Tipping Custom Revision

Some people feel that tipping is an outdated American custom, and since they don't do it in other countries, we shouldn't do it either. People argue that servers should not expect tips because the restaurant should pay more, or that tips are only for "outstanding" service (and the service is never deemed "outstanding" by this type of cheapskate.) These types also argue that if I don't like not receiving tips, I should just go get another job - I have "chosen" to work at a restaurant, and I can choose to work somewhere else. You know, because the job market is awesome and kick-ass jobs are so easy to come by, especially ones with flexible schedules, nightly cash, and health insurance. While I agree that the tipping custom is bullshit, it is what it is. I don't see it changing any time soon. I make $2.13/hr. and that blows. I don't get a paycheck because all of my hourly wages go to taxes and health insurance (and I often have to pay money BACK to the restaurant because my wages aren't enough to cover my insurance.) I did choose this job, and I continue to work in a restaurant because I do make good money - because most people are decent, respectful people who understand that I rely on tips to pay my bills. It's important to understand that in countries where tipping is not the custom, eating out is more expensive because (shockingly,) the restaurant must pay their employees. The food at my restaurant is affordable because the restaurant isn't paying me $12/hr. to work there.
I'm not asking for a 100% tip by any means, but 15%-20% is standard and if you got your food and I didn't insult you, that's how much you should leave me. Remember, eating out is a convenience and a way for you to relax and enjoy yourself. My job is to make sure you have everything that you want and to give you the best possible experience. You sit in a chair, your food is cooked for you and served to you, and the mess you (and your kids) make is cleaned up for you. You are expected to pay for that convenience. If I'm in a shitty mood and I don't tell jokes and juggle for your table, you are at least getting some hot food that you didn't have to cook yourself and you can at least leave me something.
It's also important to note that if you don't tip me, I am PAYING FOR YOU TO EAT OUT. Let me explain. For every dollar in sales, I must pay 3% out to pay the busboys, hosts, and bartenders. I am also taxed based on my total net sales. Therefore, if your check is $50 and you leave me nothing, I will pay ~$1.50 for you to make a mess for me to clean up. That doesn't sound like a lot, but imagine how much I would be paying if all of my tables thought that tipping was "for the birds"! Many restaurants also require higher tipouts - I've heard of places that take out 6-10%, so in those cases you're an even bigger jerk.
Tipping isn't going to go away, so arguments against it are useless. If you want to go out to eat, you leave a tip and don't act like an asshole. It's as simple as that. As much as it pains me to quote Chuck Palanhiuk, this quote from Fight Club pretty much sums it up: "Remember this. The people you're trying to step on, we're everyone you depend on. We're the people who do your laundry and cook your food and serve your dinner. We make your bed. We guard you while you're asleep. We drive the ambulances. We direct your call. We are cooks and taxi drivers and we know everything about you. We process your insurance claims and credit card charges. We control every part of your life. We are the middle children of history, raised by television to believe that someday we'll be millionaires and movie stars and rock stars, but we won't. And we're just learning this fact. So don't fuck with us.” -J

Coming in Late

If the sign in front of the restaurant says that we close at 1, that means WE CLOSE AT 1. That means that if your stoner/pregnant/teenaged/white-privileged/whatever ass should never stroll through the door at 12:55 and expect excellent service, because you are NOT going to get it. Closing at 1 means that by 1, we should not have any more customers. That means we’ve already all been working for over 9 hours - on our feet, with no breaks, probably without having eaten anything in that time period. We are tired, we are hungry, and we want to go the fuck home. Our cooks have probably been working since around noon, so it may be a surprise to you that they want to finish cleaning before they have to walk a few miles home and they don’t give a shit how your steak comes out. As servers, we are at that time trying to finish cleaning everything up and getting everything done so that we can leave. You are taking time away from that, and then we still have to clean up after YOU after you finally get the fuck out. Additionally, the closers all have to wait for your table to leave, so you are not just keeping ME late, you are keeping two other servers and the manager late.

I’m not sure why this is a difficult concept for some people. The restaurant closes at 1. If you order your food at 12:55, you will not receive it until 1:15 at best. You will be sitting at a table in the middle of a restaurant that is CLOSED. There will be no other people around you because everyone else read the sign outside and saw that we were no longer open. What makes you so special? If you walk into a store and it's closing, you don't keep shopping. You leave. Why should a restaurant be different?

This is another situation where people have some serious entitlement issues - a restaurant is a service, and we are not required to perform that service for you after a certain time. My boss will make me take a table if it comes in 15 minutes before we close, but technically at closing time, I don't need to do my job anymore, so don't get mad when I ignore you! If I go to a restaurant at 10:30 and realize that they close at 11, I turn the fuck around and drive to a 24-hour diner or convenience store and score something hopefully even remotely edible, because I’m not a douchebag.

I had a table come in the other night 15 minutes before we closed and demanded all this shit, complained about every single thing they ordered, wound up getting most of their food comped, and then they left me $2. I kind of want to rant about them forever, but I’m beat so that’ll be another story for another day. Actually, I’ll have another one by then. This shit happens all the time.

I hate people.

I hate the American tipping custom, too.

While I agree that the tipping custom is bullshit, it is what it is. I don't see it changing any time soon. I make $2.13/hr. and that blows. I don't get a paycheck because all of my hourly wages go to taxes and health insurance (and I often have to pay money BACK to the restaurant because my wages aren't enough to cover my insurance.) I did choose this job, and I continue to work in a restaurant because I do make good money - because most people are decent, respectful people who understand that I rely on tips to pay my bills. It's important to understand that in countries where tipping is not the custom, eating out is more expensive because (shockingly,) the restaurant must pay their employees. The food at my restaurant is affordable because the restaurant isn't paying me $12/hr. to work there.
I'm not asking for a 100% tip by any means, but 15%-20% is standard and if you got your food and I didn't insult you, that's how much you should leave me. Remember, eating out is a convenience and a way for you to relax and enjoy yourself. My job is to make sure you have everything that you want and to give you the best possible experience. You sit in a chair, your food is cooked for you and served to you, and the mess you (and your kids) make is cleaned up for you. You are expected to pay for that convenience. If I'm in a shitty mood and I don't tell jokes and juggle for your table, you are at least getting some hot food that you didn't have to cook yourself and you can at least leave me something.
It's also important to note that if you don't tip me, I am PAYING FOR YOU TO EAT OUT. Let me explain. For every dollar in sales, I must pay 3% out to pay the busboys, hosts, and bartenders. I am also taxed based on my total net sales. Therefore, if your check is $50 and you leave me nothing, I will pay ~$1.50 for you to make a mess for me to clean up. That doesn't sound like a lot, but imagine how much I would be paying if all of my tables thought that tipping was "for the birds"! Many restaurants also require higher tipouts - I've heard of places that take out 6-10%, so in those cases you're an even bigger jerk.
There's so much more to talk about, but it's 3 am, I just got home from work, and now I need to cook dinner for myself before I go to bed.I'll edit this entry later.

Controlling your unruly children

Waiting tables has enabled me to develop such an unbridled hatred for children that it's a little ridiculous. But, I guess it's not really the children. It's the parents. I hate parents.

I had a table tonight whose children threw garbage everywhere, threw temper tantrums when they didn't get ice cream for dinner, ran around and dangled themselves all over the chairs, cried and yelled, and were just generally unpleasant for the two hours that they sat in my section. They did not say please or thank you. They did not behave. At all.

I don't have kids, so for some that disqualifies me from giving advice about raising children. Well, no, I don't have kids, but I once was one of course, and I can easily recall the way my parents taught me how to act in public, and I can certainly tell when your kid is acting like a demon in my restaurant. When my parents took me out, I was told to keep my mouth shut, not to fidget, not to get out of my chair or cry, and to eat my dinner quietly while letting the adults talk and enjoy their evening. If I didn't do those things, my parents would threaten to leave or that they'd give me a spanking. I know that spanking is frowned upon these days, but I can tell you from experience that it was really the threat of a good beating that kept me in line, and I didn't turn into an axe murderer or sociopath because my parents did it. You may have the heart to beat your kids, but I assure you that the other 40 people in the restaurant would gladly volunteer to help you out.

Here's the thing. It's not just me your kids are irritating. My other tables - adults who are trying to have dinner and enjoy each others company - cannot hear each other over your child's screaming, do not appreciate your kids running around and throwing things, and do not find the garbage and food they are throwing around cute or enjoyable. You're ruining my night because I have to deal with and subsequently clean up after you, but more importantly, you're ruining the night out for those around you. That's what really makes it shitty. Some people don't have a lot of money and they don't get to go out to restaurants very often. Do you not consider that your tantrum throwing little punk is screwing things up for them? Of course you don't. Kids are kids, you say. They're fine, you say. Because you're enjoying your dinner and completely ignoring their shit. You've learned to tune it out. We haven't.

One time, I had a table whose children were running around and crawling all over the floor, under the tables and basically just running amok throughout the whole section of the restaurant. There's a wall that separates that section of the restaurant from the bar area. Another server was coming around the bend, carrying hot plates of food, not expecting any wayward children to be laying around on the floor. So, as he turned the corner, he tripped over a child, accidentally kicking him in the head and spilling plates of food everywhere. The child began to bawl, and the table whose food was now inedible became pissed as hell. The parents response? A rushed and empty "sorry" before they turned back to their plates and continued eating and talking. "Oh, he's fine," they said, ignoring their sobbing child until he stopped and went back to playing around on the floor. What is this? I don't even know what to say to that.

I've had children falling asleep at the bar while their parents sat and got drunk, a mom and her boyfriend get into an argument and ask me to watch their kid while they went out in the parking lot and yelled at each other, parents who let their kids order all kinds of shit they'd never eat...so many things. The awful parenting I see on a day to day basis makes me want to call child services and chug gallons of vodka with my birth control. I can't even begin to tell you all the stories I have on this subject.

I do particularly hate parents who give in to their child's every whim, however. I had a table a few weeks ago - it was a mother and her son. I asked them what they wanted to drink and the mother ordered for herself and then asked her son what he wanted. "Cranberry juice," he said. "But you don't like cranberry juice," she said. "I WANT CRANBERRY JUICE!" he said. So she tells me to bring him the cranberry juice. I bring it to the table, he takes one sip and says, "I don't like this." So the mother has me bring him orange juice. There are a couple of problems I have with this situation. First and foremost, I'm fucking busy. I don't have time for this shit. But now I've not only wasted my time, I have wasted perfectly good juice, and you have no backbone when it comes to your kid. Lady, you know your kid doesn't like cranberry juice, you are the adult, you tell him NO. Parents these days are too lax and have no authority over their kids. That's not gonna work out too well in the future, and that's not my problem really, but fuck you for wasting my time. When I was a kid, my mom would order for me. If she let me order, she gave me two choices and told me to pick one, and if I didn't, she'd order. There was no making the waitress sit there while I huffed about it. That shit didn't happen, because it shouldn't happen. Be the parent, goddamnit.

Parents are ignorant doormats sometimes and it drives me fucking bonkers. Don't be that parent. And please, please don't be that restaurant patron.

And if you do let your snotty little kids make a huge mess, you either help clean it up or you leave me a bigger tip. I'm your waitress, not your housekeeper. I work at a restaurant, not a fucking Chuck E. Cheese. Don't be an asshole.

Parents can just go to hell, really.

J

PS - I forgot to mention one of my biggest restaurant pet peeves. Parents, please note that the sugar caddies, ketchup, table cards, salt and pepper, etc. are NOT ON THE TABLE TO ENTERTAIN YOUR KID. Kids are basically little germ factories and those sugars and salts are things that other people are going to eventually eat. They are not toys, and if your kid needs shit to play with, then bring something with you to keep them entertained. When all the sugars get thrown on the floor, guess who gets to pick them up? And guess who isn't getting a bigger tip to crawl around in such a fashion? Fuck you.

Being Aware of Your Surroundings

This is going to be hard news to take for some of you, I think. It may shock you to realize that when you go out in public, you must be aware of your surroundings. I'm not saying that you need to be so blissed out on LSD that you can taste the table or smell the fibers of the carpet, but you need to know where you are, why you are there, and what's going on around you. Let's take my restaurant, for example. I'll break this shit down for you.

My restaurant has about 50 tables, which each seat at least two people. On any given night, there are roughly 8 servers working, one or two bartenders, a manager, and 5-7 cooks. Or, at least, those people are scheduled to work. Two servers call out because they did too much coke the night before, one of the cooks gets deported and another gets sent home for being drunk, one of the bartenders has a cold, and on top of that, the kitchen manager never put in a food order last week, so we are out of half of the shit we need to make most of the stuff on the menu. I have many other things going on in my life that I am thinking about, like school or my boyfriend or whatever. Oh, and the manager on duty is generally an angry, bipolar, emotional psycho. Why does any of this stuff matter to you?

I can only say this one way, and it's going to shatter your world. YOU ARE NOT THE ONLY PERSON IN THE FUCKING UNIVERSE.

This is how a typical ten minute period goes at my job: I have ten tables in my section, which is more than I am supposed to have, but we are understaffed - so I'm already pissed because I'm super busy and shouldn't be. There are four people at each table, and all of those people came to the restaurant because they need THINGS - which means there are 39 people in my section other than you that are waiting for me to bring them shit. The bartenders are busy with their guests but must also make my drinks for my tables and are taking forever, and I can't control that. The cooks are swamped with orders and don't have the manpower or the ingredients to make them all, they are yelling in a language I don't understand well and I am trying to explain to them that a child has a peanut allergy and their food has to be made separate - also, not something I can control. Table 6 needs another beer. Table 3 needs a glass of water and more dressing. Table 4 wants to pay but their credit card isn't going through, and I'm waiting on a desert for table 9 because it's their birthday and I have to find enough coworkers to help me sing to them. (In other words, YOU are not the only person waiting for shit!) My boss is yelling at me (in front of customers and coworkers,) because table 3 complained about not getting their dressing fast enough, I'm stressed about my exam tomorrow, and now YOU are yelling at me because your food isn't out yet. I assure you, asshole, you will be stuffing a cheeseburger in your fat mouth soon enough, I didn't forget you, but clearly I have a lot more going on!

That's the thing about restaurants. People expect to come in and eat within seconds, but it actually takes more than that to prepare your meal. Restaurants like the one I work at are places for you to get "fast food" slowly. People also seem to forget that servers are not machines which you deposit money into to receive food. We have lives and emotions that are affected by the people who scream at us all day long, the pace of our work, and the overall stress of the job. It's also very physically taxing. By the end of the week, my body feels like it's breaking down. Honestly, I feel like I'm 80 years old because I spent the entire week running around and bringing shit to people who didn't even appreciate it. But it pays the bills...sort of. I'm tired, I'm stressed, and there's nothing I can do about it because I need the money. But you know, you expect me to shit rainbows once I am in your presence because you don't understand that I'm a human being. Sometimes I wonder how the people who yell at me would react if someone were treating them or their children the way that they treat me. I bet they'd rethink their attitude. Maybe.

This is getting too ranty. All I'm saying is that there are many factors behind why you don't immediately receive everything you want the second you walk in the door, and if you expect that, you must be fucking high. The restaurant doesn't work that way.

Now eat your fucking food and leave me a good tip because I did my job. Yeah, tipping...we'll talk about that later.

-J

What does your waitress really think?

Before we begin, let me introduce myself. My name is Jen, and I have worked full time in a restaurant for four years as a server and bartender. Despite my best efforts, I have learned to loathe my customers. It's not that I hate people, because I don't...not really, anyway. I'm not old and bitter, and I'm not an angry person in general. People, however, seem to feel that because they are paying for food, they are also paying to be able to abuse their server and act like a needy, whining tyrant. I guess you could say I've become a little...jaded with the service industry. Since it's best that I don't approach my tables and tell them that they're fucking assholes, I've created this blog to share my experiences as a server, as well as give advice on how to be less of a jerk.

Welcome to Your Server Hates You - if you are here, you either work in a restaurant and can commiserate, or you go to restaurants and probably have a few things to learn about why your server hates you. Even if you think you're the ideal customer, you're probably doing something really, really irritating. Read and learn!

Here's a sample of some of the things I will discuss in this blog:

• Being aware of your surroundings
• How to act appropriately in public
• Arguments for and against the American tipping custom
• Customer modifications of menu items
• Controlling your unruly children
• Being condescending
• Your bartender is never going to have sex with you. Ever.
• Bathroom etiquette (and I can't believe I need to write about this for adults)
• Knowing what you want
• Complaints and concerns
• Coming in late
• How to drink in public
• How to dress like a fucking human
• ...and so much more!

Of course, my experience in restaurants may vary from what others experience. I can tell you, however, that I have many friends in many restaurants across the country, and our stories are eerily similar. People are dicks no matter where you go, and we all deal with arrogant, self-important fucktards on a daily basis. Maybe you're not that bad. Maybe you're just a mom who wants to take her kids out to eat. But if you're letting them play with the sugar packets, you're still a dick. Maybe you're coming in to a restaurant with an allergy and you need to modify an item. That's fine, but if you're getting crazy with it, you're definitely still a dick.This blog will tell you why, and what you can do to change it.

Bon appetit, jerks.

-J