I take orders in my head. I don't have time to write things down. I found that when I write orders down, I forget to put them into the computer because I'm working at such a fast pace.
I learned to do it when I was promoted to a cocktail waitress and I no longer had time to write things down. I usually have about 7 tables at a time. Depending on the night, I can have up to 13 tables at a time. The average server has about 3-4 tables at a time.
For me, it was sink or swim. I did what any rational person would do and I chose to swim. I chose to be really good at everything I do. Serving's not rocket science.
I love when tables ask me, "how do you do that?! Are you gonna remember all that?"
Yes, it's really not that impressive. When you have an IQ higher than 70 you can remember simple things in your head for several minutes after hearing them and enter them into a computer without difficulty.
There is only four of you at the table for christ's sake. I'm no genius, I'm just competent with a tiny sliver of common sense. I simply listen to what you order, comprehend it, and fulfill your needs. It's not complicated.
Sometimes tables will insist that I write their order down. One table, in particular, was really obnoxious. I asked the man what he did for a living...he replied that he worked at the DMV.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SERIOUSLY !!!! @%&#!
I smiled and said, "Well sir, I appreciate your concern but, I won't tell you how to do your job if you won't tell me how to do mine."
The DMV!!!!??!?! Are you kidding me? That's the most dysfunctional place on the planet and he wants to tell me how I should be doing my job.
You learn self control quickly in the serving industry. The best advice I can give to a new server is learn how to bite your tongue. Hard.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Monday, May 7, 2012
Pet Names
No one wants to sit at a bar top with a boring bartender. The livelier I am, the happier my guests are. Meaning that I have to act interested in middle aged men and engage in conversation that I really could not care less about.
Politics, construction, earthquakes, HD TV, 3D TV, football, baseball, car engines, diesel trucks, NASCAR, fishing, power tools--I don't know the first thing about half the topics I just listed. But I ask questions. I inquire to know more. It's like restaurant bartending prostitution. You pay me, I humor the notion of liking you as a person.
Does this give you the right to call me stupid pet names? Maybe. But that doesn't mean that it doesn't annoy the hell out of me.
My typical customer is a middle aged man who needs a few beers and a good conversation and it's my job to entertain them. The problem arises when entertaining is mistaken for interest. I am tolerating you Not liking you.
Maybe you think I'm a bitch...Look at it this way, I'm sure you have a job. Do you like everyone you encounter at your job? No, probably not. But you're nice, nonetheless, because that's the professional thing to do.
Having a conversation with someone is civil. I don't know where these men learned that a girl being civil to them is interchangable for her liking them. I'm getting paid to wait on you, clean up after you, get you any dipping sauce that you ask for, and bring you unlimited refills before you finish the drink that's in front of you. I'm not paying extra attention to you. I'm simply doing my job.
I don't mind having pointless conversation after conversation because all I see when your mouth moves are dollar signs. But the second you whip out the mushy, bullshit, pet names I get the overwhelming urge to stab you with the steak knife you're using to cut your rare ribeye with.
I have this weird complex where the nicer you are, the more we hate you. I suffer from being a girl. It's simple.
My favorite customers are the ones that don't pay any attention to me. Sit down quietly. Eat their food. Watch the game. Drink their beer. Peace out and leave me a nice tip.
The less interaction the better.
I always introduce myself. I make a point to know that my customers know my name and I make a point to know theirs. There is a reason for this: I hate being called any name other than the one my awesome parents gave me.
But some men think it's acceptable to call me "baby," "babe," "beautiful," "sweetheart..."
Those names make me uncomfortable even in a romantic setting. I sure as hell do not want to be called them while I'm at work.
Hey beautiful, why don't you grab me another Bud Light...
Do you want a sandwich too?
Some bacon, maybe?
I believe what you meant to say was, "Hey Taryn, may I have another Bud Light." This whole, "Why don't you grab me..." thing is not ok. I'm your server, not your servant.
Now I know why you're sitting at my bar top alone without the company of a female companion. I'm no feminist, but this male chauvinism crap is intolerable.
Let me tell you what complex I don't have. I don't have some weird complex that urges me to take care of ape-like, brutish males. I have no desire to tame rude men and clean them up nicely.
One of my other favorites is when men tell me about their children. I'm a 21 year old bartender. I have no interest in your children or even the notion of bearing children. These men are old enough to be my father.
Therefore, I also do not have the "daddy issue complex." I have no interest in men my fathers age.
That should be illegal. I know I'm bartending but, Jesus, how old do you think I am? Your children are probably just as old as me.
Just remember. Servers are getting paid minimum wage to be nice to you. Catch them outside of work and see if they're as nice. I bet they won't be. This is a business transaction, not a blind date set up by the corporate chain of restaurants that I work for.
Politics, construction, earthquakes, HD TV, 3D TV, football, baseball, car engines, diesel trucks, NASCAR, fishing, power tools--I don't know the first thing about half the topics I just listed. But I ask questions. I inquire to know more. It's like restaurant bartending prostitution. You pay me, I humor the notion of liking you as a person.
Does this give you the right to call me stupid pet names? Maybe. But that doesn't mean that it doesn't annoy the hell out of me.
My typical customer is a middle aged man who needs a few beers and a good conversation and it's my job to entertain them. The problem arises when entertaining is mistaken for interest. I am tolerating you Not liking you.
Maybe you think I'm a bitch...Look at it this way, I'm sure you have a job. Do you like everyone you encounter at your job? No, probably not. But you're nice, nonetheless, because that's the professional thing to do.
Having a conversation with someone is civil. I don't know where these men learned that a girl being civil to them is interchangable for her liking them. I'm getting paid to wait on you, clean up after you, get you any dipping sauce that you ask for, and bring you unlimited refills before you finish the drink that's in front of you. I'm not paying extra attention to you. I'm simply doing my job.
I don't mind having pointless conversation after conversation because all I see when your mouth moves are dollar signs. But the second you whip out the mushy, bullshit, pet names I get the overwhelming urge to stab you with the steak knife you're using to cut your rare ribeye with.
I have this weird complex where the nicer you are, the more we hate you. I suffer from being a girl. It's simple.
My favorite customers are the ones that don't pay any attention to me. Sit down quietly. Eat their food. Watch the game. Drink their beer. Peace out and leave me a nice tip.
The less interaction the better.
I always introduce myself. I make a point to know that my customers know my name and I make a point to know theirs. There is a reason for this: I hate being called any name other than the one my awesome parents gave me.
But some men think it's acceptable to call me "baby," "babe," "beautiful," "sweetheart..."
Those names make me uncomfortable even in a romantic setting. I sure as hell do not want to be called them while I'm at work.
Hey beautiful, why don't you grab me another Bud Light...
Do you want a sandwich too?
Some bacon, maybe?
I believe what you meant to say was, "Hey Taryn, may I have another Bud Light." This whole, "Why don't you grab me..." thing is not ok. I'm your server, not your servant.
Now I know why you're sitting at my bar top alone without the company of a female companion. I'm no feminist, but this male chauvinism crap is intolerable.
Let me tell you what complex I don't have. I don't have some weird complex that urges me to take care of ape-like, brutish males. I have no desire to tame rude men and clean them up nicely.
One of my other favorites is when men tell me about their children. I'm a 21 year old bartender. I have no interest in your children or even the notion of bearing children. These men are old enough to be my father.
Therefore, I also do not have the "daddy issue complex." I have no interest in men my fathers age.
That should be illegal. I know I'm bartending but, Jesus, how old do you think I am? Your children are probably just as old as me.
Just remember. Servers are getting paid minimum wage to be nice to you. Catch them outside of work and see if they're as nice. I bet they won't be. This is a business transaction, not a blind date set up by the corporate chain of restaurants that I work for.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Friday, April 27, 2012
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Big Tippers
It's plain and simple. If you have to say you're a big tipper, chances are, you're probably not a big tipper.
It's like when your friend says that she hates drama, but then ends up being a dramatic bitch. Or when your significant other swears he/she isn't crazy, but then ends up being a psychotic, overwhelming, murderous, whirlwind of crazy.
We're used to these situations because we always fall into them. We expect the best out of people.
It's a solid approach. If someone meets you for the first time, you have the ability to make them believe anything you want to about yourself. For instance: When I walk up to your table you would think I'm a friendly, happy, caring, sweet girl. Little do you know...
But fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.
Now take note, because what I'm about to tell you works in every aspect of life, and you can take certain precautions to make sure you are not being fooled.
What I've learned, is that if you have to emphasize something about yourself to another person, then that person is probably doubting you for obvious reasons, and you're probably not what you say are. And when you emphasize that special trait, that you swear you have, chances are, the other person will believe you.
The difference between me tricking you into thinking I'm angelic, and you tricking me into thinking you're a big tipper, is that my trickery makes your night better. Your trickery makes my night infuriating. You're causing emotional harm. That's cruel.
This is wrong and immoral.
Don't be that person.
It's like when your friend says that she hates drama, but then ends up being a dramatic bitch. Or when your significant other swears he/she isn't crazy, but then ends up being a psychotic, overwhelming, murderous, whirlwind of crazy.
We're used to these situations because we always fall into them. We expect the best out of people.
It's a solid approach. If someone meets you for the first time, you have the ability to make them believe anything you want to about yourself. For instance: When I walk up to your table you would think I'm a friendly, happy, caring, sweet girl. Little do you know...
But fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.
Now take note, because what I'm about to tell you works in every aspect of life, and you can take certain precautions to make sure you are not being fooled.
What I've learned, is that if you have to emphasize something about yourself to another person, then that person is probably doubting you for obvious reasons, and you're probably not what you say are. And when you emphasize that special trait, that you swear you have, chances are, the other person will believe you.
The difference between me tricking you into thinking I'm angelic, and you tricking me into thinking you're a big tipper, is that my trickery makes your night better. Your trickery makes my night infuriating. You're causing emotional harm. That's cruel.
This is wrong and immoral.
Don't be that person.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
You're Hungry?
"Hello, my name's Taryn, I'll be-"
"That's great. We're starving."
"We're starving." Oh fantastic. Guests are never hungry. I remember my first time being hungry. Let me get your food out ASAP. Every other table in the restaurant came here because they're full, but you, YOU came here because you're hungry. That's great.You probably haven't eaten since 2pm today and it's now 6:30, dinner time--who knew you'd be hungry.
Then, because you're "so hungry" you start to complain about everything. Why is my silverware dirty? Why is my food cold? Why is our table sticky? Why don't you have the Laker game on? Why is it so cold in here? Why does my margarita taste like sweet and sour?
If you're that hungry, you will just eat. You will just sit down. Shut up. And eat.
But let me see...
Your food is cold because I hate you.
I don't have the Laker game on because I hate you.
It's cold in here because I hate you.
Your table is dirty because I hate you.
And your margarita sucks because I hate you.
Is that what you wanted to hear? I DON'T KNOW WHY YOUR NIGHT IS SO HORRIBLE. Every other table in here seems to be having a great night.
I'm your server. I'm not God. Don't ask me questions that I don't know the answers to. But if you rephrase your question, and ask me nicely, I would be more than willing to help you out. I don't have answers, I just have the ability to find solutions. The world is not out to get you. The world actually doesn't even care that you exist.
Maybe it's karma. Maybe you're just a really bad person. Maybe its a personality disorder. Maybe you don't have the ability to ever be satisfied.
There are millions of possibilities. But truth is, I don't care enough about you to go out of my way to make your night horrible. Actually, I WANT you to have a good night because the better night you have, the better night I tend to have.
But if you're polite to me, I may have sympathy on your poor soul and actually want to help you out. It's your choice. My suggestion is don't be rude to the person that is serving your food.
"That's great. We're starving."
"We're starving." Oh fantastic. Guests are never hungry. I remember my first time being hungry. Let me get your food out ASAP. Every other table in the restaurant came here because they're full, but you, YOU came here because you're hungry. That's great.You probably haven't eaten since 2pm today and it's now 6:30, dinner time--who knew you'd be hungry.
Then, because you're "so hungry" you start to complain about everything. Why is my silverware dirty? Why is my food cold? Why is our table sticky? Why don't you have the Laker game on? Why is it so cold in here? Why does my margarita taste like sweet and sour?
If you're that hungry, you will just eat. You will just sit down. Shut up. And eat.
But let me see...
Your food is cold because I hate you.
I don't have the Laker game on because I hate you.
It's cold in here because I hate you.
Your table is dirty because I hate you.
And your margarita sucks because I hate you.
Is that what you wanted to hear? I DON'T KNOW WHY YOUR NIGHT IS SO HORRIBLE. Every other table in here seems to be having a great night.
I'm your server. I'm not God. Don't ask me questions that I don't know the answers to. But if you rephrase your question, and ask me nicely, I would be more than willing to help you out. I don't have answers, I just have the ability to find solutions. The world is not out to get you. The world actually doesn't even care that you exist.
Maybe it's karma. Maybe you're just a really bad person. Maybe its a personality disorder. Maybe you don't have the ability to ever be satisfied.
There are millions of possibilities. But truth is, I don't care enough about you to go out of my way to make your night horrible. Actually, I WANT you to have a good night because the better night you have, the better night I tend to have.
But if you're polite to me, I may have sympathy on your poor soul and actually want to help you out. It's your choice. My suggestion is don't be rude to the person that is serving your food.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
The Menu
One appetizer, two entrees, 20 dollars...
Yeah, so, you get to share one appetizer and pick two entrees for only 20 dollars...
I'm sorry I should have said starter, I didn't mean to confuse you...
Correct, so then, it's one starter and two entrees....
An entree is your meal...
Yes, exactly, and then you pay 20 dollars...
You know, I can only explain the same damn thing in so many different ways before I want to start stabbing you with my pen. I know small children that can read and speak better than half my clientele . The menus are not written to deceive you.
I know this is mean, but whenever my guest asks a stupid question I always make a point to open their menu and POINT to the answer. Well lets see here...turn to page 2...right down there at the bottom...the Ribeye--it's 12oz. And then I point to "12oz." with my pen as if I'm a teacher educating a poor, deranged, hopeless child.
It's tough love.
Although I don't feel too bad because the answers to all your questions are inside of that rectangular, 3 page, informational guide right in front of you. It's the closest most of my clientele will probably ever get to reading a book so I encourage them to at least skim through it. Pretend that they're smart. Pretend like they have at least an elementary school education.
I want to like them. I really do. But they're hopeless, and I'm not Hilary Swank, and this restaurant is not a classroom, and this is not a scene from "Freedom Writers." I do not believe in a successful future for them and i just want them to leave. Immediately. Decide to go eat at one of the many restaurants within walking distance from the one you're at.
As much as I wish most of my hours at work were not real life because it is discouraging--they are, and sometimes it's depressing and seems unfair. But I would much rather have my life than theirs because they don't know what "appetizer" means or know how to read. Truly unfortunate.
Yeah, so, you get to share one appetizer and pick two entrees for only 20 dollars...
I'm sorry I should have said starter, I didn't mean to confuse you...
Correct, so then, it's one starter and two entrees....
An entree is your meal...
Yes, exactly, and then you pay 20 dollars...
You know, I can only explain the same damn thing in so many different ways before I want to start stabbing you with my pen. I know small children that can read and speak better than half my clientele . The menus are not written to deceive you.
I know this is mean, but whenever my guest asks a stupid question I always make a point to open their menu and POINT to the answer. Well lets see here...turn to page 2...right down there at the bottom...the Ribeye--it's 12oz. And then I point to "12oz." with my pen as if I'm a teacher educating a poor, deranged, hopeless child.
It's tough love.
Although I don't feel too bad because the answers to all your questions are inside of that rectangular, 3 page, informational guide right in front of you. It's the closest most of my clientele will probably ever get to reading a book so I encourage them to at least skim through it. Pretend that they're smart. Pretend like they have at least an elementary school education.
I want to like them. I really do. But they're hopeless, and I'm not Hilary Swank, and this restaurant is not a classroom, and this is not a scene from "Freedom Writers." I do not believe in a successful future for them and i just want them to leave. Immediately. Decide to go eat at one of the many restaurants within walking distance from the one you're at.
As much as I wish most of my hours at work were not real life because it is discouraging--they are, and sometimes it's depressing and seems unfair. But I would much rather have my life than theirs because they don't know what "appetizer" means or know how to read. Truly unfortunate.
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