From the Host Stand (Guest Blogger)

We have two posts today from the host stand. Our first guest blog comes from Jaleel who writes the blog From the Sidestand.  -BW
 

I Can't Take Your Order

At this point in time, I would like to let everybody in the world know that the host is not the person who takes your order. I don't know why people think that I stand up at the front but I also have tables that I'm taking care of, I know I seem pretty amazing but I can’t actually be in two places at once, yet.
This is normally what happens:

 
*Door Opens*

 
ME: Hello, how are you do-
DUMBASS: Three *Douchefully holds up 3 fingers*
ME: (demeanor immediately becomes slightly less pleasant) Alright it will be right this way *Brings you to table* Alright so will-
YOU: Can we get a booth?
ME: Sir, there are currently no booths available if you'd like I ca-
YOU: I guess this will be fine, I'll have a Bud Light...

So in order to not look like I’m an incompetent dumbass, I now have to get everybody's drink order at the table. I then have to stop the server before they get to your table so you don't look at them like they're a complete idiot. I then have to get your drinks while I probably have people waiting to be sat at the front. I have to tell the server what you got so they can ring it in and I bring out your non-alcoholic drinks. You then look at me like I'm a dumbass and forgot your booze before I have a chance to tell you it's coming from the bar and YOUR SERVER will bring it out to you (even if it was ready, I can't legally bring it out to you because I'm underage).
 

A lot of the time, the server is the only person who can ring in your stuff because a host doesn't have a screen to order stuff or transfer tabs. Please don't order something from the person who seats you unless they prompt you.

 
Just because the theme for today is ‘Stuff Hosts Can’t Do,’ you should also know that I don't take your payment. I don't know why a lot of people thrust their cards at me while I'm walking people to a table or why they come up to the host stand two seconds after they put their card in their book and ask if they pay me.

 
Do you see a fucking register up here? No. Do you see a credit card swipe up here? No. Again, a host doesn't have some magic power to tap into a server's open tables and make a payment. 

Moral of the story, follow your host, order from your server, pay your server, and be a better customer.

And now another post from a hostess named Trisha.

Fortune Teller Hostess

Hello restaurant goers, this is your friendly hostess speaking.  And by friendly I mean being the most accommodating, welcoming, and poised host on the outside, while on the inside I’m secretly giving you dirty looks.  Also, I’m probably wondering how much more of a moron you could possibly be. 

First of all, although I’d love to have the power to tell the future, but unfortunately, I don’t.  If I were a fortuneteller, I wouldn’t be making $9.00 an hour and accumulating debt in college.  I’d be off to Vegas or some shit.  Also, I’d be able to tell that you’re an asshole ahead of time.  The wait time that I give you is an ESTIMATE.  It’s not an exact fucking time.  When I tell you that it’ll probably be about 30 minutes for a table don’t bitch at me when it has been 32 minutes and you haven’t been sat.  I could have turned a certain four-top 20 minutes ago.  Please, be my guest and go up to the four-top who has been twiddling their thumbs and tell them to leave.  I wish you would.  Don’t worry; you’ll be in their place in no time; sitting for hours on the patio, causing the damn cycle to continue.  I’m really sorry (not really) that my crystal ball was wrong this time.  Here’s some insight into how we determine your wait time.  I look around at the guests happily shoveling food into their faces and figure that they will be there another 35 to 45 minutes.  So next time I hear, “Well, you told me…” with that snooty look on your face, I will most likely make you wait a little more.  Just for fun.  And also because you’re a bitch.

Oh, and don’t just walk past the PLEASE WAIT TO BE SEATED sign on your way in and sit your ass down at a table.  Get the hell up.  For one, it’s fucking dirty.  That’s pretty gross.  You have a backwashed margarita in your face, and you’re ready to eat?  You should just start walking to the hospital now. 

Aside from expecting me to be a fortuneteller, you assume I’m some great acrobat.  Again, I assure you if I were, I would be in better places. I would have been in London this summer, winning a gold medal to bitch slap you with.  Yes, I told you I would seat you in a few minutes, but during those 5 minutes people have been stampeding in the door, one after another.  I cannot take names and seat your ass at the same time.  So don’t fucking come up to me 7 minutes later while I am running around seating tables asking if I forgot about you.  No, I did not forget your ugly face that only a mother could love.  There are two parties ahead of you.  Wait your fucking turn.

Lastly, (for now) yes, there are empty tables, and no you cannot sit there yet.  A stampede just came through the door and I’m trying not to triple-sit sections.  Unless you want a server who will have time to accommodate your know-it-all ass, I suggest you wait a couple of minutes.  You don’t understand why you can’t sit there?  Well, I don’t understand how you picked out that ugly shirt thinking it looks great.  Don’t tell me how to do my job.  I know what I’m doing, so respect your fucking hosts.  If you yell at me, chances are I’m going to tell your server that you’re a dick.

And of course, have a wonderful day!



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