Is it over yet??.......

Its a bit of a misconception to assume that people in restaurants like the public. I don't. Now, granted it's been a long couple of weeks. I'm on a long stretch of long shifts, late nights early mornings and night after night of being bombed. I didn't necessarily realize that I wasn't in a great mood until I got to work this evening. There was some question about a New Years Eve Reservation that clued me in. I want to go to the movies...

My leg hurts worse than it has in months. The kind of deep bone pain that can't be described or understood unless you've gone through it, and I don't want to talk about it. It's funny for other people. For me, it's the constant twist in my stomach that makes me think I'm about to throw up. The idea of walking an extra ten feet has me biting my lip. I feel like my ankle is coming unscrewed. And there's a possibility that it is. Literally. I take myself off to put away the wine order. And they sent me six bottles of Brut Rose'... I ordered two. And it will take me three months to sell them. Now I have six bottles. And no Aqua Panna. This pisses me off. I damn near call the Bev. Director to let him have it... and then I realize, I am not a happy girl today.

My ability to compartmentalize the personal shit to get the job done is not going so well. Partly to hurting. But, I just don't want to run again. I don't want to listen to my Sous Chef telling off the interns. I really, really don't want to so much as see Pantry bitch. Bud isn't the least bit amusing no matter how cute he thinks he is. And Goose is taking the day off. I really need Goose to be there to help me deal with Old Dog. Old Dog is late as usual. This actually helps, I had half an hour to get myself in a rhythm before she showed up. I hear my name coming from down the server alley. I'm far enough away that I can pretend to not hear that she's calling me for something.

Our water glasses were stolen by banquets. We were sent Pinot Noir instead of Pinot Gris. Javiar is as tired as I am. Neither one of us wants to chat. But Old Dog does, she has stories to tell. Anecdotes about her son's drunk friends.. Her son doesn't drink. Her son drives the friends home. Blah, Blah blah... it's going to be a long night.

I had almost thirty covers in one seating. So I was done a few minutes before close. My ten top was going for the Silver Oak. I had two bottles of 2005... and a bottle of 1994. Seriously!! How the hell did that happen?

My next day off should be Wednesday. Tomorrow is my hair appointment. Thinking of getting bangs. New Years Eve is booked. I was excited a few days ago. Now, I'm glad It's almost over. Maybe when I wake up tomorrow I'll feel better. Wish me luck. I need to find a personality, need to think up some b.s resolution that i'll forget about by Valentines Day.

I'm ready for a bottle of wine, a comfy pair of socks, and a good movie.. I could go for junk food. Something totally gross like Burger King or Wendys. I know that there are people out there living it up because it's the holidays. They're having family reunions, eating and drinking too much. Celebrating and getting all kinds of random junk wrapped in paper. I've had peanut butter and jelly sandwiches the last three nights. I'm averaging ten hours of downtime between shifts. I haven't talked to anybody that I don't work with in a month. Is it over yet?.....

79,200...

I have amnesia, table amnesia that is. I get caught at it on a regular basis. Now, if you come in and start by ordering your cran and soda. Or remind me about your Raymond Reserve, tell me you're a vegetarian. Something anything, than I might remember you.

In walked a gentlemen right before we were opening and asked for a reservation. Because they had had such a great time the night before. Now, if he had said that he loved his veal I would have had a shot in hell of remembering him. As it was he asked if I could take care of him again tonight. I said yes, of course while I'm cringing inside. I have an eight, an eleven, two VIP tables and we are booked through nine o'clock. But, sure I'll take care of your party of five.

Then I remember him. They brought in their own Caymus in the little paper bag from the wine store in town. I'm expecting something else but, it's the Special Reserve so I bring out a decanter. They followed it by the Elkhorn Pinot Noir for their main course everyone ordered either the Veal or the Lamb and all I could think was that the Pinot was a mistake. So, yep. I remember him. By food and wine. Not by their face. I should feel bad about this. Except I probably wait on thirty people a night average. Sometimes more sometimes less. So, on a six day work week that's a bit under two hundred people. So, unless you do something extraordinary or horrible the chances of my remembering a table is pretty damn slim.

Now, most of the time my VIP tables aren't a problem because Javier will tell me something that triggers a memory. Remember, they don't eat red meat, they like the Chote Du Rhone, their kid likes to listen to the piano player. Something so it at least looks like I know who they are.

I do eventually remember you. Either because you were actually funny. Truly polite, had good taste in wine, or were a PIA. But, tables remember me a hell of a lot better than I do them. If I wait on a table three or four times then they start to become familiar. Anything other than that. Probably not.

I attempted, in my head to try to count just how many people I've waited on.. Here goes. Will round down for the sake of argument.

150 a week
4 weeks a month is 600.
600 by twelve months a year 7,200 a year.
11 years would be 79,200 people.

Jesus Christ. And that's rounding down. See, I'm not a terrible person for not bothering to remember people. Out of those 79,000 maybe a hundred of those I could pick out of a crowd. People become faceless. I think the knowledge that while other people remember their meal because of a first date, birthday, whatever it is.

For me it's just another night. I've had a lot of them. I've seen more birthday parties than I can remember, worked every major holiday since I was sixteen, seen first dates, last dates, engagements, whatever. Yeah, it's special for you. Restaurants are a great place. But, for me it's a place to work. Just the reality.

Anybody else have this problem?

One of those Nights.

So, I get told that I'm taking the 'forties' tonight. This is two booths and then four long tables. I'm taking them because they're an eighteen top of VIP PIA. Javier, the manager warns me that they're a pain in the ass and a really difficult table. that they're here every year and that they always have two separate tables for adults and kids. I remember them from last winter in my other dining room. And I remember that Grandma palmed me a hundred bucks on top of the thirty percent tip. I'm thrilled!!

They are difficult. Not on purpose they just have a ton of small requests. Every time I turn around one of the kids needs a ginger ale. Grandpa wants another bottle of Merlot and grandma wants me to pour the Pinot Grigio for one of her daughters. One of those tables when they are enough all on their own without other tables. I had other tables. A four top drinking eighty dollar a bottle Champagne. And a deuce who were unhappy with their table and wanted one by the window. I explained it would be about an hour and a half until one of them is available. I ring in the order for the large party complete with six different substitutions or SDR's. I know my kitchen is going to be pissed. I also know that this table gets what they want. So, there's no point asking for permission before I ring everything in. Ticket times got backed up out of the kitchen.

At one point there was about sixty covers fired at once. My eighteen, another servers dozen and a fourteen top a handful of six tops and a few smaller tables. Kitchen was bombed enough that my Sous chef asked me to give his new line cooks a shot of tequila at the end of the night. I sweet talked the bartender into double Quervos.

My deuce was on the end of a very long board. I ring in their order late. Hoping to close the gap between first courses and entrees. But, Javier brought out their salads before I had intended to. A few minutes later when I know their order is at least fifteen minutes out of the kitchen I bring them cups of soup with the 'chef's compliments' and explain that they're food is going to be awhile. I have learned that if they think it's from the server then they like me but, if they think it's from the Chef the Restaurant gets the credit. The Restaurant gets the credit they feel better about the experience as a whole and the tip is better. Try it some time. Whether it's a free glass of wine, appetizer or complimentary dessert. Site a source higher up then you. Make them think that somebody other than their frazzled server is paying attention to them and want to make them happy.

Tonight I never bothered to even approach the line for an ETA on any entrees. I can guess the time frame based on the chits on the board and what side of the fire that they're on. I didn't ask I kept my mouth shut and waited my turn.

At the dessert call for my eighteen I split it up between the kid table and the adult. As I'm setting down the kids desserts the teenager on the end throws her hands in the air. My chocolate fondue plate.. fruit, cookies, cake and a big ramekin full of Grenache fly everywhere. Grandma See's everything so I don't even have to pretend to take the blame and tells the grand daughter to get down on the floor and help me clean it up. The only thing worse than being on the floor trying to wipe up thick warm chocolate? Having a teenager on the floor with me.

Bud, however storms into the back as I was getting coffee service together for my four top, throws his book against the wall and does a bit of screaming. Enough that the pantry girl, easily the loudest unhappiest girl in the house says that he needs to calm down. He's kicking at the wall. Part of me wants to help and part of me wants to put him in the corner until he gets control of himself again. Yeah, it was hard. Yeah he didn't feel like he was doing as well as he should have. But, still get a grip.

Poor Ginger had the last table of the night. The woman orders the Veal, but wants steamed veggies. It's fifteen minutes before were closed. The Sous Chef is not a happy guy tonight. He says yes he'll do steamed veg. She rings in the order. Out come the little vegetable medley, carrots, green beans, and onion. The lady meant green vegetables. and see's Escarole on another plate and wants that. So, Ginger rings in a side. as she's taking out a different entree the woman see's the spinach on the plate and wants to change to that. Ginger runs to the line and begs for a substitution. and then the damn Veal was actually Pork. Not her fault, the kitchen did it.

To end the night she ends up picking up cocktails at the bar while her table that had left is staring her down. The man, sixty five if he's a day approaches Ginger and asks her to join him for a drink when she's off of work. Now, gross. Ginger's not even thirty yet and she's pretty damn sure that the woman sitting next to him was his wife. She says that the bars will be closed before she's off of work.

I had a single diner who never looked up from the table when I approached him. My leg was killing me. Due to the cold and the long hours so I turn the table over to Anita after his second glass of wine and his entree is done. Just the dessert and coffee call and then the check. She approaches the table three times asking how everything is going. On her fourth visit he says that he's waiting for 'Rosey'. She explains that I've left the floor for the evening but she'd be happy to get him anything he would like. He says that he would like me back.

I swear the guy never looked at me. Had he I would have finished him myself I honestly didn't think he'd notice who was waiting on him. Anita takes his dessert order and comes into the back where I'm wading through eight racks of glassware that need to be polished. And lets me know that 'One' is in love with me and maybe I should go out there... I'm not going. The guy was weird, I don't feel like anymore weird tonight.

So, there's my evening. I sit with Bud as were polishing tonight and give him one of my favorite mantras that I have running in my head.

There is one thing about Restaurants. There is a starting point and an ending point. No matter what happens in between opening and closing it will eventually be over.

Oh Holy.... Shit.

I have never looked forward to a holiday ending like I did this one. Christmas Eve was fine. As far as service went. It took awhile, I got to work at 1:00 and we all left a bit after 11:00.. Because the power had gone out. All over town. Some animal wrecked a power line. I got home by candlelight, got a phone call from my buddy that they were going to open a bottle of wine out at his restaurant sit by the fireplace and wait for the power to come back on. The books had to be done and he was concerned about the ten thousand dollars worth of food that he had ordered for the week.

I get out there a bit after midnight sit down with the Manager, his fiance and my buddy Chef B. The wine was a '95 Silver Oak (can't complain there). The guys decided to grill steaks over the fireplace and Kris and I were huddled up in big chairs. I think it was one of the nicest evenings I've spent in a very long time. We wait.. and wait. And finally go home about 3:30. Still no power. I stumble home in the dark. Crawl into bed, without heat. And think that I'll wake up to power. Uhh.. no. I finally leave to go check in with my kitchen and Manager at about 10:30 the next day. I walk into a shit storm. There were hundreds of guests both hotels were booked. No kitchens could operate.

The Banquet kitchens had grills out the back doors and were making hot dogs, hamburgers and chicken burgers with cold salad and chips to feed to everybody. No hot water, no cell phones. All of the main managers were communicating through walky-talkies. Almost all of the doors are opened with mar lock keys, no power doors don't open. Not to mention that there was a bit over a thousand people with reservations all over the resort that had to be fed this evening. Kitchens need time to prep food. The laundry wasn't running.

I had about two hundred people on the books. Luckily we had enough foresight to start stock piling folded napkins a few days ago. So, that wasn't a problem. But, we have to have laundry turn around our dark blue table cloths. No power no laundry service, and no access to the liquor cabinets to get our wine order.

The power came on about three hours before our first reservations. We changed all of the linen to white. And didn't polish half of what we should have. Some how it worked out. People were full of stories about their day. I had a grandmother say that it was the first time she had been able to spend a full day talking to her teenage grand kids without some distraction. For the most part people were fairly easy going and kept their spirits up. And so did I. I don't know how the other kitchens did. But, somehow mine managed to do all of their prep in half of the time.

I'm tired, can't believe the last twenty-four hours happened let alone on the biggest day of the year... But, strangely enough it was kind of exhilarating. finding solutions to every problem that came up, putting the smile on my face and cracking jokes about the memories that this holiday is going to hold.

On a side note. My fellow servers don't care for their pen names on my blog. And wanted to choose their own. So, Mickey is now going to be Goose (no idea why). And Trish is going to be Ginger (she has red hair). Old Dog doesn't get a choice and New Guy is going to be Bud, as in Bud light.. as in he's way too attached to bad beer. Manager technically deserves a name so I'm gonna go with.... Javier. And Carlos the busser stays Carlos.

Partners In Crime

Tonight was crazy. We start with ninety on the books. Which is not SO exciting. Except Manager was sick. No voice, coughing, fever the whole works. He leaves to get some medicine and I get the phone phone call. Jessie is calling to let me know that the Owners are coming in at 6:00. Were booked. I have three tables open that can fit four maybe... Except the Owners are eight. I have nothing. But, there's no saying no. Folding table gets brought out tables are shoved and moved around to somehow make space.

Our 'On Call' server is called in to act as hostess. A job that Manager normally does. But, without the ability to speak that's not going to go so well. His plan is to stay in the dining room until the Owners leave sometime after seven. And people start rolling in. Anita has the booths along the wall which can sit up to six people. I have two booths and the middle tables for the VIP sixteen top. At this point I'm getting good and sick of anything VIP. My two booths are sat immediately. One deuce that isn't drinking. But, the husband went through five diet cokes. And I have a four top. Cocktails, a bottle of wine four courses. Smooth sailing.

Then Anita gets slammed. Her three turned into a six. Her four was late her other six was early and there's a five top that swears they made a reservation. So her deuce is moved and her other table is turned into a five. I'm twiddling my thumbs waiting for my two tables to leave I don't have anything else until 7:30 because the VIP sixteen is going to kill me. I'll have no time for anything else. I bring menus and special her six. Run first courses for her other six and five. fire her tables do a wine presentation. Her six top crack a joke that I'm her wing man. I say 'more like partner in crime'. She has Brazilians and is stuck at the table translating the menu into Portuguese. No problem, everything goes smooth as silk. It's awesome, were having a great time.

In walks my sixteen I bring wine menus. This is a great way for me to determine who's the 'top guy' at the table. The one who's determining how much they're going to spend on booze is one of my 'tells'.

I have Grey Goose;cosmo's, gibsons, martinis, on the rocks. Six different kinds of vodka cocktails. and were starting off with three bottles of wine. I get the cocktails on the table and get started with the wine. Lady on the end is tasting the Cakebread Sauvignon blanc. The man on the other end is tasting the Clos Du Val Cabernet. And the older lady is going for the Villa De Borgo Pinot Grigio. They're asking for wine buckets at both ends of the table. No problem. I get the order in and there's Anita behind me. She's over heard they're order to start with four fondues and she's all over it. the burners are on the table and lit. All of the fondue forks and B&B plates are in front of everyone. I get the order into the kitchen. I walk over and the Sous Chef is waving my chit in front of two of the servers at the line.... "see, see!" he says, "this thing is a work of art, this is how it's done!".. whatever, I use my quantity button. Cluster my seafood dishes and my red meat dishes on the chit. This makes the line happy. When the line is happy you can be happy.

Halfway through appetizers they're asking for more bottles. They're wanting another bottle of Cakebread, another Pinot Grigio and a look at the wine list, they change the red wine over to the Berringer Knights Valley. New wine glasses. Half of the Cakebread drinkers are going to red. The other red wine drinkers need new glasses. Every time I noticed a half empty water glass Anita was there. I return with my third bottle of the Knights Valley and my salad plates are cleared and there's Anita getting more bread on the table. My kitchen is building the last five plates and I'm given the go ahead to start running entrees. I prop my map on a sideboard and set down the first plates, I turn around there she is, with plates in her hands. "This filet is Medium rare".

Half way through my entrees when there's finally a slowdown in wine service Anita is getting a new round. Another four and five top go down. And a deuce has questions, and the man needs more vermouth in his Manhattan. I go through her station, fill up waters clear away appetizer plates, go back to the pantry to give a 'fire call' and get her table re-silvered. I get a new four top and sell another bottle of Cakebread.. (this is my wine tonight). I return with the wine and Anita has grabbed Carlos, our busser, and is clearing entree plates. I go two people behind her and start handing out dessert menus.

Finally we're both at a pace when we don't need each other anymore My sixteen top ended with ten bottles of wine. That's ten separate presentations. No wonder I couldn't get to water glasses. It's a bit over a thousand dollars. My tip was 250. Anita is rolling as well. Not one check under twenty percent. I think she made a bit more than I did but not by much. We both carried the other three on the floor. And we get to wake up tomorrow and do it all over again, and the next day.. oh wait, that's Christmas right? Merry Christmas. I wonder if it's going to feel like Christmas at some point? Sure as hell just feels like work so far. Work with a Dozen carolers getting in my way twice a night. I should like hearing Carol of the Bells, somehow. I just want them to move so I can get to my pantry.

Merry Christmas.

I need a drink.

My manager and I went to lunch this afternoon. With the Hayden order form along for the ride. The Merlot we chose last week has been rejected by the higher ups because it's 'too popular'... This confuses me to no end. If the point is to sell wine and a wine becomes popular because it's good. Why are we not allowed to sell it? And our Merlot by the glass is currently the Rombauer.... and were losing money every time we open a bottle. Our cost is twenty bucks and it goes for ten dollars a glass. Not good. And lastly while at lunch the boss noticed that the pinot noir by the glass is even more expensive than the Merlot.

So, our last Beverage Director (who was fired) just keeps leaving a trail of fuck ups behind her...After about an hour he sent me home with the order sheets and told me to figure it out for tomorrow. So, here I am. Looking through page after page of wines. My eyes are starting to go cross eyed and I just want a glass of something.

tonight was fine I ended up bouncing from one side of the dining room to the other to grab VIP tables all night long, my chef was thanked in the dining room for the muscat that I poured 'with his compliments'.. Oops really need to remember to tell him when I do that. We made a crazy amount of cash so I actually went home with tips which I love. And I got some great compliments from the dining room on the new wine service. The bosses were in and they loved it. And tables are impressed. Good call me.

Purple haired pink wine drinking Granny's

A few minutes before were open in walks a fifty-something woman looking for a table for five.. No problem. I'm thinking this is great I don't have a reservation for half an hour. I can move a five top through first courses at least before my first VIP table shows up. Well, it's two grandmothers and three kids. The oldest must have been five maybe six. Loud voices who immediately bring out their coloring books and crayons. This is normally a good thing except they didn't have enough 'orange' crayons. I heard all about it.

I had orders for kids pasta and appetizers for the grandmothers. Now, I wouldn't comment on one vodka on the rocks with a twist and two olives. I wouldn't even comment on two vodkas. But four? Each? they spent more on grey goose then they did on food. Somewhere along the way the kids were gone (more than likely to put their orange crayons in the toilets) and grandma was asking me for 'one more' as they were paying one of them dropped their credit card on the floor I immediately picked it up only to hear grandma #1 comment to grandma #2 about how the liquor is going to her head.. Uhh... duh.

As I'm presenting a bottle of Merlot to my VIP table (general manager of the resort) I hear a crash and spill. Grandma #2 had dropped her bucket glass on the floor. I hear my busser at the table so I say a 'thank you Carlos' in my head and pretend not to notice as I continue pouring wine. Before I can leave the table I hear the sound of a purse dumping out. Grandma #1 is telling the oldest kid to get on the floor and pick everything up. I hope that they were just going to their rooms and they weren't driving those kids anywhere.

The rest of my night went well. My VIP tables were easy. I had four new entrees out of the kitchen which just about doubled the menu. So the line was a little slower but it was to be expected on the first night. We're re-doing the wine list. Getting rid of things that aren't selling changing vintages on a couple of Bottles. I got my way on quite a few points.

The Syrah by the glass is history. The acidic local Chardonnay is going to be by the bottle instead of glass for the 'local' flavor. That's another problem with working in Idaho. Idaho wines aren't great. Kind of like watching a kindergarten Christmas pageant you don't necessarily think there's any talent to it. You're pretty bored but, it's cute that they're trying so hard. I got the Sonoma Cutrer and a promise for a couple of samples for an oaked Chardonay. But.... ok, I'll admit the Bordeaux Rose' isn't selling. I know it's not selling. But, do we really have to cater to purple haired pink wine drinking Granny's? The answer is yes. Of course. I'm sitting at the table. With our Beverage Director, assistant Beverage Director, Chef and Manager and they're all saying 'yes' to the Berringer White Zinfadel. I'm sneering my manager is saying "Come on Rose... it'll sell. Seven bucks on your ticket is a 1.40 tip." Okay whatever. That damn wine is like that song from the lamb chops cartoon remember that one?

This is the song that does not end.
For it goes on and on my friend.
Some people started singing it not knowing what it was.
But they'll continue singing it for ever just because...
This is the song that does not end....

I can never be free of White Zinfadel for longer than six months. So, it's back on my list. But I'm not pouring it at tables. Nope. I'm going to sneak the glass already full into the dining room and set it as far away from general view of other customers as possible.

I had a seven top reservation turn into a twelve. Not originally my table but as soon as my manager saw them I knew they were moving into my station. Went off without a hitch.

And the last table. I had already exceeded my share of covers by at least half a dozen more than everyone else. When I see the 'new guy' walking towards the almost empty dining room with a bottle of Silver Oak. I said... 'good for you. You sold that!!' His comment was to smile and nod. And then I hear from my manager "he was looking for Silver Oak in the white wine cooler go out there and make sure he doesn't mess it up". Good thing. He does his presentation and then I hear the guy ask for a decanter. I immediately take over because my new guy doesn't know how, but I walk him through the process as he smiles and nods and I catch him looking at his cell phone, really?

The table was great, from the same neighborhood in Seattle that I had lived in. We ended up debating French, Napa and Washington wines for a few minutes and he asks me to 'please help yourself to a glass'... goody for me!! I ended my night with half a glass of Silver Oak.

It was a good night. I had a good time. But, I'm starting to miss my buddy. I'm glad he got the promotion. I know he's happier with his own kitchen. But, I miss having him around. I have half a dozen anecdotes and jokes a night and nobody to tell them to. I miss having somebody who knows when I'm laughing at something by my facial expressions. Oh well, I miss my friend. Not the first time I've missed a friend certainly not going to be the last.

The coolest movie about wine i've ever seen....

So, there was the one with Sandra Oh and that guy that was in that Lady of the Water movie.. Sideways where the best friend goes on a wine tour with his wino buddy... He screws everybody, including Sandra Oh's character. While the wino complains about not drinking Merlot and waxes poetic over pinot noir for the entire film. only to end up drinking a bottle of Merlot out of a Styrofoam cup at a fast food place.. Yeah, that sucked. And there was the one with Russel Crowe who inherited his uncles winery in Italy... well, that's all I can remember about that one.

I just finished watching Bottle Shock on netflix. Bill Paxton.. The whole premise of the movie is the evolution of Napa wines in the seventies to International attention. My favorite part? the two guys competing over the intern in a bar by staging a 'blind tasting' Who can bet that this little Mexican guy can't do a blind taste of three bottles, the varietal and the vintage... Haha! he wins. Fun stuff. There's a quote by Galileo.. 'Wines are sunlight with water added'. Anyway, the disenchanted British wine enthusiasts takes himself on a tour of Napa looking for wines to bring back to France for a blind tasting.

He goes through Napa dipping into barrels, with a line out the door of his hotel. Overall clad hippies with bottles cradled in their arms like their first born child. I'm not going to tell you how it ends...... but, it's a good one. I mean unless your French. I was halfway through when I popped over to amazon and ordered a copy for my best bud, and myself. The movie is five bucks, eight including shipping. Trust me on this. It's a must buy (I think it's cheap because it's missing the whole naked guy running down the street because he went home with the homely waitress from the barbecue hangout only to have her husband walk in with a shot gun, were there really Oscar nominations for Sideways?).

Anyway this movie is about wine and people's passion and love affair for it. If I didn't already like wine.... well, I would now. I now have to track down a couple of Napa wines which is great. Because my local wine shop has this awesome Australian guy that always has three or four open bottles on the bar.

I have this theory about wine. Why people like it so much. Why it's such a foundation of cultures all over the world. There's the blood of Jesus thing.. I mean something that has existed for thousands of years has to be good. But, for me. It's about your senses. Taste, smell, touch, sight. We can even argue that the sound of wine being poured adds to the experience.

It also enriches memories. I remember the family dinner when my twin and I were eleven. (don't get huffy mommy's my family is Latin it's a cultural thing)My sister was being a brat. Our grandmother poured me a fuller glass than her and suddenly I felt like a grown up. I think the combination of senses that wine brings to your life creates a stronger frame of reference or memory than a photograph. It's also sexy as hell. What's better than candle light and a glass of wine? It's been a plot in way too many movies and novels to not be true.

What I've always wanted to say.

There is a list. In every servers head of things they've wanted to say to tables, other servers, bosses, chefs.. even dishwashers. But, never have. Mostly because this gig requires that we be the happiest people on the fucking planet. So, here is a small list of what's really going on in my head.

1. You don't like Chardonay?.. really? you mean every chardonay on the entire planet is going to make you unhappy? Truly? Okay... then i'm going to serve you a white zinfadel because you really don't know what you're talking about.

2. You want to know why that order isn't in the kitchen yet? Okay Manager, the order isn't in the kitchen yet because i've had to explain demi glace four times, i've opened three bottles of wine made four shirley temples. One at a time. And have been sent away from the table three times.

3. Yes. I get it. You're all powerful Chef. You control your universe you're right and everyone on the planet is wrong. Always. Yes, your ego is a valuable commoditity in this rarefied world of people eating.

4. No, you don't smell like last night my friendly server. Not at all. Your dewers on the rocks isn't seeping out of your pores. You can't tell that your eyes are blood shot and I bet you can walk in a straight line.... sometime tomorrow.

5. Yes, I get it. Food and wine cost money. And I can make it even better. Not only does food cost money but I also expect you to pay me twenty percent more than your bill for serving it to you.

6. I hate it when you're 'just having appetizers' Hate it. I want you to order lots of food. Lots of booze and tip accordingly.

7.I don't care that you're a vegetarian or vegan, have theater tickets, movie plans a babysitter at home. A mother who needs her depends etc... You wait for me to wait on you... Get it? I'm not a machine. And I won't make you more special than any of my other tables if you don't make it worth my while.

8. How do you make it worth my while. Well, it's all about my being paid. How do I get paid? By you ordering the larger your bill the more attention i'll pay to you.

9. Are you really allergic to onions? Really. Because if you tell me you are my kitchen has to switch out utensils bring out new sautee pans, wipe off counter tops and generally stop service to accomodate you not being sent to the ER. Just tell me you don't like it. And trust me to take care of the rest. Even tell me you really don't like it. But, don't lie.

10. I don't like kids. In fact very few people in restaurants ever like kids. Especially ones in car seats, booster seats or high chairs. that come with cartoon embossed bags that I have to step over all night long. I'm not being mean. It's just that I don't make as much money on your children. therefore I'd rather they be adults who are drinking and ordering three courses. I hate finding ketchup. Really don't want to deal with your suzy sue who won't eat anything green. I don't find your children endearing in the least. I don't want to wait while they practice their manners and public speaking. You be their waiter at home and then bring them out....

11. I don't care how cute you think I am. How much like whats her name on that tv show I look like. You don't need to know about my ethnicity. How old I am or how long i've worked here.

12. yes, I have a boyfriend always. and three kids. And i'm busy after work. You and your four buddies who are about five years younger than I am who are ordering sides of french fries and bud light are not the least bit attractive. Move on to other pastrues. But tip me because you acted like a cocky little pencil dick.

13. I don't believe in your god. I'm not impressed that you do. I don't need my soul saved. I don't want your 'jesus loves you' calling cards. If it doesn't get thrown directly away we pass it off server to server like a hot potato all mocking the weirdo religious people who, by the way almost always tip ten percent.

14. I don't like all of my co-workers. Were not all friends.

15. If you act shitty enough we are all going to end up at a bar drinking and trashing you to everyone as soon as our shift is over.

16. Yes, my parents miss me because i'm waiting on you for Christmas Eve. They want me there and make me feel like shit for working instead of decorating a Christmas tree. I can't help it. And wouldn't change it if I could. Tip me thirty percent because i'm waiting on you. Feel sorry for me, but I don't feel sorry for myself. I don't like my parents I don't want to listen to my aunts fighting, my sister is stoned and my brother wants to borrow fifty bucks. I'm not at work against my will.

Training

I get told that were bringing in and extra server. One of our full timers is also an instructor on the mountain so she won't be able to keep up with the six to seven night a week workload. And the newer addition to the crew isn't making my manager happy. He's not bad. In fact I kind of like the way he is with his tables. He's fast on prep and sidework, but he is the only one taking three to four smoke breaks a night meaning the smell wafts in the dining room every hour and a half. If I can smell it the tables can smell it.

He's also the only one who doesn't want to work with anyone else. He can be standing a foot away from salads that need to be run he was trained with our system so he knows what plate goes where based on how it's run into the computer. But, he won't run for you. He also won't ask for help or ask a question aside from wine suggestions from me. He won't ask in front of our manager I think his theory is to 'fake it until he makes it'. So, the stuttering over questions tables ask isn't improving. The attitude of 'don't ask me i'll ask you' and his preference to have nobody in the dining room go within three feet of anyone in his station is getting old.

So, we now have a new red head who started last night. I was told a few days before that I would be training a new waitress. I like her. She's not too young or too old. she has a base knowledge of food and wine. Comes from a semi-formal environment so her table side personality is fine with me. She's also been at it long enough to whisper to me. "that guy who said that he could buy a bottle of your house chardonay for seven bucks at Costco is a bit of an ass"... Why, yes. Yes he was. I hate those kinds of comments my fake laugh kind of sucks and I never know what to say back. "I think your response was pretty perfect you just said that you weren't aware of Costco prices".

I had some interesting tables which is good I suppose to let her see how I find the happy medium between what we do and what will make the table happy.

"No, I can't get you a half portion of our special entree because it's a special. But, I can bring you a box for you to take home with you."

"Yes, I know you had the Chandon at the bar but our sparkling wine is the louis Pedrier and it comes as a split for the same price."

"Sure, I can split your check four different ways, that's just split evenly right?"

One of those nights that ends with a nine oclock table of VIP. They weren't set up in my station so my manager did some moving around to make sure I would take care of them. They are diners and spend bucks. On top of that they're well known in the area some kind of sports celebrity I've never asked what. They know me by name, ask me about what movies i've seen lately. The lady loves when I choose one of their bottles because as she puts it "you like what I like". they introduce me to the other people in their party like were all going to be friends in a couple of hours. I remember her lactose intolerance without being told and steer her around the menu accordingly. I decant their Far Neinte and tease them about going for the Opus One next time. He also knows that our 'service charge' vs. ringing in 'wine service' for his own bottles means that I get the money... "You rang that under 'service' right?"

The red head was intimidated. I give her the run down and why i'm doing what i'm doing and when. And let her know that the manager is a control freak and she's not going to have to worry about these tables for awhile. I currently do most of them with the exception of some 'mountain personalities' that go to the ski instructor because they have more in common.

My advice for the new girl.

Our chef is Chef. His name is Stuart but we don't call him that. Call him Chef you never know when you're going to walk in to a night when he's not going to be in a great mood.

Our sous chef is the fastest plate up. So, when he's on this end of the line feel free to move up your fires a minute or two.

Our dishwasher also does the dishes for the banquet facilities down the hall. We do all our polishing. Banquet servers not soo much. If you send stuff back there you have to make sure we get back the same silverware and glassware.

Never seat a reservation without double checking the book. Our manager does move downs around if one server is busier than the other at that moment. Don't put a table there unless you're sure it's okay.

Just assume that the soups aren't vegetarian. There's almost always some kind of stock or cream.

We don't split soup salads or appetizers. The kitchen will. But, it doesn't do us any favors to not sell a six dollar side salad to go along with their split entree. You aren't tipped based on how accomodating you were to make their check as cheap as possible.

There was more. A lot more but I got a good start. Halfway through the night she took a couple of tables. A perfect wine service. Even turning the bottle so the label was facing the person she was pouring for. No knee prop action in sight. Managed to special the table without stuttering answered a question or two. It's looking up.

Good tables.

My world is all rose colored glasses tonight. I liked my people. Strangely enough we had more walk-ins then we usually do. I say on an average night that we can add forty percent in walk-ins than what are on the books. My station was looking weak. The manager is a creature of habit. The same routine exists for him night after night. What this means to us servers is that our stations rarely change. I always have the booths on the close wall (the thirties, the forties that I hate because they're only used for large parties and the two booths against the window. One and two)

In general my guy is a pro. We start out with the same amount of covers each and regardless of whatever amount of crazy happens during dinner we almost always end up within a few covers of each other. this is exactly as it should be because we run on a tip pool. some hate the concept of tip pool. But, I can tell you that most nights It's pretty much even. Our busser gets a pretty good chunk, the bartender gets a cut. And the rest is divided evenly. What this means is that even though I managed to put a bottle of wine on every duece I had tonight they were only forty dollar bottles. But, Verna (not her real name) managed to put that wimpy little french Pinot noir worth seventy-five bucks a bottle on her five top. The table went through three bottles and then insisted on buying my white coats their own bottle. I love this table! My kitchen loves this table. Smart, smart people knowing who to suck up to. But, Of course because of the price of wine on Verna's table she made a larger amount than I did. We did the same amount of work, had the same standards of service.. (even though she's still using her knee to prop the bottle on as she uncorks it. this makes me smile to myself. After six months I'm almost ready to give up. I stood in the back and made her open ever 'by the glass' selection that we needed for a week straight, she still uses her knee.)

But, we deserve the same amount of cash. Tomorrow night I'll be busting out the Silver Oaks and she'll be rolling in the Rombauer and fondue as entrees. I digress.
I loved my tables tonight. I love four course tables, before dinner cocktails white wine with appetizers and salads red wine (even though it wasn't my choice) with entrees. Deserts all around. It makes me happy, gives me something to do and in general I like people who like my menu. And in my first four tables there wasn't a 'split' anything or a repeat order in the bunch. Every table had something different from everyone they were dining with. The Brits even called me by my name. Not in a weird way but in a way that told me that they acknowledged that I was alive. They told me a funny story about being in Colorado and the screw top on a bottle of wine stumping their waiter. I told them about ordering a sparkling wine only to have the server pull out his wine key to open it. We laughed. Good times were had by all.

I had a few deuces. Nice couples who were nice to me. Not a demanding one in the bunch. They lifted their water glasses for me when it looked like I was reaching to fill them. They passed me their bread and butter plates after I grabbed the first one. They all ordered desserts. One lady asked where I got my hair done. One gentlemen ordered a second glass of wine because he said I was 'too cute' to say no to. Maybe because he was sixty if he was a day and his wife was smiling at me but it wasn't creepy. I enjoyed my gig.

Wow, I suppose part of me should say nights this nice are few and far between. I do get asked at least once a week if I have White Zinfadel. I go through periods where I have a run on 'split entrees'. I get behind things get a little cluttered in my work areas that drive me insane.

My sous chef cracked a joke about buying me a Christmas present from Victoria's Secret and I made a comment about those great copper pans his wife is so found of. We made plans to go to the movies. The new editions to the line have decided that they want to get to know me. Weird but whatever. Just be prepared answer any question you ask. Ending with my old white coat stopping by to see me even though he had worked a fourteen hour shift and we were on the phone the night before. He still bothered to come by and let me know how much he liked his new pantry girl, and what he thought of his new creme brulee (not going to add the extra sugar tomorrow night). We sat in the closed lounge next door and had a half an hour of conversation.

In general slack is almost over. The season starts in eight days. I have a new Dan Brown novel that I can curl up with to go to bed tonight. People liked my hair said please and thanked you. Didn't ask for one substitution. Oh yeah, now I remember. I really like my job.

Dating.... and dining room?

disaster or a really good fit?

Now, I have on rare occasion been asked out by someone sitting at my table. There's usually liquid courage and social lubrication involved. But, I have been. I have gone once maybe twice in eleven years. But, that's beside the point and not that important if you think about it. They come into your restaurant once. It either works or you've made him tip you a ridiculous tip plus the added benefit of a drink or two or a meal.

My question is this how do people who work in restaurants feel about dating other coworkers? Now, realistically and traditionally that's really how people meet. I'm not one for online dating just yet. Haven't really seen an Eharmony commercial that makes me think 'that's the ticket'. And considering the fact that your first boyfriend or girlfriend was most likely met in highschool while you were essentially doing a job. People always have stories of meeting in college or work and how that worked well for them.

I do have a bad habit of getting somewhat involved with cooks. I tend to be on the practical side these days. I'm not nineteen years old anymore driving to the next county with my line cook for a bottle of tequila at two in the morning. But, I wonder if it ever works out. Or ends up one or both of you switching dining rooms when said relationship crashes and burns.

Now, realistically those of us in this business who have no plans to become kindergarten teachers or bank tellers any time soon really should find someone within the same lifestyle. I've tried dating 'nine to five' guys. Somehow restaurant life just doesn't work that well. My busy times are on the weekends. My days off are when everyone elses week is just beginning. I stay up until some people are waking up in the morning. So, hardly suprisingly when that doesn't work with your life.

But, how practical is it to try to start let alone maintain any kind of relationship in the goldfish bowl that is a restaurant. Let's face it. Restaurant people are social animals. We need to talk. To our tables to each other about our tables about each other. I have had more than one harmless flirtation turned into a complete monster by wagging tongues.

So, when my pantry girl points out that the new white coat thinks i'm cute and by the way they're going over to the bar after work and if i'm over the guy that he replaced by the way.. (I was never dating in the first place. But, she assumes that because he's not around then why the hell not try to set me up with new White Coat)OH, and there he is peeking behind the corner.. now, that's a turn off. Grown man can't ask me himself. My first response is to laugh it off and tell her to mind her own business and make a joke about her dried up sex life. My second one is.... am I a glutton for punishment? Do I really want the whispers, innuendos, not to mention stress of even remotely involving myself with a coworker who's going to see me when i'm not at my best with my first date heels on?

Or am I just going to pass. But, the question is. Does it ever really work? Or are all restaurant people doomed to fall for firemen and accountants? Answers please. I'm curious.

Because we say so. That's why.

So, some may not understand this concept. But, most will. Here's the way it works. You sit down look at the menu and realize that the fish you want is served with the oh, the orzo or lentil what ever. Now, the seafood dish sounds amazing, but so does the gratin that is being served with the steak... So, I should be able to have both right? Just a simple substitution. Nope. That is in most terms wrong. The exception being that you're allergic, or have some kind of moral objection to how it is being served.

Here's why. what you don't know about the gratin is that it's full of three different kinds of cheese non of which is going to make your fish taste the way the chef intended it to. It may very well over power your meal so, what you used to be three or four different flavors has now become a thirty dollar plate of texture instead. All you can taste is the Gruyere or whatever it is that's strongest on your plate. Food needs balance. That's why chefs do what they do. This is why you go out to eat. This is why restaurant food is always a different experience than what you can do at home.

Now, some servers will say sure no problem and then go face the diatribe that is the white coats in order to procure you the substandard meal that you've requested. some menus will say in pretty clear print. No Substitutions. There not doing it to be mean. There doing it because it's the best way. Here it comes the diatribe of 'I'm paying therefore my way is the right way'. I'm sorry, really I am. But it's not true. You have to realize that at some point that you don't know everything and don't understand food in the same way that a Chef does. Or even a waiter.

I've seen firsthand these guys develop their menus there is a lot of thought, testing cause, research that goes into their food. My best white coat has an awesome process. I sit on his sofa with a glass of wine, usually opened for his inspiration. And watch him pace around his living room with his eyes half closed staring at the ceiling in his head he's smelling tasting and considering everything about an entree. The texture, smell. color, presentation and more complicated issues like what he can order fresh and when and how consistent ingredients are going to be. Whether or not something too similar is being done within a twenty mile radius of his kitchen.

So, imagine your art. Your thought process and creativity being torn apart by someone who doesn't want anything with butter or wants french fries come hell or high water. Hurts their egos. But, you as a customer don't have to deal with the outcome. There's this great little filter system designed to protect customers from volatile artistic men who in general are overheated, overworked and always a little dehydrated. It's called the server. That would be me. I do my damnedest to talk you out of whatever it is that you think you want to do to their menu. Or if I can't talk you out of your 'craving' for whatever it is that doesn't match up I have a great system of ordering 'on the side'. Sure you can have a gratin but the fish is served with ______ so, I'll get you a side of the gratin. Apart from your entree. See? It's called a compromise between the customers are always right and my chef is going to tell me that I'm going to hell.

Here is another component of your meal that you probably don't think about. It's called, ordering wine.. This can be a bit of a process. Now, if you order the Sauvignon blanc that is so sweet it makes the back of my teeth hurt and then pair it with the lamb chops for dinner i'm going to let you. My justification? You don't know enough about what you're ordering to know that you're missing out. However if you make half an attempt to find a better bottle and think about your meal and your palate as a whole I'm going to help. I'll bring you a Chote Du Rhone that has enough spice to it to compete with the lamb. Or a surprisingly full Pinot Noir because the minerals go well with your mushroom risotto.

I make my pairing decisions based on a few factors. How many men or women are at the table. How well you pronounce the grape varieties on my menu. This tells me whether or not you're a regular wine drinker. If you are I can be a little more creative. And how many different kinds of entrees are at the table. I have my well rounded wines. Certain bottles that go well with several items on my menu. As for my 'by the glass choices' It's a little more detailed. Yes, I have two different Merlot. One I'll serve with pork. One with beef.

Small story, I get called to help other servers when their tables are wanting an entree pairing. I was asked to help table four with a glass of wine. My first question, red or white. The answer from my server, they had a bottle of Syrah and now he wants just a glass of something. I immediately grab my Syrah by the glass as well as my Grenache and Bordeaux. Make it to the table look down as she's setting the glasses down for his taste. And he's having the lamb shank. It needs to be the Syrah. the Bordeaux will die and the Grenache will kill the taste of the side items the lamb is served with. I also see the bottle on the table and wince a little. This guy knows his wine. He's not going to love my glass selection after the bottle but I could have not looked like a moron had I known what his entree was. My bad for not finding out. Her bad for not giving me all the information. But, he has the best from my available options I already knew what it was going to be.

I currently have a bottle on my by the glass selection that is problematic. I've had four bottles in the last few months that have been 'corked'.. Sometimes I can tell by looking at the cork, I can feel when opening a bottle whether or not it's crumbling and of course how much wine has seeped up into the cork. the farther up it goes the greater chance that air has hit the wine or temperature fluctuations have turned the wine into a vinegar mess. As I pour I can tell by the texture and color of the wine. If it doesn't look like previous bottles. I had a lady ask how I can tell if a wine is bad. This is somebody who's never tasted bad wine. end of story. It is possible to think that you're just drinking something really strong. But, that's few and far between. You can tell. It's vinegar and a breakaway texture apart from what is normal.

The moral of the story? Allow yourself a new experience. It's just a meal. You have two or three a day. Seven days a week. One new experience will not be the end of the world.

I hate breakfast..

Serving that is. I acutally like going to breakfast. Just as long as it happens after ten in the morning. Here is why I hate serving breakfast. Not that i've done a whole lot of it but at the company I work for you're often called to do all kinds of shifts one of them being breakfast.

Toast. Any server who has ever had to make toast understands this. I hate messes. I'm one of those slightly anal personalities that goes around all night long putting hot pads back by the line, wine glasses away, the beverage tray that was left on a side board. It all makes me a little nuts. Unless ofcourse i'm busy myself and then I don't mind until I can notice the little things again.

Here's my problem with toast. The crumbs. Everywhere. All the time makes me insane! I just can't keep it cleaned up. It makes your service station look like something out of a trailer park. There is also the insane amount of spilling involved in breakfast. At dinner the beverages are generally cocktails from the bar, wine and sodas. At breakfast there's a dozen kinds of juice, coffee, tea, hot chocolate (that's a big one by the way the mess hot chocolate machines make. There's also jam and jelly and syrups. All designed to be messy, sticky messes. And the insane amount of condiments involved. I hate condiments. I'm almost pass the point of wanting ketchup for french fries just because I dislike ketchup. Bottles are impossible to keep fresh and clean. Anyone who has ever married a bottle of ketchup understand. Or the alternative is to serve condiments in ramikins. Again time consuming and annoying.

And there's the issue with eggs. At dinner there's a right way and a wrong way to order everything. And with the exception of temperatures for meat there's just not that many versions of an evening meal. But, damn it all to hell. I'd be afraid to count how many different options there are for eggs. Scrambled, easy, hard, up coddled, boiled, basted, omelets fritatas, eggs in burritos, eggs benedict which ofcourse can come in a dozen varieties. And then bacon.. bacon soft, crisp, burnt, bacon in eggs on eggs blah blah blah... It makes me nuts. There are dozens of ways to have pancakes and waffles. The variations of breakfast make it a cool meal to go out for a really crappy one to serve. And ofcourse the issue that breakfast is cheap this means you have to work much harder to make the same amount of money that you would at dinner. There's rarely alocohol involved and people are generally on a time frame. they're just beginning their work day, or vacation plans. You are a 'stop off' and not the main event. I'd rather be the main event.

And ofcourse you have to consider that breakfast happens in the morning. I don't do mornings. have never done mornings and don't really plan on changing. When you work breakfast you have to have an alarm to wake you up. This sucks. For everybody. Nobody likes the beep or the buzz going off interrupting a dream and tearing you away from comfy pillows and blankets. I'm convinced that everyone feels this way. If you don't it's because you work in a bank and I feel kind of sorry for you.

Real Life.. me, without the apron.

It occurs to me that it's possible for me to turn into a non entity on this blog. Like the lady at the gas station without a nametag. It's kind of like she doesn't really exist. I have a theory that servers are like that as well. Probably not as much as the guys who pick up your trash or deliver your mail. But, still the service industry isn't interested in the people that make it go round. I work at a resort that pretty much has people asking me where i'm from on a nightly basis. That's fine. It's a good conversation piece. The only other times I get asked is if i'm living somewhere that doesn't match my accent. But, here's a chance at my being me. Without my tie and wine key in my pocket. And my likes and dislikes.. we'll see how it goes.





I'm twenty-seven last month. (gulp). I have a twin sister who is a bank teller and calls me every single friday night at about seven oclock and always leaves a voice mail asking why i'm not picking up the phone. I have a younger brother who is actually twenty-two.. I keep forgetting that he's not seven years old with a red back pack. He thinks my job is nuts. He keep expecting me to become a teacher, or a nurse. And I have a baby sister who is sixteen almost seventeen. She's a smart sweet girl who for the last few years always seem to have a boyfriend. And in the grand tradition of big sisters I hate it. I really wish she had gotten braces at fifteen instead of eleven. she's entirely too beautiful for my peace of mind.





My best friend is named Katie. She is a tattooed, slight stoner, with a few piercings a very quick wit who still hasn't forgiven my twin for beating me up when we were fourteen. Our friendship is a little weird. Almost like it's gone on too long. She calls me up says Music, Michelle something.. band. I respond with The Wreckers and there's only the one c.d. We both call Philip Seymour Hoffman 'Phillip See Sexy' and can't wait for Pirate Radio to come out. We've been roomates, attended eachothers family funerals. She calls me up because she found out her ex-husband painted their bathroom and i'll understand why that's making her cry.I call her when my twin or cousin is pissing me off. I talk her out of professing love for the newest boyfriend and she calls me up to try to talk me into attempting to be in love. It works for us.





I've lived everywhere. I know that's goofy to say but it's true. I remember being a little kid and loving the old western movies with the wagon trains or anything taken place on a train or bus. They were going places seeing things. Experiencing life. I'm like that. I can stay somewhere, I know that I can i've been here for longer than anywhere but I really love new places. I get a crazy rush from packing up my car, having my atlas a bag of gardettos and gatorade riding shot gun and the unbelievable feeling of anything new. I love audio books on road trips. The cheesier the better. I've bought the Bob Segar Greatest hits four times. I keep getting it stolen. My favorite c.d. in my car is Tracy Chapman. I just ordered The Verve Pipe on amazon a couple of weeks ago. I still like Pearl Jam.





I love buffalo wings. It's almost a challenge to find them hot enough but, I prefer them in pizza jonts because they're not deep fried. I have a crazy sweet tooth. Anything lemon or coffee flavored is my favorite. I'm in seventh heaven right now over a mocha flavored creme brulee on my desert men. I love foie gras, rib eye steak, and boursin cheese. I hate barbeque sauce.





I'm a wino. It's taken several years for me to be able to actually say that and have it not be like an attempt. Wine makes me happy. I like red better than white. Actually can't remember the last time I had white... Cabernets, Merlots, Shiraz, Syrah, Malbec, Grenache.. Blends are my favorite I always lean towards them. French wines ofcourse, Bordeaux and Chote Du Rhone. Washington after that and then the South American wines. I'm a bit of a non traditionalists when I admit that i'm a little bored with Napa... It just seems like there's more interesting options out there. Not that I don't enjoy it. Just that part of the fun of discovery has gone away.. I'm less and less interested in Pinot Noir. They just seem like wimpy, prissy little grapes that always has that mineral to it and not much of a finish. finish is important to me. More than the nose or body. I think because it's important for pairings I naturally lean towards wines that are going to carry you through a meal.





I like going to the movies. I am ne of those solo movie goers. I like having somebody with me but I really am content to sit in a theater by myself and let the story entertain me. I do not like eating out alone. Maybe from waiting tables and always feeling like single diners are just a little akward or maybe it's the Latin in me that says that food times are social more than about filling your stomach.





I have to read before bed and I will re-read books. they're like old friends i'll read something once or twice and then go back to my favorite chapter or part of the story. I buy I do not rent or borrow books. I have on occasion put myself on a budget when it comes to book stores. My little sister and I have this in common. I'm also not a huge fan of having things suggested to me. I like to come across it myself. But, if given a book i'm not capable of not picking it up. And I can count on one hand how many books I haven't finished. I also prefer to read cover to cover. Books will keep me from going to sleep at night.





I love ghost stories the idea of being haunted, spirits ghoblins whatever. I worked at a haunted resort for almost a year and spent the entire time trying to be introduced to the ghosts that was in room 222. Still bugs me that I wasn't. Not that I necessarily believe it. I just really like the idea.





I'm a Democrat. Not that unusual for my business but I was born a bleeding hearted liberal and have only become more so as time goes on. I loved it when Obama was elected. It was an amazing night. I have gotten into trouble when the subject of politics come out. I remember when a guest asked me about Sarah Palin I made comment about how I was sure she was wonderful at carpooling her kids with a moose on the hood of her car but didn't necessarily want her to run the county. He was working for the republican party for the elections..... oops.





I want to try New Orleans. I have a theory that atleast in the French Quarter it could be pretty iteresting It's on my list. I also love the idea of Alaska or going to New England. But, I want to be by the ocean again. Any advice or suggestions on where to move to next i'm completely up for.





I broke myself last year. I need to have another surgery to have the screws and plates taken out of my leg and have the cartlidge repaired. The idea of scheduling this surgery put me into a panic attack last month. There I was on the phone with the Pre-op nurse and tears were streaming down my face and my entire body started to shake. I have to have it done. The chronic pain for the last eleven months is affecting my job, I limp on cold days an it's embarrassing. But, i'm just not ready to go back to crutches and the boot. And i'm vain enough that the scarring bugs me. But, it just sucks.



I like to work. Need to work. I don't much like having too much downtime I like being the smartest server on the floor. I like answering all of the questions and having things thrown at me on a nightly basis. I'm generally patient on the floor but I do get tired of dumb questions opposition and people not agreeing with me just for the sake of it.



So, there it is. As much of me as i'm going to share...

Splitting, tipping, etc..

I hate splitting entrees. In my restaurant there's a charge for 'split' entrees. It's for the extra starch or vegetable put on the plate. We also do the soup and salad with entree. It is up to the server whether or not this is split in half as well. I DO NOT split salads. I charge you for the second one which nine times out of ten people will take. So, five bucks for the split and six bucks for a small dinner salad. The second non meal has just cost eleven bucks. I think people should just splurge a little bit. And eat out! Or stay home.. i'm fine with either situation.

I had a cheap night. It started with a three top. A mom and two kids. for the record I don't like kids. Have never liked kids and really prefer not to wait on them. They walked in at 6:10 without a reservation and wanted dinner and to make a movie two miles away at 7:00. In and out. Sodas, salads (two of which I charged for because kids entrees aren't served with them). Entrees on the table by 6:25. check ran by 6:40. They were out the door with fifteen minutes to get to the theater buy their popcorn and watch the show. The check was sixty bucks and I made a solid twenty percent. Second table of the night didn't want near a window so I lost out and they went to another server, we operate with a tip pool so it didn't bother me. The third in my station was a family of four. One fondue special, four salads, two entrees and three glasses of wine. I liked them. Mostly because they asked me for my advice on wine and actually took it. The kids were polite and mostly silent. Another solid twenty percent. I would have been happier to get a couple more entrees on the table though.

My next table came in, the man apparently had a serious issue with cheese. He hated cheese. I can understand being lactose intolerant, I can even understand not liking swiss or gruyere or feta. But, all cheese? that is such a blanket statement. So, I get a shrimp fritter appetizer on the table. Side salad without our house dressing and with his feta on the side so she can eat it. and a Lamb shank...... split. And a shared chocolate crepe for desert.

My last table of the night was two couples. The first couple arrived first asked for the wine list and my 'special menu' this is not soo special. It has been developed in response to the economic slump. It's a three course meal for twenty two bucks a person. go ahead and ask me how much I hate it... Soup or salad choice of the chicken or beef special and the apple desert. thirty six bottle of wine on the table four 'specials' It was a cheap table. It's just soo much more fun when people order well on average It's usually about forty dollars a person. A suggestion of my 'middle of the road' Wine list can garnish about seventy bucks.. Easily two fifty for that same four top.

Translation for me? fifty dollar tip instead of the twenty six that I got. So, even though my night garnished a solid percentage It was consistently twenty percent on bills that were half of what they should have been. Anyone waiting tables understands nights like this. They happen to everyone I just wish that they wouldn't be quite so often.

Sent home

I had three tables, two dueces and a single diner right at opening. By 7:30 they were all gone and my tables reset. And then I got the kiss on the cheek. Literally. My boss is home!! I love that he's back it feels really good. Back to normal. But, dang it all we're dead. The guest count on property is less than fifty. We had already served a dozen of those by 7:30 so I get to go home... My sous chef suggested that I go out to a different restaurant because one of my favorite white coats just took over the kitchen. The whole 'showing support' kind of thing. But, not on a first night. I know him. Well enough to understand that his head will be down and the addrenaline rushing the last thing he needs is to worry about impressing his friends the first shift in.

By the way Go Chef B. I know you're going to rock!! Everyone is going to be completely impressed and I'm dying to try that new Lamb you were telling me about!!

So, I do have plans in a few hours to go play pool and have drinks with my Brazillian busser. Allthough that makes me a little nervous the last time I went out with him he spent the night trying to talk me into going home with innapropriate people. Apparently I need to stop thinking like an American. But, were going out. Going to have a couple of vodkas play a game or two of pool. It'll be fun, I hope. It just feels akward to not be where you're used to being when you're supposed to be there. And it's been months since i've been the one to leave. In general this is boring. I'm starting to think that i'm a little bit of a workaholic. Maybe I am but I don't drink much, don't smoke, I don't have any gambling habits or serious debt. I am a little weird about committing to things maybe I should just chalk it up to my being young and think maybe i'll grow out of it at some point.

I'd rather be at work.

The Weirdest of the weird..

There is a collection of memories in my head from the last eleven years of things that people have done or said that have left me flabbergasted, astounded, confused.. Thought i'd write a few of them down. They really can't be forgotten but there always good for a laugh.

Let's see... there was the really old man when I was eighteen that asked me to remove the hearing aid from his ear.. It still makes me laugh. He was surrounded by about a dozen of his closest relatives and he looks up at me signals me to come closer to him and whispers in my ear that I should take out his hearing aid. Who the hell does that? Why did he do that? There are no explanations.

The butterfly tattoo. This I tell to my little sister every time she thinks about piercing or tattooing some part of her body. I was about twenty one working as a bartender. Two ladies come in for malibu strawberry daquiris (don't know how I remember that) I comment on her really interesting tattoo which appeared to me to be a butterfly between her breasts. All I could see were the wings. She pulls down her shirt and between her rather... large breasts the body of the butterfly was in fact a penis. Complete with scrotum and pubic hair. She said she did it for the shock value. It worked, I was shocked.. disgusted.

I have once, only once given out my phone number. After weeks of flirting with cute Georgia sailor stationed in San Diego where I was working at all of twenty years old. He asked me out. I was young, embarrassed and decided what was the worst that could happen? So, I hand over my phone number on the back of his receipt. And tell nobody about it. Almost instantly feeling the lack of common sense. A few days later I hear about the same smooth talking guy hitting on another waitress who turned him down due to the boyfriend that would spend half her shift at the end of the bar. He said 'no problem, I'll get a piece of ass off Sara'. I remember thinking that if he came in before management left for the rest of the graveyard shift he would maybe be in the clear... The manager left early. In he walks all cute with eight of his closest buddies. Was super excited to see me. Until I brought a pitcher of water to the table and in my extreme twenty year old-ness whispered in his ear asking if he was a little hot and then proceeded to pour the whole damn thing in his lap and suggested that he needed to cool down. If I remember correctly there was actually applause over it.

And in high school my first job ever with the weirdo table that we all kind of thought were inbred. Not in a mean they're gross way but in a there's no other explanation for them kind of way. To celebrate one of the waitresses seventeenth birthday they showed up wearing their bras over their Coors Light T-shirts. I'm not making it up.

Fast forward to when I was twenty-three working at a private resort. I had bar tended for a wedding all night long and for the last hour turned the bar over to my Back so that I could go set-up for the morning breakfast on the other side of property in walks the best man very drunk. I knew exactly how much he had and started pouring him weaker drinks hours before. He had lost the party and couldn't get back so I offer to walk him back. The conversation went something like this.

me- all show you how to get there if you could just keep your voice down through this hall it's next to guest rooms.
DBM (drunk best man)-I have been drinking vodka tonight. My brother's married the blond. She giggles.
me- (not going to touch the blond giggly comment at all say) Vodka is a very respectable drink I'm glad you've enjoyed the reception.
DBM- Yeah.. it's goooddddd.. iii'mmm gladdddd it's not tekquia if it was tekquia my pants would have come downnnn... Don't worryy sweetheart. You wouldn' mind. I AM CIRCUMCISED.

I don't remember what the hell I said next. I do remember walking very, very fast back to the party and telling the back no more drinks for Mr. I can show you my penis.

I had a table of fifteen construction workers at a little Italian place I worked at. I stood at the head of the table and began taking their order. When I went to leave I jerked back and this old man grabs me and pushes me on his lap. come to realize while I was taking everybody Else's order he had tied the end of my apron strings to the chair next to him. Gross. Wrong. In so many different ways. I remember them laughing and my manager coming out and 86'ing them.

Okay, that's enough for now. I have more.. unfortunately. But, I'm wondering what the worst of the worst is? If anybody can top mine. Let's hear it.

I want to go to dinner...

How funny is it that I never eat out? I'm not talking about a slice of pizza or going for a club sandwich I mean out to dinner. With wine and soft music a candle on the table maybe a napkin folded in a way I don't know. I want to go out.. I like food, wine, conversation. There's this part of me that takes over most of the time that thinks that the last place I want to be on a night off is in a dining room. I don't relax very well in them. I end up biting my tongue so I don't give the waitress advice on her wine service.

I'm almost always out with other people in the business, or family who don't really appreciate dining. Both scenarios have their drawbacks. I go out with one of my cousins who still thinks white zinfadel is wine. and won't eat anything more complicated than chicken breast. Or I go out with one of my white coats or more than one of my white coats and instead of relaxing and enjoying the evening I'm treated to a disection of what herbs may or may not be in the sauce.

But, regardless of this and the fact that grilled cheese sounds pretty good right now. I want to go to dinner. The last time I had a nice meal out was with one of my friends who was saying thank you for a little favor I did for him while he was under the weather. We had great wine. I had an awesome veal dish at this Italian place that had one of the most eclectic wine lists I've seen within a hundred miles of here. We blew three hours without noticing that it had gone by. It's good for you to go out every once in awhile. You tend to forget what it's like to be the one sitting at the table. You become very accustomed to being the one that is serving you forget what it's like to be served.

It makes me smile to realize that I can count on one hand how many times I've actually sat down where I work. The dining room that I worked in last winter for five months I never actually sat down in, and I didn't eat there either. In fact out of seven restaurants that I've worked in over the last few years I've had meals in two of them. One was a birthday party for my Best friend who loved my work and one was a wedding party for my sous chef. That's it. I wonder if that's typical or if I really am as anti-social as I seem to be? I worked with a chef a few years ago who used to throw wadded up paper at me through his office door to tell me to open up a can of spaghettios or make him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. white bread strawberry jelly. He had the most incredible osso bucco. I wonder if enough time goes by and it becomes impossible to be impressed by a dining room.

I like hearing peoples enthusiasm. For my decor or the ambiance or my piano player whatever it is that makes them happy. But, the thing is. I've worked in a restaurant where the dining room looked like the Titanic, with a three piece band and table side service. I've worked in the most amazing privately owned dining room that was completely original and amazing. I don't know if i'm able to be really impressed anymore. This makes me a little sad. Resigned yes, i guess it's bound to happen if enough time goes by. But.... I'd like to be impressed again. Just a little. To have something interesting to talk about the next day. I miss that.