Write Up #4

Fuck my life and fuck that guy.

Tonight I received Write Up #4. Written Documentation of an Incident. Luckily, "written documentation" at my restaurant has become somewhat of a joke.

WRITE UP #1: I overslept for a shift. I called the minute I woke up and vehemently apologized. I was told that they weren't that busy and would be fine without me. Don't worry about it. The next day I received a write up because it was "so busy." I was informed later that it was "so busy" that all the servers were put to work filling out sign-ups for our company e-mail newsletter.

WRITE UP #2: I received a negative score for an online survey. Apparently, a table complained that my service was slow even though we weren't busy. There weren't any details given to me about this table and I have no idea of the circumstances surrounding this table. Curiously, there were a lot of problems with the computers crashing/acting funny at this time...no idea if that was the case on this day. I didn't even know how to defend myself.

WRITE UP #3: This one was completely ridiculous. They did a write up for almost EVERY SINGLE SERVER because we had all stopped filling out the tip out report sheet. Why? It had long ago been moved from the area where we dropped our check out/money for the house to a random location where we always forgot. The management hadn't been bringing up that this was important or warned that write ups would follow. It came out of nowhere. I began to realize that write ups didn't have much significance.

WRITE UP #4: TONIGHT.

I was a closer. When I already had a party of 11 and a party of 8 and two other tables...we just got sat with two more tables and I was told that a specific table had requested me. I went over, did my thing...people got wine and drinks...got their salads/soup out quickly, cleared it, entrees went down perfectly. They commented specifically that everything was perfect (which NEVER happens for them!). I had my manager run out some A1 sauce/dressing for them. Everything still seemed great. They got another bottle of wine (for which I even got a decanter the first time) and round 2 drinks. Somewhere after this, I guess they lacked some water at some point and one of the guys decided to get a drink for himself at the bar. Later on he got another drink for himself while I was standing there AT THE TABLE. I assumed he had a reason for doing this. Like...he's an alcoholic (drink 4 btw). Boxed up food, brought them their free pastas (it's a special/promotion thing), cleared the table.... Check had been dropped earlier.

Now keep in mind that all this time I've got 5 bajillion other things to do and am freaking busy as hell. But I think they're cool. They joke around. They're having a great time. Swell!

Turns out the guy who is a regular and requested me complained to the manager that I provided them with THE WORST SERVICE EVER. Because they ran out of water and his buddy had to get his third and fourth drink from the bar. I couldn't believe this. Everything had seemed fine. I thought he must have been joking. I checked the money they left. Twenty bucks on $239.00 and he told the host stand specifically that his "tip reflected the service."

I was so completely aghast that I said, fine, I'm saying something since a few of them were still hanging out in the bar:

ME: I'm sorry folks. I heard that you were unhappy with my service tonight. I apologize.
NICE LADY: Oh, no! Everything was GREAT! It's just that we stepped away from the table and someone cleared away our wine and we still had two full glasses left.
ME: I heard about that. I'm sorry. Sal got you some more wine, right? He took care of you?
NICE LADY: He did. Thank you. Yes, everything else was great.
ASSHOLE: Actually, no. You know, we never had enough water. We were thirsty. And "Brian" had to get his own drinks from the bar.
ME: Yes, I'm sorry about that. I understand. I was very busy, end of the evening and all, and I tried to bring water as often as a I could. I'm sorry that it wasn't up to par...but I was very busy and did the best that I could. I understand that you said that your "tip reflected the service?"
ASSHOLE: Yes.
ME: Okay. great. Once again, sorry about that. Have a great night. See you soon!

Apparently, he made a "Wow, that was awkward" face after I walked away.

And my manager witnessed all of this.

And that's why I got a write up. Because you NEVER confront a guest.

Meh. 

I hope now that he'll NEVER request me again. I remember that guy. He didn't tip well even when the service was "great." Even the hostess told my manager that this guy is a regular weirdo and douchebag. Oh, well. All I can hope is that this doesn't come back around to bite me.

So much for Write Up #4.

Baby Harbor Seals Make Everything Better

Today I was feeling really bummed out. Mostly because I've had to talk more than usual about my completely stagnant pursuit of acting. In the past week, multiple tables EVERY shift have asked if I'm an actor. IT'S GETTING ABSURD. The next table that asks if I'm an actor is going to get asked why they assume that. We have people at work getting their PhD, saving for medical school, writing, playing music, doing stand-up. There are people there who speak FOUR languages. One of our bussers is a mechanical engineer who owns a business back in Mexico and sends his money back to his family. Not EVERYONE is an actor. In fact, the majority of them are not. But... I am. Or, at least, I'm trying to be more than just an aspiring one.

I've spent the past year helping out with an Acting for the Camera class, and that's pretty much it. Yes, I've paid off debt and saved money, and that IS part of the bigger goal. There are a lot of expenses involved in chasing this dream and I look at it like running a small business... I didn't want to go after it while drowning in a sea of interest. But that's all paid off now and no more excuses.

The point is... I was pretty depressed today, feeling lost, and I was not too enthusiastic to be at work. I gave some tables away, traded for a crappier section, and as a result... I walked away from a five hour shift with $30. Whatever. You know what makes everything better???

Baby HARBOR SEAL!

They make everything better! I came home and my wonderful LP, who always makes everything better, showed me our lastest issue of Zoo News from our beloved L.A. Zoo... and it had the most adorable photo of this baby seal on it. Click the link for more cuteness!

My Life is NOT About Pasta...

So why is this happening to me?
It's 4:33 AM and I'm having trouble sleeping and you know what suddenly popped into my head?

VERY NICE LADY: I'm sorry, do you have any straws in your apron pocket?
ME: I'm sorry, I don't. But I can get one for you. 
VERY NICE LADY: Thanks so much!

I forgot her straw. And she never asked again. 

They tipped very well, so I can only assume that my senior moment did not affect their overall experience. But I still feel bad because they were so nice. But why does this happen??? It's extremely irritating. I'm trying to go to bed. I'm trying to accomplish other things with my life. Why must my nighttime thoughts be tortured by server related bullshit?

But do you really need a straw for your water? Some people get really offended that we don't automatically bring them to the table. Maybe I should just be like Steve Martin and be, um, proactive.

Awkward Conversations

The most recent Hyperbole and a Half post definitely had me thinking about awkward conversations as a server.

Please visit Hyperbole and a Half!

I adore her comics and the most recent one was just a reminder of how socially awkward I am.

I notice that other servers at work have loooooooooooong enthusiastic conversations with their tables. They LOVE talking to their tables and find a connection with every single one that walks through the door. They remember names and develop regulars. I can barely remember the person who came in the week before.

The only regulars I have are the annoying ones because those are the only ones I remember. And I must be the only person who's nice to them because why the hell else would they always request me??

There's one table that I don't mind as much. They always tip decently and don't require conversation. They like each other well enough and that's something I can appreciate. When they sit down, I know that they want:

1. Ice tea with light ice
2. Coke with extra ice
3. Burnt bread (no seriously, we burn the bread for them)
4. Butter
5. Well done salmon in a lemon butter sauce with capers. 

And that's it! Once you know what it is that they like, it's the easiest eight bucks ever.  And I like them because they don't try to make conversation. That's when I get into trouble.

ME: Hey folks, how's everything taste so far?
TABLE: It's really delicious.
ME: Fantastic! Enjoy your meal!
(I start to walk away)
TABLE: Seriously though, this is really nice. The sauce is incredible.
ME: Oh, good. I'm really glad you like it. That's a really great dish.
(I start to walk away)
TABLE: And her food is really good, too. Thanks for the recommendations.
ME: Yeeeeaaah. I'm really, really glad you're enjoying it. Um... do you want another glass of wine or anything?
TABLE: No, I'm fine... But speaking of wineries...

And then I'm trapped. I don't know how to extricate myself from this conversation. Usually, I'll pretend that a different table has motioned for me and leave to get them unnecessary refills.

At least when we're talking about food, then we're dealing with something job related and it doesn't get too uncomfortable. What I hate is when the conversation turns personal.

AWKWARD DUDE: It's really funny that you mentioned how young she looks. Can I tell her why we thought that was so funny? It's so funny.
AWKWARD GAL: Yeah, go ahead...tell her.
ME: Ummmmmm...
AWKWARD DUDE: Yeah. It's so funny! She has a STEP-DAUGHTER who is OLDER than she is!!!
ME: Um....Wow. Your step-daughter is OLDER than you? That's....pretty funny.
(Meanwhile, I'm thinking how extremely f'd up that is)
AWKWARD GAL: Yeah! And I have a son who is 22 years younger than his half-sister!
ME: Wow. Um... do you all get along?
AWKWARD GAL: Oh, yeah! She likes me. Loves her little brother.
ME: Huh. So when you go out, people must think you're sisters and that your son is actually her son.
AWKWARD GAL: Yeah! That happens!
AWKWARD GUY: Isn't that hilarious?!
ME: Yeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaah.

And then I turned around and walked away while forcing canned laughter. I really didn't understand how that could be funny.

I've also had people try to talk me into their pyramid schemes and convince me that I should host their Dove Chocolate Party at my house. Of course, the most awkward conversations are the ones that end up focused on my non-existent acting career. Yes. PLEASE remind me why I fail at life. THANK YOU for reminding me that I don't have an agent. NO, you haven't seen me in anything.

So, thank you, Hyperbole and a Half for reminding me that I am not alone in my dread of awkward conversations!

Not that this has anything to do with this post... It's just how every day of my life goes.