When I have to stand around and polish cutlery until you finally decide to leave after paying the bill.
"Oh no that's fine, we have plenty to do anyway" is more like ...
..."I can't clock off until you leave and you're cutting into my drinking time"
When it takes me a while to greet a customer because a host screwed up.
"Sorry guys I was momentarily caught up in a minor crisis out the back. But you have my undivided attention from now on." is really...
..."Please don't hold me responsible for the fact that some sixteen year old idiot thought I was capable of getting a cake loaded with candles to a party of twenty whilst simultaneously greeting the four tables they just sat me with- at once"
To the regular customers (who don't tip) who demand the coffee arrive no more than five minutes before their desert.
"Not a problem, I will make sure they arrive together" is more like...
"Seeing as I make neither the coffee nor the dessert... and you have given me no incentive to care whether you get to sip your cappucino while stuffing lime pie in your face, I'm not even going to attempt to get them synchronised. And seeing as you never tip- I'm not going to apoligise "
This is a fun game
J
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Those horror tables
Though last night wasn't a particularly busy night by anyone's standards I clocked off half an hour later than I was meant to with a quarter of the tips I normally earn. Why is this? Because I had a horror table.
Not a table from hell, mind, a "horror table". These guys were actually pretty nice (pretty strange as well) but everything that could go wrong... did go wrong and I don't think they'll be returning any time soon.
They all ordered steak and I think between the eight of them, they covered six different kinds of steaks and temperatures with complicated choices for the side dishes and add-on sauces. So I figured that unless god was concentrating particularly on making my life run smoothly- then something was going to go wrong even if I sent the orders to the kitchen correctly.
Issue #1
Hair in the marinara sauce on the garlic bread. It was almost funny to the table. I didn't deliver the garlic bread nor was I there when they complained, nor was I there when the complaint was dealt with, so it obviously didn't have much to do with me. But a hair in your food is an age-old embarrasment for a restaurant to suffer, so it wasn't the best start.
Issue #2
As I was collecting empty glasses from the table, I put an empty glass into a glass of coke that was perhaps more full than I thought. Hence, coke spilled over the glass and into the absent teenage son's soup that was at the table. They all kind of laughed again and I replaced the soup instantly with a fresh bowl and wiped down the boy's seat before he returned. Kind of embarrasing, but nonetheless a minor error that could have been overlooked.
Issue #3
After consulting with another server that my table was missing something I quickly charged off around the corner to head back to the kitchen. Little did I know that a three year old kid had ducked around my legs and was about to cross my path from the right of me. He did cross my path... as I took a huge step. The boy collided with my leg and went flying into the wall, hitting his head on the wood and sinking to the ground. It was like an animated character that bangs into a wall and rebounds. I was a monster!
The kid wasn't from my table, and his father didn't seem annoyed with me, he was just a tad concerned about his kids wellbeing and whisked him away before the tears could start drowning out the chatter of the customers. But this happened right next to my horror table. I could almost see them making links in their mind, the hair-the soup-and now the kid. I was incompetent.
Issue #4
I went back to check that everyone's steak had been cooked the way they like it (expecting at least one "Mine's got too much blood!" seeing as the teenage girls both ordered Medium Rare) Everyone seemed happy except for the man whose meal I pretty much chose for him, he was indecisive. His steak was lukewarm. I touched it... it was. I don't understand how this could have happened, was it frozen before they cooked it? I told him we could heat it up for him, possibly even cook up another bit of steak, but he wouldn't have a bar of it. I got the manager involved, but that wasn't doing any good.
He ate his steak, the table were still smiling and friendly, though considerably more weary by now, and they weren't joking around as much. I offered them a free desert for their troubles. They agreed and took a Trio Sampler and I sent the order through the kitchen. They probably weren't going to order anything if it wasn't free, so they were basically waiting around for this desert that was going to be shared between seven people. Hence Issue #5 was the dessert taking about half an hour.
A free dessert that they didn't even really want, that was to compensate for a lukewarm steak, that was keeping this table, obviously bored by now, obviously wanting to leave, still at the restaurant, took half an hour! I knew we had not won these guys over. I knew the fight was up.
When they cleared the bill up the man re-iterated that he was not happy. He hadn't actually seemed that pissed off up until this point so I was a tad taken aback. There may have been problems but we offered to do everything we could to prevent them. Mistakes happen on busy nights, and its unfortunate that most of them fell upon these guys.
Anyway, they left without tipping me and I apoligised again for the errors. They gave me beaming smiles and said "Its not your fault!" which is nice (because most customers assume that things, clearly out of our control, are direct outcomes of our errors) but in this case. It was my fault. I shouldn't have spilt the coke in the boys meal, I shouldnt have kicked the kid out of the way. I should have followed up the sampler and I probably should have got some of the steak wiped off the bill. Maybe after the hair in the marinara sauce I could have paid extra attention to the table to ensure everything else went smoothly but I didn't.
That was my horror table. I've had worse and I will have worse, people who aren't so easy to forgive the waitress, but seeing as I haven't had major issues with customers for a while, I thought I'd tell my story.
J
Not a table from hell, mind, a "horror table". These guys were actually pretty nice (pretty strange as well) but everything that could go wrong... did go wrong and I don't think they'll be returning any time soon.
They all ordered steak and I think between the eight of them, they covered six different kinds of steaks and temperatures with complicated choices for the side dishes and add-on sauces. So I figured that unless god was concentrating particularly on making my life run smoothly- then something was going to go wrong even if I sent the orders to the kitchen correctly.
Issue #1
Hair in the marinara sauce on the garlic bread. It was almost funny to the table. I didn't deliver the garlic bread nor was I there when they complained, nor was I there when the complaint was dealt with, so it obviously didn't have much to do with me. But a hair in your food is an age-old embarrasment for a restaurant to suffer, so it wasn't the best start.
Issue #2
As I was collecting empty glasses from the table, I put an empty glass into a glass of coke that was perhaps more full than I thought. Hence, coke spilled over the glass and into the absent teenage son's soup that was at the table. They all kind of laughed again and I replaced the soup instantly with a fresh bowl and wiped down the boy's seat before he returned. Kind of embarrasing, but nonetheless a minor error that could have been overlooked.
Issue #3
After consulting with another server that my table was missing something I quickly charged off around the corner to head back to the kitchen. Little did I know that a three year old kid had ducked around my legs and was about to cross my path from the right of me. He did cross my path... as I took a huge step. The boy collided with my leg and went flying into the wall, hitting his head on the wood and sinking to the ground. It was like an animated character that bangs into a wall and rebounds. I was a monster!
The kid wasn't from my table, and his father didn't seem annoyed with me, he was just a tad concerned about his kids wellbeing and whisked him away before the tears could start drowning out the chatter of the customers. But this happened right next to my horror table. I could almost see them making links in their mind, the hair-the soup-and now the kid. I was incompetent.
Issue #4
I went back to check that everyone's steak had been cooked the way they like it (expecting at least one "Mine's got too much blood!" seeing as the teenage girls both ordered Medium Rare) Everyone seemed happy except for the man whose meal I pretty much chose for him, he was indecisive. His steak was lukewarm. I touched it... it was. I don't understand how this could have happened, was it frozen before they cooked it? I told him we could heat it up for him, possibly even cook up another bit of steak, but he wouldn't have a bar of it. I got the manager involved, but that wasn't doing any good.
He ate his steak, the table were still smiling and friendly, though considerably more weary by now, and they weren't joking around as much. I offered them a free desert for their troubles. They agreed and took a Trio Sampler and I sent the order through the kitchen. They probably weren't going to order anything if it wasn't free, so they were basically waiting around for this desert that was going to be shared between seven people. Hence Issue #5 was the dessert taking about half an hour.
A free dessert that they didn't even really want, that was to compensate for a lukewarm steak, that was keeping this table, obviously bored by now, obviously wanting to leave, still at the restaurant, took half an hour! I knew we had not won these guys over. I knew the fight was up.
When they cleared the bill up the man re-iterated that he was not happy. He hadn't actually seemed that pissed off up until this point so I was a tad taken aback. There may have been problems but we offered to do everything we could to prevent them. Mistakes happen on busy nights, and its unfortunate that most of them fell upon these guys.
Anyway, they left without tipping me and I apoligised again for the errors. They gave me beaming smiles and said "Its not your fault!" which is nice (because most customers assume that things, clearly out of our control, are direct outcomes of our errors) but in this case. It was my fault. I shouldn't have spilt the coke in the boys meal, I shouldnt have kicked the kid out of the way. I should have followed up the sampler and I probably should have got some of the steak wiped off the bill. Maybe after the hair in the marinara sauce I could have paid extra attention to the table to ensure everything else went smoothly but I didn't.
That was my horror table. I've had worse and I will have worse, people who aren't so easy to forgive the waitress, but seeing as I haven't had major issues with customers for a while, I thought I'd tell my story.
J
Friday, May 15, 2009
back to it
I came back from my little "getaway" to arrive on mothers day, a.k.a the restaurant's day of the year (and the reason I had to catch an 8am flight back so I would be able to work). I don't think I have ever seen that many people rostered on at once, or that many butterballs rolled (four trays- a record)
It wasn't as crazy as I expected. Admittedly I had three tables in my section, and my 8 person party ended up being five, three of whom I have served on countless occasions before and are really nice. I ended up being tipped really well, having lots of bright-eyed, happy, full-of-red-wine mothers tell me how lovely I made their evening. It's easy to impress the mum's though- a simple "I hope you enjoyed your mother's day" on the receipt was enough to compell most of the tables to throw in an extra ten bucks.
So it went off without a hitch and I found myself leaving with the strange feeling like I had forgotten to do something, because I am so used to doing close that I didn't have to polish any extra cutlery or pull the mop out!
After I left in tears the week before (I was overtired and frustrated that the previous three weeks of my life was a blur of dropping coasters on tables, explaining steak temperatures and cleaning bread boards) my boss took pity on me and has started taking me off close shifts. So this Tuesday just gone I didn't do my usual close shift which was definitely a pleasant feeling. I managed to escape by about nine thirty, eat a salad and head to the unibar for the band comp. I actually was permitted to have a life!
The next day, however, I came in for my usual open shift and found the back of the restaurant in chaos. Not only were the three trays of cutlery not polished, but there was so much crap lying around that the dish guys hadn't bothered to move that I spent at least twenty minutes (of which I could have used to roll butter balls) having to clear up the crap that people had left behind the night before. And then to make it worse we had customers walk in five minutes before open. By the time I had put the drink fountain together and set up the expo line, me and the only other server on had THREE TABLES each! We got smashed that night so the fact that back of house was consistently behind just made the whole situation worse.
Now, don't get me wrong, I don't expect the servers to stay back till midnight polishing the last little bits of cutlery because I am aware that this arduous process often encourages people to take to the steak knives and use them for a purpose other than sticking into loaves of bread. However, every single close shift I have worked I have been expected to, unquestionably sacrifice the later hours of my evening to making the knives and forks dry and sparkly. And then the one night I don't do close, she decides this is too much work for everyone and leaves it to the Wednesday night crew. The one night I don't do close!
I am now only going to work the absolute minimum. Karma clearly does not exist in this universe.
J
It wasn't as crazy as I expected. Admittedly I had three tables in my section, and my 8 person party ended up being five, three of whom I have served on countless occasions before and are really nice. I ended up being tipped really well, having lots of bright-eyed, happy, full-of-red-wine mothers tell me how lovely I made their evening. It's easy to impress the mum's though- a simple "I hope you enjoyed your mother's day" on the receipt was enough to compell most of the tables to throw in an extra ten bucks.
So it went off without a hitch and I found myself leaving with the strange feeling like I had forgotten to do something, because I am so used to doing close that I didn't have to polish any extra cutlery or pull the mop out!
After I left in tears the week before (I was overtired and frustrated that the previous three weeks of my life was a blur of dropping coasters on tables, explaining steak temperatures and cleaning bread boards) my boss took pity on me and has started taking me off close shifts. So this Tuesday just gone I didn't do my usual close shift which was definitely a pleasant feeling. I managed to escape by about nine thirty, eat a salad and head to the unibar for the band comp. I actually was permitted to have a life!
The next day, however, I came in for my usual open shift and found the back of the restaurant in chaos. Not only were the three trays of cutlery not polished, but there was so much crap lying around that the dish guys hadn't bothered to move that I spent at least twenty minutes (of which I could have used to roll butter balls) having to clear up the crap that people had left behind the night before. And then to make it worse we had customers walk in five minutes before open. By the time I had put the drink fountain together and set up the expo line, me and the only other server on had THREE TABLES each! We got smashed that night so the fact that back of house was consistently behind just made the whole situation worse.
Now, don't get me wrong, I don't expect the servers to stay back till midnight polishing the last little bits of cutlery because I am aware that this arduous process often encourages people to take to the steak knives and use them for a purpose other than sticking into loaves of bread. However, every single close shift I have worked I have been expected to, unquestionably sacrifice the later hours of my evening to making the knives and forks dry and sparkly. And then the one night I don't do close, she decides this is too much work for everyone and leaves it to the Wednesday night crew. The one night I don't do close!
I am now only going to work the absolute minimum. Karma clearly does not exist in this universe.
J
Friday, May 8, 2009
It's no longer the same to dine out
I am currently on a five day hiatus from work, uni, the stress of reality and chilling out with my family at home. Its great!
Part of being back in the same state as my family enticed my parents to treat me and my brother to an expensive meal in a classy restaurant... we could tell that it was fine dining and that my brother's work shorts and "Grizzly 1974" tee short were out of place on noticing a grand piano in the centre of the room and the menu featuring oysters as an entree.
It was a delicious meal nonetheless, but I think my brother got duped when he ordered the "Beef and Reef" meal- probably the most expensive steak on the menu that comes with the finest seafood served atop. He got his beef, but without the reef- which I thought was a pretty major mistake considering the seafood part featured at least 50% of the meal's title. We scrutinised the meal further, wondering if the "reef" part was cleverly disguised. Mum suggested that it could be inside the steak (she's a vegetarian, so we let that one slip) and we all examined the ramekin of white stuff on the plate thinking it could possibly contain some element of seafood. After discovering this was actually garlic butter (we obviously don't dine out all that often) we confirmed that he had actually recieved a "Beef and Reef" without any trace of the reef.
I told my brother to politely inform the waitress that he hadn't received the reef part of his meal. It was probably just a minor mistake that could be easily fixed. But he flat out refused to complain and wouldn't let any of us speak on his behalf. He then ate the meal without the reef, probably disappointed the whole time that he hadn't got what he ordered and paid for the meal without any complaint because he was too embarrassed to say anything and didn't want to cause a fuss.
It got me thinking for two reasons. The first being my envy that the sheer majority of my customers would never have such restraint if they received the wrong meal and often hold me personally responsible for their steak being undercooked or the chicken being too spicy (two things that I have NO control over), but the second was wondering why my brother felt too embarrassed to say anything. I must admit I used to be hesistant to complain, I never want to seem like that diner who just can never be satisfied, or someone who spents way too much time and energy worrying about whether my food has reached perfection when there are so many bigger issues to blow steam about, but if you order something that doesn't actually arrive, surely you have a right to ask where it is?
There is a difference between complaining about the garlic bread being brown or the calamari looking too "realistic" (I'm not entirely sure what you were expecting madam), to simply enquiring as to why only half of your meal has arrived. Kudos to my brother for not wanting to put the waitress through the hell that so many people think we are entitled to receiving (I know those of you out there that think waitresses are second rate citizens with no brains of their own) but I personally would not be disgruntled if he had asked me where his reef had ended up. On the contrary, I would probably try to rectify the situation immediately seeing as its a pretty embarrassing mistake.
I guess the whole situation is proof that the hospitality industry has changed me... at least while I still work as a waitress. I enjoy going out but I can't help but scrutinise the decor, the food, the prices and the service I get when I eat out at a restaurant other than my own. I only hope this will fade with time and I stop being the judgemental customer that I hate so much to serve.
J
Part of being back in the same state as my family enticed my parents to treat me and my brother to an expensive meal in a classy restaurant... we could tell that it was fine dining and that my brother's work shorts and "Grizzly 1974" tee short were out of place on noticing a grand piano in the centre of the room and the menu featuring oysters as an entree.
It was a delicious meal nonetheless, but I think my brother got duped when he ordered the "Beef and Reef" meal- probably the most expensive steak on the menu that comes with the finest seafood served atop. He got his beef, but without the reef- which I thought was a pretty major mistake considering the seafood part featured at least 50% of the meal's title. We scrutinised the meal further, wondering if the "reef" part was cleverly disguised. Mum suggested that it could be inside the steak (she's a vegetarian, so we let that one slip) and we all examined the ramekin of white stuff on the plate thinking it could possibly contain some element of seafood. After discovering this was actually garlic butter (we obviously don't dine out all that often) we confirmed that he had actually recieved a "Beef and Reef" without any trace of the reef.
I told my brother to politely inform the waitress that he hadn't received the reef part of his meal. It was probably just a minor mistake that could be easily fixed. But he flat out refused to complain and wouldn't let any of us speak on his behalf. He then ate the meal without the reef, probably disappointed the whole time that he hadn't got what he ordered and paid for the meal without any complaint because he was too embarrassed to say anything and didn't want to cause a fuss.
It got me thinking for two reasons. The first being my envy that the sheer majority of my customers would never have such restraint if they received the wrong meal and often hold me personally responsible for their steak being undercooked or the chicken being too spicy (two things that I have NO control over), but the second was wondering why my brother felt too embarrassed to say anything. I must admit I used to be hesistant to complain, I never want to seem like that diner who just can never be satisfied, or someone who spents way too much time and energy worrying about whether my food has reached perfection when there are so many bigger issues to blow steam about, but if you order something that doesn't actually arrive, surely you have a right to ask where it is?
There is a difference between complaining about the garlic bread being brown or the calamari looking too "realistic" (I'm not entirely sure what you were expecting madam), to simply enquiring as to why only half of your meal has arrived. Kudos to my brother for not wanting to put the waitress through the hell that so many people think we are entitled to receiving (I know those of you out there that think waitresses are second rate citizens with no brains of their own) but I personally would not be disgruntled if he had asked me where his reef had ended up. On the contrary, I would probably try to rectify the situation immediately seeing as its a pretty embarrassing mistake.
I guess the whole situation is proof that the hospitality industry has changed me... at least while I still work as a waitress. I enjoy going out but I can't help but scrutinise the decor, the food, the prices and the service I get when I eat out at a restaurant other than my own. I only hope this will fade with time and I stop being the judgemental customer that I hate so much to serve.
J
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
I am a big fan of "some e-card" so there will be more of these I am sure.
I didnt end up having to do stocktake but I did leave wanting to punch a hole through the paper thin walls of my house when I finally made it home an hour and a half after my shift was supposed to end (and it was an unusually quiet night as well). My frustration was exacerbated when my KM offered to get me a gin and lime juice whilst I polished the thousandth fork (definitely illegal but most certainly welcomed) and thought it was funny to give me a cup of water tinted with raspberry soft drink instead.
Oh how I hate my life sometimes.
J
Monday, May 4, 2009
First confession
My first post! I’m not really used to posting blogs so I am not following any particular formula. I’m just here to vent and rant about the happenings of where I work and share some tales that hopefully other people will be able to relate to!
I am 21 years old and I am studying at university, so waitressing is not my career or anything. I do enjoy it most of the time; I like my co workers, and the rapport you develop with the cooks. I like serving customers and dealing with people and I like the fast paced nature of the job. I love working at night (though sometimes this gets a bit restricting when it comes to my social life) and I love the fact that when I am on break from studying, some of us regularly go out and get drunk together whenever we clock off. But there are, of course, drawbacks.
Some things that frustrate me:
I am 21 years old and I am studying at university, so waitressing is not my career or anything. I do enjoy it most of the time; I like my co workers, and the rapport you develop with the cooks. I like serving customers and dealing with people and I like the fast paced nature of the job. I love working at night (though sometimes this gets a bit restricting when it comes to my social life) and I love the fact that when I am on break from studying, some of us regularly go out and get drunk together whenever we clock off. But there are, of course, drawbacks.
Some things that frustrate me:
- Basically the rudeness of some customers. I still cannot get my head around how you can treat a complete stranger like they are dirt, particularly when they are approaching you with the biggest smile they have stored up. Though they are rare, I have had a few shockers and the nasty ones always make me cry. This is nothing short of humiliating in a busy, crowded restaurant on a Saturday night.
- People giving me the “verbal tip”. Unlike America or Canada, we don’t really have tipping indoctrinated into our culture so we rarely get tipped. This is because casual workers minimum wage is pretty high, high enough to survive without tips. Unfortunately my particular restaurant has found a loophole to pay us quite low rates for how hard we work. As a result I work my butt off for tips. I won’t hate on you for not tipping me, but the verbal tip is a cruel way to end the night. If only you could show your appreciation with monetary compensation!
- Parties not tipping. If twenty five meals arrive on your table perfectly, in order with no mistakes and you rarely have to wait more than five minutes for a drink or any other requests, then chances are your waiter/waitress has sacrificed the chance of getting a tip out of other tables, giving others good service or threatening the good will of the kitchen managers to get everything done perfectly. If your table has a particularly complicated order, with a lot of changes, or steaks or something and there is no problem then they did a damn good job. And its not hard to tip them well if everyone pitches in an extra dollar.
- Hosts. The hosts I work with are actually really nice and generally pretty good but nothing makes me see red more than getting triple sat with a large party, being assigned to a table outside my section without anyone actually telling me I am meant to take that table, or sitting people without cutlery.
- People who try to split the bill even though we specify that we cannot physically do it. I always cave and it usually takes up at least twenty minutes, leaves my other customers neglected and takes up on of the three computers in the restaurant that we rely on
- Copping abuse from the kitchen. It’s not like our job is easy as pie. And their mistakes fall on us just as much as ours fall on them. Next time I accidently forget to write “without mushrooms” and you feel this deserves the most severe reprimand, I will remind you how I got abused by my table because you took half an hour to cook a pasta and tried to pass off a bleeding sirloin as “well done”.
I just clocked off work this evening, but there has been little to report. Only my KM berating me for drinking too much and my manager delightfully telling me that being on close tomorrow night, a shift I picked up for a co worker, means I get to help her with stock take… counting all the products we have in the bar. I guarantee I will only return in a good mood if during this process I manage to swipe a bottle of grey goose vodka without her noticing. I will keep you posted.
J
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