It's been awhile since I posted. Partly because I ran out of things to talk about. Partly because my job changed. I've talked about the Brazilians on my blog before, the international folks that are seasonal and work during the heavy season, go home for a few weeks, or a couple of months and then return when things get busy again.
When my manager left for Brazil in April I took over the restaurant. It was supposed to be until the first week of June. During the down-time I would make more money being paid as an hourly relief manager than I would as a server, the hours would be steady (I wouldn't be sent home if it was slow) and it was familiar.
I had a great time, had a little fun re-doing the napkin folds, re-organized some spaces that were sloppy. Did a bit of training and my best to avoid hiring new people thinking that the old ones would be returning from their perspective countries.
Well, June came and went. With no word on visas for my boss, two servers and a busser. Essentially half of the crew. We came into June and an event that takes a week to get through and is literally the most expensive time consuming time of year. It doesn't get any worse I had over fifty hours of overtime. And then the denials came pouring in. No boss, no servers no busser.
But, I was promoted! Put on salary and handed the reigns of a half staffed restaurant halfway though the season. I have done no celebrating of any kind. I immediately started interviewing servers hired replacements for the ones that weren't coming back brought in a new busser, re-designed my outdated too small reservation book. Re-printed my wine list taking off the Berringer White Zinfadel.
So far i'm tired. Pretty content with how things are but, tired. I would like to have a day off. I desperately need to shop for work clothes. And I have a motley crew of interesting personalities some of which will probably make it on to my blog maybe i'll find time to actually write my blog. There are funny things to talk about. Somehow stupid shit that happens during service is a lot funnier when you're just a waitress. As a manager.... well... Do I really have to tell a server not to catch their table on fire? Yes, apparently I do.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Saturday, February 27, 2010
It's mine damnit.
So people think I'm talking shit, telling stories making things up.
Here is the reality, I'm not. I'm being honest. At work I smile nod or at the very worst walk away. So, there is this impression that all though they are free to crack jokes, criticize and generally bitch about anything and everything all the while never hearing an honest opinion out of me about anything. Well, the black and white typed words saved for prosperity can be a little shocking, or a lot shocking. This is not my problem. At work I'm not going to change. Hell, I let Pantry bitch get away with calling me a lard ass. That's her priority, made her feel better. And I had bigger fish to fry. But, by the way. I didn't like it. Hurt my feelings, embarrassed me as does a great deal of things that are said at work. I hope she feels better.
The good news is that my Chef liked it. He said that it was an interesting perspective on what goes on around the restaurant that he generally gets to hear one point of view. Which leads me to think, that maybe just maybe that is why some of the other characters featured in my Internet blog are responding so strongly. It's one thing to tell your Chef that the waitress never fired the damn second course when complaints are stacking up and food isn't moving it's another thing entirely to have your 'get out of jail, the server is the one that fucked up card' snatched away. Poncho likes my blog thinks that it's honest, entertaining and funny.
So, I continue. With my thoughts, feelings impressions entertaining and not so entertaining anecdotes. I'm not changing it. I will however stop featuring a couple of key personalities. Due to the fact that I don't necessarily need them to exist in order to have something to say. There's plenty without.
Moving on to last night.
I was against the wall not my usual station but, it was a seventeen top that was going to need split checks. Javiar split the group up between two servers, I was slated to take ten of them and a few other tables during peak dinner rush. At the last minute he changed it and put me back to my 'forties' station for a twelve top. That turned into a thirteen that turned into a seventeen when another reservataion joined in.
The first split check seventeen was a set menu, set pricing for everybody just keep track of their cocktails, the one I ended up with was not. They all ordered by the glass and beers, played the ring around the rosy with their seats as their asking for Clos Du Bois Chardonnay ordered from the menu, appetizer here first second and third courses. By the way they wanted the bill split by couples except non of the couples were sitting together. I actually had a man holler down the table, 'wave your hand honey so she can see you're with me'. After about the third round of pouring wine and fetching Stella taps I realized that any system I may have been able to concoct got lost about the time I was spooning five sides of mint jelly into ramekins.
Added to all of this was the fact that their order was fast running into the other seventeen top. There was an hour between reservations not enough time apparently. There is a new policy that with larger tables if appetizers are ordered we send them out with first courses and then switch out their soup or salad once they are finished. This is effective for a few reasons. I don't have four escargots sitting while thirteen other people sit and wait for them to finish, It saves time allows the table to move at a more reasonable pace and speeds up the entree fire call to the kitchen which, last night was a priority for me. Had I served them the old way there is a very real chance that thirty-five covers would have fired at one time.
In the end I explained that I was going to split the payment but not the check. It is not our policy to give that many split checks and it would have taken way to much time to attempt it. On a better night, I probably could have taken all the time I needed to straighten everything out and work through it I could have. That was not me last night. In a better world I could have handled it better but, give me a small bit of credit here. The other table had two servers on them. I was doing mine alone. While fielding raised pint glasses six people down on the right as I'm explaining the braising for the lamb.
I'm working tonight another twelve top. Have a dreaded brunch shift on Sunday. I need to go pay bills, the beverage director has asked for my help counting down in the cellar for early next week. And i'm annoyed that wine class was canceled in favor of the beer class. At some point White coats are going to stop glaring at me. My favorite cousin has a much anticipated blind date in a couple of weeks that I need to make time to prep with her for. It's fun to be needed when I'm not wearing a tye.
Here is the reality, I'm not. I'm being honest. At work I smile nod or at the very worst walk away. So, there is this impression that all though they are free to crack jokes, criticize and generally bitch about anything and everything all the while never hearing an honest opinion out of me about anything. Well, the black and white typed words saved for prosperity can be a little shocking, or a lot shocking. This is not my problem. At work I'm not going to change. Hell, I let Pantry bitch get away with calling me a lard ass. That's her priority, made her feel better. And I had bigger fish to fry. But, by the way. I didn't like it. Hurt my feelings, embarrassed me as does a great deal of things that are said at work. I hope she feels better.
The good news is that my Chef liked it. He said that it was an interesting perspective on what goes on around the restaurant that he generally gets to hear one point of view. Which leads me to think, that maybe just maybe that is why some of the other characters featured in my Internet blog are responding so strongly. It's one thing to tell your Chef that the waitress never fired the damn second course when complaints are stacking up and food isn't moving it's another thing entirely to have your 'get out of jail, the server is the one that fucked up card' snatched away. Poncho likes my blog thinks that it's honest, entertaining and funny.
So, I continue. With my thoughts, feelings impressions entertaining and not so entertaining anecdotes. I'm not changing it. I will however stop featuring a couple of key personalities. Due to the fact that I don't necessarily need them to exist in order to have something to say. There's plenty without.
Moving on to last night.
I was against the wall not my usual station but, it was a seventeen top that was going to need split checks. Javiar split the group up between two servers, I was slated to take ten of them and a few other tables during peak dinner rush. At the last minute he changed it and put me back to my 'forties' station for a twelve top. That turned into a thirteen that turned into a seventeen when another reservataion joined in.
The first split check seventeen was a set menu, set pricing for everybody just keep track of their cocktails, the one I ended up with was not. They all ordered by the glass and beers, played the ring around the rosy with their seats as their asking for Clos Du Bois Chardonnay ordered from the menu, appetizer here first second and third courses. By the way they wanted the bill split by couples except non of the couples were sitting together. I actually had a man holler down the table, 'wave your hand honey so she can see you're with me'. After about the third round of pouring wine and fetching Stella taps I realized that any system I may have been able to concoct got lost about the time I was spooning five sides of mint jelly into ramekins.
Added to all of this was the fact that their order was fast running into the other seventeen top. There was an hour between reservations not enough time apparently. There is a new policy that with larger tables if appetizers are ordered we send them out with first courses and then switch out their soup or salad once they are finished. This is effective for a few reasons. I don't have four escargots sitting while thirteen other people sit and wait for them to finish, It saves time allows the table to move at a more reasonable pace and speeds up the entree fire call to the kitchen which, last night was a priority for me. Had I served them the old way there is a very real chance that thirty-five covers would have fired at one time.
In the end I explained that I was going to split the payment but not the check. It is not our policy to give that many split checks and it would have taken way to much time to attempt it. On a better night, I probably could have taken all the time I needed to straighten everything out and work through it I could have. That was not me last night. In a better world I could have handled it better but, give me a small bit of credit here. The other table had two servers on them. I was doing mine alone. While fielding raised pint glasses six people down on the right as I'm explaining the braising for the lamb.
I'm working tonight another twelve top. Have a dreaded brunch shift on Sunday. I need to go pay bills, the beverage director has asked for my help counting down in the cellar for early next week. And i'm annoyed that wine class was canceled in favor of the beer class. At some point White coats are going to stop glaring at me. My favorite cousin has a much anticipated blind date in a couple of weeks that I need to make time to prep with her for. It's fun to be needed when I'm not wearing a tye.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Not sure if I like this
The whole work people reading my blog. Kind of defeats the point of having a blog in the first place. Let's review the very first post. The idea was to blow off steam, vent tell amusing and not so amusing stories, give my thoughts and impressions in a venue where they would be welcomed and appreciated, which is definitely not in my dining room. All the while maintaining a distance from those that I spend countless hours with.
The definition of my job is to make people happy right? I mean that's what I do. I wake up, eat a bowl of Wheaties, take a shower, run an errand, do my chores maybe go to lunch. Put on the makeup put the hair in a ponytail, button the shirt collar all the way to the top put on my tie, check my pockets for my name tag, lighter, wine key and lipstick and then go to a place where my main concern is making everyone around me happy until I clock out again. My thoughts, opinions and general personality aren't needed or welcomed at work. I never raise my voice, never disagree with any of those little boys that make the food. Is it to much to expect that maybe at some point I might have an independent thought.
The whole point of a blog is that I don't have to be happy, I don't have to worry about what other people are thinking about me, I get to say whatever I want, run my mouth rant and rave about tables, servers cooks, anything that may appeal to me at that particular point and time. If anything it's cathartic.
Now, here I am with laughing white coats who really enjoy their nicknames. It's going to be a lot less fun for me, having them read it. The blog is called a diary for fuck's sake. I don't think I want work people reading my diary. I'm thinking the blog may become more generalized. Good thing I have over a decade of restaurant memories to draw from.
The definition of my job is to make people happy right? I mean that's what I do. I wake up, eat a bowl of Wheaties, take a shower, run an errand, do my chores maybe go to lunch. Put on the makeup put the hair in a ponytail, button the shirt collar all the way to the top put on my tie, check my pockets for my name tag, lighter, wine key and lipstick and then go to a place where my main concern is making everyone around me happy until I clock out again. My thoughts, opinions and general personality aren't needed or welcomed at work. I never raise my voice, never disagree with any of those little boys that make the food. Is it to much to expect that maybe at some point I might have an independent thought.
The whole point of a blog is that I don't have to be happy, I don't have to worry about what other people are thinking about me, I get to say whatever I want, run my mouth rant and rave about tables, servers cooks, anything that may appeal to me at that particular point and time. If anything it's cathartic.
Now, here I am with laughing white coats who really enjoy their nicknames. It's going to be a lot less fun for me, having them read it. The blog is called a diary for fuck's sake. I don't think I want work people reading my diary. I'm thinking the blog may become more generalized. Good thing I have over a decade of restaurant memories to draw from.
Wine Class
I forgot to give an update on wine class. For the record I think this is going to be my favorite part of the week. It's just fun. All though information seemed to be a bit of a repeat this week. We discussed common assumptions people make when tasting wines. This was really brought up during the blind tasting. The first bottle was easy, a bottle of Riesling. The second I would have sworn was an Oregon Pinot Noir, everybody thought it was an Oregon Pinot Noir. It was a barberra from Italy. The second bottle I thought, well everyone thought was a Viognier. Instead it was the new house Chardonnay.
The point of the tasting is that wines are more artistry then science. That Vitners are creating more and more original wines that don't necessarily taste or behave like a wine that you've already had. Next week we've been asked to bring a bottle of wine as a 'typical' example of a varietal. The tasting will be blind for the teacher as well as the rest of us.
Fact I didn't know. Barrels are only used a few times and then they have to be replaced. Sometimes they're 'scraped' meaning the inside is scraped and then re-used.
The point of the tasting is that wines are more artistry then science. That Vitners are creating more and more original wines that don't necessarily taste or behave like a wine that you've already had. Next week we've been asked to bring a bottle of wine as a 'typical' example of a varietal. The tasting will be blind for the teacher as well as the rest of us.
Fact I didn't know. Barrels are only used a few times and then they have to be replaced. Sometimes they're 'scraped' meaning the inside is scraped and then re-used.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
found out.
For some reason my sous chef due to his day off and good mood decided to share my blog with all of the other white coats in my kitchen. Hmmm... So much for anonymity. Even my Chef was completely excited to read it. Therefore here are my new stipulations.
I will post each and every comment that Chef, Sous Chef Blondie, baby face or Drunky wants to post on anything I've written. I will however not be held accountable for said comments. This is my domain. Blog is written largely when I'm in my tweety bird pajama pants. Does not reflect Waitress me. I am who I am at work. But, I do have my own thoughts and opinions. I'm entitled. If anything has hurt any of their feelings or egos I will possibly take that into consideration, but not enough to stop blogging about it. Sorry boys. You pretty much say whatever you want in the bubble of not being in the public spotlight I don't have the same priveledges.
But, remember I started this blog for myself. As a way to keep my own sanity in a place where You're not allowed to be you. My liberation sent into cyber space will not be curtailed.
It's funny. Seriously everything I write about is to possibly get a chuckle out of somebody somewhere.
That is all. Happy reading to all of my White Coats.
P.s. I totally lust after baby-face's bod. Not at all for Drunky's...
See, I can be nice.
I will post each and every comment that Chef, Sous Chef Blondie, baby face or Drunky wants to post on anything I've written. I will however not be held accountable for said comments. This is my domain. Blog is written largely when I'm in my tweety bird pajama pants. Does not reflect Waitress me. I am who I am at work. But, I do have my own thoughts and opinions. I'm entitled. If anything has hurt any of their feelings or egos I will possibly take that into consideration, but not enough to stop blogging about it. Sorry boys. You pretty much say whatever you want in the bubble of not being in the public spotlight I don't have the same priveledges.
But, remember I started this blog for myself. As a way to keep my own sanity in a place where You're not allowed to be you. My liberation sent into cyber space will not be curtailed.
It's funny. Seriously everything I write about is to possibly get a chuckle out of somebody somewhere.
That is all. Happy reading to all of my White Coats.
P.s. I totally lust after baby-face's bod. Not at all for Drunky's...
See, I can be nice.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Another one for the record books
We all have lists in our heads of things that people have said to us that was inappropriate, rude or just fucked up. I have probably more than my share. Tonight I can add a new one to the list.
Most men are on best behavior when they're out with their wives. It's when they're eating out with other men that I get called 'sweety' or winked at every time I pour a glass of water.
tonight was special. I had a deuce that sat down. The wife pointed out to me that I had waited on her the week before with her grand kids. She then introduced me to her husband who she had brought back for his birthday. He was one of those guys that thinks they're funnier than they are. Nothing specific just a bit of a smart ass.
I bring out their main courses and he asks me if I have any whole grain bread available. these days our bread service consists of a chive biscuit, baguette and a cracker but I went down the hall and found him some wheat bread. As I'm setting it down on the table He looks up and says some comment about gluten.
Went something like this. I set down the bread pick up their bottle of Rombauer and top of her glass.
He says, 'The last time I had to much gluten the waitress had to give me mouth to mouth.'
I fake laugh, we all have a version of 'unfunny tables trying to be funny laugh'.
He then says, 'And if it gets really bad then I'll need my testicles rubbed'.
No shit. I'm not making it up. There is his wife sitting across from him she screeched his name. I walked very quickly away from the table. Now, there's a couple of ways we can play this.
First off, I am a bit of a expert at drunks. This man was sober. Just obnoxious. So, unfortunately that option is out of the window.
The second consideration is that he is a stupid uneducated prick. Which, unfortunately wasn't the case either.
The third being an idiot running his mouth off. Thinking that he could say whatever he wanted because it was his birthday. Which is far more likely.
Here is my point. Somewhere within the first hour they were sitting in my station, being waited on by me. He became comfortable enough with the twenty-something waitress to bring up his testicles in front of her. Now, I'm not an idiot I know that his mouth had nothing to do with me. But, at the same time that isn't my reality. I am not one of those women. I am treated with respect. Dirty kitchen jokes are generally not directed at me. Even flirtatious tables go so far and then know without my telling them, usually that I'm not going to put up with any more.
I felt horrible for his wife. She asked for the check ten minutes later, and had her purse in her lap waiting for him to finish his entree. I wish there was a way for me to let her know that I knew that wasn't her reality that she expected more from him. The second part was my being just plain pissed off.
In a perfect world I could have figured out a way to put him in his place. I can guarantee that his sorry ass will be sleeping on his couch tonight. Small consolation but I'll take it.
Most men are on best behavior when they're out with their wives. It's when they're eating out with other men that I get called 'sweety' or winked at every time I pour a glass of water.
tonight was special. I had a deuce that sat down. The wife pointed out to me that I had waited on her the week before with her grand kids. She then introduced me to her husband who she had brought back for his birthday. He was one of those guys that thinks they're funnier than they are. Nothing specific just a bit of a smart ass.
I bring out their main courses and he asks me if I have any whole grain bread available. these days our bread service consists of a chive biscuit, baguette and a cracker but I went down the hall and found him some wheat bread. As I'm setting it down on the table He looks up and says some comment about gluten.
Went something like this. I set down the bread pick up their bottle of Rombauer and top of her glass.
He says, 'The last time I had to much gluten the waitress had to give me mouth to mouth.'
I fake laugh, we all have a version of 'unfunny tables trying to be funny laugh'.
He then says, 'And if it gets really bad then I'll need my testicles rubbed'.
No shit. I'm not making it up. There is his wife sitting across from him she screeched his name. I walked very quickly away from the table. Now, there's a couple of ways we can play this.
First off, I am a bit of a expert at drunks. This man was sober. Just obnoxious. So, unfortunately that option is out of the window.
The second consideration is that he is a stupid uneducated prick. Which, unfortunately wasn't the case either.
The third being an idiot running his mouth off. Thinking that he could say whatever he wanted because it was his birthday. Which is far more likely.
Here is my point. Somewhere within the first hour they were sitting in my station, being waited on by me. He became comfortable enough with the twenty-something waitress to bring up his testicles in front of her. Now, I'm not an idiot I know that his mouth had nothing to do with me. But, at the same time that isn't my reality. I am not one of those women. I am treated with respect. Dirty kitchen jokes are generally not directed at me. Even flirtatious tables go so far and then know without my telling them, usually that I'm not going to put up with any more.
I felt horrible for his wife. She asked for the check ten minutes later, and had her purse in her lap waiting for him to finish his entree. I wish there was a way for me to let her know that I knew that wasn't her reality that she expected more from him. The second part was my being just plain pissed off.
In a perfect world I could have figured out a way to put him in his place. I can guarantee that his sorry ass will be sleeping on his couch tonight. Small consolation but I'll take it.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Are you always like this?
I walked in to work and immediately was feeling agravated. Anette rubbed me the wrong way, over something so minor I'm not even going to bother blogging about it. I had a weird text message from Goose and Javiar is on burn out.
I got busy. Nothing unmaneageable but the kitchen was hurting due to.... let's call him Dip. My station was pretty straight forward, eight top, two four tops a five and two deuces. By seven-thirty I was full. I had one bottle to decant for my deuce who did the song and dance of where I was from and why I was here. My eight top was shockingly easy.
My five top was great. For the record, I love waiting on gay guys. I'm the Cher, Alicia Silverstone, Kathy Griffin whatever of waitresses. I like the way they flirt with you I love it when they call me 'sweety'. They're happy people, kinder and more considerate than most tables. Friendly but not in a weird way. The two gay guys were having dinner with what appeared to be their grandparents. Gay guy number one looks up and asks me if 'I'm always this nice?'
I wasn't sure what to say. I mean no, of course not. I am not that happy all the time, in fact most of the time I'm not. I like quiet places, alone time, I'm the last person that's going to head out for 'dollar night' on tuesdays. My idea of a good time is my best friends couch and a bottle of wine. It's my day off. I could have made dinner plans, gone to the movies whatever. But, it's been about two weeks since I had a free night. So, i'm in my tweety bird pajama pants watching an Ellen Page movie with my computer on my lap blogging. So, no. I am not always nice and friendly I don't always smile. It's like people assume I live my life in a blue striped tye.
Other things to talk about. We have the return of 'D-Bag' for the record my sous chef named this particular white coat. There seems to be an influx of little boys in my restaurant that can't seem to cook. Talk about really frustrating. Food starts moving at a crawl my Sous Chef is throwing brocollini at the back of their heads.... loud angry voices, just sucks.
I got busy. Nothing unmaneageable but the kitchen was hurting due to.... let's call him Dip. My station was pretty straight forward, eight top, two four tops a five and two deuces. By seven-thirty I was full. I had one bottle to decant for my deuce who did the song and dance of where I was from and why I was here. My eight top was shockingly easy.
My five top was great. For the record, I love waiting on gay guys. I'm the Cher, Alicia Silverstone, Kathy Griffin whatever of waitresses. I like the way they flirt with you I love it when they call me 'sweety'. They're happy people, kinder and more considerate than most tables. Friendly but not in a weird way. The two gay guys were having dinner with what appeared to be their grandparents. Gay guy number one looks up and asks me if 'I'm always this nice?'
I wasn't sure what to say. I mean no, of course not. I am not that happy all the time, in fact most of the time I'm not. I like quiet places, alone time, I'm the last person that's going to head out for 'dollar night' on tuesdays. My idea of a good time is my best friends couch and a bottle of wine. It's my day off. I could have made dinner plans, gone to the movies whatever. But, it's been about two weeks since I had a free night. So, i'm in my tweety bird pajama pants watching an Ellen Page movie with my computer on my lap blogging. So, no. I am not always nice and friendly I don't always smile. It's like people assume I live my life in a blue striped tye.
Other things to talk about. We have the return of 'D-Bag' for the record my sous chef named this particular white coat. There seems to be an influx of little boys in my restaurant that can't seem to cook. Talk about really frustrating. Food starts moving at a crawl my Sous Chef is throwing brocollini at the back of their heads.... loud angry voices, just sucks.
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