Waiting Tables Since the Beginning of Time

I don't know if you know this or not, but I have been waiting tables for a really long time. The first order I ever took, I remember that the man asked me for his brontosaurus burger to be rare and I was like, "Umm, no shit, it's always rare. We ain't discovered fire yet, asshole." Needless to say, I know my way around a tray. However, today at work I am going in early to be trained. Keep in mind I have been at this particular job for over three years so I was under the impression that I knew how to take an order and then carry a drink twenty feet and hand it to someone, but I guess I was wrong. Last week, a head server was determined and today I will go meet with that head server to learn important information about either serving drinks or giving head. Fingers crossed it's about oral sex, but I have my money on the other. The head server was born on August 26th, 1990. I looked at my diary from that day to see what I was doing when our head server made her first appearance on this earth. It said, "August 26th, 1990: work was a bitch and so was the hostess." I have been waiting tables literally since the day she was born. Here is a list of some things that are older than the person who who will be training me today:

1. My Birkenstocks that I bought in 1987.
2. This diary entry from August 25th, 1990: "Up at 7:30 and to an audition. Home an napped for two hours, then to a call back. I did good. Then to work at Bennigan's which was okay. Now to sleep for a long time."
3. The white bistro apron that is in my Halloween costume box.
4. High definition television which was invented in 1989.
5. Hot Pockets.
6. Disposable cameras and disposable contacts.
7. Dopler radar.
8. When Harry Met Sally.
9. A Goldfish cracker that I saved during a game of Yahtzee that is still in the box with the date written on it. 
10. Some of the stories I have written about on this blog like this one that took place when the head server was two months old.

I will go and I will be trained. It has been said that you can't teach an old dog new tricks but I do not know if that holds true for waiters. My mind is open to new possibilities for this training. Maybe there is some new way to take orders that I have not learned of yet. Have I been wasting time using pen and paper when I could have been sending the orders telepathically? Have I been wasting steps carrying drinks when they could have been teleported directly to the table? I will learn all of these wonderful new techniques tonight at 5:00. I expect that tomorrow, my blog will have to change its name to "The Newly Trained Waiter Who Is No Longer Bitchy But is Wonderfully Proficient."

Get ready, Head Server. Prepare to show me the way. Let me know what I have been doing wrong ever since you were still pooping in your pants and learning your ABC's. I am all yours. As soon as I take a Prozac which is also older than you by one full year.



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Waiter in Training

Training for a new restaurant job sucks ass. It just does. Especially when you have been a hash-slinging waitress for as long as I have. I feel like I have been waiting tables since the dark ages. I distinctly remember working at a restaurant where we had to milk the cows and then churn the butter for our opening sidework. Closing sidework involved filling the ketchup bottles, sweeping the bathroom and then clearing the restaurant of all the people who had died that day of the Black Plague. You ain't waited tables until you have done it during the Black Plague. Not easy. I remember training for Bennigan's and how intense it was. The manager told me that the Bennigan's training program was known throughout the country and once I had it on my resume, I would be able to get a waiting job anywhere. And what's really funny is that I was actually impressed by that hot air statement and had it on my resume for a while under special skills: Bennigan's training program. Pathetic. Back in those days, I was so eager to please that I actually memorized every single ingredient on the menu. At the time, I was living with my Grandma (not this one) and she would quiz me every night. My Grandma knew that damn Bennigan's menu better than I did. She could have been one fine waitress up there, but she was all busy being my Grandma and making me pies.

A few years ago, I was being trained at a restaurant here in the city. My trainer was a fetus. I know I had aprons older than he was, but I still had to follow him for three days to "learn the ropes." He gave me such useful tips as:

• When a customer orders coffee, you should ask them if they want milk or cream with it so you don't have to make two trips.
• If someone orders a hamburger, ask them how they like it cooked.
• Always say thank you.

What gems those are. I patted the fetus waiter on the head, asked for a floor plan with the table numbers and pushed his toddler ass out of my way. At my new job, my trainer thankfully quickly realized that I knew what I was doing. After about ten minutes when he saw that I had already made coffee and knew the fancy Aloha computer system, he let me on my own. By the end of the first night, he had let me take his station, take orders, run food, close the checks and bus the tables. He had a sweet easy night because I did it all and he got all the tips. But whatever. The manager saw that only one day of "trailing" was needed and I was already on the schedule.

I guess there are pluses to having eons of experience, one being I can get through training quicker and start putting tips in my pocket sooner. The downside of all that experience is the sore knees, the closet full of food-stained dark shirts and the fact that when I sweat I smell like a goddamn fajita even though I haven't served fucking fajitas since the mid-90's. Ah, well. The good with the bad I suppose.

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