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.

Why does it sound like we're in a submarine?

Good Thursday? It's the start of patio season and I'd like to address the issue of camping. squatting. table renting. riding the glorified lawn chair. God love Torontonians (Torontonites?) they can drink some beer at 12 on a Thursday. Good lord were those some cheap ass bankers. A section FULL of Prada bags, designer sunglasses, veneered teeth, blackberries, and not a smart (Or personable) patio-er in the bunch. If you plan on sitting on a patio all day that's fine, in fact it's encouraged. If you plan on smoking like a freight train, griping about how you don't get laid, informing everyone at the table how you shit gold and you and only you invented not only fire, but also the condom, the English language, post it notes, and the internet please, do close out your bill or don't ask to speak to a manager at the mere MENTION of giving you your bill actually you know what, don't sit in my section. I love love love working outside, I really do. Nothing makes me happier than the sun on my face. One thing I love more than working outside is getting to sleep in my car on my break between splits. I commute 45 minutes to work everyday and the idea of working 13 hours without a true break makes my brain dribble out my ears but it does happen. If you're going to keep me waiting on you please, tip me more than 10% on your business AMEX. Please, yes your English accents are charming but your Prada bag, Gucci sunglasses and that huge rock on your finger tells me you know how to spend money. I've never been talented in the ways of encouraging people to get the hell out. If you have tips on it please, let me know.
I suppose I should explain the title. As I was walking through (more than elbowing my way and pushing little 100 pound girls aside) the bar I got to the server station and realized that horrible clanging and pinging was coming from the sound system. I swear it sounded like we were on the Kursk. I said "What the hell is that god awful noise, I'm expecting us to spring a leak soon" I was informed we were in fact listening to pink floyd. I may be shot for saying this but I really think they're overrated just like I feel the same way about Radiohead. So aside from loving my stoner co workers I love love love our cooks. Not only do they defend me when the closers get their panties in a wad about cutlery they also do just about anything I ask. Including hugging me when I look pissy, and throwing food at me while making some awesomely dirty jokes. If you've not experienced the server brand of sexual harassment you're missing out.

I'm in server hell

 Here are the highlights of my 12 hour shift:
an hour and a half of fire alarm hell
No tables for the first 3 hours
Cancelled reservations
Being sat while I was on lunchbreak
Being triple sat while I had a 12 top and no one mentioning that I'd been "uncut"
Finally, being harassed (again) by another server
Oh, and getting teary eyed and nearly crying. Fuck I hate that.
 Oh the highlight of last night other than a server getting her hands thrown up on was a wonderful comment from a girl who'd been making out with a guy on the dancefloor for 3 minutes (I watched, and was elbowing my way through the crowd when I heard it) she pulls away and says "my name is Christine, if I give you my number will you call me?"
Wow. Just, are you serious? Ok A, don't make out in restaurants it's unsanitary and rude, secondly what are you? 17?