Last night while watching Top Chef, I was thinking to myself...They should really create a show called Top Server. OK, hear me out:
Gather up the cockiest servers from around the country. Give them tiny hidden cameras and have them wait on people as usual. The challenges would be moving them to different restaurants. The first week they could work at Le Cirque, then move on to Olive Garden in Times Square for week two, etc..
Judges would debate which is worse, Joe forgetting an entire entree, or Laura forgetting the woman in the blue sweater was allergic to garlic, or something of the like. Servers are eliminated accordingly.
So what would the prize be? "At stake for the winner of Top Server is a Saturn Sky Roadster, one year of unlimited groceries at Whole Foods, and $500,000 to retire from waiting tables forever."
Oh a girl can dream can't she?
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Table 50
Me: Can I start you all off with some water for the table?
Guy: Sure.
Me: Would you like flat, sparkling or tap water?
Guy: Toilet.
Me: Fuck you.
Guy: Sure.
Me: Would you like flat, sparkling or tap water?
Guy: Toilet.
Me: Fuck you.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Here's what happens when you're a server...
When you're a server, especially in a neighborhoody-type of neighborhood, a few things start to happen:
1.) You'll get regulars. Some you'll like, some you won't. One group we can't stand is "The Basketball Guys." They come in ten minutes before closing every Monday after they finish up with some yuppie basketball game for aging assholes. They act like they own the place. They ask for all sorts of shit that's not on the menu (which our over-zealous manager gives to appease them), they don't tip especially well, and they're rude to boot! Anyway, moral of the story is one night one of them asks one of the new servers what he does outside of the restaurant. He says he's an actor. In response, the guy laughs and straight up (no pun intended) asks the server if he's "a fag." It's the kind of thing that makes you want to lick your finger before you slosh it around in their pitcher of Coke. I'm just sayin'.
2.) You become a regular. Sure there are 38 bars within a four block radius, but when we get off work we go to the same two. Over. And over. And over again. Why? Because we don't get charged for half, nay, a quarter of what we consume. Talking to a non-server friend recently he said something to the effect of "you think you're getting hooked up, but you end up just tipping the living shit out of each other." I thought to myself that, while this is true, the non-server probably doesn't realize just how much we drink. Sure, for the non-server, getting one vodka soda free after buying one for six bucks and then going home to sleep it off doesn't sound as enticing when he's overtipping. However, when I'm in one of the two acceptable bars drinking seven $12 glasses of Grenache and get charged $24 at the end of the night, I'm more inclined to leave a $40 tip. Not to mention the fact that on a Saturday night we just made $300 while the non-server was nursing his watered-down vodka soda at some shitty bar. Which brings me to my next, perhaps last, point...
3.) You drink entirely too much. Yeah it sucks not having Saturday nights open sometimes. You forget about little things like college football and unlimited mimosas at certain brunch spots (which become off-limits when you have to punch in at 3:30). However, one thing that does seem to keep certain servers endlessly entertained is the fact that whenever we get off work on Saturday night and head out to meet our non-server friends, we're going to, almost undoubtedly, see one of them act a fool because they've been slamming Jaegerbombs since 8. Yeah, I said "act a fool."
Another perk is seeing your non-server friends get pissed when you just got to the bar and get hooked up by the bartender immediately. So what happens in this situation? A couple things, actually. We obviously feel the need to catch up to the early partiers. Maybe some shots, maybe not. But at this point you're probably not in one of the said two approved bars, so you don't know the bartender. What to do? Drop a line about just getting off work at a restaurant. My favorite ploy is to actually keep the money I made in my check presenter and pull it out of my purse at the bar to pay for my drink (perhaps fumbling with my apron). The bartender will say, "Rough night at work?" And thus begins the process of "the hook up." Voila!
1.) You'll get regulars. Some you'll like, some you won't. One group we can't stand is "The Basketball Guys." They come in ten minutes before closing every Monday after they finish up with some yuppie basketball game for aging assholes. They act like they own the place. They ask for all sorts of shit that's not on the menu (which our over-zealous manager gives to appease them), they don't tip especially well, and they're rude to boot! Anyway, moral of the story is one night one of them asks one of the new servers what he does outside of the restaurant. He says he's an actor. In response, the guy laughs and straight up (no pun intended) asks the server if he's "a fag." It's the kind of thing that makes you want to lick your finger before you slosh it around in their pitcher of Coke. I'm just sayin'.
2.) You become a regular. Sure there are 38 bars within a four block radius, but when we get off work we go to the same two. Over. And over. And over again. Why? Because we don't get charged for half, nay, a quarter of what we consume. Talking to a non-server friend recently he said something to the effect of "you think you're getting hooked up, but you end up just tipping the living shit out of each other." I thought to myself that, while this is true, the non-server probably doesn't realize just how much we drink. Sure, for the non-server, getting one vodka soda free after buying one for six bucks and then going home to sleep it off doesn't sound as enticing when he's overtipping. However, when I'm in one of the two acceptable bars drinking seven $12 glasses of Grenache and get charged $24 at the end of the night, I'm more inclined to leave a $40 tip. Not to mention the fact that on a Saturday night we just made $300 while the non-server was nursing his watered-down vodka soda at some shitty bar. Which brings me to my next, perhaps last, point...
3.) You drink entirely too much. Yeah it sucks not having Saturday nights open sometimes. You forget about little things like college football and unlimited mimosas at certain brunch spots (which become off-limits when you have to punch in at 3:30). However, one thing that does seem to keep certain servers endlessly entertained is the fact that whenever we get off work on Saturday night and head out to meet our non-server friends, we're going to, almost undoubtedly, see one of them act a fool because they've been slamming Jaegerbombs since 8. Yeah, I said "act a fool."
Another perk is seeing your non-server friends get pissed when you just got to the bar and get hooked up by the bartender immediately. So what happens in this situation? A couple things, actually. We obviously feel the need to catch up to the early partiers. Maybe some shots, maybe not. But at this point you're probably not in one of the said two approved bars, so you don't know the bartender. What to do? Drop a line about just getting off work at a restaurant. My favorite ploy is to actually keep the money I made in my check presenter and pull it out of my purse at the bar to pay for my drink (perhaps fumbling with my apron). The bartender will say, "Rough night at work?" And thus begins the process of "the hook up." Voila!
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