Wednesday, September 29, 2010

The People. (Part 2)

Last time I talked about old people so this time I'm going to talk about young people. 

Kids can be the worst to serve. The WORST. 

Most of the time this is dependent on the parent. When a whole family comes in to eat it can go one of two ways, rarely is there an 'in between':

1. the kid is well behaved and the parent or guardian enforces proper dining etiquette and manners. This is the desired scenario. It's like serving a tiny adult with a lesser vocabulary. I like these types of kids and I like serving them because like Bill Cosby says, kids say the darndest things. 

or

2. the little shit head is having a hissy fit while the parent tries to cater to its every need. The kid will colour on the table or wall then not eat his or her meal but rather rip it apart and drop it on the ground under the table. The parent will then pretend not to notice and leave a huge mess to clean up. 

The thing about kids eating at (insert real name here) is that their meal comes with a dessert. Now, most of the time I will quietly ask the parent if it is okay to offer the child dessert. I just think when I ask the kid without consent from the parent I'm over stepping my boundary. Maybe mom doesn't want Junior to have that red jello (I assume it's cherry but I can't be certain) or ice cream because he coloured all over the table and only ate a single french fry. 

But there are sometimes when a parent asks "don't they get a dessert with their meal?" in a tone that suggests I either don't know or that I was trying to be sneaky and not offer it. 

The moral of this story? I hate serving your misbehaved children. 

I won't even get started on crying babies. 

Monday, September 27, 2010

The People. (Part 1)

The type of people that eat at (insert real name here) are a mixed bag. We get people from all walks of life including a lot of seniors.

Seniors love (insert real name here) and the 10% discount we offer them. And I love seniors, most of the time.

I know when I have a table of blue hairs there is a good chance I won't be making much money but the majority of the time seniors are the best tables to serve. It doesn't take much to make them happy and more often than not seniors are up for a laugh.

There's a old gal that comes in a few times a week. She normally gets booze of some sort then something for dinner. The bill is never more that $15 (after her seniors discount) and generally she leaves a looney on the table. I have served her several times and senility has made her, some might say, bat shit crazy but she's just happy to have someone to talk to I think.

9 times out of 10 seniors will order water with a particular menu item, that if I were to be more specific,  the secret identity of (insert real name here) wouldn't be much of a secret.

When a seniors walk through the door they know just as well as I do what's for lunch and/or dinner. The consistency makes my job easier.

This isn't to say that there's not the occasional old bag or grumpy old asshole who can suck the joy out of the room for the hour they park themselves and their walkers at one of my tables but that can be said about anyone, regardless the age.



  

Sunday, September 26, 2010

The Living Conditions.

I live in a one bedroom apartment. I love my apartment and never want to move. This may be because I've painted a wall in the living room blue and I dread the idea of ever having to change it back to "apartment white". Also, I don't like living with anyone else except my parents but they moved to a different province five years ago so that option is out of the question.

Some people loathe the idea of living with their parents. Not me. I'd live with my parents for as long as they'd have me but then I wouldn't be in the situation I'm in and this whole experiment of living off my tips wouldn't exist.

Aside from rent my monthly bills include phone, internet and hydro. I had cable for a while. It was one of those "pay $14 a month for three months" schemes where you end up paying $80 because a combination of laziness and forgetfulness kick in to thwart the intentions of getting rid of said cable once the sweet deal expires.

I forgot to mention groceries and transportation. I suspect the quality of my food will go downhill considerably over the next six months and ramen noodles will become a more frequent occurrence.

I also predict that my alcohol consumption will be at an all time low. I did come to a crossroads just the other day when deciding between buying toilet paper or going to drink beers at the bar down the street. I even pondered the idea of using paper towel, of which I have a surplus, and/or stealing a roll of toilet paper from the bar I was planning to drink beers.

My mother will be happy to know I opted for the toilet paper (purchased). This was strictly based on the fact that paper towels would probably clog my toilet and the less I bug my caretaker Barry for anything the better.

Sunday, September 19, 2010

The Shifts.

Unless a restaurant serves breakfast doors generally don't open until 11am. Such is the case with (insert real name here). 


FOH staff and BOH staff have very different schedules. 


Rarely do I work a shift that is longer than seven hours. Quite often I work split shifts. Split shifts generally consist of two hours of the lunch rush followed by two hours of whatever I can do to kill some time before starting up again at four. 


Sometimes other servers on splits will catch a movie, or go shopping. Sometimes we hit up the pet store and play with puppies. Who can resist puppies? I challenge you to find someone. 


How long the second part of my split lasts is solely dependent on how busy the dinner rush is, what day of the week it is and how many other servers are working. 


There can be anywhere from three servers to 12 servers on at a time. The more servers on the less tables I get and in turn means the less tips I make. The less servers that are on, ideally means that I will be responsible for more tables. You follow? 


The BOH staff usually shows up much earlier and stays later than the FOH. It is easier for someone who works BOH to make up a 40 hour work week than a server or a host. Our cooks who work the day shift usually start around 9:30 and stay until four or five. They get there early to prep their stations. Someone has to make the honey dill sauce and boil the potatoes for garlic mashed. Not everything is made fresh to order. 


The best shift, the coveted shift for a server is a closing shift on a weekend night. A closer stays until the very end and has new tables long after the other servers have been cut. Those shifts usually go to the staff that has been working there the longest. Seniority plays a big role in what sections you serve and what shifts you get. 


I'm happy to say I get a nice mix of shifts since I'm generally willing to go in on my day off and stay late for someone who doesn't want to be there. After all, I've got my eye on the prize and that prize is mo' money. 

Saturday, September 18, 2010

The Restaurant.

Like I mentioned before I will not be revealing which restaurant I work at but there's a good chance you've been there.


When ever someone asks where I serve I sheepishly say "(insert real name here)" and more often than not that person's response is "I LOVE (insert real name here)!"And each time I get this reaction I am as surprised as the first time. I said it before and I'll say it again, I really like my job especially since I can have all the free pop I want except iced tea. Iced tea is off limits. 


The restaurant is a corporate chain. There are rules and regulations that help maintain consistency throughout all of the stores all over Canada and the US. Obviously these guys are doing something right because they've been kicking around for quite some time. This is most likely due to the hundreds of dollars they save each year in iced tea. 


There are three categories of staff: Front of House (FOH), Back of House (BOH) and management.


The FOH staff are the servers, bartenders and hosts. The BOH staff are the line cooks and dishwashers. The management is, well, management.  


Generally speaking, outside of work the FOH hangs out with the FOH and likewise with the BOH. That doesn't mean that we all aren't one big happy dysfunctional (insert real name here) family it's just the way it goes. 


Restaurants are notorious for gossip and rumours. I think a big part of this is because alcohol induced loose lips. When I think about it that's another thing restaurants are notorious for: a motley crew of drinkers, smokers and dopers.


Have patience. We'll get to all that good stuff. 

Thursday, September 16, 2010

The Gratuity.

A gratuity or tip is something the Oxford Dictionary describes as a sum of money given to someone as a reward for a service. 


Tipping is a practice that has been around for centuries, or so I've read on Wikipedia. It is amazing that such a long standing practice is so inconsistent. One would think tipping has been around long enough that it would be perfected by now, kinda like baseball. 


Generally speaking, a good tip is somewhere between 15% to 20%, at least it used to be. I have learned in the past six months at my restaurant that if I walk out with 10% in tips that means I've had a good night. 


Let's get personal here for a moment. As a server, I make minimum wage: $9.00/hour ($9.50/hr come October 1 when minimum wage increases) and tops on top of that. Tips can be lucrative or just plain shit or anywhere in between. 


Most restaurants have a tip pool or tip share, in fact it's extremely rare if one doesn't. Tip shares are for the other restaurant employees; bartenders, hosts, cooks. In my experience the amount we tip out to the rest of the staff is based on a percentage of our sales: 3%. 


So basically for every $100 worth of food and beverage a table orders I give out $3. At the end of the night if my sales are $900 I pay out $27 from my tips. You get the idea, I hope. The tip out percentage varies from restaurant to restaurant. 


Now in the event that a table doesn't tip, I still have to give some money to all of the other people who helped me get the meal out to the table. I still have to give the bartender some dough for whipping up those Bahama Mamas and extra spicy Caesars. The broil cook who grilled your steak and the fry side cook who dressed your salad are still expecting me to give them a couple bucks for doing so. 


Essentially, I have to pay to serve you your food.   





Wednesday, September 15, 2010

The Task

As my seven (going on eight) years of post secondary education comes to an end so begins the inevitable repayment of my student loans. Six months ago I started working at a restaurant and like most servers I know, I vowed to only live off of my tips while saving my paycheck. Believe it or not the cash in hand I left with everyday got spent as did my paycheck. 

It stops now. 

For the next six months, and perhaps for the first time in my life, I will live within my means. That is to say, I will live on the tips I make from the tables I serve everyday. 

I don't have any intention of revealing my name or the restaurant I work at. I think it goes without saying that if I did I might not have a job and that would defeat the purpose of this little experiment. I will, however, share the details of my experience in the Winnipeg restaurant industry and day-to-day struggle with living on a budget. 

Let me preface this all by saying being a server is great most of the time. To me it feels like a game. A table comes in, gets sat in your section and you spend the next hour or so molding their dining experience. The object of this aforementioned game is ultimately to meet, even exceed, expectations for that coveted 15% gratuity. 

Serving is unpredictable. Some nights you can work your ass off, have some laughs with a table, feel like you've truly earned your keep only to take a look at the Visa slip left on the table and realize those sonsofbitches left you $5 on a $200 bill. Other nights you can spill an entire tray of waters all over a family (which I've done... twice) out celebrating grandpa's 72nd birthday, consistently forget to bring out the glass of water Mom has asked for several times and feel as if you'll be lucky if they leave you anything. Then, as luck would have it, they leave you $20 on a $90 bill. 

To that I say, game on.