At least call me "Miss"...

I Found Me

2009-01-24T14:46:00.002-05:00

Hi there, to those of you who still check from time to time. I felt I had to retire this page, but I am attempting a new blog. With my current situation, I have a lot more going on than waiting tables, and I didn't feel justified for talking about it on the other blog, so I started a new one. The new one includes serving topics, but also other bit from my daily life. If you liked the Bitchy Waitress, I haven't gone far, just a click away.

Happy Reading!
~Darby

Where Have I Been??

2008-10-22T19:52:00.002-04:00

I just cannot believe how quickly time passes! I cannot believe that I haven't posted in so long! I've been really wrapped up in work, work, and work, so by the time I get home, the last thing I want to do is post...Hey, I'm being honest. Sometimes posting feels like work.

In reference to my previous post, the meeting with my manager did not go so well. He basically told me that the reason I have not been "promoted" to trainer is because of the previous arguments/opinions that I have given to managers or fellow employees. Whatever. He then blew a ginormous cloud of smoke up my ass and told me that he would keep me on his "radar" for the next couple of weeks. At that time, if he sees positivity, he will consider moving me up to trainer. I think it's bullshit, and I've dropped the entire idea out of my mind. I don't care anymore. I'm just going to take what I'm given and deal with it. I need the money, I can't afford to lose my job because I don't which sections I'm put in.
Ironically, ever since that conversation with GM, I have been scheduled in four-table sections, and last Saturday night, I was even scheduled in the front of the restaurant--the best place to be. So, actually, at this point, I don't have much to complain about.
So, that's that.

Sorry for the lack of posts. I hope I still have some readers out there.

Dinner tomorrow night.

Sob

2008-09-28T22:57:00.004-04:00

Aside from having insane tables for the last few weeks, I've also been harboring this feeling like I'm being punished for something at ye ol' restaurant...
I only work 3 shifts a week now, because I have another part-time job, and I teach a writing course at the local community college. (My writing is much better when it's technical and not in ranting phase. I used to really edit my posts, but then I thought it took away from the artistic draw of the blog, which is a freestyle, get-it-out-before-I-explode, venting mechanism of sorts, which also has the potential of having a high entertainment value.)
Initially, when I brought this new availability to the schedule-writing manager, we discussed what shifts I'd like to work. I said, "If I ruled the world, I would love to work Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights." I knew I would, and I did, get a huge NO. Immediately following she says that those are "money" shifts, and it would be unfair to give me only those shifts, as they are the most sought after. Fine. Whatever. Then, Schedule Writing Manager tells me that she's in desperate need of servers for Monday night (mind you, this was 6 months ago--we're fully staffed now). I begrudgingly agreed, only because I figured that I would just pick up Friday nights. I was picking up Friday nights pretty frequently anyway, until I started teaching this teaching gig.
The class started at the end of August, and I figured I had plenty of time to plan. As I started getting into the curriculum, I was getting overwhelmed (I've never taught before--let alone at a college level), and I started freaking out. I tried to work it out until about two weeks ago, when I went to Schedule Writing Manger and mentioned that I was considering taking Monday night off my availability. I felt like I had no time in the day; between day work, night work, planning for a college-level writing course, and spending time with my family--I was swamped. Not to mention even considering the possibility of a social life. Besides, Monday nights are poop. They are a waste of my life, and since my class is on Wednesday, it seemed like a primary planning time opportunity. Having off Friday night is a tease. I have been staying home because it's my only night to plan.
Well, when I mentioned this option of removing Monday night (considering all the above), Schedule Writing Manager told me that I would have to approve it with GM because company policy states that 3 shifts is the requirement for working there. What a crock of bullshit, in my opinion.
I dropped it. I haven't said one word to the GM or any other manager. Well, last week, I was only scheduled 2 shifts and this week I'm only scheduled 2. I haven't said a word.
I am grateful; however, for the last month I have been scheduled in a 3-table section.
Nearly every shift. Even closing shifts.
After my second consecutive 3-table night, I started looking at the team sheets--hard. If I bitched too early, which I'm known to do, they would throw a number of things in my face.
1. I'm not a trainer. Trainer's are guaranteed 4-table sections (and the one new 5-table section).
2. I have late availability. I have late availability during the week because of my day job (I can't come in until 5, or the new 5:30 in-time); therefore, I'm scheduled in the back sections, and I guess they think that that makes a person a weaker server. I don't fucking know, but I know they'll try to shove it at me. They take jabs where they can.
3. I have limited availability. There are people who work over 40 hours a week (not too much over because they are pretty strict on that), and they wouldn't want to push them in a 3-table section when they put in a lot of time.
I have accepted their laws, and I take these 3 specific things into consideration when I look at the team sheet. There are a lot of rookies right now, and they are being thrown into 4-table sections before they're ready, and it's costing the restaurant money. I am a strong server--let's face it, we know who we are--we get shit done, without a hitch...usually. (There are always exceptions.) Yet, I'm in 3-table sections.
After the 3rd shift in a 3-table section, I said something to my Fav Manager (haha Fav Man...), and he fed me some line about the confusion with the sections changing. Granted, they have been changing from week to week...sometimes from day to day, but should that mean that it should be looked at with a closer eye? I don't know.
The schedule is written by Schedule Writing Manager, but on a daily basis the Manager on Duty is required to write the team sheets, make any necessary schedule changes, etc. When he/she does this, would it be so difficult as to analyze the servers scheduled, and place them accordingly? I don't understand.
This is why I'm feeling punished.
Yes, I've bitched.
Yes, I've made it known that I'm not extraordinarily happy with the way the restaurant is run.
Yes, I've been written up.
Yes, I've written a mock letter to the owner of the company that my GM found a threw away.
Yes, I've gotten into arguments with management.
Yes, I've worked over 40 hours a week.
Yes, I've run front sections successfully with zero promos.
Yes, I've had compliments from guests.
Yes, we all know, I've had complaints, but only a few.
Yes, I've worked open to close.
Yes, I've cleaned out the drains.
Yes, I've worked four doubles in a row.
Yes, I've done all of these things, regardless of any of the previous bitching, and right now, I feel like I'm being punished. Maybe it's because of my mock letter to the owner. Maybe it's because of my previous arguments. Maybe it's because they're trying to faze me out. Maybe I'm paranoid.
Even though I've been on the edge, there is a new wind right now. I'm not entirely sure it's my time to leave. There are a lot of new people, bringing new energy, and there are a lot of people who are leaving. I don't think I want to leave, unless I really have to, and now that I've been scheduled in shitty sections for the last month, it's beginning to affect my finances, so I'm feeling pressured.
Trying to go down to 2 shifts was an attempt for me to have more time to figure out the time management for my life. Now that I'm in week 6 of the course, I'm getting things down a little better. I'm adapting to the things I should prepare. I was just freaking out. I'm glad that I didn't go to the GM with it. For money purposes, I NEED to work 3 shifts a week, especially because I've been in 3-table sections.
I set up a meeting with the GM tomorrow, and I'm still not sure how to say what I want to say. Should I just sit down and ask him if I'm being punished, or should I just tell him...what? Does he really care? Does he expect me to put my 2 weeks in tomorrow because that's what they want. Okay, yes, I'm being paranoid, and, yes, I've written yet another insanely long post.
Thanks for readin' the rant, and I hope I didn't nauseate you with all the circles...

3-table section tomorrow night.

Part II (a million years later...)

2008-09-28T01:08:00.003-04:00

I have no excuse.

Part II

The saga continues...(yes I still remember every detail of this table)...

I forgot to mention that when I brought the water and beer to the table, Jerk Monkey had two empties sitting on the edge. I still had impatient, Veggie Woman's water in my left hand, so I put the beer down and quickly grabbed the two beers with one hand--a kind of swoop. Then, I set the woman's water down and walked away in a server huff. So, I walked completely out of range from the table for a few minutes--they'd be fine, but I wanted to avoid them. They had water, and food, but I knew Jerk Monkey would need another beer, pronto, so I didn't stray too far.
I decided to go check on them, and I saw my two managers talking near the kitchen, and when I walked passed, one said, "What's up with the lady and the peppers?"
I had no idea what they were talking about, since my table doesn't like to tell me stuff. Then, the other manager chimes in, "Were you rude to them?"
I look at them, shocked that we're having this conversation. I said, "I may not like them, but I'm always polite. You know that! I don't get complaints..." (Well, there was that one, but we'll call that...a mulligan, of sorts).
Manager Two says, "Well, they said that you slammed a beer down, and you've been short with them."
What does that mean? They asked questions about the menu, I answered. They ran me for beers, I ran--I may not have been smiling, but I always brought it in a timely fashion. I was asked to bring a water, and I did, only I guess I took too long. I just didn't understand why they would complain. And the woman with the peppers? What did that mean?
I manager said that he would visit the table, and I should steer clear for a minute. Fine. When I caught up with him, he said that she didn't like the peppers in the veggie mix. Okay. They said that I seemed annoyed with them...ugh...I guess it did show...and even though I was, I SWEAR I never slam shit. I was trying to be efficient. But I guess if they sense that I'm already mad, then I guess it could be portrayed as a 'slam'. Whatever. He said the table said that the service has been excellent--that doesn't make sense. So, I basically got a complaint about my attitude, not my ability as a server.

Post Complaint
I'm pissed. And, I hate them...all.

After the talk with my manager, I go to the table to wrap any leftovers. When I approach the table, Veggie Woman says, "You should warn people about the pepper." I reply, "I don't typically warn people about the peppers because they're red and green bell peppers--they're mild." She looks at me and says, "Noooo, the black pepper." I reply, "In the description it states that it's sauteed in butter with black pepper, I apologize for the confusion, next time, you're more than welcome to request it without the pepper." With that, I prebussed the table, got the men another round of beers, and when I was returning to the table, the bartender approached me and told me that a woman from my table just asked him for a birthday cake. Fuck.
Now she's asking an entirely different employee for something! She must've been afraid of me--secretly, I love that.
Well, that just pissed me off. Part of me didn't want to do it at all, considering that she didn't even ask me. What if the bartender never told me? What then? They probably would've thought that I was(n't) doing it out of spite.
I did it. I couldn't not do it. Not after I gave them great service with a bad attitude.
They lingered.
I sneered.
They left me 20%.
I was pleasantly surprised.

Sorry for the delayed (and somewhat less dramatic) ending...

Karma? (The Long Version) Part I

2008-09-19T17:10:00.005-04:00

Well, considering how my previous post was Satanic, I guess it is fitting that last night I had to wait on the Table from Hell.
A middle-aged couple sits down (probably mid-50s, early 60s), and they are waiting for another couple to arrive. The woman immediately goes to the restroom, while I greet her husband, eagerly waiting my arrival at his table. He proceeds to request a very bizarre margarita (tequila, triple-sec, Gran Marnier, and razzmatazz) for his wife, and a beer for himself. He didn't even really know what he was saying--he said his wife wanted something "different." So he took ingredients from every drink on the menu. When he ordered the margarita, I told him that I would have to check with the bartender to make sure that that was something we could (a) do, and (2) would it taste good. (Before I walked away he made sure to tell me that he needed more salsa. And he really wasn't letting me do any explaining...he was just talking.)
A manager actually visited the table to make sure they knew what they were getting themselves into price-wise.
Out of the gate: High maintenance drink order and greedy with the salsa.

So, fine. When I delivered the drinks, the woman was at the table. I set the drink down and she said she had a question about the menu. She asks her question about an item that included a shrimp based sauce over steak. She wasn't sure if she was going to like the sauce, so I assured her we would be happy to put it on the side (I do say shit like that--I have a schpeal for everything). I described the sauce pretty well (if I do say so myself) and thought that we were in a clear understanding about the dish. After I was speaking to the wife, Jerk Monkey was tapping his half-full beer bottle, nodding his head with a mouthful of the first half.
"I'll bring another beer and more salsa right out."

Drink order/Menu Questions: Pretty slow on the uptake. The wife seemed pretty ditsy when I was talking to her about the menu. Jerk Monkey (husband) = a drunk
Still high maintenance.

When I brought back Jerk Monkey's 2nd beer, he was holding a nearly-empty salsa cup up. I didn't say anything--I set down his beer and the other thing of salsa. He says, "Can you bring me another cup of water?" In the bottom of the cup was a little bit of salsa juice, that did look watered down--whatthefuckever. "I'll bring more salsa over for you." I say dryly. Jerk Monkey then says, "and bring me another beer." "Sure," I say.
The other couple still has yet to arrive.

Preliminary: He is already on my nerve. He's a greedy, sloppy drunk, and his wife is an idiot.

I took a little bit of time going back to the table because I wanted to space out the beers a little bit--if this guy was planning on ordering a beer every time I was at the table, he would be hammered by the time he left. And I knew he would eat the other cup of salsa, while he was waiting for his cup of "water." I made sure to strain every little tiny bit of juice out of that salsa. And he ate every morsel.

I returned with his 3rd beer and the other couple had arrived. They both ordered beers (Jerk Monkey ordered his 4th), and seemed relatively normal. The one woman had never been here before, so she was asking some questions. One question in particular was about the side of sauteed vegetables. I told her every single veggie (zucchini, squash, onions, peppers (red/green bell--mild, not spicy), mushrooms, carrots, broccoli, sauteed in butter and seasoned with black pepper). That's the schpeal. I gave them some time, yadda, yadda, yadda.

After dinner order: Still cringe at Jerk Monkey, but the rest of the table is pleasant. (I have a trunk-full of server characters that I dress up as from day to day, and last night, with this table, I was the dry, soft-spoken, yet polite server.) I'm not really trying to be overly-friendly at all, but I'm getting them the things they need.

A few minutes after they order, I swing passed the table, and see they need chips. Jerk Monkey taps his bottle, asking for his 5th. He orders one for his friend as well.

When the food arrived, I delivered everything neatly, telling them what everything was as I set it down (the usual treatment). My man orders his 6th, and when I set down his entree he says, "Is this the entree portion?" Well, it would be an awfully large appetizer (I think to myself). My actual response was, "It is a very filling dish, sir, but if you'd like something else, I'd be happy to get it for you." I ordered his beer immediately and as I was coming back with it, Jerk Monkey is standing by the kitchen doors. I go up to him, and he frantically tells me that there's something wrong with his wife's meal. I figured it wasn't well-done as she requested. And, as I was approaching the table, Jerk Monkey grabbed A-1 off another table and set it down in front of his wife (side note: I hate when tables grab stuff from other tables, and I'm at the table--pet peeve).
She looks at me with shrugged shoulders and says, "Where's the shrimp?" I say, "It's in the sauce that's on the side," and I point to the saucer. Maybe it was snotty, I don't know. But at that time I asked everyone how everything was, and they all said it was delicious.

When I came back a few minutes later, Veggie Woman (not to be confused with Shrimp woman), asked me for water. Jerk Monkey orders his 7th. As I'm returning, minutes later with their requests, the woman is talking to another server about water. I set her water down on the table and I delivered his beer.

Dinner: They are pissing me off. Every time I go to the table they need something, they've been helping themselves, and asking other servers for things when I'm being attentive. How much more attention do you people need??

I know I was kinda bitchy then--as I brushed passed her I said, "Your water is on the table."

To be continued...(we're just getting to the good part, too...)

As I write this, it occurs to me that they aren't actually the table from hell, but I did feel like some kind of bad karma had come my way, so my radical, bitchy self somehow transformed this table into Satan's children. Oy. Don't fret, there's more to come...I just took too long to write this, and now I'm out of time...

Maybe I Am Satan

2008-09-01T02:44:00.003-04:00

Last night I worked the patio--I have never seen so many out of control children. Parents were just letting there children run all over the place! At one point, when I was at the wait station I said, "I hate children." To this comment, a co-worker turned to me and said, "That's just evil. Only the devil hates kids." Well, maybe I am Satan, but children should be taught to behave, and shouldn't be left to run wild through a patio that is a accident waiting to happen. And, as an amendment to my comment about hating children, I say, "I hate inattentive parents." Every last one of the parents on the patio last night were more concerned with their adult conversation then their children getting a plate in the face.
At one point, I was taking an order at a table, and when I backed up to walk away, I knocked this little boy who was standing behind me. He smacked his face on the chair, and I immediately apologized, but inside I was strangling the parents. What are you doing??
Parents, teach children that sitting while eating is customary. If you choose to eat while running around, wrestling with your brother, or racing in between tables, then you may not be in the right establishment--that's called Chucky *fucking* Cheese.
Thank you.

On the Edge

2008-08-26T19:15:00.002-04:00

I've been on the verge, now I'm on the edge...of quitting. You all must think I've been dangling on this edge for quite some time--well, for a while, I was merely meandering around the edge, not getting too close. Now, times have changed.
President's have changed, and have decided that making changes in his new restaurant is a great way to make a first impression. He sucks. He has not said one word to an employee, unless prompted by an outstretched hand or an audible greeting. His hand shakes like a fish, and his eyes wander anywhere but the conversation.
This new President has decided to make asinine changes--he changed sections, he changed in-times, he changed the arrangement of our stocked items, he changed arrangement of tables. He's After his first attempt at changing sections failed, he decided to change again (unaware or uninterested in the fact that we change them ourselves from time to time, as an establishment). His newest change, has me swinging my feet over the edge about to jump. We have 14 sections, from the front to the back of the restaurant. He has decided, oh, he in his infinite wisdom of corporate policies and accounting mumbo jumbo, that the first 6 sections must be at least 1/2 or 3/4 of the way full (2 or 3 tables each) before seating sections 7-14. WTF? This pisses me off because I have another job, so I can't start working during the week until 5:00--sections 7-14 come in at 5:00. Bull shit. The other night, I was closing, and I was in section 9--I didn't have a full section until nearly 7:00, and by that time, I was ready to go ballistic.
Even though I'm this close to quitting, I can't afford to not wait tables, so I will just find another stupid serving spot.
And the cycle continues.

A Perfect Example

2008-08-17T01:46:00.003-04:00

Tonight started off weird. I realized, as I was getting ready for work, that I didn't have my server book. It wasn't the fact that I didn't have the book (I have an extra), it was that I had an actual paycheck in there and a few of my rantings. I tend to write while I work, rather than flip out on a ridiculous patron or management. It's worked. Well, I've had rantings in there for quite a while (because I haven't had time to blog them--after which, I typically throw them away), and I was worried that they had fallen into the wrong hands.
The first thing I did when I got in to work was go in the office. I asked one of the managers if he had seen my server book, which he had; he remembered puttin it aside since there was a paycheck in it. He and I, and another manager, searched the office, to no avail. I did tell him there were rantings in there, but I thought it was no big wup since they all know I blog. No book. So I leave the office for about ten minutes, and then I return. I see a book sitting right on the office counter, and I point to it (thinking that it's probably the one book I did find that wasn't mine). It was mine, minus the rantings.
I ask the managers if they have them--no one knows anything. I even asked the GM (he knows I blog too), nothing. I said something to a fellow server about it, and she said she saw "Manager" with them. When I approached him he said GM had them. At this point, I say, "Listen, I don't care who has them, at this point, I just want them thrown away." BTW, one of the rantings was a mock-letter that I would love to send to the owner, but going through with sending it would essentially be a waste of my time.
They give me this fucking runaround, which is pissing me off. Finally, I get really serious, and I the MOD to be straight with me. He said he read a couple lines, then gave it to GM, who read a little bit and threw it away. Why couldn't they just tell me that? Why did they have to be so cryptic and weird about it? At one point, MOD said something about my rantings expressing that we servers don't get ANY respect, and I believe this is a prime example. If they respected me, I don't care if they read it and threw it away, they should've just told me that. We're adults, not 10 year-olds playing keep-away with their little sister.
I shook it off after a little while, but it did piss me off. The rest of the night was fine. Made decent money for how slow it was. It'll pick up soon though--school's back in session soon.

Patio Monday Night.

More Apologies

2008-08-03T02:18:00.001-04:00

I haven't forgotten about blogging! I've just been working like a DOG!! As usual, I guess. I'm hoping to have some time coming up, but I'm not going to make any promises. I closed tonight, and I do have a few things written in my server book that I want to discuss, but it's too late. I promise, I haven't stopped bitching!

Lunch tomorrow.

Hurtin'

2008-07-18T00:25:00.003-04:00

I am hurtin' for cash! I worked last night, which was a bust--but I was out by 9:30, which is great in our place (and, now I'm even more depressed because I figured out the math, and I made shit). Tonight, I did pretty well, considering it was pretty dead for most of the evening. Big Heads are in town again. The Regional GM (RGM) and the new President of the company--that's super big. Everything was changing. They took away our rolling station, and replaced it with the highchairs/boosters/slings. I approve of the this change because the boosters were likely to topple at any moment, and guests (and employees) have knocked a tower over from time to time, and that's dangerous. I've even seen a stupid host pick up a highchair and nearly slam a guest with it. They just weren't in a great spot. But, I am disliking it because now they are talking about not letting us roll silverware during the shift. This sucks because I like to keep up on it, so we don't have to roll a TON at the end of the night. We had to roll 90 tonight, and it sucks. If we keep up on it, it could be half. Anyway. (I usually just let all the hoards take all the silver, I do my sidework, and clean my section, and by the time I'm finished, there's barely enough for 90--I work around it most of the time.) The Big Heads are here tomorrow too, but I don't think they'll be staying too late into the dinner rush. Everyone's just all uptight. And big-headed.
I don't really like to talk smack about my co-workers on here, but this girl pissed me off! She's in good with management, particularly the GM. I'm pretty sure that's the only reason she still works there. She's mean to the rookies, and she's mean to the guests. She can run tables, but not very happily. This is all contradicted by the fact that she's a loud-mouth, too-much-make-up-wearing-perverted-35-year-old-who-goes-after-18-year-olds-bitch. When I first started, she tried to sabotage me. She's just dirty. But, she's in good with the GM, and I learned that nobody wins against her, so I decided to be cordial, but not go out of my way. One day, I got her back for the sabotaging, and I spoke with GM friend very frankly about the things that she was doing (crushing chips on my tables, spilling salsa on chairs in my section, sweeping shit into my section after I cleaned it--shit like that). So, yes, I tattled. I don't care. But, from then on, she was nice to me, whatever. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. That definitely comes into play here.
Well, tonight, I was a little busy, not in the weeds, but pushin it. I was running a credit card, when I see this girl and her trainee (yup, and she's the meanest trainer ever--ridiculous) dropping my food. I realize I hadn't brought a side-plate for the man's entree, so I run to grab him one. The way our restaurant is set up, people are sitting on top of each other. Tables are pretty close together, and sometimes, I can see it being uncomfortable for the guest, but people fill those tables. It was a two top, and she had already given the woman her meal, I got the plate, but the tray was in front of me, the trainee, in front of the tray, beside bitchy lady, in front of the table. I reached around gave her the plate, and told the man I'd grab him a refill. I thought that gave her time to finish dropping the food, and I was still taking care of the table. She said, right in front of my table, to her trainee, "She should really drop this." Meanwhile, I have a credit card slip that I need to give to a table who is ready to leave. I didn't leave her dropping a six-top. Then, I saw her heading in to the office with GM. I got paranoid. She loves telling on me. I went up to another manager, told him the story, and told him that she was in the office spewing her evil on GM. The other manager went in, and told me that she was telling on me, but there was something else more serious that had nothing to do with me. Fine. GM never said anything to me, but that doesn't mean he won't wait for another day. She's such a super-bitch, I can't stand it.
That dampened the evening, but then my sister, her husband, and their two friends came in and sat with me, so that made everything better...for a little while at least.

I picked up tomorrow night.

Fallin' Off

2008-07-15T20:02:00.002-04:00

I've been so busy lately, I haven't really worked...that's both good and bad. I really need the money. It sucks being broke. Hopefully someday I won't have to worry--or wait tables. Ugh.
Both last week and this week, I was scheduled on the patio. Last week, it rained, so I was sent home. Yesterday, I was on the patio, and I had one table in an hour and a half and made $2 (it was a small child and a grandma sharing a salad). I was so frustrated. I was also frustrated that they had so many people on a Monday night. There were 12 servers inside, 2 on the patio, and 2 bartenders. Everyone was standing around with their thumbs up their ass. It was beat.
There was no need for 2 people on the patio. That's where seniority should've come in....
I'm gonna quit while I'm ahead. I really don't want to get into bitching about management again.

Dinner tomorrow (no patio!).

Super-Duper-Looper

2008-07-06T12:26:00.000-04:00

Saturday was the roller coaster ride from hell. The evening didn't start out well because I knew that I was in a piss-poor section for a closer. I was all the way in the back of the restaurant. That sucks! Not only are the hostesses too fucking lazy to walk tables to the back, when they do, it's big-tops. My restaurant requires a table of 10 or more to be split--fucking ridiculous, I know, but their motive is speed. Management believes that with two servers the table will turn faster. They are right and wrong about this, but I'm not bitching about that.
Regardless, a 13-top was sat, using 3 of my 4 tables, and I had to split with this girl that I can run circles around in my sleep. She's slow and mopey and kind of a pain to split parties with. Anyhow, we get it going, meanwhile I have one 3-top and Mopey Molly has 2 and an open big-top in her section. They seat it with a 10-top, and I suggest that we split it (under the same pretences as the 13 was), she says, "I can take it by myself." Insinuating that I was suggesting she was incapable of taking the table. "That's not what I meant," I said, "I just thought I'd make a couple extra bucks while running 1 and a half tables." "Oh, well, I've already gotten them drinks." She says as she walks away. I wouldn't have wanted to share it either, but I probably would've asked, considering we were using nearly my entire section for a table that we share.
Needless to say, it was rocky, and I was rocky. I was a bitchy mess for the majority of the evening.
Cuts went up early, and this is where the roller coaster started to get fun, rather than sickening. As soon as cuts went up, a stream of people came through the door. One table after another. We were getting sat almost consistently for 20 minutes after cuts went up. It was awesome. Running 7 tables makes the entire night worth it. I got better tips after cuts than I have all week. I ended up leaving with decent money, even though I tipped out nearly $40 (ugh). I was pleased with outcome.

No restaurant until Wednesday. :)

Amendment

2008-07-03T23:39:00.001-04:00

I would like to start by posting an amendment to my previous post. Written earlier in the week, I decided that it was a waste of my time to bitch about my restaurant. Even though I'm going to try to accept the way it's run, my bitchiness will have to be channeled elsewhere...I have chosen the guests. They do so many nice things for me, I figure I'll give them the spotlight for a while. Why not?
Tonight I felt like I was waiting on people from Mars. They just weren't right...I don't know. I was sat with a five-top (2 couples and the odd man). They ranged in age from 40 - 65. They were alright (at first). Then things started to go wrong. They start to order dinner, and I always ask the ladies first. Lady 1 orders, fine, Lady 2 begins to order, and Lady 1 begins to spastically half-wave to me behind her friend. I'm trying to ignore stupid, Spazzy McLady 1, but I'm having trouble asking the menu questions with her right behind her friend. Finally, I turn to Lady 1, without saying a word. "We'd like separate checks." She says, out of breath from all that subtle waving. "Let me know at the end of your meal." I said this as quickly and dryly as possible and continued taking Lady 2's order. How rude?!?! And to think, she had to ask me that question right then, at that very moment, because God-forbid she may never see me again. Absurd. So fine, they order, whatever...then, as I'm delivering their food, Odd Man asks for another fork, I nod to him and continue delivering the tray. I haven't even left the table yet and he says, "My fork?" I look at him and I did say, "I'll have your fork in a moment, sir, I haven't left yet." I do feel bad about it now, but I felt it was so demanding at the time. I clearly acknowledged him when he asked for it. I'm not sure where he thought I could pull it from, but it really annoyed me. I made it up to them by giving them efficient service, and I brought them their separate checks without being reminded. Although, Lady 2 tried to remind me, but I anticipated it and answered before she could ask. They were decent tippers.
The next Mars-ian table were these two old women. It was like Grandmom and Great Grandmom out to dinner. Bad idea. I greeted the table to this, "I'm gonna need an orange soda, another side of salsa, chips no salt, extra paper napkins, and two plates." All in one breath. I shit you not. I said nothing and returned with their items. I felt like I was going to scream. I gave them one million years to look through the menu because every time I approached them, they still had no idea. Great Grandmom didn't have her glasses. Didn't have her glasses, or didn't feel like reading the menu herself. Every time I stopped by, I answered a few questions. Finally we start talking about one specific menu item, which is a basic grilled chicken breast dinner with fries, nothing fancy, very mild, yadda, yadda, yadda. I spent 15 minutes trying to talk to these women about this entree. Meanwhile, I had a margarita sitting at the bar. I tried to grab another server in view, but it was difficult. (I did make eye-contact with the woman waiting, so I think she understood that I was being held up.) These women were so confused. At one point, I was describing our vegetable medley (an alternative to fries) and I told them it was seasoned with black pepper, and she says, "Black peppers??" "No, black pepper." This is when I feel like slapping my forehead and walking away. Black peppers? Yes, we season everything with black peppers...on Mars! Finally, their order is in. Eating was a slow process, and when they were finished, they needed boxes. Well, at this point, I was tired, so I offered to bring them boxes. I knew they would be particular about the way it was packed, so I decided to save myself the hassle. I brought them boxes, and got, "I'm gonna need, another box, a cup for the salsa, a lid for the sauce, and fresh chips to-go." They also needed separate checks because the couldn't figure out what they each owed. What a mess. Senior Citizens should not be allowed to dine unsupervised. I've said that for a long time, and tonight it has been proven once again. I'm going to start a movement for necessary supervision.

See, no worries, I'll always find something to bitch about!

Close Saturday.

Accepting the Inevitable

2008-07-02T00:38:00.002-04:00

Tonight, while talking with a good friend from work, I realized that my constant need to berate the restaurant is slowly fading. I'm coming to understand that I'm fighting a losing battle. I'm a little thick-headed, what can I say?
Now that I've nit-picked the restaurant up and down the walls, I fully understand the way this restaurant runs. I know how to act depending on the manager on duty, and I know the way that things will flow depending on the kitchen manager. Knowing this, I have begun to adapt to the idiosyncrasies around me while I have to be there. This makes the evening less painful for everyone.
I don't think I'll ever be able to keep my mouth shut completely, but it's getting better. I know the blogs have been bleak...they have been for a while now. I'm pretty busy, and time doesn't really lend itself to too much writing. But I'll try. I think I'm going to try to focus on the idea of "informing the non-serving public" with my blogs, rather than bitching about a restaurant that I can never change. Instead, I need to use the information I have to my advantage. I'll try.

Toast: To Bitchy Waitress' never-ending quest to stop bitching.

Patio tomorrow! I hope it's beautiful! Keep your fingers crossed!

What's Seniority?

2008-06-21T01:21:00.002-04:00

Lately, it has become apparent that my establishment disregards seniority altogether. We have a very new staff (summer always brings 'em around), and although I think we've finally found some good eggs, I think management is swelling their pretty green heads. There are a handful of rooks who are pretty smart and picked things up rather quickly (imagine that), and management has already started scheduling these people in sections that were once considered senior sections. Now, they're for rooks apparently. They've even been scheduling new people on the patio, which was definitely a senior section when I first started. It's frustrating.
Thursday night was my first patio shift all season. I was excited, and it was worth it. It was a gorgeous day, and patio people are generally pretty happy.
Although, as I always say, there are exceptions. I did have this one family--an 8-top, who were miserable from the start. I could barely hear any of them, they were talking down at the table, rather than up, looking at their server. It was weird. They didn't really have facial expressions. The mother ended up sending her entree back, claiming it was undercooked. I couldn't tell if they were pissed or just miserable people. They ended up leaving 18%.
Hopefully there are more patio shifts in my future...

Off this weekend--no restaurant until Wednesday! Wow.

What a Monday!

2008-06-16T23:53:00.003-04:00

I went into work hoping to make money, but confident that Monday wouldn't bring out too many patrons. To my surprise, it was relatively busy. I just got stuck with every high-maintenance table possible. It started off with the most high-maintenance family on Earth!
Of course, they are ready to order the moment I greet them (which isn't always bad, but in this instance, I could've shot someone). The parents may have been ready to order, but the process of asking their children what they wanted was done in my presence, tapping my foot, scratching my head with my pen, and finally stepping away long enough to ask a fellow-server to run refills. Finally they order, but it's highly modified. No this, no that, only this, don't bring this. All four modified their order. Unbelievable. Then, as I'm standing at the computer, the mother comes up to me and asks for barbecue sauce for her daughter to dip her chips in...ew. At this point, I'm in the weeds, and NO ONE was doing any sidework. We have a very green team right now, and they are lazy, lazy, lazy. I could've fought someone. I was tempted to hit someone with the ice bucket, but I didn't want to create a scene.
The daughter must've drank the bbq sauce, because she stood up in the isle next to her table to ask me for another side. Ew again. Meanwhile, dad has sucked down his iced tea, and junior has sucked down his soda. When the food finally comes out, there was some garnish on the plate, and the mother says to me urgently, "Take that off the plate! They won't eat it." I look at her blankly, and hand it to the passing manager.
MOD (manager on duty) fixes the kids' meals when I meet her in the kitchen. I get them out lickity-split, and the mother hands me a pile of fries and says, "Can we have hot fries?" Sure. This is all putting me farther and farther in the weeds. I didn't do too bad, but I definitely neglected a couple of my low-maintenance tables. That makes me feel bad.
My second HM table was a middle-aged couple who knew the menu better than I did (or they acted as if they did). They asked for obscure things that just were a pain in the ass. Like dressing and sauces to dip their chips in...weird. They went through more chips than I thought were possible for two people to consume. Yuck.
Then, after the HM family left, the hostess told me that my family was waiting. I was happy they decided to come in and see me, but I wasn't quite out of the weeds, so at first, I was a little annoyed. My mom was acting silly, and I love that side of her, but she got under my skin a little bit. Like, when she was trying to order a drink, like she never had one before, "What's that drink I like with the salt around the rim?"
"Uh, a margarita, mom, you know, like the drinks we had last night?" And, because they're my family, they are very time-consuming. They want to chat, and ask questions about the menu, and I don't mind that, but at the time, I was a little annoyed. It was really a culmination of running for every other table, then have to run harder for my family. Mom kept saying she was in no rush, but I also didn't want them to feel like I wouldn't work for them...if that makes sense. Well, I fucked it up anyway because I forgot mom's beer (she switched after that funny salt drink).
An exhausting evening, to say the least.

Dinner Wednesday.

Cute Little Something

2008-06-10T16:19:00.003-04:00

This is a cute little something from the other night:

I go over to greet the 2-top that has just been sat in my section, "Hello, how are you?" The two teen-aged misfits (obviously on some kind of awkward first date) just stared at me big-eyed, as if they didn't know why I was at their table. So, I ask them if they'd like something to drink. The boy chimes up quickly: "Do you have virgin Pina coladas?" he asks in a high-pitched, Steve-Erkel (sp)-gone-bad kind of way. "Yes we do." I nod to him, then turn to the girl, "and for you?" She looks at me blankly and says, "Do you have virgin martinis?" I barely held down a snort, trying not to laugh, "I've got Daiquiris, how's that?" She smiled, that's exactly what she wanted, she just didn't know--and, I didn't have the heart to tell her.

It would have been hysterical if I brought her olives...

La-ti-da, no work till Thursday!

A Heart to Heart

2008-06-08T07:28:00.001-04:00

The continuing saga...
Where was I?? Oh, yeah, sobbing in the parking lot after being sent home by a manager who left me. Weird. Frustrated just wasn't the word. I just had to suck it up and get over it. That's just what I did.
First thing Monday morning, I went in early for my 5:00 shift to speak to GM. We sat down, and I told him that I didn't feel I was given a fair trial. I explained what I heard, and he apologized for the miscommunication. His reason for being so furious was somewhat valid. Over the course of the last six months, all I seem to do is complain. He felt like some of my complaints were valid, but wondered why I would stay in a place I so badly wanted to change. I expressed to him what I explained previously, that something is keeping me there. I don't know what it is...perhaps it's because this is the first place where I am proud of the food I serve. It's not too pretentious, the atmosphere is great, and people generally don't have any complaints. I like the people I work with--I have made some wonderful friends over the last 1 1/2 I've been with the restaurant. And, at times, it can be fun. There are just some underlying issues that I see, that I can't help but express.
I understand his point of view. I'm annoying. I don't mean to be annoying, really I don't, but I know that I am and sometimes my personality is difficult to work with. A few months ago, one of the other managers sat down with me to discuss my attitude and why I'm so negative about the restaurant (this, by the way, is why I'm not a trainer, and I understand that also). Since then, I have been making a strong effort to be more pleasant to work with--constructive rather than complaining.
Bottom line, the conversation was positive. We're beginning on a clean slate, and that means, I'm beginning with a better attitude. It's much easier now that I'm not working so much.

I actually haven't checked my schedule, so I'm not sure when I work this week...

Are you Kidding??

2008-06-02T11:10:00.005-04:00

Saturday night started off fine. I was in a great mood. Everyone was in a good mood...or so I thought. When shit hit the fan, I didn't even have time to duck for cover. I really don't know what happened, but the ridiculous meter is off the fucking charts!
I was scheduled to close, and I was actually looking forward to it because rent was due the next day.
One of the first things I did upon entering work was find my General Manager and thank him for allowing me the opportunity to train a couple evenings before. I thanked him. Does that sound right? I didn't think so. I thanked him. Although, in my heart of hearts, I knew that I should have been thanked--just as I should have been offered a training position 6 months prior. But whatever. I thanked him and that was that.
So, the night was going just fine. It was around 9:00-ish. I had a six-top whose food I just delivered. Before leaving the table, one man told me that his steak was cold. I immediately took it to the kitchen. The kitchen manager promptly told his staff to put the steak in the microwave! In the fucking microwave! I don't even know why we have one of those! We don't microwave! Upon hearing this information, I ran and tattled! I'll be damned if I serve a microwaved steak! My GM assured me that the KM would not microwave the entree. Well, dontchaknow, when I got that plate from the kitchen it was scalding hot! That means, it was microwaved. I was pissed. I begrudgingly delivered the steak, and when I went back to check on him, he looked at me, then at his wife, and replied, "It's all right." I felt awful, especially because I knew why it was just "all right."
I was pissed, fuming around the restaurant, when my GM approached me. I told him that the guest was not happy with his meal, but he didn't send it back again, so I wasn't sure if GM was even going to take it off the bill (stingy isn't the word). I was standing about 20 feet away from my GM when he said to me, (or so I thought), "Are you going to comp the check??" "No," I said as I scrunched up my face. With that, my GM's eyes bulged out of their sockets, the vein in his forehead poked the guests behind me, he pointed at me, and told me I was going home! What?! I was so confused. I didn't understand what just took place.
I followed GM into the kitchen, whereupon I asked him why I was going home. He said, "I asked if you were going to calm down, and you said 'No'--you're going home." I smacked myself in the forehead and tried to explain what I heard, but it was too late. He didn't want my explanations. He didn't want my excuses. He just wanted me to go home. I asked if we could discuss the situation. Apparently, if we were to discuss it, my GM would say something he would regret. Fine, "Am I fired?" No, I wasn't fired, I was just sent home. What bull shit!
So, I was being sent home because I did not hear my GM. I felt betrayed in a way, somehow...like the man with the steak. I finished up my tables in a ball of tears, upset and worried that I wouldn't be able to pay rent. I was distraught for the team that I was leaving, considering I wouldn't be there to help close. I just felt bad. When my tables finally finished up, I went back to turn in my "cash out" and the other manager was in the office. "Where's GM?" I asked, sniffling, but hoping to discuss this situation further (I like to fix things). "His shift was over. He's gone," I'm informed.
Are you fucking kidding?
"You're telling me that this man gave me a punishment, then didn't stick around long enough to make sure that it was followed through with?"
The other manager just shrugged his shoulders. I felt abandoned. I felt like my superior unjustly sent me home, then took the coward's road straight home. Fuck that.
I finished "cashing out," grabbed my things and ran out of there, still crying for the fact that I was short for rent. Once I returned home, I realized that I was only $20 short, so all was fine, but I still felt really hurt and upset by the entire situation.

I will post the continuing saga after tonight's shift. Sorry for the lack of posts--busy just isn't the word to describe what's been going on in my life. :) Happy Reading!

Dinner tonight.

Surprise, Surprise!

2008-05-30T16:59:00.002-04:00

I worked last night, and to my surprise, they had me training! I haven't officially been made a trainer, but they're "throwing" people in to see how they would do--or something like that. In fact, they didn't even inform me that I was training--after shift meeting, I went up toward the host-stand, when this very tall gentleman came over and introduced himself as my trainee. I thought it was a bit unprofessional to not tell the trainer that she's training, but I got over it quickly.
It was my first time training in this restaurant, and I can't lie--it wasn't easy. It helped that my trainee was smart and caught on quickly. Too bad it was slower than molasses. Super slow. I felt bad that we didn't have work to do. Then again, he said we seemed pretty busy, but he hasn't seen us in action yet. The entire bar was empty! Crazy. All in all, I think it went well. I hope they continue putting me on as trainer. Yay.
This week coming up is Graduation Week, so hopefully the bucks start flying! I've been praying for rain (in the form of fifty-dollar bills)!

Close Tomorrow.

Detached

2008-05-28T23:33:00.003-04:00

Tonight was fine. Tonight was actually one of the better nights I've worked. Morale was good. Good staff. Good. I didn't make great money, but I was out of there at a decent time (and did well for the actual time spent). Anyway...
I think part of the reason tonight wasn't that bad was because I hadn't worked in a week. It's crazy the things that happened while I was gone. There are new bartenders, new servers, new managers, new drama (another senior quit). Just a lot of shit. A lot of shit that I didn't have an opinion about because I wasn't around. It felt good. It really did feel good to be detached.

Dinner tomorrow.

Mini-Vaca...not really

2008-05-26T22:41:00.003-04:00

I haven't worked at the restaurant since last weekend, and that feels great, but man, I've been busy! This weekend my cousin got married, so I drove with my family 6 hours to attend. It was a great time, but exhausting!

Because of my weekend excursion, I'm totally broke, so I predict some extra shifts in my future!

Stay tuned...

Dinner Wednesday.

Gripe of the Day

2008-05-21T12:49:00.002-04:00

I haven't even been in the restaurant for two days, and I have a gripe. I have a gripe because of my scheduled shift this evening. I know that everyone has availability, and it's hard to accommodate a lot of people, but that's when seniority should have the upper-hand. When I started this new job, I only wanted to work Thurs, Fri, and Saturday nights. That was a big fat "NO." So, then I reverted to Wed, Thurs, and Sat, but my manager told me that they DESPERATELY need people Monday nights. It's amazing how busy Mondays are! (I hope you sense the sarcasm.) So fine, I gave her Mon, Wed, Thurs, and Sat (with the deal that she would only schedule me 3 of the 4 days). In addition, I told her that I would close the restaurant every Saturday night, if she didn't schedule me to close during the week. I have to wake up early, and it's difficult after getting out of there at 1. So, like clockwork, the last three weeks (the first three weeks of my new job), I have successfully closed at least one of my weekday shifts and the Saturday night shift.
I want to go in there and demand respect...demand a schedule that will not deem all-nighters...demand that she get off her high-horse, quit writing the schedule out of spite, and start respecting the people she's scheduling.
I know how daunting it is to write a schedule, I did it for nearly three years. I understand the frustration of everyone having separate schedules, but I also know the value of good employees, and I have great organizational skills. Once all the ethics are in place, the schedule practically writes itself.

Monday Blah-day

2008-05-19T12:52:00.002-04:00

Once again, I would rather not drag myself to that restaurant again, but I suppose there is no other way for me to keep my house except work. Ugh.

Saturday night was weirdly slow. The interesting part about the evening was that, even though we were slow, tickets still managed to come out of the kitchen wrong--not completely wrong, but they would forget stupid shit--shit that they should not be forgetting. So, I said something to the MOD about the fact that the kitchen only had five tickets in the window and I needed a table-call because of their laziness/illiteracy. She turned to me and told me that the kitchen was dealing with other forms of stress and that's why. Okay, so great, you can fully justify a stupid mistake by your kitchen staff, but the moment one of the servers has to have something "promo-ed" we get reamed for it, talked to about it, or have tables taken away. Unbelievable.

This week is ridiculously busy, but I fully intend on signing up for "Lunch with GM."
I also fully intend on making his head spin.

Dinner tonight.

Conclusions

2008-05-16T09:59:00.006-04:00

I've come to the conclusion that I simply cannot wait so long between posts anymore! Even though I'm only at the restaurant 3 nights a week, there is still so much going on, that it really is stressing me out.
The GM started this thing a few weeks ago--"Have lunch with GM!" He has a slot on Tuesday and one on Thursday. At first, I thought I would spare him and keep my opinions to myself (it never goes anywhere anyway), but at this point, morale is so low, I feel it's necessary. It's cyclical, which I've explained before, and I would like him to see the cycle. I've already expressed my feelings here, but I think it's time.
However, I do have my concerns. Now that I'm only working a couple nights a week, I don't know if he'll take me seriously. No, I really don't like waiting tables, but I do take pride in my job and the establishment where I work. No matter what my job is, I take pride. And that's the thing. Obviously, something has kept me there--the people, the cuisine, the patrons, the money--something has kept a lot of us there, and those people should be respected and know their worth at the company. We don't know our worth--we know that we are disposable and could be cut at any moment. It should have to be that way.
I don't want to leave and go to another restaurant. I know this one, and I'd prefer to stick around in a place where I'm comfortable (to a degree).
I'll write more later...