That’s what she said…

Scenes from last night:

Tonight was as close to a perfect night as you can get as a server.

Every table was fun.

Every table enjoyed their food.

Every table laughed at my shtick.

And then there was my last table.

Three guys, all in their mid to late 40’s, and each one better looking than the other.

I can’t remember the first thing that was tossed around to make us laugh, but about halfway through dinner, I walked up to the table as they were trying to find someone on Facebook, but couldn’t remember her name.

Guy #1: How about slut?

Me: Well, that’s rude, you don’t me well enough to make the comment!

They all laughed and tried to explain what they were talking about.

A little later, they were taking about something else when I walked up and the one guy said, “Damn, you keep popping up.”

And, no, I couldn’t help myself, I said, “That’s what he said!”

And they all burst out laughing as I walked away and flashed a double peace sign.

Calling Dr. Mary Jane

Scenes from last night:

Customer in her eighties: My, how do stay so calm in all of this chaos?

Me: The gummies help.

On the clock…

Scenes from last night:

The building/mini strip mall the restaurant is in, was built in the early 1980’s (I actually thought it was older, but a few months ago, I found out the real history from George, who built the building when he was in for dinner, but that is an amazing story for another day).

Anyhoo, over the years, we have expanded from our original space and taken over other spots in the building/mini strip mall, as they have moved or gone out of business.

Because of this, our lunch location is located three doors up from the main restaurant, but we are connected in the back.

There’s a “Fire Door” between the two sides that locks on the main side and not the lunch side.

Problem is, at the end of the night, some of my male coworkers like to take a visit to the bathrooms on the lunch side to take care of business before going home.

When I first started managing and closing down the restaurant, I was unaware of this little fact, so I would make sure the lunch door was locked, check the gas stoves, set the lights, and lock the Fire Door and then close down the main restaurant.

After accidentally locking a few coworkers in on the lunch side, I learned to make sure to yell, “Anyone over here? I’m locking the door. Knock or yell if you’re pooping!”

It’s saved all of us some trouble.

But it happened again last night.

Unfortunately, for some of our guys, the English is, not so much.

So last night, it’s me and two coworkers. 

All of the busboys, chefs/cooks, and one of the dishwashers have left.

I’ve done me my final walkthrough of 3 Doors Up, yelled out my question, and locked the door.

Twenty minutes later I hear a knocking on the Fire Door.

WTF?

At this point it’s just me and the final dishwasher.

I freak out, because, I did my check.

It’s one of my busboys.

He’d been pooping.

But he doesn’t speak English, so he didn’t respond.

And then he went to clock out.

And then I went from freaked out to mad, because you don’t get to poop for 30 minutes on the clock!

Oh Canada…

Scenes from last night(ish): 

This past weekend, I went down to South Beach for a little stay-cation.

After a relaxing day of pool, cocktails, and sun, I decided to head home, but I was a little peckish, and wanted a little snack, so I pulled up my favorite app for when I’m on the road, Flavortown.

Yes, Flavortown.

It has never let me down; well, except for the night before, but that’s a whole different story.

Anyhoo, I see there’s a Triple D (Diners, Drive-Ins & Dive) restaurant 1/4 of a mile away, so off I go.

La Sandwicherie.

I’ve watched the episode where Guy visited this place a few times.

So, I walk up to the window, and I’m pretty sure it’s the owner who takes my order.

I order the Italian and the Frenchie, because, leftovers.

As I’m standing around, waiting for my order, I see the guy who was behind me paying with a Bank of Montreal credit card and speaking French with the owner.

(I should preface this by saying I’m wearing a red baseball hat with a white maple leaf on it)

So, I ask: Are you from Canada?

Man: I’m from Quebec.

Me: Well last time I checked…

Man: Well yes, I guess, if you put it that way. Let see guess, you’re from Ontario, but he says it in that French Canadian way “En-tarrrr-eeoo”.

Me: As a matter of fact, yes, I grew up in London.

Man: And when you’re in Montreal, do you say, “Je ne parle pas français, or I don’t speak French?” 

Me: I depends on who I speaking with. I’m nice to you until you’re not nice, then I’m not nice. 

Man: Are you going to go to the Olympics next year?

Me: No, I doubt it.

Man: Do you say “Paris” (he pronounced it like he was from Fargo, ND) or “Pah-reeeee” 

Me: I guess it depends on who I’m speaking with.

Man: You’re speaking with Stephane.

And I kid you not, the man behind the counter yells, “Stephanie” and we both turn our heads.

Man: Oh, is your name Stephanie

Me: Sometimes, but not today.

Man: (Getting upset with the little spanish guy behind the counter) My name is Stephane, not Stephanie

Me: Merci beaucoup, au revoir. 

So, I walk back to the hotel, and I go to grab my bag from the bellhop, and there are four or five guys standing there, and one of the younger guys comes up to me, and says, “Hi, how can I help you?”

Me: I just need to get my bag, as I hand him my ticket

Guy: Are you from Canada?

Me: Yes, I am? Where are you from?

Guy: Haiti

Me: Sak Pase (loosely means ‘What’s up/Hey’)

Guy: Just starts laughing and gave me a big High 5.

Moral of the story, just be nice.

Rules…

Scenes from last night:

Like servers all over the world, I have my own share of quirks.

Quirks may not be the appropriate word, but, more like mental rules of how I like to run my section. This comes in handy for me when I’m so busy that I can hardly think straight.

They may not always make sense to the customer, but it’s how my brain processes things in order to get the job done.

Last week, it was around 8:30 and this man asked for a cup of coffee to go with his dessert.

Not an unusual request, but one that always seems a little dicey, in my opinion.

Will there be coffee?

Will it be reasonably fresh?

Will I have to brew a fresh pot?

How many tickets are in the dessert window and will I have time to brew a fresh pot?

Do I need to hold my dessert order until the fresh pot is brewed?

I mean, seriously people, it’s not always just, “And I’ll have a cup of coffee with that.”

So, my mental tic, if you will, is that if I’m going to brew a nice, fresh pot of coffee for a customer, is that I’ll bring the creamer pot to the table in advance of the coffee, so I don’t forget and tell them that I’m brewing a fresh pot of coffee, “Just for you!” 

But I forgot to do that the other night. I just put the silverware down for the desserts and the half and half for the coffee and started to walk away, when I saw an odd look on the man’s face. I was maybe three steps away from the table when I realized that I forgot mention the fact that the coffee would be a few minutes behind. 

I did a bit of a half pivot and leaned back and said, “Oh, I’m brewing you a fresh pot of coffee. It should be ready in just a few minutes.”

Man: Oh, I just thought you were being a smart ass.

Me: Oh, I’m definitely a smart ass, but not trying to be one right now!

I can’t win! Even when I’m not trying to be a smart ass, I get called out for being one.

Twins…

Scenes from last night: (When two Scenes combine)

We have this one regular who comes in for dinner about three to four nights a week.

His ‘claim to fame’ is that he hasn’t cooked dinner in his house for over seven years.

Regardless of this, he is in exceptional shape, not only for his age, but for a majority of the population.

So, the other night, he was in for dinner with a few people.

His friends left, but he stayed behind to finish his wine.

In the meantime, this couple that I had waited on last week, came in and sat down at the dining counter, just a few seats down from him.

Even though I wasn’t waiting on them this time, I went over to say hello to them, because, I feel it’s important for customers to feel remembered.

Me: Hi. Good to see you again.

Husband: Yes, we were here last week.

Me: Yes. I waited on you last week…

Husband: Oh, I thought you meant you remembered us from last season.

Me: No, just last week. Guess you don’t remember me.

Husband:———

Me: Okay, well, enjoy your dinner.

Tequila is imbibed.

Twenty minutes or so later, I walk around through the back side of the kitchen, and I look down the dining counter and I see our regular and then three seats down, the husband of the couple.

And they are the same person.

I grab one of my coworkers and say, ‘OMG! Look at Charlie (not real name) and the next guy down! It looks like his dad. No, not dad, older brother!’

Coworker: He looks like an out of shape version of Charlie.

I mean, they were both wearing the same color light blue shirt. 

Same glasses.

Same shaved head.

Same shaped head.

Same hunch of the shoulders.

It was crazy.

And were all laughing.

And then Charlie gets up and starts walking towards us, to go to the loo.

I walk away, because I’m laughing too much.

When I came back, the group of coworkers were still laughing, but now it was because they told Charlie about his twin.

Me: You told him?

Coworker: Yes!

Then, when he was on his way back to the counter, he stopped to ask why we were all laughing.

Me: I mean look at him! It’s you in 10 years.

Then my pastry chef, a little annoyed we were all laughing, looks over at us, and looks to see what we are looking at, looks at Charlie, and goes, ‘Oh, yeah, now I get it. You totally look like him!’

Me: See! It’s not just me.

Charlie: I’m leaving.

Shrimp tacos…

Scenes from last night:

I had this table last night. They were a party of three, two women and a man, all in their seventies. They took a long time deciding on what they wanted to order, but they never once asked me a question about anything on the menu. 

The man and one of the women decided on the Shrimp Tacos, and the other woman had the fish sandwich.

Now they didn’t ask me about the dish, or any other dish on the menu, they just ordered the tacos. 

I bring the food out, do a couple of other things for my other tables and circle back to do a quick check to see if everything is okay.

Well, it’s not.

The man is pissed. Like seriously angry. He’s just poking at the shrimp on his tacos.

I see this as I’m walking up to the table so I try to take a friendly, casual approach.

Me: How we doing? Is everything okay?

Man: NO. Everything is not okay.

Me: What seems to be the problem?

Man: I can eat this!

Me: Why, is there something wrong?

Man: It’s not what I thought it was going to be.

Lady who also ordered the tacos: We were at lunch the other day and saw a dish go by and that’s what he thought he was ordering.

Me: Did you order that dish?

Lady: No, but it was definitely shrimp served in a bowl of some kind.

Now, regardless of what you may think of me after reading my stories, I honestly just want people to have a good time when they go out to dinner. 

But seriously, it’s people like this that make my job extremely difficult.

You want me to miraculously know what some dish that you saw at our lunch restaurant a few days ago is and help you order it without you even asking me a question about what it could possibly be.

Okay, got it.

Me: Would you like to order something else? Would you like me to bring you a menu?

Man: Yes.

Me: Would you like me to wrap this up to take home or take it away.

Lady: Yes.

Man: No.

I looked back and forth between the two, and the lady told me to box it up. 

So, I did.

Later when I was ringing up the check, I left the Tacos to the bill, and didn’t even think twice about it.

But then they got mad.

Lady: Excuse me, why did you charge us for the second Shrimp Taco dinner?

Me: Because when I asked you if you wanted it or not, you said you wanted to keep it.

Lady: But he didn’t like them!

Me: Was there anything wrong with them?

Lady: No.

Me: I gave you the option to keep them or not. I have to charge you if you keep them.

Lady: Well, I just thought you were going to throw them away.

Me: Yes, but I would have also taken them off of your check. 

Lady: Oh. Well, do I need to speak to the manager?

Me: Well, I’m the manager tonight.

We just stared at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time.

Lady: Okay, well, I don’t want to pay for them.

Me: No problem.

I reached down, picked up the box, and threw it straight into the garbage on my way to the cash register to re-ring their ticket.

The Facts of Life…

Scenes from last night:

There are nights when I just love my job.

I walk up to this booth to say hello and ask them for drinks. And, well, comedy ensued. I should preface this with saying that there were two couples, in their mid to late 50’s.

Me: Hi there, how we doing tonight? Can I start you with something to drink?

Guy on the Right: Hey let me ask you something? Can I order off of the menu?

Me: (sigh) I’m mean, what does that mean before I answer the question.

Guy on the Right: Well, I see Gumbo over here, but I want a cup, and I don’t see that as an option.

Me: That is correct.

Guy on the Right: Wait? What is correct?

Me: You cannot get it as a cup. 

Lady on the Left: I don’t see it, but do you have Fried Clams?

Me: No, we have Fried Calamari and Fried Oysters, but we don’t have Fried Clams.

Guy on Left: Can I the Fried Green Tomatoes?

Me: I’m so sorry, we ran out of the Tomatoes, but can I offer you a cup of Gumbo?

It took about 2.5 seconds before the guy on the right caught what I was saying and then he burst out laughing.

And then he couldn’t stop laughing.

Me: Phew, that was a close call. Not everyone gets my sense of humor and my boss is sitting right behind me.

And the rest of the night was like this. Just bantering back and forth. At one point, he asked me if I had any good jokes, and I said, “No, that’s a skill I don’t have. I’m only good with the bantering.”

Towards the end of the evening, thee guy on the right said, “I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name?”

Me: I didn’t give it?

Right: You didn’t?

Lady on Left: She didn’t.

Me: Did you have a good time?

Right: The best.

Me: You don’t need my name to have a good time in my section, but my name is Andrea. It’s not always, but it really is.

At the end of the night, they gave me their cards to pay, and right as I went to put them down, the guy on the right, said, “Thanks Ondraya” (he really said Andrea, but pronounced it incorrectly).

Me: See! See! That is exactly why I don’t tell people my name!

Right: No!!! I’ve been mentally trying so hard to get it right.

Me: (looking at the two cards) Jeff with a J?

Right: (reaching out for the card) Who do you think I am? A Jeff with a G? Geoffrey?

Me: Isn’t that the name of the Toys R Us mascot?

Jeff: Are you calling me a giraffe?

Me: No, I was just asking a question, Jeff with a J. What was that theme song anyway?

Jeff’s wife starts singing it.

Me: For some reason, the lyrics for The Facts of Life keep popping up in its place.

And then we’re all singing The Facts of Life theme song.

And then, my boss and his wife, who are sitting at the front counter, go to say goodnight to them as they are leaving, but if you’ve never been there before, they look like two random people sitting at a bar saying goodbye to customers, which is story for another day.

Raison d’être…

Scenes from last night:

At the beginning of the night last night, I saw some customers I haven’t seen in a few months.

They’re regulars, but I don’t know their names, but I know I’ve always enjoyed waiting on them.

They weren’t sat in my section, but I did go over to say a quick ‘hi’.

I go about my night and taking care of my own customers.

As I’m trying to run food out to one of my tables, the lady comes up to me, and asks: “Do you always work in this back section?”

Me: No, we rotate the sections around.

Lady: So, if we want to sit with you next time, what do I need to do?

Me: Just ask for me when you come in. 

Lady: Okay great!

I drop the food off, make sure my table is all set, and head over to where she is sitting with her husband.

Me: Was everything okay? Did you have any issues with your server?

Lady: No, everything was fine, but you’re just so much more fun! 

And that, my friends, is my raison d’être!

#notallserversarecreatedequally 

#thisishowwedoit

Kids these days…

Scenes from last night:

Kids these days.

Their brains are wired differently than our generation.

It’s early in the evening, we’re open, but not busy, and I’m talking with one of my tables, when a hostess hurriedly calls me over.

Hostess: Andrea (she says in a loud whisper).

I excuse myself and walk up to the hostess stand.

Me: What’s up?

Hostess: I need you to take this call.

Me: Why?

Hostess: Just, please.

Me: Fine. (noticing both hostesses acting oddly)

Me: Hello, this is Andrea. How can I help you?

Kid on phone: Hi, my name is Charlie (it’s not, but, you know, anonymity and all that), and I’m wondering if you guys are hiring.

Me: Hi Charlie, thanks for calling. Right now, we’re not, but season is about to start heating up, so we may be looking to hire in the next month or so. What position are you looking for?

Charlie: Busboy or food runner.

Me: Great, those are the only positions that we would be hiring.

After getting his full name and number, I look over my hostesses, and they’re already on the Instagram and searching him. 

H1: I thought I knew him!

H2: Isn’t he friends with Steve.

Me: Wait, what? You’ve already pulled up his social? Why is it set to public? Wait, let me see!