100 Things Restaurant Staffers Should Never Do

Hello, friends, it's been a while! I've missed you so, and happy to be back from my six month hiatus.

Anyone catch this post on a NYT blog about Small Businesses? I find it so irritating. First of all, there are many points in here that I consider "Waitressing 101" and total common sense. Any server worth their salt should know them and if you're interviewing potential staffers who don't, it's indicative of a problem with management. For example, pointers #1, 12, and 13:

#1. Do not let anyone enter the restaurant without a warm greeting.

#12. Do not touch the rim of a water glass. Or any other glass.

#13. Handle wine glasses by their stems and silverware by the handles.

Other rules seemed simply silly to me, such this #23:

#23. If someone likes a wine, steam the label off the bottle and give it to the guest with the bill. It has the year, the vintner, the importer, etc.

When they are kind and sweet and generous, I love to take care of guests in my restaurant. I really do. And I'd happily supply a label for you from a wine bottle if only I could figure out how to do it. But I've tried this mystical "steaming the wine label off the bottle technique" and been left with a fistful of soggy paper pulp, a ruined label, a disappointed guest, and typically in the weeds because I've wasted so much time. Why not print business cards with space to write wine information on the back, then dole those out to guests instead?

Other rules, such as #43 confused me:

#43. Never mention what your favorite dessert is. It’s irrelevant.

I mean, the question I am most frequently asked by my guests is "what do you recommend."

And many rules made me want to gouge my eyes out, such as #40 and #41:

#40. Never say, "Good choice,” implying that other choices are bad.

#41. Saying, 'No problem' is a problem. It has a tone of insincerity or sarcasm. “My pleasure” or “You’re welcome” will do."

Yech. I find it so interesting when owners/managers set guidelines for acceptable vocabulary in their establishments. No profanity is one thing, but saying "no problem"? Come on.

I'd rather eat at Toro any day.

Dreams...

I awake with a start when the Mathematician comes back into the bedroom to get dressed after his shower:

"I just had the craziest dream," I tell him.

"I had weird dreams, too. I bet yours weren't as weird as mine."

"Mr.T was in it and I was really pissed at him," I say, rubbing my eyes as I sit up. "We got into a huge fight."

"A fight with Mr. T, huh? I bet I know who won that battle."

"No way, man," I say, "I was winning. I threw a pile of junk mail at his head. What was yours?"

"It was about the moral struggle I felt when I hired a hermaphrodite as an intern at work, and was then forced to fire...uh, them...because they weren't competent. I didn't want them to think it was because of...you know..."

"Hermaphrodite discrimination? Yeah, that's pretty weird. That all you got?" I say.

"No. That happened, then I introduced George [the owner of Giorgiana's] to my dad and they started wrestling. Playfully."

I'm still not sure who won.

hate + love: a waitress's tale

PART I: HATE

"Ma'am? Excuse me. Uh, ma'am?"

Surely the mid- to late-thirtysomethings at Table 52 aren't beckoning ME. I look over my shoulder - perhaps there's an older woman standing behind me with whom they'd like to speak? The guy with salt-n-pepper hair gives a little wave. Oh. They DID mean me.

"Um, yeah?" I say.

"Is it okay if we write on this menu?"

No! I think, It is clearly NOT okay if you write on the menu. Do you see little check marks next to each tapas item? Did I supply you with a pen and pencil? Would you walk into No. 9 Park or even the Butcher Shop and start scribbling all over their menu? What kind of animal are you?

"Sure," I say instead, since he has already started sullying it up with red ink. "Of course. Go right ahead."

I head to the service bar to collect their mojitos.

"Dude, Table 52 called me ma'am," I lament to the barback.

"They didn't mean it, Kitty. They didn't mean it," he consoles me.

"I don't care. I now hate them."

PART II: LOVE

"Here are your mojitos," I say, careful to conceal my contempt as I hand them their drinks. "Did you have any questions? Are you ready to order?"

"Hey," the salt-n-pepper guy says, "You look just like that woman in Vicky Cristina Barcelona. Know who I'm talking about?" he says. His companions, two men with accents and a pretty brunette woman, nod and murmur "Yes...she does...mmm-hmmm."

"You mean the blonde chick?" I say. "Scarlett Johannson?"

"Yes! Scarlett Johannson," he says.

"That's a pretty hefty compliment," I say, "She's pretty hot. She's also one of my favorite actresses."

"Yup, you look just like her," he says. Then, to his friends: "You know, she's the most beautiful woman in the world according to this magazine I just read." They nod and murmur "Yes...Scarlett Johannson is the most beautiful woman in the world and our waitress looks exactly like her...mmm-hmmm."

And just like that I love them.

Work Haiku

Fleet fingers flying
over tiny mac keyboard
the workday has begun.