bitterwaitress

Waiting in line for tickets to Letterman. There are actually other New Yorkers here! I guess it’s the cheapest ticket on Broadway.

Ethan the page gave us some form to fill out with an intersting story that they met use for a future segment. I hope that they still put me up in a nice hotel if they picked mine! By the way I used the Gene Wilder story…

Then they sent us away foe an hour. Thank god I’m a native and I know where to go besides Starbucks. Hanging at the Coffee Pot on 43rd & 9th.

6 p.m. edit. THe whole thing was kinda dull

Some are fruit flies, some are turtles, most are in between.

Here are the frequent breakdowns, and why: 

1). Skip the interview. This one is very common. I’ve skipped about 2/3 of the interviews I’ve had scheduled over the past four months? Why? Didn’t feel like it on some days. On other days, I had gotten an offer (real or imagined) from a place closer to home. After a while in NYC - especially if the job search is in the dead of winter - a 20-block radius becomes about all one can handle. Sounds stupid, but New Yorker’s, back me up on this. Also, being on the fringe of what one may call the artistic type, I really only want to work Downtown, where you can manage a restaurant with a $150 per person check average in jeans. Well, 7s, not Levi’s. Unless it the Capital E line. You get the point. If you are going to skip the interview, at least call. Really. While the bridge may be singed, at least it’s not totally burned, and the chances are slim that the manager you blew off will be there in six months when you apply again. But they may be somewhere else.

2) Blow off the trail. This happened to me when I interviewed at a place called Orsay on Manhattan’s Upper East Side. (And countless other locations). If you know the business and the city, “Upper East Side” is about all I need to say. The money is consistent ($150 a shift is hardly lucre and there are busboys downtown who make more), as is the neediness of the clientele, who are often downright mean. This is usually a result of the cruel realization at 50 that even a lot of money can only buy a little bit of youth. Acceptance, my friends, is not the strong suit of this crowd. Entitlement, however, is their forte. So yeah, the guy who interviewed me - who may or may not have been on speed, but was very gracious - explained the clients, the service style and then told me it would be 5 doubles a week. Always. I left, nodding that I would be by on Monday at 10 a.m. (can you imagine) to train. 10 a.m. For the love of fucking god.

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Part One: What Not To Wear On a Job Interview

Considering most servers I know are relatively intelligent people, I’m usually pretty shocked about what people choose to wear for restaurant job interviews.

So…just in case anyone was wondering….

What Not To Wear

Jeans. No. Bad jeans, bad!

Flip flops or stripper heels. Flip flops are too casual, and any heel over two inches makes you look unpractical and fussy.

Anything too revealing. Guess what? Your cleavage may not impress everyone. You’re more likely to turn someone off by too much cleavage than you are turning them off from the lack of cleavage. A hint of cleavage is the absolute line, and if your girls are too big for a tasteful hint, then air them out after you get home. On that note, the only bare thighs I want to see are of the chicken variety.

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Genus & Species: 

Hostess Idioticus Anorexius (Bulemius)  

Native Habitat:   

Fine Dining Establishments in large urban areas. Hostesses have also been spotted in select nightclubs. They tend to be individualistic and rather territorial. Selective breeding has also resulted in above-normal height. Distantly related to Hotel Concierges (Accomdatus Sycophantus Extremus) and more closely to Coat Check Girls (Garmentus Protectus Attentus). Some similarities exist to Prostitutes (Sexualis Gratificus Anonymous) but no conclusive links have been established. 

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It seems like a simple enough question. This restaurant is here to make money, right? Well, if you think that, you fall into one of two camps:  people who don’t know the business at all, or people who know the business and are pursuing another agenda.  In other words, the purpose of a restaurant can never really be to make money. At least not a fine dining establishment, although the specialty market is ripe with per-square-foot profit (think Starbucks). 

Let’s look at the first group - the newbies. Lesson number one folks:  restaurants operate on razor thin margins (yes, I’m being understanding. Not compassionate, because you should know into what you have gotten yourself ) If you are going into this business with less than a full year of operating expenses you are going to fail, at least in any major market. Well, probably any market. Perhaps if you own the property outright you stand a chance. But not likely. You will not have counted on the numerous fines you will receive for violations you didn’t know existed. What? The kitchen guys have to wear hats? Unless you’re staff are skinheads, then yeah.  

You will probably resist accepting the fact that 10% or more of your gross will fly, saunter or vanish out the door - as theft, loss or comps. You will operate under the delusion that the customer is always right. You will look over your business plan - you have one, don’t you? - and wonder why the consultant who convinced you to fork over $200 an hour  for their services failed to include these relevant facts. You will believe the Aloha/Micros/Squirrel/etc. rep. when she or he tells you their system cannot be out-smarted by your service staff. You will nod, glassy-eyed when they offer to pre-program in important things like Pink Squirrels, Sazerac’s and a host of other unused cocktails into your system for a mere $100 an hour. (Let me translate that for you:  it’s 10 good plates, a case of decent Zinfandel for a house pour, or a fraction of the violation you will get for not having someone with a Food Handler’s Certificate on premise.) Then they will dangle all those modifier keys you will need, like “lite salt.”

You wear your naivete on your sleeve. 

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by kaz 

Spanning a twenty something year old career in the restaurant biz, I have had the pleasure of meeting all sorts of characters. I’ve had the pleasure, sometimes dubious, of working in all sorts of places. And well, I’ve met people who simply sling hash and want to get off shift as soon as possible and met others who, after far too many drinks still want to stay and relay what’s really been on their mind despite the fact that it’s 3am and the shop has been locked shut for hours. I have to say I’ve loved them all. They’ve all had some great stories to tell. 

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If you’re spending the day walking around the city of Charleston, South Carolina I definitely recommend stopping into Gaulart et Maliclet cafe restaurant for a mid-day snack. It’s also known as “fast and french” by locals and is a perfect place to stop and get a light lunch or snack.

I am an absolute sucker for anything with a French theme so there was no way I was going to pass up trying it out. It was hands down my favorite place in Charleston (and I only had a snack!).

You enter and are seated at a counter with other parties (very informal but it adds to the charm). There are daily lunch specials, soups and sandwiches, and of course wine.

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“You’re not as good as you think you are. You’re not as strong. I don’t mean that it a mean way - you’ll get it down pretty quickly.”

And he was totally right. I flubbed the specials. Forgot side dishes on checks when I only had three tables all night. I let the bussers slack because of my inherent nature to do whatever is in front of me. (Yes, it some places “it” really is NOT your job, whatever “it” might be.)

Thing is, do I want to catch up? Let’s face it - two-plus decades in the business and I’m faltering at the thing at which I used to be the best. Am known to be the best. Pretty ironic, pretty sad, whatever. Probably - almost certainly - time to bow or curtsey out. But I have no viable exit strategy and though I avoid the “economic downturn” hysteria, it’s best to stay close to what I know (not as well as I thought I did, apparently).

Still other people notice. Hiding behind charm is hard when the charm supply runs low. I mean, I got a 14% tip last night. 14%. Me. 

I’m thinking it’s a sign. Whatever “it” is.

As someone who reads hundreds of books a year, the majority of the pleasure reading being of the romance novel variety, finding a new author to treasure is akin to finding a chef who marries flavors so well you could cry. It doesn’t happen all that often, and even more rarely when an author is only starting out. With that thought in mind that I turned to the first page in this book, written by identical twins with much experience behind an apron, and I quickly discovered, natural skill behind a keyboard. I tossed the book into my backpack to read between classes and soon after I read the first page I realized how much trouble I was in. There was no way I could wait until my next break to finish the chapter, let alone the entire book. 

For anyone who has ever worked in a restaurant - or any service job really - and been made to suffer the self-important attitudes of patrons and management alike, this book is for you. The heroine of the story, an up and coming executive, sure never intended to find herself standing at the end of tables full of patrons critiquing everything from her appearance to her knowledge of obscure ingredient growth patterns. Yet in much the same manner as anyone finds their way into the restaurant world, that’s exactly where she suddenly must put herself in order to pay the rent. At that make or break point in life, a person can really uncover who they truly are, a fact that Erin realizes when she has to make some tough choices and face some rough home truths. Dealing with arrogantly skilled chefs, their over-stressed and oftentimes juvenile actions, and owners who know it all even as they know nothing is a requirement in the industry, and poor Erin’s completely out of her element. Luckily the cast of characters present in every restaurant is there to help. The fabulously gay aspiring actor who can turn the most dour table into well wishers, the lifer with achy feet who has never known anything else, the brooding server who just knows he could do it all better if he was the owner. With them in her corner, how can Erin fail to please the boss or the psychotically demented manager? 

I devoured this book the way a nightclub girl devours a short stack and coffee in the wee hours of the morning. Like the finest of restaurants, this book definitely earns its stars. 

MiC