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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 08:08 am (UTC)The café at the corner of my street has very good waiters and waitresses; they are attentive and friendly. But one beat them all: a friend and I used to take our coffees at that place, as a kind of treat after meeting to do our taxes. :-) First time: I ordered a latte macchiato and a glass of tab water (not usually done in Germany, but they are slowly getting used to it) and my friend ordered a double espresso and a cup of hot water (arjuvedic and healthy). The waiter was astonished, so my friend explained all about the arjuvedic stuff. Next time, we ordered the same. The third time we visited, he simply waved and brought our beverages. Needless to say that we tipped him very well. :-)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-02 03:45 pm (UTC)That's very interesting! I remember that Ricky's parents once went to a diner, and the next week when they returned, the waitress saw them in the parking lot and had their beverages already at the table when they entered the restaurant (at the same booth, no less!).
And that poor waitress--she deserved ten times the amount for the pain and effort she went through. Poor thing! I felt so sorry for her.