Beware...

The Ides of March

Last Friday night was a rocking event in the middle of the post holiday slump.

I had three back to back 8-12 tops and enough tables to keep my section full of smaller groups as well.

As far as the groups went they were awesome.

A table of eight ladies had a great time with me and the rest of the staff, Cosmo's and white wine were flowing like the rain of heaven.

The second group came in on the heels of the eight top, twelve of them, steaks and several bottles of decent wine were the order as well appetizers, soups, salads and desserts, great tab and very gracious guests.

I separated the ladies' checks and added the auto gratuity, it is restaurant policy that we do this to guarantee the waiter is taken care of.

I circled the gratuity on each check and deliver the check folders.

I hurried back to the POS stand and ran all their cards through, my twelve's third course is coming up.

I returned with the change and credit card slips and they all thank me profusely, the few ladies that had cash handed me back their folder saying I did a great job and deserved the extra tip, the ladies with credit card each bumped me up to 30% as well.

Very nice.

As the twelve is finishing up their entrees another ten top goes down where the ladies were.

While didn't order to the extreme as the other tables they had a few rounds of drinks and decent entrees, not a bad table as they were friendly and lively.

A bit later I split up the twelve top into couples and I am amazed that the people are vying for the right to pay for appetizers and wine, at least they are generous with their friends.

They were with me as well, several of the couples threw in another five or ten dollar bill on addition to the marked gratuity.

In fact on Monday one of the people who didn't throw in extra called the restaurant and complimented me on my great service and left me another $15 over the phone on his card as he felt that 20% wasn't enough.

The last table was ready to leave as well and I dropped their check off and they threw another $40 on top of their gratuity as well, once again thanking me for making their night so pleasurable.

Great night, one of the few that came around recently that was perfect top to bottom with great tippers and no problem guests or other issues.

Then this week hit, another cold spell meant slow lunches and dismal returns on the night shift. As with all weeks, that last Friday's tips were swallowed up by bills and maybe a little fun, tight times come as quick as prosperous times.

The restaurant received an angry call yesterday, the last party that threw on an extra $40.

It seems they felt they tipped me too much and didn't realize what the gratuity was on the bill. They didn't mention the fact that the policy is stated on the menu...

Also the receipt, which I either highlight or circle clearly marked the gratuity in large print on their credit card receipt right above the total payment line that must be signed.

Of course the manager apologized and refunded their money.

Not from the restaurant's till which averages over 100k a week or the millionaire owner, but from me.

Who do you think can afford it the most, with this slow month, not me that's for sure.

I argued a bit, but to no avail.

The manager asked what I would do in his place.

I told him I would back up my staff, I'm honest and have had no problems before with this type of payment.

"The credit card slip is a payment contract and always read it," I told him.

"It's the customer's mistake not mine, why should I have to pay," I argued.

No avail.

I pointed out that each of my other parties left extra and with the level of service all the rest of my station received it wasn't unreasonable for me to think that they were just hooking me up, like the other tables had.

"I circle each ticket that has gratuity, its their responsibility to read their ticket and credit card recipt, I highlight it for them, just so there won't be confusion like this," I pleaded.

He looked at me like I was crazy.

The term "back up your employee" has almost no place in this business.

As much as I pleaded I knew the outcome, I would be forced to pay.

He took it out of my cash out tips, I walked with $10 for the night.

Rent is due, I thought.

Car payment.

Tuition.

Phone bill.

All in a week, that was a bill I just gave up.

To many $40 is nothing, but for a shit month like this its make or break time.

The really bad thing is if that table meant the $40 to be the tip on the total bill it would have been a really shitty tip, like 10% shitty.

That's why the Auto-Grat exists I suppose.

The only good thing was they still were forced to pay the regular gratuity, at least I didn't have to refund that as well.

I love this business, I can't think of more than a handfull of other industries where a line employee is expected to financially cover mistakes themselves and the company doesn't have to pay a lick.

The restaurant is pretty quick to give away dinner, drinks and dessert at the drop of a hat, they eat the cost no matter what so the customer is happy.

How about keeping your employee happy and eating this cost as well?

Restaurant Species Guide

Part II

"The Stroller People"

You can see the herd from a far off distance...

You can almost heat the rattling of plastic bags of Cheerios.

The rumble of SUV sized strollers shakes the very foundation and soul of a waiter.

There is little discipline or order to the herd, the adolescents run amuck while their elders sit oblivious to the wanton destruction.

I have heard rumors from some of the "lifer" servers about days gone by where children were "well behaved" and "such darlings."

Mind you these rumors are of events taken place over a decade ago.

Often a pair of mothers come in and maneuver their Hummer-stroller into the most inconvenient place possible, often a main aisle or abutting a neighboring table so as no one can or will want to sit there.

There's really nothing like clipping through the restaurant with a full tray of drinks or food and nearly colliding with one of these behemoths, really there are better places where these belong, just ask.

After parking this monstrosity they will then ask for a high chair and place it in the 2nd most inconvenient spot, right on a tight aisle.

Sometimes they remove the "escape hatch" of a car seat and place it right in the middle of the table or "boof."

If you are lucky they will ask if you have anything for their spawn "to do."

How bout have a meaningful conversation with their parents and include them in your lives?

No...

I guess you mean crackers or cornbread, anything messy.

Sorry, we don't have any, not where I work at least.

But worry not!

Many parents are prepared to occupy their children!

With activity books or education and spelling books you ask?

Nope, with the aforementioned Cheerios, which the child will hurl as far and wide as possible, maybe 1 in 10 will make it into the mouth.

While the young yuppie mothers sit there and chat about how shitty their husbands are or what $500 purse to buy with said husband's credit card, where are the children?

Often running about screaming, playing hide and seek or even walking into the kitchen...

Then an apologetic and exasperated parent will often apologize for their children's behavior.

How about apologizing for you lack of attention or discipline?

When I was younger such things were not tolerated, a warning trip to the bathroom was all that was usually needed to keep me in line.

Of course that's probably why I gave my parents so much frustration later in life, but that's a different story for another day.

It's not only the staff's frustrations that should be taken into account, how about the other diners?

Often there are complaints about the noise and distraction of screaming kids.

The few times I have seen tables with unruly children approached the waiter/manager has been subject to harsh reproach.

"How dare someone tell us how to raise our kids!"

Well you obviously can't, someone's got to do it.

A restaurant can also be a dangerous place.

I don't think any parent or waiter would want a child hurt in a restaurant.

How unsafe is it when parents put their children in the path of customers and staff?

Steaming hot food served on large trays with heavy plates can be quite the worry, I don't want to know what the result of that hitting a kid on the head would be.

Kids in the kitchen can get run over by quickly moving cooks and servers, not to mention the hot oil, flame, steam and knives they contain.

Is it hard to raise children?

Sure!

Is it hard to discipline children?

It didn't used to be, but everyone is too worried about hurting their feelings or stifling their creativity.

Really, I think that is becoming a cop-out for a parent's lack of discipline.

Throw the kids a Game Boy instead of reading to them.

Wear them as accessories and pawn them off on the nanny or babysitter when you're bored.

Hire a tutor, why would a parent help their child with schoolwork, you're too busy!

Too many important things to do!

Or maybe just give them a bag of Cheerios while you gossip about who's sleeping with who or what purse you're going to buy that afternoon.

My Attitude

Well I love prejudging...

Actually here are my thoughts on this one.

I would bet if spent just one week without your prejudging asshole attitude, your earnings would go up 10%.

Well I average over 18% after tip outs, well over 20% on the bill, I only have an attitude when given one first, and it does happen frequently.

I go out to eat a lot by myself, and as you have pointed out before, "singles don't tip as well."

They don't, its a fact, even if they tip well their overall check is quite small and the a 15-20% tip on $11.00 is much less than the same percentage on a much larger check.

You happen to be wrong. However, if I get a server with a shit attitude like yours I sure don't.

I don't give a shit attitude unless given one first, I'm great at bullshitting and my attitude to an asshole's face is far different that the one I display when I hit that kitchen door and spit in your soup...

Ok, don't spit in the soup, you got me there.

A group I was with had a lousy experience last week. Out of this and that, cold soup, lousy salad. They ended up comping the dinner (about $50) they were so embarrassed.

I tipped the dude $30 because he worked so hard TRYING to make things better.

Had he had your attitude, I would have left a single penny.

Actually that's the exact attitude I give when things that are out of my control go wrong, many customers are less than understanding and take it out on their waiter's wage, instead of dealing with the establishment itself they screw over the one that can least afford it, regardless of effort.

After all who do guests penalize for a long wait or cold soup, and undercooked steak or corked bottle of wine?

Not the owner, manager, chef, host or cook...

They all get paid the same whether they screw up or not, the waiter, well he gets by on less.

Like Rats in a Maze

"Folks, party of two?" I ask.

A well dressed older couple had just arrived.

Cufflinks sparkled on his suit and plastic surgery on the lady glistened in the soft lights.

The host is missing, surprise, surprise...

So I jumped up and helped out when a few groups walked into the lobby.

I checked the rotation chart and headed to Shannon's station, the designated server for this turn.

Walking past the bar I place their menus on a table in a nice quiet area.

"Yah, why are you putting us here?" The well dressed man gestured indignantly at the table.

Because this is your seat asshole.

I want to say that.

With a forced smile I walk them down the aisle to the next section, another quiet table.

"We don't want to be by the kitchen." He says.

I bet you don't, I think.

I round the bend and gesture to another table.

"It's to crowded here, and loud." The lady adds.

I spy another open table right behind the host desk.

"That's the only other table I have." I said.

They both just kind of shrug.

Off we go again.

I am stopped far short of my goal, however.

"This one will be fine," The gentleman adds, pointing to another table, a reserved four top.

There is a reservation for twelve in about a half an hour there, along with its ajoining tables.

"Sir, that's reserved for another group." I interject.

"It'll be fine," he repeats as he moves toward the the chair to pull it out.

A moment of frustration crosses my mind. I'm not going to move an entire party to another section for this clown, hell there isn't another section that would fit them at this hour.

"Sir, it isn't fine, I need this table open, follow me please."

I force the smile back to my face.

They begrudgingly follow and I complete our lap around the entire restaurant.

The manager on duty pulls me aside.

"What was that all about?" He asks.

I inform him that they weren't happy with the three tables I tried to seat them at and recalled the whole situation.

Of course he knows them, they are friends of his family.

I try to think if I called him an asshole or anything, I hope I didn't...

Of course it was all my fault that they had to take that trying journey around the entire restaurant, it wouldn't be theirs would it?

Naturally about five minutes later they approached the host desk wanting to use a phone.

I offer then house phone.

"Don't you have a cellular that I can use?" The lady asks.

"Nope, sure don't." I answer.

I can feel my mobile pressing against my thigh.

"Well go find the manager for me, surely he has one." the gentleman requests.

"Sure thing, right away."

With that I'm off to the back.

"Hey can I bum a square?" I ask the expo.

Cigarette in hand I walk out the back door.

My passive aggressive answer to this insane business.

"You know how to take a Reservation..."

"You just can't hold a reservation" - Jerry Seinfeld

That goes to the customer as well.

So its approaching the end of a slow Friday night shift.

Weak tables with little in the way of the pricey entrees and almost no wine or drinks, let alone appetizers, salads or desserts...

Abysmal ticket averages and lower than average tips were making for a bleak out-look for my weekend funds.

Earlier in the night me and Chris, the other lead server, had noticed a reservation for a party of sixteen.

It was as 10:00 p.m., not the best time for a party that could last several hours,

Chris an I looked at each other and said simultaneously, "Do you want it?"
We were at a crossroads, both of us needed the party for the money, however, neither of us wanted to stay until after midnight.

After a few minutes of debate we decided to split the group and the tip.

At our restaurant we routinely take tables up to 20-25 without splitting them, we just figured that we could both make up the difference of the weak night and maybe have a little bit of change in our pockets.

Eventually 10:00 rolled around, then 10:15, then 10:30.

No sign of the group.

We call the contact number, no answer...

Great, another no show.

We start tearing down the front of the house and the kitchen is preparing to shut down for the night.

Its 10:55 now.

I see a lone man standing at the host desk.

The manager on duty, Brett, is on the desk phone and I walk up there to see if he needs help.

"Yes, I'm here with the group under Richard." He declares.

There is no group under Richard, I have a sinking feeling in my gut.

"Would it be under Johnson?" I ask.

An affirmative answer.

"Party of sixteen?" I ask.

"Oh, there might be more, we'll need another table."

Shit.

Bret gets off the phone, "So we were expecting you about an hour ago."

"We're running late," the man responds.

"I can see that," said Brett.

"We called the number you gave us." Brett continued.

Our new friend Richard said, "Well we were at a function."

"Well it would have been nice if you called and let us know you were running late, we close in five minutes." Brett said.

"Is it going to be a problem?" Asked Richard.

Me and Brett lock eyes for a moment, if we say it is a problem, with a party of 16-20, likely there will be hell to pay when they call one of the owners and say we refused service.

With half a shrug Bret continued, "No sir, this is ____, your waiter, he'll adjust your table and get you taken care of."

I move around a few tables and add a couple more on to accommodate his liking.

Back in the kitchen I stop Chris from tearing down the line, he's almost done.

"So they're here." I said.

"Who?" Chris asked, eyes filled with suspicion.

"Our group, lets get them watered."

"FUCK!" Chris shouted as he threw an empty pitcher across the room.

"I know, I know, lets put this soda machine back together."

"Hey guys, twenty top coming back!" I shouted to the guys on the line.

This was met with a collective groan.

"This is bullshit man, we're almost out of here!" a few of the guys exclaimed.

"I'm only the messenger." I said.

Don't think saying that did much good, but what can I do?

Returning to the table the gentleman ordered a glass of red wine and assured Chris and I that the rest of the group would, "be along shortly."

Shortly turned out to be around another twenty minute wait.

Moving all the tables around was for nothing as well, only fourteen showed up.

The table ended up ordering so so, no appetizers or salads, but plenty of drinks and wine and decent dinners.

"We going to sell some desserts?" Asked Chris.

"God I hope not."

The dessert line was torn down and locked up with nary a prep cook in site, the rest of the kitchen had headed out to the bar. I really didn't feel like prepping fourteen cannoli's myself if it came down to it.

"Hope they don't want coffee," I continued, "we've got about a half a caraft left or regular, no decaf."

Chris smirked, "magic coffee pot?"

I nodded, with a wave of a hand it becomes decaf.

So without offering any desserts or coffee I found the man in charge, Richard.

"Here you go sir," I said dropping off the check.

"What, am I supposed to sign this?" He asked.

"Well I need your credit card first."

"This was all supposed to be taken care of," He said.

"How so?" I asked

"The lady at our office was supposed to call in the credit card number and do it over the phone."

Great, no one told me about this, I grabbed Chris and went looking for Brett.

He had no idea either.

While he looked in the office for any notes about the credit card in his log, we ransacked the host desk for any clues.

In the meantime the whole party started to skate out the door, including the man in charge.

"Sir, you'll have to wait a moment." I declared.

"What, you haven't taken care of this yet?" He snapped.

"Sir, you'll have to wait for the manager to come up and talk to you." was my response.

He rolled his eyes and waved his hands as if we were the inconvenience.

Just then Brett showed up.

"Sir, I have no documentation on your party, we'll need a form of payment before you go." Bret said.

"Can't you just call the lady at our office?" Richard asked.

"Sir, It's nearly one in the morning," Brett said.

"Can't you call Monday?"

Richards wife stepped foreword, "Here, put it on my card, we can get reimbursed."

He pushed her aside, "No, the office was supposed to take care of this."

"Perhaps it was a miscommunication sir, but we need a method of payment before you leave." said Bret.

"Can't you just take my number and hold it until you verify with our office?"

Brett glanced over at us with a grim look on his face.

He conceded to the demands with a, "we don't usually do this, but..."

Satisfied the last of the party left...

A minute later, Brett came up with three shots of Jagermeister.

"We're not getting paid tonight, are we?" I asked.

He handed me a shot, "you'll have to wait until next week for your tip."

The only thing we could do was start laughing.

"That guy came in here and punched every one of us in the balls tonight, you guys, the bar, the cooks, everyone. To end it all without even paying it just another fist between the legs on his way out. That was real spit in the food shit if I ever saw it." Brett ranted.

Shot time.

Blasphemy

I'm Dammed for this one...

95 and Rising

Struggling with the large double doors and a tray full of white wine I made my way outside...

It's the middle of August and approaching the high 90's.

A table full of suburbanite housewives decided it would be a great idea to move from my section to the patio.

Not such a great idea for me.

My crisp white uniform is starting to wrinkle and soak through in the blistering heat, the fact shirt can't breath through isn't helping matters.

Back to the ladies, they're wearing dainty white summer dresses and sun hats with shades on.

More than one of them has a large diamond ring on their fourth finger.

Excessively large rings.

Rich ladies, and not the type that have earned a cent or done any work for it, its 2:30 on a Tuesday, and they're not in power suits.

You know the type I'm talking about here.

The sweat gets in my eyes and I nearly drop the tray as I feel the sharp, salty sting.

I manage.

I always manage, if only just.

I start delivering their wine glasses to the table when one of them comments...

"I just love your little uniforms, they're so classy."

The others nod in agreement.

"It would look some much better and professional if only you buttoned the top button and tightened your tie."

She looks over at the other waiter as he takes an order, "I've noticed he doesn't have his tie up all the way either, why?"

"Ma'am, its ninety five degrees out." I state.

"And?" She asked.

I'm dressed for winter weather, long sleeve shirt and tie, black slacks and full lenght bistro apron, no polo shirts and Bermuda shorts like they probably wear down at Glen Oaks or whatever country club she's used to.

"It's ninety five out, do you really want me sweating in your food?"

Her friends snicker and the logic of my appearance dawns on her.

"Well you have a point." She said.

I smile and walk off.

I think about the weather, others have it worse, I've had it worse.

I remember digging stones and boulders out of cornfields in the July heat so the combines would not hit them and break...

My old roommates coming home caked with tar and sweat after a hard days work.

The guys working down the street on a new office building, dark with the burn of summer.

The lady fiddles with her ring and wipes a small glimmer of perspiration from her brow.

There's an old saying, you'll make more with your mind, not your hands.

I think about the tuition check I just sent in, first time I'll see a classroom in almost five years.

The mind, that's the way to go.

She used hers.

And married up.

Me?

I'll manage.

You're a Bad, Bad Manager!!!

So in addition to my "Restaurant Species Guide" which I promise to add to next post I've decided to do a few of my favorite management blunders.

Here is the first.

Desperate for good press after an appearance in "Dirty Dining" on the local CBS affiliate and less than stellar reviews in multiple local papers, my old restaurant had the corporate marketing suits come up with a few brilliant schemes.

And I do mean schemes.

The "Best of Des Moines" feature was coming up in a local alternative newspaper...

The paper depended on votes from the local community for various categories such as "Best Business Lunch," "Best Overall Restaurant," "Best Food" and such...

Well our assistant manager walked in with stacks of dozens of voter forms and informed the staff that the corporate marketing managers had decided that we were to vote for our restaurant.

You heard me right, they wanted us to vote for our own restaurant for the above topics and send them in.

He wanted each of us to fill out ten forms each and they'd send them in.

Democracy in action right there.

I laughed in his face and walked away.

A Pleasant Dining Experience

First table of the night walks in and the middle aged couple are seated in my station...

Many waiters use this first table as a barometer of things to come for the evening.
I certainly hope they enjoy their dining experience so I can enjoy my shift, yes I am one of those superstitious waiters indeed.

The waiter assistants aren't yet in from their requisite pre shift joint so I head over with water and the ever precious free bread...

"Well how are we doing tonight?" I ask, meaning the royal we.

The lady gives me that annoyed upper glance that so many librarians once gave me as a child...

So we're off to a good start.

The gentleman looks up smiling and responds with, "Great, how about you?"

Relieved that at least one of them has a soul I go right into my spiel.

"Well I'm doing great, would you care to try a nice glass of our new Pinot Noir to start off with this evening?"

The gentleman pondered for a moment and went with my recommendation.

"Miss, anything for you?" I ask.

"No! I want a lemon for my water." She exclaims.

Very well then.

As I return with the lemon and glass of wine I return to my spiel...

"Well tonight for our featured entrees we have a Mediterranean chicken angel hair tossed with pine nuts, sun dried tomatoes and topped with feta cheese and drizzled with an herb infused olive oil."

Continuing on, "As well we have a baked sesame seed encrusted Rainbow Trout served over a sobe noodle stir fry tossed with shrimp and porcini mushrooms with a cilantro lime oil to complement the entree."

The gentleman orders the trout, the lady responds with, "Don't you have any butter?" As she points at the bread basket.

Glad to see where her priorities lie.

"Certainly miss, would you also care to order?

She rolls her eyes, "What kind of soup do you have?"

"Well today we have cream of asparagus along with Italian wedding soup."

She wrinkles her nose, "I want to try the asparagus."

"Would you like a cup or a bowl?"

"I said I want to try it, not order it."

"Sure," I respond as I do an about face.

The other servers are all lined up like as if they're waiting to be shot, naturally their listening in.

I give them the raspberry and they all start cracking up.

I return with the lady's sample of soup, she tries it and promptly orders a cup.

"What kind of side salads do you have?"

I list off the variety that we offer and the homemade dressing that accompany each one.

She scoffs and asks, "Don't you have any regular salads?"

"How do you mean ma'am?" I ask.

"You know what I mean, lettuce and croutons?"

This warrants a glib remark, "like our caeser?"

"Hurmph!"

"I'll have another wine sir," The gentleman interrupts.

Hell, he needs one alright.

"So no salad then ma'am?"

"I guess not."

So I leave the table with an order of a fantastic feature...

And a cup of soup.

Other tables start to filter in, and luckily the barometer seems to be broken tonight.

Bottles of fine wine abound and I rock out another four features.

Passing my first table I check back on how their dinners are

The gentleman's response, "Oh this is great, I've never had anything like this."

The lady is sitting there stewing with her cup of soup in front of her, "I want a Pepsi."

"Is a Coke going to be ok Ma'am?"

I thought her head was going to explode.

"I want a Pepsi," She repeats.

"Ma'am, we carry Coke products, do you want a Coke?"

Head back and arms wide with expression she exclaims,"Yah, yah, yah, whatever!"

"I'll be right back ma'am."

The gentleman gives me an apologetic look.

Hey, he's got to live with her.

I just get her as my adversary for forty five minutes.

Why a guest, customer or whatever has to take this approach I will never know.

I understand an iceberg salad with ranch and croutons has its place, alongside a club sandwich and the false antiques of a "shit on the wall" restaurant.

Why one would go to a nice restaurant and scoff at the menu is beyond me.

Maybe because it is different?

Better?

Something new?

All I want is a pleasant dining experience for everyone involved.

But I Have an Order!

So this morning while preparing for the barrage of Arnold Palmers and Chicken Caesers the usual gang of us was hanging out and shooting the shit.

Alyssa, one of my sister's in arms had a funny little story for us.

It seems the hostess, the very same one from stories past, had been giving customers Alyssa's home phone number.

We have a pastry chef by a similar first name, Alicia, apparently our genius friend didn't know the difference

While at home on her day off Alyssa received a call, here's how she relayed the story to us.

"Yes, I'd like to place an order for a special cake for our banquet." The caller asked.

"Excuse me, how can I help you?" Said Alyssa.

"Well I'm having a banquet at your restaurant and I want to order a cake, I was given your number by a British sounding lady."

At this point in the story we were all groaning and rolling our eyes, I pretty much know it is against company policy to give out home numbers, no matter who's they may be, pastry chef or no, hell it may even be against the law.

As Alyssa went on, "Well she's not supposed to give out home numbers, you need to call the restaurant back and talk to Alicia there, I'm not the person you're looking for."

"But I just called there! They gave me your number!" The caller exclaimed.

"I'm not the chef, I'm a waitress, call the restaurant." Alyssa stated.

"Well how about you take my order and give it to your chef?"

"No, you need to call the restaurant like I told you."

"Well do you have the chef's number? I need to place this order." Our new friend wondered.

Alyssa said, "I'm not going to give you her number, you need to contact her at the restaurant."

"But I called there, she's not working today, they gave me this number and I want to place my order, why can't you take it?"

"Because its my day off, I'm not going to be at your beck and call on my day off, I do enough of that when I'm waiting tables, good bye!"

-click

Alyssa is my new hero...