For the longest time, whenever anyone asked me what I want to do with my life, the answer has been the same: I want to be a journalist. Every time that same person asks me what I am currently doing, however, the answer differs a bit: I am a waitress.I have been working in the restaurant industry since the time I could legally hold a job. I started as a phone girl/busser at a small restaurant in New York and moved up to waitress, then to a new restaurant, and many more after that. But in all the establishments I’ve worked at, one thing has remained the same: the patrons.
Most of the guests I have served are courteous people who listen intently while I recite specials, pay their bills and tip 20 percent. Not every guest who sits in my section is a demon, but there are some noteworthy exceptions.
There is a wonderful 64-point list by Patrick Maguire on the blog “I’m Your Server Not Your Servant,” and I agree with many of the points. For example, number 32: “Don’t interrupt a server who is attending to customers at another table.” I can sympathize with this point and others.
I recently served a table where I spilled a few drops of water on a young girl’s Steve Madden boot. Her mother insisted I pay her out of my tip money for a new pair (they were $100). She claimed I had ruined the fabric (faux-leather) and the shoes were now un-wearable. I sighed and forked over the cash, then went in the back alley and screamed my lungs out. I go out to eat pretty often, and I don’t care if my server spilled hot coffee on my mother; I don’t think I could honestly bring myself to ask for 100 bucks from the server to replace anything that was damaged (mother’s burned body included). Number 51: “Don’t be unyielding and play the ‘I’m the customer’ card expecting the staff to fulfill unreasonable requests.”
I’ve had tables who have snapped their fingers at me; I’ve had tables ask me if I speak English; I’ve had tables that look at me in disgusted faces if they see me exiting the restroom (hey, I’m human). I’ve finished my shift and had to wait two hours for a table to finish a glass of wine so I could leave, I’ve been stiffed. I’ve seen it all.
Most servers, especially here in Boston, are students. We are trying to pay our rent, our tuition and still do our homework and have a social life. Please don’t leave us five bucks on a $70 bill and then insult us by telling us “Sorry, I’m broke.” If you don’t have money for a tip, you shouldn’t be dining out. How would you feel if your co-op boss told you he couldn’t pay you this week because the company was broke? Number 57: “Don’t leave a [sub-par] tip because you’re from out of town and will never see these people again.”
Don’t get me wrong, I love my job. I wouldn’t have done this work for almost 10 years if I didn’t. I really like talking to the guests at my tables, giving suggestions and seeing them leave happy. Just be courteous back to me, that’s all I ask. Don’t eat half your entrée then send it back (this is nothing new), don’t show up with eight people without a reservation on a Saturday night, and then be upset or rude when we can’t seat you right away. When I ask how you are or if you would like to start with a drink, please don’t stare into my eyes like I just yelled at you in Russian, just answer me.
Number 43: “Respond to your servers questions, and never ignore your server. It’s humiliating to be purposely ignored.”
And most importantly number seven: “Leave the chip on your shoulder, sour attitude and nasty disposition at home. The staff really does want you to have an enjoyable evening.” I once met a waitress who told me: “I can help you if you’re hungry or thirsty, but everything else is not my problem.” I’m sorry if you’ve had a rough day, let me try and make it better with a drink. If you snap at me and treat me like a slave, however, then we’re both just having a bad day.
