Pay it Forward

It's not all bad. For as many crazies as I have encountered in my days of waiting tables, I have certainly met a fair share of incredible characters as well. My last post about the drunk, ass slapping, jerk that stumbled into my Friday night so many years ago prompted me to think about a positive story to share.

I'm a big believer in signs from the Universe. Every now and then I'm shown something that restores my faith in the world. It was my last shift at the serving job I had forever in college. It was my second home. I had grown to love my boss like a best friend, and some of my customers were like second family.

It was a busy lunch service and I'm running around doing my thing. I was the only waitress taking care of a place that had about 20 tables. It seemed overwhelming at first but with some time I could literally do it in my sleep (in fact I often did in my sleep..aka "waitmares." that is a whole other story.) I love being busy. Not only did it help the shift pass quickly, I raked in some amazing money

To paraphrase an old story I wrote for Go Girl Magazine;

 I had a table of regulars come in and hunker down at their usual booth. It was a mother, father and their daughter. I never knew their names or what their life was like. I just knew that they enjoyed eating our food from time to time. At the next booth over there was a gentleman sitting by himself. I had never seen him before. He was simple; ordered his food and kept to himself, the kind of customer a busy waitress enjoys.

When it came time for me to ring this gentleman up, he told me he wanted to pay for the table next to him. I added the slips together and found myself with a pretty generous tip from the guy as well. Before he could make his way to the door I walked over to him, shook his hand and thanked him for the kind gesture. He looked at me and all he said was “pay it forward.” Of course after he left I told the table of regulars that their meal was taken care of for the afternoon, that the stranger sitting next to them covered it. They were shocked, and seemed to be very grateful.

 It's so easy to become isolated in our problems. The day in and day out of working the same job and sometimes not always getting treated with kindness or even dignity, can really get under your skin. It can be tough putting on a good face when all you want to do is run out back and cry. But every now and then someone makes up for it and reminds you why you do what you do. Waiting tables is not glamorous by and means...but you get to see people in some pretty intimate settings. Who knows who that guy was the came in and acted our a random kind gesture. I never saw him again. And I never forgot the story.

Pay it forward and keep a good attitude. You never know who is going to walk into your section.

http://littleredelf.com/geniuswaitress.html

I may have only been 17 but I still knew what a drunk looked like..

Working in an environment that serves (and encourages) copious amounts of alcohol makes for very interesting nights on the job. I was still pretty new to the biz but still had my wits about me. I may have only been 17 but I still knew what a drunk looked like.

To set the scene: I was working my usual Friday or Saturday night shift in high school back in the earlier days of my serving career. I was finishing up a crazy night and looking forward to clocking out when I notice a man (stagger) into the dining room. Oh god. I could instantly sense trouble. Within seconds he seemed to have spotted people he knew and grabbed a seat at my table that I was just about to cash out! &$%@ So I approach the man, after he greets the party. From what I remember everyone was older, middle aged. Before this man came in everything went smooth. I served them dinner, separated the checks according to couple and was about the be on my way when classic that guy strolls in to mess sh*t up.

So I approach the table. I remember asking the guy if I could get him anything. Drunkly, he looks up at me and goes, "I sure hope you fuc%3ng can!" Nervous laughter from myself and probably even the people at the table. "Do you job and bring me a double grey goose...." on the rocks or mixed with water or something insane like that. Sure jerk off. I'll be right back. I wanted to say. I turned around and headed for my bartender for a huddle.

There's a fine line between doing whatever you can to make your customer happy/getting a good tip and over serving someone already intoxicated or underage. It can actually  be a really intense situation to cut someone off.

 I tell the bartender on duty my situation. She's older, knows her shit, been around a long time...that kind of thing. She didn't seem to take any bullshit and I honestly assumed she would have no problem telling the guy to F off. She had me point him out and all she said was, I know him. And proceeded to pour the drink. I couldn't believe  that this was all cool, but I was young, nervous and trying to do my job.

Now, regardless of who dropped the drink off or not, it still got served. It happened. He was s#it canned. I stood there and painstakingly watched the table. I wanted the couples to put their payment into my book and allow me to cash them out so I could GTFO of dodge. I didn't want to deal with this drunk. My shift was over. And then it happened. It was like a bomb went off in slow motion...

He was sitting closely to another booth, where my coworker was taking an order. The next thing I see is this guy turn toward her and smack her booty. All hell seemed to break lose and it was like things just stopped. I had no idea what the hell to do at this point. But my co-workers reaction was perfect: she turned around and decked the guy. Someone, probably me, ran to the biggest, scariest cooks we had in the back and told them to come out. All the guys came out to the dining room with their arms folded ready to kick some redneck ass.

I honestly don't remember how things went down after, but the jerk agreed to leave on his own terms.This story stuck with me for all these years. I felt like shit. I knew I should have stopped him from even being in the restaurant but I didn't feel it was my place.

It would be important to note that there really was no designated manager on duty. It was chaos a lot of the time, especially when there was nobody in charge to take action. Dealing with all of the crazies has made me a lot more assertive and less trusting.

Don't be afraid to stand up for yourself. If you're uncomfortable doing something, don't be afraid to walk away. Sometimes losing a tip that probably wasn't even there to begin with is okay. Deep breaths and pick your battles!

& the waitress is practicing politics

The saying goes, write about what you know. I write about hula hoops most of the time. I write about being a girl. I write about my travels and life experiences. But one thing I do know pretty well is the ins and outs of waiting tables.

This journey began with me sitting on my couch. It was some random Sunday. I was 16. Wrapped up in all kinds of 16 year old girl crap, whatever that might have been at the time. I get a phone call from my Mom. She was working at the new restaurant in the town we had just moved to. She was a hostess and also doing some paperwork and payroll kind of stuff in the office upstairs. My brother worked there too. My Dad was an investor, ..it was kind of a family thing in a big way, but lots of other people were involved too.

So anyway, back to that Sunday that I'm sitting there watching whatever was on TV and my Mom calls to tell me they are short a hostess and told me if I want the job to get ready and come down. "Right now?!" "Yes, right now." It was almost like a do or die kind of thing. In retrospect, it was a great thing that my Mom did for me. She hooked me up with a great job. I made a lot of money at that gig, and actually had some really fun times. I was a hostess for weekends forever and when I finally turned 17, with some coaxing from my Mom, I let the manager know that I was ready to wait tables.

fun fact: Maine is the only state in the USA that allows people to serve alcohol in a restaurant starting at age 17. Most states it is 18 or 19 and some paces such as Alaska, Utah and Nevada, you must be 21. minimum age to serve booze by state

I served tables in a town that borders with Canada in rural northern Maine. I have a million crazy, awesome, funny stories, as most people in the service industry do. This blog is going to be a compilation of nostalgic tales of my serving days, which aren't very far behind me (I work in an office now) and I don't doubt that I will one day end up back in the industry.

This is a job where it is very easy to get taken advantage of. You have to make sure you work for the right people. There are so many different types of restaurants (corporate, mom & pop shops, gastro pubs, diners, not to mention the countless different ethnic variations of restaurants in the United States today.) I have had  the pleasure of working side by side with owners of places that I have worked. It's the owners that are willing to get dirty, talk to customers, and work with their staff that are the ones you will break your back for. But there will always be people in the industry that might be trying to take advantage of you. This is something I learned over time, especially from working in all sorts of serving environments.

Most people start these jobs when they are young. We are making piles of cash and sometimes we don't know what to do with it all. There are rules like tipping out support staff, and reporting your tips to get taxed on by the government. It can be really tricky, especially if you don't know about your state's laws about serving. I will be posting helpful advice and links to share.

Know your rights as a service industry worker. Read your pay stub. Ask questions. Smile, stay calm, and make money!

server / restaurant biz life FB