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
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