For the last three years, I have spent Mother’s Day as a
food server in a corporate owned chain steakhouse. Mother’s Day was, and I’m sure
will forever continue to be, the busiest day of the year. This day is the ultimate test
of true strength in any position at a restaurant. This is what Valentine’s Day
weekend prepared you for. The air of the kitchen is heavy with tension as soda
cases are changed, appetizers are burning, and overloaded trays of buttered
potatoes are melting. There are more elbows and hips to bump than usual as
holidays are over staffed in both the kitchen and dining room to “better serve
the needs to the guests.”* Even the best of the best would find it difficult to
exercise self-restraint with an unruly table or a selfish coworker.
-------------------------
2013 was my first Mother’s Day as a food server. I hadn’t
the slightest idea of what to expect. I don’t remember much of the shift or the
days leading up to it, but I do remember how my night ended.
I was working the dinner shift in section 113. I don’t
remember exactly why this particular large group of 20ish people was being
moved into my section, but I was told by management that the head of the group
was not in a good mood and that they had three free appetizers coming as an
apology for their wait time being so long.** It has been three years and I know
that I will never forget this woman and how she made me feel. She had on an
oatmeal color jersey blouse with cream lace around the collar. Her hair was a
similar cut and color to my own grandmother. Her jeans were light washed tapered
and cropped with an elastic waistband. On her feet were, of course, bright white
chunky tennis shoes.
I wish I could remember the specifics, but I’m glad I don’t.
I know there was a problem with them not all being able to fit in the section
we allotted them (even though there were in fact enough seats, they were just
choosing to not sit next to each other). I know they were so demanding that I
had to give away my only other table as management wasn’t actually helping but
just telling myself and the other server everything we were not doing fast
enough. Didn't we know there were other parties who had been waiting for more than two hours already?! At one point, I didn’t even make it all the way back to the kitchen before
I burst into tears. Thankfully, it ended up being one of my last tables of the night. I will never forget the attitude from this woman and who I
presume was her adult daughter. I know there was a problem with the dinners not
all coming out together. I
know she did not say thank you as I wish her a happy Mother’s Day and a
goodnight with the biggest most genuine fake smile I could muster as she left
with her family. I remember getting not a very great tip. I would never wish
ill-will against anyone no matter how horribly they treated me while I was just
doing my job, but this one is pretty tempting.
-------------------------
In 2014, I was smart enough to work the lunch shift and I only have the memory of one single amazing table. An older couple with their adult son were seated at my table. They were all incredibly polite, patient, understanding and kind. It was a welcomed and pleasant surprise on such a day. I don't know how I managed enough time to chat for so long, but this woman and her husband were so complimentary of my service. They asked me about myself and how I felt about working on holidays (I never minded, even if I did leave in tears on multiple occasions). She told me she could tell I was being genuine and really enjoyed my job (for the most part I really did). She was a clerk at Macy's for many years and helped with bridal and baby shower registries.
In my restaurant, they had carnations with coupons on them for servers and hosts to give to the mothers. This woman was, in three years, the only person I actually cared enough to present one of these carnations to. She had me write my name down on the card so she could ask for me the next time they came in.
They never did end up asking for me.
In late summer of 2015, I was manning a lunch shift and was asked to pick up an extra table outside of my section. Slightly cranky about it, I went over to say hello. Already seated were an older gentleman and his middle aged son. They were waiting for the mother. I came back with the drinks and looked up to see the Macy's woman from two mother's days back. She was a little startled when I acknowledged that I remembered her from so long ago, but I reassured her it wasn't weird and just part of the job. She laughed and relaxed. We talked about Macy's again. We talked about how I wasn't serving as many hours and was planning on leaving my position soon. They all wished me well and she gave me a hug before she left. I don't remember if they were good tippers or not. I didn't care. I think of her and her family every time I drive past a mall or when I see a TV commercial for a department store.
-------------------------
In 2015, I got along well enough with the managers that I
was able to request a non-party section. I was in 214 for the lunch shift,
which meant it would be impossible for me to have anything more than six people
at one table and no more than 12 people between three tables at once. I was determined to not let anything bring me down that year. I had
wonderful tables all morning. I was treated well even if the tips weren’t
stellar. On any given Sunday, the most I would ever hope for is to just be
treated like a human.
Shift change from lunch to dinner is always a little
chaotic, but especially on a holiday. I greeted what ended up being my last
table. After I had already taken their drink order, I had the option of giving
the table away and going home. For some unknown reason, I decided to keep it.
Sitting at this table was a middle aged man and woman. I just knew before they even said hello to me that this table was
going to be a problem. Why I felt this way is irrelevant as they did turn out
to be a massive problem and ruined my entire day.
It started with the salads.
By that time in the day, they were being served salad mix that had been cut
washed and prepared just hours before that. I felt the salad was perfectly
acceptable and servable, but they sent them back because it was apparently brown. I sent
out second salads that they also said were brown. Since all of our salad mix
had all been prepared that day and all looked identical, the manager decided to
give them what we usually use in Caesar salads. They were satisfied.
It continued with their steaks. He ordered a well done but
not burned bone-in ribeye with fresh vegetables and she ordered a medium-well
Porterhouse T-Bone with something that doesn’t matter. I was strong enough to not roll my eyes at the
actual table. Though one of the steaks had to be sent back to cook longer, that
was not the ultimate issue. After discussing how our vegetables are steamed, he
asked for a manager. He told her I had lied to him about how our food is
prepared, which I did not. I was honest that out vegetables are steamed in a
microwave. When I came back to the table, he elaborated on how he works in a
restaurant and he knows microwave vs. not microwave. He was very upset that we,
like every other chain restaurant in America, steams our vegetables in the
microwave. He did say several time how it’s nothing personal after I cut him
off and explained,
“I am only a server. I have no control over our kitchen
procedures or how anyone is trained. This is a corporate restaurant.”
He replied, “Oh yes, yes. I know how this works. I work at
Applebee’s.”
No wonder the bastard knew the difference between microwaved/not
microwaved.
He left me no tip. This means I had to pay for him and this
woman to eat there.*** I’ve been upset while leaving work before, but never as
angry as this. He did pay with a credit card and for whatever reason, I still
remember his name. I will never forget his name and what a garbage human being
he is.
-------------------------
I wish I could remember so much more about my good tables than my bad tables. At the end of the day, I will never forget how they have all made me feel. I wouldn't change my experience as a server for anything. I learned so much about people and behavior and teamwork and manipulation and greed. I'm not sure if I would ever willing do it again, but I would not be the person I am today had I not been given these experiences. Though, it did probably take around 5-20 years off my potential life span.
-------------------------
*Do not let this deceive you. This is just to get as
many guests in the doors as possible, and then get them out the door as quickly
as possible to allow for more guests to get in and get out, and so on. The only "need" that is met is all these people want to eat here and they want to eat now. The
faster the tables are turned, the more money the restaurant earns and the better that particular store looks to corporate, among other things I won't mention so publically.
** I’m sorry but I don’t think you should be getting free
stuff because you had to wait a super long time for a table in a packed restaurant on the busiest day of the year when you have a party of 20 people
and you specifically want tables and not booths.
***In addition to being required to provide your own change
for your shift, most corporate and chain restaurants require servers to give a
portion of their tips to be split among the bartenders, hosts and bussers. My
restaurant required 3% of our sales. This is all done automatically by the
computers. It keeps track of all your sales, cash payments, credit card
payments and credit card tips. At the end of the night, it tallies everything
up and subtracts 3% of your sales to be paid to the other dining room staff. Essentially,
I have to pay the busser and host 3% of a tip you did not leave me. I’m glad
you had a terrible meal since I paid for you to eat here, mother fuckers.
0 comments:
Post a Comment