The Insane Waiter

Running wild on customers, chefs, owners and managers since 1997. I bring to you, The Insane Waiter. What do bring to your table? A crisp bottle of San Pellegrino ? Perhaps a lovely seared Sashimi Tuna? Start off with a wonderful bottle from Tuscany perhaps? Why I'll be more than happy to bring you your White Zinfandel and Chicken Caesar. No you can't order the mac and cheese off the kids menu and sorry no, we don't serve cheese sticks....

Thursday, June 21, 2007

I want to work here

From Craigslist:

Reply to: job-347399212@craigslist.orgDate: 2007-06-07, 11:52PM EDT

Face it, waiting tables (and it's sidekicks bussing and running) is often a pretty crappy job. Anyone who tells you otherwise is either:

a) lying

b) trying to sell books

c) is about to offer you Kool-Aid.

Psycho bosses, long hours, annoying entitled New Yorkers ("ugh, you said 20 minutes 15 minutes ago!"), strollers, damn strollers......ahhh, but you do leave with a good amount of cash in return.

Well here's a thought - how about leaving with your self-esteem in tact, too? Yes, I think it is entirely possible (call me a fool) to work the front of house and not die a little bit inside each night. If you do too, and you can find Brooklyn on a map, maybe we can work together.

I sincerely believe that a good dining experience starts with the owners and staff being happy. I don't let people talk down to my staff (including my staff). I don't own high chairs. My coke comes in a can. And is actually Pepsi.

I'm looking for several hard-working, sane, wine-savvy and reliable people to take the stage (and you should know it's all about taking control) at my little Brooklyn restaurant and wine bar. We serve primarily pizza (in Brooklyn, the wonder of it all) from a normal old pizza oven, the kind with gas heat and metal doors. No bricks. I know, a borough shudders. There will be some exotic ingredients thrown in, but for the most part I am aiming for simple, fresh pizzas and esoteric wines in expensive stemware. There are about 35 seats. I should have over 200 labels on the wine list by the end of the year.

I am more interested in finding the right people and building a team (ugh. i hate that word. better than coven i suppose) than in saying I need " x number of waiters, x number of bussers, etc." Hire adults and these things tend to work themselves out.

Here's what I am looking for:

- be hard-working, reliable and operate on intuition.

- be able to go eight hours without sending a text message (for real) - have solid wine knowledge. Knowing that Caymus is an expensive CA red (and white) is not enough. Tell me the process of Recioto and then we're getting somewhere.

- have good general food knowledge, like knowing whether turbot is a vegetable or bird

- be personable, articulate and attractive (define that last one for yourself. it does come from inside)

- speak profoundly fluent English

- not bitch about Brooklyn (also two hosts or hostesses who are GREAT with the phone. and not just texting - see above)

Pay is above minimum wage, but real minimum wage (plus tips), and not that crap most places (under)pay you while charging you for family meals that suck. The front of house is pooled, including bar. I intend on the opening staff to help determine steps of service and such. I want to make this the restaurant job you leave one day and wish they could all be like that. For me and for you. We are opening at the end of the month for dinner and two weeks later for lunch. We DO NOT serve that Sunday meal whose name shall be neither spoken nor typed. I expect to rather if not very busy from the outset. But who knows?

So if you have two or more years of New York or equivalent experience (SF, Chicago, NoLA, but not LA. The food sucks in LA) send me a resume. A photo is nice too. Maybe a story about your worst or best table. A haiku about how much you hate Southern tourists. Something. I know you may earnestly love food and wine and be quite bright, but you must have some serious experience for this work. I will be checking references, so tell your friends to be creative.

You know the formula: more skills + harder work = less staff = more money = Prada. Or grad school. (How shallow) Please write with any questions you may have.

13 Comments:

At 7:47 PM , Anonymous damook said...

I love to see this kind of post. I am guessng you were being facetious, and are not ready for a smart ass...but turbot is C - none of the above, as fish was not listed.
Well, back to studying, good luck.

 
At 8:43 PM , Anonymous Isabelle said...

"Profoundly fluent english" That's genius.Purely.

 
At 9:47 AM , Anonymous Anonymous said...

LA food sucks, hmm? Like Matsuhisa, Spago, Little Door, Dar Margreb? Like the best Farmers market in the country? Really?

I can't wait to see how pizza and high-end wine goes in Brooklyn. I'm sure Bruni will be glad to review it.

John

 
At 12:25 AM , Anonymous mr. creosote said...

No way this could be real...imagine the fun interviewing all the applicants would be, each more convinced than the last that he or she will be that "special" server Mr. Oh-So-Clever Pizzeria Owner will hire. Sounds like the waitstaff at this place would be so full of self regard their heads wouldn't fit through the door into the dining room, much less the kitchen.

Like the idea about no high chairs, though...too bad some way to keep strollers out couldn't be found.

 
At 4:52 PM , Blogger Manuel said...

Is it Bitter from Bitter Waitress' place? I think it might be...

 
At 12:51 PM , Anonymous marco said...

200 wines + pizza + less staff + snooty attitude = head-up-the-ass = out of business within 3 months.

 
At 2:11 PM , Anonymous Anonymous said...

"have good general food knowledge, like knowing whether turbot is a vegetable or bird."

Isn't turbot a fish? And it's going to go on pizza?

 
At 3:27 PM , Anonymous James said...

no need for 200 wines. specially in a small place. cut the list to 100, maybe even 70. even out the champagne list, throw some sweet ones on there... sweet champagne + a spicy pizza = heaven....

um yeah. i'm gonna go open a pizzeria now, and serve only champagne.

 
At 9:12 PM , Anonymous Anonymous said...

The restaurant is called Oven on Henry Street. I had heard that the manager was a blogger, so maybe bitter waitress guess is correct. Space they are going to operate in has been home to a score of failed restaurants before it, so we'll see how this one does.

 
At 2:45 PM , Blogger Brad said...

Yes, it is Mr. Bitter himself, and I flew in for the opening.

The food is absolutely wonderful and the wine just as good. The waitstaff was a little nervous, but that is somewhat expected.

If anyone here is in that area, I would strongly suggest going.

Two words...veal meatballs.

He actually got quite a few responses from that craigslist ad because of the humor (not looking for a job), and he ended up inviting each and every one of those people in for friends and family.

Bitter isn't a dumb businessman, so this place should work out.

 
At 6:36 PM , Anonymous elle said...

Late to the dicsussion I know but I just found this. How the hell will this person know if prospective staff have a good general food knowledge if he thinks turbot is a vegetable or a bird ?

Maybe I'm missing something.

 
At 10:33 PM , Anonymous Jim said...

I wholeheartedly agree with Marco. I also say thank you Anon for the location of this restaurant.
As a southern traveller I'll make sure to avoid your fleapit and take my 20% tipping ass somewhere else.
Even better, if they despised Southern travellers it would be nice if they posted this outside the restaurant.
They can rest assured when they (New Yorkers and other Notherners) come down here they are despised just as much.

 
At 1:14 PM , Anonymous Anonymous said...

Touche, Jim, touche.

I'm a southerner, not that you'd know it by my accent. Since I have a good general knowledge of wines and food and a smattering of knowledge over this and that, too bad I didn't live in the Brooklyn area at the time this was posted. I would have loved to drop in, wow the owner as much as possible and then let him know what a belle I was and what a damn Yank he was.

 

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