I’m with Groucho: “I refuse to join any club that would have me as a member.” Having said that, there are some common experiences that make me feel connected to another human being.
Norm, reading this was just like being in the Pub up the street. Most of the wait staff are young college students. They are really sweet and attentive, and now I will forever worry about them. I'll do my best to be a good diner. The first thing I did was teach them what I drink, down to the small twist of lime. So now they just bring it to me, as they prepared it the minute I walked past the bar to a table by the window. Then I pretty much order the same thing: A Shrimp basket with nothing but the shrimp, and substitute the fries and slaw with a baked potato, with sour cream and chopped onions. So now, as I'm studying the menu they have had for the past year without revision; they look at me puzzled as if I'm thinking about what I want, and say, "Do you just want the usual?" I am the perfect repeat customer and I give good tips because I know they only make about $2/hour. So hopefully they don't have nightmares on my account. However, last night when I was there, just when I commented on how quiet it was, a few groups of people came in at once and plopped down at 4 different tables. And, how does a waitperson get their orders without a pen and order pad?? That amazes me more than anything. I can't remember what I order half the time....how can they possibly remember it on the way to the kitchen when 5 other people ask for more napkins, another drink, where's the restroom....and on and on. Now, I'm having heart palputations just thinking about them. I guess I'll have to up the tips again....Thanks, Norm, for the dark side of their jobs in full color....
You're the customer we all loved. Low maintenance in all the best ways. When I served in fine dining, we weren't allowed to write anything down. The memory is just a muscle. It's not as hard as you think to associate the cremini-crusted halibut with the woman who wears too much perfume to smokescreen the mothballs in her purse and the well-done (!) filet with the guy who can't be bothered to wear socks with his loafers.
This is right on. My dreams have no plots, they just always involve a burned Brown Derby Top Sirloin, ordered MR that I’ve forgotten on the hotline for a month or so.
Then there’s the Krystal waffle I forgot about and kept wondering what the annoying continuous Ding signaling a cooked waffle was. But that wasn’t a dream.
Ah, the forgetting... Those hit hard for me, too. That feeling of dread when a table has been waiting too long because the kitchen's in the weeds, and then the food is up and you realize you forgot to order a soufflé. Oh, the horror!
Wowza. At an early point (1971?) I determined that retail, being a candy striper, and then other forms of public service were a good idea. Restaurant work seemed nightmarish. I've had and have an interesting life serving the public. Am heartily grateful I steered away from restaurants.
I felt that dealing with hungry people was a really bad idea. Had a friend that worked in the industry and her stories confirmed my belief.
When I started a frame shop (which guaranteed satisfaction), my partner had the sense to stock snacks and liquids because, as an art dealer, he understood the value of not dealing with hungry people.
Related, I heard a psychologist on a podcast say that if you're ever being sentenced by a judge, your sentence will be a lot lighter if it's handed down after lunch.
In HS I worked in Hospital food services and one of the moron jobs they give that age is delivering food trays into the rooms. I have a vivid memory of walking into a room to this morbidly obese naked old woman with her legs wide open and the scariest hoo-haa hanging out, which, come to think of it, that was the first one I saw for real. Huh, that explains some things…
I'm crying with laughter at this!!!! I have had so many versions of the candied yams dream and I never knew this was such a common nightmare for ex-hospo staff!! 7 years since I left a 25 year career in hospitality and I still have the nightmares far to regularly 😅
It's incredible how persistent they are, even years after serving. I have them pretty much monthly. It's a solid reminder to be nice to restaurant staff.
OMG. So funny and awful poured into one Velvet Guillotine. (Yam juice sounds good. Like syrup.) Thx for sharing your experience!
My first and only waitressing job I got was because I lied and said I had experience. I worked 1 night. It was a disaster. Luckily other, more experienced waitresses helped me. I returned to being a cater waiter-- I didn't have to keep track of table numbers and meals since everyone was eating the same thing. Haha.
My nephew wanted to be a chef and left the biz because he didn't like the fact that it was as though no one had heard of the #metoo movement in the kitchen. The chef and staff never got the memo.
This is hilarious. I can remember so many people doing exactly that, lying about their experience. That generally led to disasters. You're in good company.
And your nephew is spot on about kitchen staff. #metoo doesn't fly in most kitchens. Neither does political correctness, most laws, etiquette, basic human decency, the Geneva Conventions, sleep schedules, personal space, or any real concept of work-life balance. It's basically a pirate ship
Norm, reading this was just like being in the Pub up the street. Most of the wait staff are young college students. They are really sweet and attentive, and now I will forever worry about them. I'll do my best to be a good diner. The first thing I did was teach them what I drink, down to the small twist of lime. So now they just bring it to me, as they prepared it the minute I walked past the bar to a table by the window. Then I pretty much order the same thing: A Shrimp basket with nothing but the shrimp, and substitute the fries and slaw with a baked potato, with sour cream and chopped onions. So now, as I'm studying the menu they have had for the past year without revision; they look at me puzzled as if I'm thinking about what I want, and say, "Do you just want the usual?" I am the perfect repeat customer and I give good tips because I know they only make about $2/hour. So hopefully they don't have nightmares on my account. However, last night when I was there, just when I commented on how quiet it was, a few groups of people came in at once and plopped down at 4 different tables. And, how does a waitperson get their orders without a pen and order pad?? That amazes me more than anything. I can't remember what I order half the time....how can they possibly remember it on the way to the kitchen when 5 other people ask for more napkins, another drink, where's the restroom....and on and on. Now, I'm having heart palputations just thinking about them. I guess I'll have to up the tips again....Thanks, Norm, for the dark side of their jobs in full color....
You're the customer we all loved. Low maintenance in all the best ways. When I served in fine dining, we weren't allowed to write anything down. The memory is just a muscle. It's not as hard as you think to associate the cremini-crusted halibut with the woman who wears too much perfume to smokescreen the mothballs in her purse and the well-done (!) filet with the guy who can't be bothered to wear socks with his loafers.
This is right on. My dreams have no plots, they just always involve a burned Brown Derby Top Sirloin, ordered MR that I’ve forgotten on the hotline for a month or so.
Then there’s the Krystal waffle I forgot about and kept wondering what the annoying continuous Ding signaling a cooked waffle was. But that wasn’t a dream.
Ah, the forgetting... Those hit hard for me, too. That feeling of dread when a table has been waiting too long because the kitchen's in the weeds, and then the food is up and you realize you forgot to order a soufflé. Oh, the horror!
Wowza. At an early point (1971?) I determined that retail, being a candy striper, and then other forms of public service were a good idea. Restaurant work seemed nightmarish. I've had and have an interesting life serving the public. Am heartily grateful I steered away from restaurants.
I felt that dealing with hungry people was a really bad idea. Had a friend that worked in the industry and her stories confirmed my belief.
When I started a frame shop (which guaranteed satisfaction), my partner had the sense to stock snacks and liquids because, as an art dealer, he understood the value of not dealing with hungry people.
Related, I heard a psychologist on a podcast say that if you're ever being sentenced by a judge, your sentence will be a lot lighter if it's handed down after lunch.
I'm pretty sure Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde was conceived when Stevenson observed a man before and after a snack.
In HS I worked in Hospital food services and one of the moron jobs they give that age is delivering food trays into the rooms. I have a vivid memory of walking into a room to this morbidly obese naked old woman with her legs wide open and the scariest hoo-haa hanging out, which, come to think of it, that was the first one I saw for real. Huh, that explains some things…
The Scariest Hoo-Haa--there's a title for something.
Loved your column this week. Of course, now I'm afraid of eating in restaurants. Though I did just plant a row of yams.
In six months to a year, you can make yourself a Velvet Guillotine.
I'm crying with laughter at this!!!! I have had so many versions of the candied yams dream and I never knew this was such a common nightmare for ex-hospo staff!! 7 years since I left a 25 year career in hospitality and I still have the nightmares far to regularly 😅
It's incredible how persistent they are, even years after serving. I have them pretty much monthly. It's a solid reminder to be nice to restaurant staff.
OMG. So funny and awful poured into one Velvet Guillotine. (Yam juice sounds good. Like syrup.) Thx for sharing your experience!
My first and only waitressing job I got was because I lied and said I had experience. I worked 1 night. It was a disaster. Luckily other, more experienced waitresses helped me. I returned to being a cater waiter-- I didn't have to keep track of table numbers and meals since everyone was eating the same thing. Haha.
My nephew wanted to be a chef and left the biz because he didn't like the fact that it was as though no one had heard of the #metoo movement in the kitchen. The chef and staff never got the memo.
This is hilarious. I can remember so many people doing exactly that, lying about their experience. That generally led to disasters. You're in good company.
And your nephew is spot on about kitchen staff. #metoo doesn't fly in most kitchens. Neither does political correctness, most laws, etiquette, basic human decency, the Geneva Conventions, sleep schedules, personal space, or any real concept of work-life balance. It's basically a pirate ship
😂😂