell her salmon usually comes medium rare or even medium, and would she like that? Then I get the idea to talk her into the Salmon and eggs, to just avoid this whole fiasco, after 3 recooks the night before I didn't want to make the managers run anymore redcards. Salmon and eggs is smoked and always good I tell her. "Oh fantastic, sauce on the side please". Sauce on the side is health conscious I understand but it's really annoying and the cooks hate it. So after their entrees come out I do a check back. I had mentally prepared for the fussing I was sure to hear. Frenchyhoff complained that his steak was dry and asked me if they cooked it in the sauce and then cooked it off. What sauce, the Bearnaise sauce? I think not. I smile and since I was tired of listening to his lispy french bullshit I tell him that the sauce and the steak are cooked entirely separate. I didn't mention that a hanger steak is known as the butcher steak for a reason as it's not fatty and if you PITTSBURGH it, it's going to be dry. It's not a ribeye or a NY strip, there's not enough fat to make that great. Needless to say when I saw the 13% tip I wasn't really upset.
For every super nightmare table you get there's always one table you thank god for. The one that saves your average for the night and bring you to your minimum for the night. "Dear Lord, please let me make at least X amount tonight. Thank you for this job and your hair sure looks nice today". I'd just gotten rid of a table of very nice black ladies who were a pleasure to serve, but verbal tippers and bitched about the price. Our place isn't exactly cheap... So my last table is a party of 3, possibly 4. One man asks me for a Dewars and water, the other man asks me for a high gravity beer. I recommend a delirium Tremens a nice ale and nicer at $9 a bottle. Then their friend rolls in and informs me he wants wine but he doesn't know much about it. If I'd known what I found out by the end of the meal I would have pointed him to another bottle of wine and not a safe tasting $32 bottle of wine. He then proceeded to tell me he wanted west coast oysters, big salty oysters. Well...if you're looking for salty oysters East coast are generally saltier and firmer albeit it smaller. No, I want BIG big oysters. I laughed and let him know I'll pick a good one for him, how many would you like? He wanted a dozen for himself, and his friends could split a dozen. Awesome, with the apps and the wine and the drinks their bill was $100 before their entrees. They were in a great mood and a really easy table. I waited on them and finished my side work while joking around with them and the final bill was $200 dollars. As I pick up the signed check they ask me if I had a tongue ring. Why yes, yes I do. Then one guy asks me laughing if I wanted to ride in a Bentley. I laughed and said I'd ridden in one before and although they're nice I didn't really like them. I completely thought they were just being silly. After the wine man (who drank 3/4 of a bottle himself)left his credit card I dashed out to give it to him. They were getting into their car from the valet...a Bentley. They left me $50 and ended my night on a very happy note. They definitely made up for the verbal tippers and I made my minimum for the night.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
The inspiration was WHAT now?!
So my first little test drive went well. I got there early, parked in the MOST expensive place possible only to find out that the parking garage right next to it was 10 dollars cheaper. Shit. I walk in there are 2 servers, a manager and a hostess dressed to pick up a date. WHY do hostesses get license to look like total prostitutes yet I have to wear ugly non slip shoes and the most unflattering attire known to man? Moving on, the manager tells me I was just in time for dinner. Naturally I assume she's speaking of dinner service. I mean, I did come here for the evening shift, what else would there be tea and scones with the queen? I was really thinking she was off a few notches. Imagine my surprise when I find out no, she actually means supper. I was lead through the cleanest kitchen I have ever seen in my life, through a maze of purple hallways to a break room. The room held a plasma tv, a buffet style steam table full of food, a salad bar and a coke fountain. I was floored, a restaurant that actually FEEDS its servers, for free?! No more ordering food, gobbling it down in free moments between double seatings hoping the bugs and or other servers don't polish it off before you get to it? Wow..maybe this is server heaven. On the wall behind this apparition was a calendar with what was being served for the rest of the month. Perhaps my yogurt was laced with something because surely I was hallucinating.
The weird part...no aprons. Now, a server apron is Davey Jone's locker full of all kinds of useful crap. I knew one server who carried a pocket knife and a little leather hobbit bag full of change. Other carry cigarettes, a cell phone, pictures of loved ones, condoms, lipgloss,etc. You know, the essentials. Without this you have to carry everything in your pockets. Women's dress pants aren't exactly designed for saddle packs of junk. I'm not sure how I feel about this no apron thing, that's a server's security item, that and a padded book.
The restaurant only runs with 2 servers on a Tuesday evening which is both good and bad. Good because it means there are only 2 to split all the tables, bad because well...only 2 servers can handle all the tables. The restaurant is still new, that's obvious when I saw the patio table tops were starting to come unglued from the heat and was told they didn't anticipate that kind of heat. Well....the Georgia summer heat is basically like dancing on the surface of the sun wearing sandals made of butter. So, this was their first summer, noobs.
The servers enlightened me that the design of the restaurant was inspired by a screen saver and a particular female orifice. The large football shaped hole in the wall backlit by a blue light in the private dining room already clued me in. I am familiar with this shape and being a female with a particularly dirty mind this amused me through my interview in that room. The designer was male, go figure.
The last funny thing was the schedule. One man I saw in there training last week when I interviewed was there training this week. He was scheduled for 6 training shifts this week to my...3. Great, they hired a man who is pants on head retarded. Either I am that good, or they REALLY need me on the floor. For my ego's sake I'm going with I'm just that damn good.
Overall the management seems super cool, the feeling is relaxed but I'm worried about the amount of business this place does. We'll see how the french joint is, much like every other server I know, I go where the money is. Did I mention they work TRIPLE shifts at this joint? I know, I shuddered too.
The weird part...no aprons. Now, a server apron is Davey Jone's locker full of all kinds of useful crap. I knew one server who carried a pocket knife and a little leather hobbit bag full of change. Other carry cigarettes, a cell phone, pictures of loved ones, condoms, lipgloss,etc. You know, the essentials. Without this you have to carry everything in your pockets. Women's dress pants aren't exactly designed for saddle packs of junk. I'm not sure how I feel about this no apron thing, that's a server's security item, that and a padded book.
The restaurant only runs with 2 servers on a Tuesday evening which is both good and bad. Good because it means there are only 2 to split all the tables, bad because well...only 2 servers can handle all the tables. The restaurant is still new, that's obvious when I saw the patio table tops were starting to come unglued from the heat and was told they didn't anticipate that kind of heat. Well....the Georgia summer heat is basically like dancing on the surface of the sun wearing sandals made of butter. So, this was their first summer, noobs.
The servers enlightened me that the design of the restaurant was inspired by a screen saver and a particular female orifice. The large football shaped hole in the wall backlit by a blue light in the private dining room already clued me in. I am familiar with this shape and being a female with a particularly dirty mind this amused me through my interview in that room. The designer was male, go figure.
The last funny thing was the schedule. One man I saw in there training last week when I interviewed was there training this week. He was scheduled for 6 training shifts this week to my...3. Great, they hired a man who is pants on head retarded. Either I am that good, or they REALLY need me on the floor. For my ego's sake I'm going with I'm just that damn good.
Overall the management seems super cool, the feeling is relaxed but I'm worried about the amount of business this place does. We'll see how the french joint is, much like every other server I know, I go where the money is. Did I mention they work TRIPLE shifts at this joint? I know, I shuddered too.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Do you remember the time, when we fell in love?
So, I've moved back home to Atlanta. I stopped posting the last few months at the Bier Markt because wwell...it just got to be too silly to even post. Being yelled at for not bringing people drinks in the middle of the dance floor at 1:55. Excuse me drunk ass, last call is in 5 minutes and I'm not fighting these assholes to drink you your shitty vodka soda for no tips.
So, now that I am home and have been out of the serving game for an ENTIRE MONTH I'm starting to go through server withdrawal. I had two interviews at fine dining joints in Buckhead. Now, I have to say it's nice to have someone look at your resume and say you're qualified. I'm so old hat at server interviews I can make anything sound polished, my answers are now on auto pilot. Why do I have no wine knowledge? You can't say "Well because I've managed to never learn about wine because I just don't give a damn. I know what I like and don't give a rat's ass out this vintage or that. I can tell you how to get cheap red wine out of sand colored carpet while not legal to drive." That answer won't pass any interview, albeit truthful. Instead you say something like "Well, that's an excellent question. You see in Canada the beer market is quite small, the available beers are controlled by a liquor board. If you want something new you're forced to go to a restaurant that specializes in imports. Instead of wine I learned how to describe the complexity of beer, the flavor profile, where it came from, the history of the brewery. Just like beer, I can learn about wine quickly." Sounds good right? Total bullshit, but it sounds good. That is all that truly matters in serving, look good, sound good and make it through your shift.
I've been hired at two restaurants I just have to choose one. This isn't the time to be picky, but it kind of is. I have that old familiar feeling that every new serving job brings, the hopefulness that THIS place will be the hospitality utopia. The place where your schedule is the perfect blend of doubles and days off, where no one messes with you,it's slam packed every night, everyone knows their job and the managers aren't homicidal monkeys in pants. One place is a celebrity chef restaurant with fusion cuisine and a very very polished post modern dining room. I have to say, it looks enchanting. The other place is a corporate owned french restaurant, the reviews are not so great for it and although the interior is enchanting the servers have to wear vests. I for one think vests are the epitome of homosexuality and I've avoided them at all costs. We'll see how these turn out, I'm broke and I need a job. It's not a family restaurant so that's a start.
So, now that I am home and have been out of the serving game for an ENTIRE MONTH I'm starting to go through server withdrawal. I had two interviews at fine dining joints in Buckhead. Now, I have to say it's nice to have someone look at your resume and say you're qualified. I'm so old hat at server interviews I can make anything sound polished, my answers are now on auto pilot. Why do I have no wine knowledge? You can't say "Well because I've managed to never learn about wine because I just don't give a damn. I know what I like and don't give a rat's ass out this vintage or that. I can tell you how to get cheap red wine out of sand colored carpet while not legal to drive." That answer won't pass any interview, albeit truthful. Instead you say something like "Well, that's an excellent question. You see in Canada the beer market is quite small, the available beers are controlled by a liquor board. If you want something new you're forced to go to a restaurant that specializes in imports. Instead of wine I learned how to describe the complexity of beer, the flavor profile, where it came from, the history of the brewery. Just like beer, I can learn about wine quickly." Sounds good right? Total bullshit, but it sounds good. That is all that truly matters in serving, look good, sound good and make it through your shift.
I've been hired at two restaurants I just have to choose one. This isn't the time to be picky, but it kind of is. I have that old familiar feeling that every new serving job brings, the hopefulness that THIS place will be the hospitality utopia. The place where your schedule is the perfect blend of doubles and days off, where no one messes with you,it's slam packed every night, everyone knows their job and the managers aren't homicidal monkeys in pants. One place is a celebrity chef restaurant with fusion cuisine and a very very polished post modern dining room. I have to say, it looks enchanting. The other place is a corporate owned french restaurant, the reviews are not so great for it and although the interior is enchanting the servers have to wear vests. I for one think vests are the epitome of homosexuality and I've avoided them at all costs. We'll see how these turn out, I'm broke and I need a job. It's not a family restaurant so that's a start.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
We have been overrun
So tonight I was spared the torture of the slam packed bar. I actually lucked out and was put in the diningroom. No easy task for a feamle have I mentioned how knuckle dragging cromagnon man my AGM is? Excessively so he told me today to stop standing with my arms crossed and try looking more coy and less intimidating. Uh...seriously? Why don't you just pee on my leg and show me who is boss.
Moving on my section was overrun by eastern europeans. If you've ever seen Americans abroad they drink bud, well apparently Czechs do it too. Come all the way to Canada and drink pilsner urquell awesome. They started off as 6 and turned into like 14. Grat time!! Speaking of which agm is such a pinhead he has been ranting about grat and how if it's not a reservation we can't grat them. Yeah.right. He wants the hostesses to tell them, us to tell them and the reso coordinator to tell them. Even though our menu says 8 or more means grat he'll the website says it too. Needless to say when it came time to bill them I went to another manager for the grat. This was after one party member paid 89 dollars worth of the bill and slipped me a five spot and a smile. Thanks your five bucks won't cover the tip out on it.
Moving on my section was overrun by eastern europeans. If you've ever seen Americans abroad they drink bud, well apparently Czechs do it too. Come all the way to Canada and drink pilsner urquell awesome. They started off as 6 and turned into like 14. Grat time!! Speaking of which agm is such a pinhead he has been ranting about grat and how if it's not a reservation we can't grat them. Yeah.right. He wants the hostesses to tell them, us to tell them and the reso coordinator to tell them. Even though our menu says 8 or more means grat he'll the website says it too. Needless to say when it came time to bill them I went to another manager for the grat. This was after one party member paid 89 dollars worth of the bill and slipped me a five spot and a smile. Thanks your five bucks won't cover the tip out on it.
Friday, April 9, 2010
shut up and pay me
So last night I closed as per usual. I wasn't in the best of moods when I got there but through the decimation of a bag of gummi bears I felt better. Nooo please don't eat me, *gobble* that's enough outta you gummi bear. See doesn't reading that make you feel better? I knew it.
Anyway after everyone had been cut and it was just me a very respectable looking couple came in. I fought the crowd and got to the table to take their order. Two white wines, so I put the order in and went to get them a menu. I was gone no joke 2 minutes and this bleached blonde over perfumed woman said "Our drinks? Where are they?". I was more than a little shocked, and not at the two toned lipstick and liner spackled on her lips. I just smiled and told her the bartenders were busy. They ordered a dessert and were a fairly low maintenance table. They were more interested in sitting super close to one another and some inappropriate touching. A the guy was nearly totally gray and much older than the woman and...Bulgarian. I figured once I heard him speak I wasn't getting a very good tip. Sorry, I know that's awful but in my experience Bulgarians are a stingy bunch. Sooo, easy table that is until I got the server premonition that something was up. It starts as a little hair raise on the back of the neck and you just know someone is going to dine and dash. It's that sort of knowing you get just before you vomit on your shoes like "OH NO! I gotta stop this". I wasn't sure who it was until I saw the couple putting on their jackets and turning to leave. Like had gotten up and everything. I friggin rushed over there and said "DO you need your check?". The Rumpelstiltskin sized man looked shocked and said "Oh...we forgot to pay our bill".. Yeah...you think, jackass? I was.not.amused. I knew that if I walked away they were out, and the fat security guard that was on last night was too interested in his chicken wings to pay attention. "Yeah, you did forget, give me your credit card and I'll take care of it for you" smile GONE! If I could shoot venom from my eyes I would. So I cashed them out and they tipped me 5%..a dollar. Better than my having to pay for that stupid bill. Fuckers.
Anyway after everyone had been cut and it was just me a very respectable looking couple came in. I fought the crowd and got to the table to take their order. Two white wines, so I put the order in and went to get them a menu. I was gone no joke 2 minutes and this bleached blonde over perfumed woman said "Our drinks? Where are they?". I was more than a little shocked, and not at the two toned lipstick and liner spackled on her lips. I just smiled and told her the bartenders were busy. They ordered a dessert and were a fairly low maintenance table. They were more interested in sitting super close to one another and some inappropriate touching. A the guy was nearly totally gray and much older than the woman and...Bulgarian. I figured once I heard him speak I wasn't getting a very good tip. Sorry, I know that's awful but in my experience Bulgarians are a stingy bunch. Sooo, easy table that is until I got the server premonition that something was up. It starts as a little hair raise on the back of the neck and you just know someone is going to dine and dash. It's that sort of knowing you get just before you vomit on your shoes like "OH NO! I gotta stop this". I wasn't sure who it was until I saw the couple putting on their jackets and turning to leave. Like had gotten up and everything. I friggin rushed over there and said "DO you need your check?". The Rumpelstiltskin sized man looked shocked and said "Oh...we forgot to pay our bill".. Yeah...you think, jackass? I was.not.amused. I knew that if I walked away they were out, and the fat security guard that was on last night was too interested in his chicken wings to pay attention. "Yeah, you did forget, give me your credit card and I'll take care of it for you" smile GONE! If I could shoot venom from my eyes I would. So I cashed them out and they tipped me 5%..a dollar. Better than my having to pay for that stupid bill. Fuckers.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Totally knew that it was a test, you passed
So today listening to the CBC news (which is like an ultra polite ultra socially conscious vanilla version of NPR) I heard a very important server secret given to the world. The power of touch. How a gentle and brief touch to your guest will equate more money for you in the end. We all know at least one middle aged server who I a little bit too interested we'll say in guests. Yo hey I know I am wildly funny and my eyes are like pools of liquid sex and you can't get enough of me but seriously can you take a step back when you're talking to me? You're in my bubble and um, yeah I can smell your breath.
Anyway what this touch thing means is if you gently touch someone even in passing it will encourage them to feel comfortable. They say booze increases satisfaction with a meal by as much as 25% well believe me the touch of a pretty girl does too. We southern girls are taught this early on. You cam persuade easily with a smile and a touch. How do other servers do this?o usually touch someone on the shoulder when I am about to barge into their story to do my call backs. If I am prebussing I tend to touch an arm our when I give the bill. A sincere thank you coupled with a hand on the arm seems like you are super awesome and caring. Really you are thinking of the speed of your turn and burn. So next tome touchy feely is the way to go made better by bulging muscles and good hair.So I am planning on proofing this for typos tomorrow as again my iPhone thinks it's smarter than me.
Anyway what this touch thing means is if you gently touch someone even in passing it will encourage them to feel comfortable. They say booze increases satisfaction with a meal by as much as 25% well believe me the touch of a pretty girl does too. We southern girls are taught this early on. You cam persuade easily with a smile and a touch. How do other servers do this?o usually touch someone on the shoulder when I am about to barge into their story to do my call backs. If I am prebussing I tend to touch an arm our when I give the bill. A sincere thank you coupled with a hand on the arm seems like you are super awesome and caring. Really you are thinking of the speed of your turn and burn. So next tome touchy feely is the way to go made better by bulging muscles and good hair.So I am planning on proofing this for typos tomorrow as again my iPhone thinks it's smarter than me.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
2 weeks? I'll take 3 days
My AGM is gone for a week. You know it's a bad sign when the managers, both of them and 3 servers stand out on the patio and watch him leave. Actually watch him leave isn't exactly the right word. We watched to make sure he didn't go next door only to reappear a few hours later to ruin what was left of our nights by being a complete bag of (insert unpleasant images here). When we saw him veer off towards the parking lot we all let out a whoop of glee. It's rare that our managers admit dislike for him but now both our floor managers have been servers under him and they know. They know about the nightmares, the PTSD servers experience after a rare day in which the AGM is the acting floor manager. Also, why is that every GM/AGM thinks they're doing the restaurant a huge service by acting as the host? Don't you know you're making the hostesses nervous and slowing us down by offering your helpful hints? How about you go run some food since you're making the designated food runner do maintenance and repairs on the front of the house because you're too cheap to hire a real handy man. Yeah while you're at it, here take these dishes with you.
Oh I know every boss is a bit of a jerk but literally every time he opens his condescending mouth to say something pricky you can literally hear teeth gnashing. Like the collective "ooopa" when someone breaks glasses in a restaurant, but with teeth grinding. Everyone regardless of who it is turns away from him muttering "What a jackass". I'll bet his mother does too.
Oh I know every boss is a bit of a jerk but literally every time he opens his condescending mouth to say something pricky you can literally hear teeth gnashing. Like the collective "ooopa" when someone breaks glasses in a restaurant, but with teeth grinding. Everyone regardless of who it is turns away from him muttering "What a jackass". I'll bet his mother does too.
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