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valis2So I was thinking about the service industry. Specifically, waitressing.
I've long been fascinated with waiters and waitresses. The profession is pretty thankless in many ways, and I'm endlessly interested in the whys and hows and what happens behind the scenes. Whenever I find out that someone has been in the service industry, I drive them nuts with questions.
(I could never be a waitress, because my short term memory is horrid. And I don't have the patience.)
So I was telling![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
subrosax all about my worst experiences in a restaurant, and then I thought, hey, I have a LJ! I can have all the conversations about waiting that I want. Heh.
And there are two sides, of course. We can talk about the worst experiences you've had as a patron--and the worst experiences you've had as a server! Glee!
Horror Story #1 (or That Poor Waitress): Several years ago I was engaged to a guy I'll call Ricky. Ricky and I used to eat out quite a bit, and sometimes we would eat out with another couple...I'll call them Fred and Ethel.
After a few meals together, I realized that they were the worst tippers. No, really. My personal philosophy for tipping is: 20% is the standard. 15% if the waitress (and not the cook, etc.) was really incompetent (for example, not writing down a complicated order and then screwing it up). 10% if the waitress is absolutely horrific (this has only happened...twice?). Sometimes I'll give 25% if it was great.
Anyway, they only gave about 5-10%. Every time. At first I thought it was a fluke, but then I realized it wasn't. And we kept getting one check for the four of us, and they would (in essence) use our tip money to pay for part of their meal.
So we went out for Fred's birthday. We were all in a good mood. We went to TGIF, and, as we were all big people, we ordered lots of food. And liquor. You know, two appetizers, four entrées, multiple drinks per person, and dessert. And, because it was Fred's birthday, there was the obligatory hellish song for the waitstaff.
Now, by this time I was starting to understand how high maintenance Ethel was. She would ask (in her very girlish soft voice) for pop with no ice. And then make a big eye-rolling display when the server would forget and put ice in it. Everything had to be just so. And it was especially frustrating because half of the time the servers couldn't even hear what she was asking for. And she required constant refills.
So as the meal progresses, I'm feeling worse and worse for the harried waitress. It's Saturday night, the place is packed, she has to orchestrate the Birthday Hellishness, and they're both being demanding. I mean, seriously. The kind of demanding that I know must drive servers crazy--you know, where they get something for you, and when they give it to you, you ask for something else, and then when they give that to you, they ask for something else, and on and on.
They both order steak and alcoholic drinks. Ricky and I order much cheaper entrées because we're both pretty much broke. We order an appetizer to split as well, and a dessert to split.
The check comes. It works out to about $80 or so. We put in our share, and they take the money, do their figuring, and leave $84.
No, seriously. $84. Barely five percent for the server who worked her ass off for an hour and twenty minutes.
So I pretend that I'm hitting the restroom, and I run up to the waitress and give her my last five dollars, my only money until payday. "I'm so sorry about the tip," I say. She nods wearily.
After that? Separate checks.
Horror Story #2: I went to Ruby Tuesdays with one of my co-workers. I'll call him Phil.
We used to eat at that RT constantly--probably three or four times a week. We were seated, and the waitress came up.
Phil asked for two large glasses of water. He drank tons of water with each meal, and it was a pain in the ass to find the waitress for constant refills, so he always asked for two glasses instead.
The waitress argued with him.
He asked again.
At this point, most waitresses would just give in--it's not worth it to keep going, y'know? Unless there's a policy or something. Yet again she argued. Finally, she told him that she would bring him one glass, and that she would be refilling the water all the time. He conceded.
We placed our order.
She brought out the drinks, and wasn't very pleasant--I can't remember what happened, exactly, except she had a sour face and wasn't happy.
That was the last I saw of her. She never came out again. Nope. None of the fabled refills occurred. Food runners brought our food. We couldn't even find someone to get us a check, and after over an hour, we just guessed how much the food cost and left that.
Please, please, please share your horror stories! I would love to hear them.
I've long been fascinated with waiters and waitresses. The profession is pretty thankless in many ways, and I'm endlessly interested in the whys and hows and what happens behind the scenes. Whenever I find out that someone has been in the service industry, I drive them nuts with questions.
(I could never be a waitress, because my short term memory is horrid. And I don't have the patience.)
So I was telling
subrosax all about my worst experiences in a restaurant, and then I thought, hey, I have a LJ! I can have all the conversations about waiting that I want. Heh.And there are two sides, of course. We can talk about the worst experiences you've had as a patron--and the worst experiences you've had as a server! Glee!
Horror Story #1 (or That Poor Waitress): Several years ago I was engaged to a guy I'll call Ricky. Ricky and I used to eat out quite a bit, and sometimes we would eat out with another couple...I'll call them Fred and Ethel.
After a few meals together, I realized that they were the worst tippers. No, really. My personal philosophy for tipping is: 20% is the standard. 15% if the waitress (and not the cook, etc.) was really incompetent (for example, not writing down a complicated order and then screwing it up). 10% if the waitress is absolutely horrific (this has only happened...twice?). Sometimes I'll give 25% if it was great.
Anyway, they only gave about 5-10%. Every time. At first I thought it was a fluke, but then I realized it wasn't. And we kept getting one check for the four of us, and they would (in essence) use our tip money to pay for part of their meal.
So we went out for Fred's birthday. We were all in a good mood. We went to TGIF, and, as we were all big people, we ordered lots of food. And liquor. You know, two appetizers, four entrées, multiple drinks per person, and dessert. And, because it was Fred's birthday, there was the obligatory hellish song for the waitstaff.
Now, by this time I was starting to understand how high maintenance Ethel was. She would ask (in her very girlish soft voice) for pop with no ice. And then make a big eye-rolling display when the server would forget and put ice in it. Everything had to be just so. And it was especially frustrating because half of the time the servers couldn't even hear what she was asking for. And she required constant refills.
So as the meal progresses, I'm feeling worse and worse for the harried waitress. It's Saturday night, the place is packed, she has to orchestrate the Birthday Hellishness, and they're both being demanding. I mean, seriously. The kind of demanding that I know must drive servers crazy--you know, where they get something for you, and when they give it to you, you ask for something else, and then when they give that to you, they ask for something else, and on and on.
They both order steak and alcoholic drinks. Ricky and I order much cheaper entrées because we're both pretty much broke. We order an appetizer to split as well, and a dessert to split.
The check comes. It works out to about $80 or so. We put in our share, and they take the money, do their figuring, and leave $84.
No, seriously. $84. Barely five percent for the server who worked her ass off for an hour and twenty minutes.
So I pretend that I'm hitting the restroom, and I run up to the waitress and give her my last five dollars, my only money until payday. "I'm so sorry about the tip," I say. She nods wearily.
After that? Separate checks.
Horror Story #2: I went to Ruby Tuesdays with one of my co-workers. I'll call him Phil.
We used to eat at that RT constantly--probably three or four times a week. We were seated, and the waitress came up.
Phil asked for two large glasses of water. He drank tons of water with each meal, and it was a pain in the ass to find the waitress for constant refills, so he always asked for two glasses instead.
The waitress argued with him.
He asked again.
At this point, most waitresses would just give in--it's not worth it to keep going, y'know? Unless there's a policy or something. Yet again she argued. Finally, she told him that she would bring him one glass, and that she would be refilling the water all the time. He conceded.
We placed our order.
She brought out the drinks, and wasn't very pleasant--I can't remember what happened, exactly, except she had a sour face and wasn't happy.
That was the last I saw of her. She never came out again. Nope. None of the fabled refills occurred. Food runners brought our food. We couldn't even find someone to get us a check, and after over an hour, we just guessed how much the food cost and left that.
Please, please, please share your horror stories! I would love to hear them.
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(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-02 07:54 am (UTC)In Germany, I tip 10% if everything was ok. If the waitress or waiter was nice and fast (read: had the occasional smile on their face, spoke at all, and worked fast, depending on the crowdedness of the place) I round the 10% up to the next full Euro, or do 15 or 20%.
If the waiter can't smile or hardly speaks (and that is not uncommon in Germany) they may get as little as 20 cent if that's the next full Euro. Their problem.
That may sound misery to anyone in the US, but the reason I am writing this at all is, I had a converstion with a colleague who waits at her parent's place part time. Now, she's the most friendly person you could imagine, helpful, always friendly, always smiling. I can't imagine her to be grumpy or unfriendly even when under stress. She tells me most people just round up to the next Euro. Always. 5% is a good tip. 10% is gorgeous, and very rare. And that's in a place where you have dinner, not just a coffee to go.
I felt so sorry for waiters. I mean, in Europe they get a base salary and the tip is only for good service. But still. If I got good service, I think I should show it.
I have to remember the 20% when I next go to the US.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-02 03:44 pm (UTC)This difference in percentages--it could be related to the tiny hourly rate that servers get in the US.
15% is the standard tipping rate here. I've always given 20% because it seems like a lot of work, and I know how low their rate is. I've actually had a waitress flag me down as I was leaving and almost tearfully tell me, "Thank you," which was sad--it shouldn't be the exception, you know?