Waiter Rant: Thanks for the Tip

by "The Waiter" (now known to be Steve Dublanica)

My review: 3/5 stars

High stress, high turnover job with demanding customers, where you kinda get hooked on the money. Hmmm.... sounds like a job I used to have.

Maybe it's place I am in my life right now, but I found this book to be less about restaurants, and more about the bigger questions of life, love and career that we all face.

All in all, not quite as entertaining as Kitchen Confidential but worth a read. Happy to lend you my copy, which I found secondhand myself.

"The crowds pile in the door, and my section fills up instantly - two six tops, two deuces, and a four. I take care of the two tops first. The six tops are chattering away, so I have time to get to them. I cocktail and special the deuces, head over to the four, ask what they want from the bar, then loop back to the two tops and grab their dinner order. I walk briskly to the POS computer, key in the data, make the four top's alcoholic chemistry experiments, and drop them off. The six tops' heads are swiveling on their necks looking for the waiter. I hit them next. I take all their drink requests - wine and martinis - and take the four's dinner order on the return trip. The bell rings. The deuce's apps are up. The door chimes. It's a reservation. The hostess is gone, probably in the bathroom. I drop off the apps, greet the new arrivals, and seat them. Racing to the wine cellar, I grab two bottles of wine, return to the service bar, make six martinis, deliver the drinks to the first six top, run back, grab the bottles of wine, one red and one white, and pop them open at the other six. I tell the bus girl to bring an ice bucket. The kitchen bell rings furiously. The four's apps are up. The door chimes. More reservations. Where the hell's the hostess? The deuce signals for more bread. The lady at the four top needs another cosmo. Do you take Discover? What are the specials? I'm allergic to rosemary. Does this have to have garlic? Can you make me a veal Parmesan? It's hot in here. Can you do something about the AC? The phone rings. I glance at the caller ID. It's Fluvio. I decide to ignore it. He spent thousands of dollars installing video cameras; let him see what's going on for himself.

Suddenly, I feel a tug on my shoulder. It's Beth. She has tears in her eyes.

"What's the matter?"

"The computer's not working."

"Oh shit," I say, my sphincter achieving maximum compression."