But for those of us who, while in good shape (thanks, YMCA's clean and well-maintained facilities!), may be yellowing around the edges a bit, clocking in on a Saturday after the ass-kicking received on a Friday feels exactly like this. If Friday night (Amateur Night, Part One) is any indication of the cross-section I can expect to wait upon this evening, I will be faced with the following:
- Loud, older Texans with loads of money and absolutely no taste, whose wigged wives wave their turquoise rings in my face and describe the "big, oaky, buttery Chardonnay" they want me to bring them. (Hint: Bring them anything, so long as it's undergone malolactic fermentation. That's all they really want. And if everything you have is stainless-steel-fermented, bring them a glass of half & half with some popcorn floating in it.)
- Aging hippies who take off their shoes and sit cross-legged on the banquette, so that all incoming persons will be forced to be witnesses to her rock-bottom Britney moment. Aging hippies part two, who come in reeking of patchouli so that everyone around them, instead of enjoying the native aromas of their eye-poppingly good lamb chops and Chinons, are forced to recall that college performance of "Godspell" they had to usher for fine arts credit.
- That champion douchebag who insists on sitting next to—instead of across from—his lady at a two-top, thus invading the personal space of whoever is at the table next to him, performing an unnecessarily raucous turning of the table to fit their needs, and in such a way that sends silverware rocketing off said table and onto the floor. As waitress first protests, "Please, sir, let me do that for you," is ignored, and then forced to return with new silverware, heroic asshole smirks, "Did that just totally mess up your vibe?" (Find out if having the busboy fart on his salad messes up his vibe.)
- The young lady who, because she ignored my brief (and apparently necessary) overview of the menu at the beginning of the night, is stunned to find out that the "Whole Grilled Branzino" on the menu is, in fact, whole, and forces me to send it back to the kitchen for fileting. Which, by the way, no modern kitchen or chef who has cooked abroad wants to do, because it not only kills the exquisite presentation, effectively reducing the glorious fish to a pile of glossy flakes, but because it's fucking lazy. ("Make my food into a pile I can shovel into my mouth without focus." America, what a country!) If you're blind and have no teeth, you can still negotiate a branzino's skeletal structure. Then again, if you're blind and have no teeth, I suggest the soup.
- This being date night, any number of the men who will be walked out on by their drunk, belligerent wives/girlfriends/ex-wives/mistresses/"nieces" and who will leave me a 12% tip, despite having forced me into an incredibly awkward situation, which I will have handled with great aptitude, if I do say so myself. When he asks a group of us at the front if we saw where she walked off to, one of us supposes she went to find an ATM to get the rest of my tip.
But then, sitting at the bar later tonight, counting my rubles, I'll think of this.
Posts
It's been decades since I worked in a restaurant, but still, I love love love this blog.
ReplyDeletethank you very much - isn't it nice to see some things never change?
ReplyDeletemmmm popcorn and half and half......
ReplyDeleteYou are a WAITRESS after all & if you think you know better THAN, why aren't YOU a food critc or a paid reviewer. I happen to think that yelp is just fine because it is what it is: Your everyday man or woman posting (which yes, I'll give you your point; all they know about is what they like or want or pretend they know or like to somehow elevate themselves in their mind). Their thoughts and experience are based from their everyday touch-points which is EXACTLY what you're doing. And at the end of the day, when you go on any site or blog, you take away the aggregate of everything posted and make your own opinion. So I guess someone needs to write a blog (or start a website) about how the validity (which there is none, but to you, according to) of your opinion is yours. As they say, to each his own.
ReplyDeleteemc, maybe you could offer your services as a professional editor to help J make his/her point more clear? nice use of caps on "WAITRESS" to stress that it is a pejorative in this case however. hows that gig as a food critic/paid reviewer going? with yelp around, those jobs are getting more and more scarce i hear.
ReplyDeleteWade: I don't think even Maxwell Perkins could help make this guy's point. Besides, I quit my paying ("PAYING"?) job as a reviewer because I missed peeing in people's Pinot Grigio so much.
ReplyDeleteSpeaking of, watch your back, J. This place is teeming with filthy WAITRESSES.
I have to say, babe, this is one of your funnier posts. I think this one might be my favorite to date! Loved it! Can I double plus like it?
ReplyDeleteOn another note, Drew and I watched the BBC and Northern Ireland's Shakespeare Re-told the other night. James MacAvoy (I am sure I misspelled that) as MacBeth. Setting is modern, Duncan is an executive, 3-star Michelin chef, MacBeth is the real brains behind the operation, and Lady MacBeth is the hostess that, of course, runs the show. Dark and somewhat comic tragedy ensues. It reminded me so much of your blog. Brilliant! I think you guys might like it. You should check it out. :-)
J - I would suggest you watch it, too, but I'm afraid the beauty and artistry of good food and good literature might escape you. What exactly were you trying to say up there, anyway?