bitterwaitress

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.

3) One day. This one’s pretty straightforward. Go in for the trail. It sucks. Sneak out or just don’t come back. Since most trails are unpaid, it’s probably just better to sneak out. Why waste the time if it doesn’t feel right? It’s like a bad date - restaurants are like relationships that way. There is a valuable lesson here, and that is it’s best to follow your gut. If it feels bad don’t do it. After a while you can get a sense of how a place will be after five minutes. Reserve judgment for a few more minutes then bolt or commit. 

4) One month (what, no “one week?”). It’s called recouping the investment. Better to have some income while you look for something else. The key is to look for something else. Now go. Do it. But come back. Please.

5) Six months. Really after a month you’re probably good for awhile. At least until management changes and/or your coke habit gets out of control.  (Hopefully not. The habit part, not the out of control part.) Still it’s a good point to review your employment choice, especially if this time coincides with the onset of winter, summer or an economic meltdown.

6) One year. Chances are you’re one of the old crew now. How does that feel? Regulars ask for you. Is that annoying, or refreshing? Probably a little bit of both. At this point I can’t give you any advice unless I really know your situation. And then it will cost you. But I will offer this - it’s always better to have two gigs in this business than it is to have one. Maybe just maybe give that a few seconds of reflection and consider bouncing over to craigslist and scanning the spelling error-laden ads in fod/bev/hosp. (Why are so many so poorly written? Oh that’s right, most managers are idiots. And the rest are bastards.)

7) Two or more years. Loser.