Recently I acquired a couch, coffee table, leather arm chair
and sitting chair. All of these are rather nice and I enjoy them. When I arrive
home; the couch greats me with warmth and the armchair envelopes me as I watch
TV. I’m writing on the sitting chair, at the moment, it’s quite plush and feels
good against my bum.
To get these meager possessions – I sold lots of fish and
uncorked enough wine to make a sommelier’s wrist hurt. I worked at a certain
tourist oriented seafood restaurant on the
In another life, actually a month ago to be precise, I was a waiter. Now I am liberated, I am free to roam the tundra like a gazelle that just escaped the lion’s maw – unscathed. For the time being anyway.
So when Skye was rude to a server I flipped. The food was
late; yes I understand this moment of hunger and need to feed. Yet rudeness is
uncalled for, the need to call a manger over, quite stupid. I felt meek and
quite in my chair, like I wanted to be consumed by the floor.
I don’t understand the need to be rude to servers. Not only do they have to be screamed at by chefs concerned with daily food cost and drug addicted mangers who resent waiters.
Yet theses servers must also make us smile, entertain us, and above all make us feel warm and fuzzy special.
The only way I knew to make up for our rudeness was to leave a twenty-five percent tip besides the waiter was apologetic and quite cute. Tips are his salary. When I waited tables, a habit I will no doubt indulge in again. My hourly wage was $3.30 (three dollars and thirty cents) an hour. So I sympathize, I understand that our waiter probably wants to – some day be a singer, ballerina, or actor. That his moment, at this restaurant is spent raising money for his bar bill, yet dame it, I will tip properly and not make an ass of myself.
This site, Shameless Restaurants, business behaving badly and at their worst. I love being a socialite.
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