Mr. Rude from my last post was practically angel compared to the abrasive racist I waited on today. I think this horrible man wins the prize of the most unpleasant person I've ever waited on, perhaps even met.
This man and his young son were the second table I had today (not a wonderful way to start your work week after two days off). They walked directly onto the patio and sat themselves. Remember from a previous post I wrote how this kind of behavior is irritating and is almost always a red flag suggesting a high maintenance table? Yep. HUGE red flag. I welcomed them to the restaurant and asked the man if he wanted a kid's menu for his son. He replied with a stern,"No", then I immediately noticed he was foreign. I proceeded to get two regular lunch menus and placed them at the table. After taking a moment to glance at the menus, the man asked for a kid's menu. Really? Oh my god. I gave him the benefit of the doubt and was hoping it was just a miscommunication and a language barrier issue. I brought the kids's menu. He freaked out. In his poor English, he exploded "This is ALL you have? This is it? You should have 80 items to choose from!" I promise on my Journalism Degree, this guys actually used the number 80. He then proceeded, "Ugh, you Americans and your Mac and Cheese." I quickly replied. "Kids love Mac and Cheese and are usually happy to see that on the menu. We like to keep the kids happy here, Sir." He then snipped back, "Why don't you have something like gnocchi with several sauces to choose from?" My temperature began to rise and my heart began to beat faster. I replied, "Sir, we are not an Italian restaurant." At this point, I was just hoping he would leave. If only I'd been so lucky. We verbally wrestled back and forth a few more times until the man decided to ask his son if he wanted to stay. The kid cheerfully responded, "Si Papi!" Damn.
The father settles on the kid's fish plate, which includes buttered white rice and sauteed vegetables. He asked if he could get a salad instead of rice. "Of course," I immediately blurt out (but in my head I knew I was going to charge him extra for that). He insisted on telling me he wanted red wine vinegar with the salad. "Sure, no problem." Done. "Anything for you, Sir?" Nope. Apparently, just the kid was eating. Of course. My food runner ran the first course out, which is a mixed fruit place (standard on all kid's menus). He argued with the food runner, "This is dessert! We didn't order this! Why are we getting dessert first?!" My food runner explained that's what the kid's menus come with and we serve it first. The food runner came inside and told me all of this then asked, "What's wrong with that guy? I don't like him." I roll my eyes, "I know, he's awful." I continued, "Fire that food ASAP so we can get him outta here." He adamantly agreed. As I was hiding from this guy near the bar, I noticed he was on his cell, on speaker, talking very loudly, using dramatic hand gestures and antics. Ugh. So obnoxious. Just then I realized I had to check on the table next to them. God I didn't want to go out there. When I did, they asked if they could move tables because the guy on the cell phone was "being way too loud." This guy had successfully managed to not only piss me off, but the food runner and the two people next to him as well. Unbelievable.
When his food was finally served, I was at the bar picking up drinks for a different table near them. As I walked by I anxiously asked, "How is everything?" He quickly burst out, "Where is the olive oil? I need olive oil." Ahhhh! I scream on the inside. At this point, I had to fight back a little. "Sir, you only told me you wanted vinegar." To which he replied, "Every great country in the world serves olive oil and vinegar with salad!" Of course I know olive oil and vinegar is a classic combonation for salads. Did he just insult my intelegence too? But he didn't mention he wanted olive oil, and frankly, I thought he was being extremely picky and perhaps heath conscious for his kid. Reluctantly, I told him I'd be back. First, however, I had to drop drinks off and take a food order. While I was at that table taking their order, I notice Sr. Tactless got up and went inside the restaurant. Ugh! "He couldn't even bare the thought of waiting a few minutes," I thought. I tried to focus on my current table's order, but all I could think about is what a scene he must be making inside. I enter and head straight to the computer to enter my food order. I can hear him asking for olive oil from another server as he's standing at the sushi bar. It was at this moment, I realized how impatient and completely absurd this guy was. I walked to the kitchen, got him the olive oil and practically followed the guy back out to his table (because he was still inside complaining). His son must be having a wonderful family lunch outside all by himself this whole time. As I followed him back to his table, I placed the olive oil on the table. He muttered something in Spanish under his breath. I decided to ask the little boy a question, "How's your fish?" And without even letting the boy respond, the irritated father replied, "It's awful because his salad wasn't prepared properly and he couldn't eat them together." I watched as he dumped the entire ramekin of olive oil onto the salad and began to mix it up and eat it himself. I simply walked away. I had no response at that point. Because at that time, my only response was one that would have probably got me fired. So I chose to be the better person and walked away. What could I say at that point? I was not about to apologize for something that didn't need apologizing for, nor did I want to continue fueling his inconsiderate babble.
Complete avoidance was my best tactic for the remainder of his stay. I didn't even make eye contact when I had to walk by his table. After 15 minutes or so passed, I was forced to ask him if he was ready for the dessert (that is sadly - in this case - included with the kid's meal). I ordered the tiny creme brulee and printed the check. I dropped it immediately. Again, I avoided the table until I saw his credit card out. Surprisingly, he didn't question my additional charge for the "substitution" of the salad that he obviously ate. I swiped his card, said "Thank you. Have a nice afternoon." Yuck. I hated even saying that. But I am a professional, and I can't be rude. It's just not in my blood.
I hid at the bar again as he took off on his bicycle with his son on his smaller bike. I was expecting a zero dollar tip, but was surprised to find he tipped me $3.00 on his $17.00 check. But let's face it: three dollars for everything I put up with is practically nothing. And they both esentially ate lunch for under $20 at a four star restaurant. Cheap ass. At that point, when someone is that difficult, the tip doesn't even matter (well, I guess a $100 tip might have made up for it).
However, I still would have blogged about it, and I still would consider him the most abrasive man in the world.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Friday, June 22, 2012
Mr. Rude
The rush hit my section like a bomb. Within ten minutes I had six tables. What just happened? I asked the host, "Why did you just slam me?" I tried to ask as nice as possible, but I know I came off rather graceless. I couldn't help it though. I was doing fine, then BOOM, slammed. I hate that. All servers hate that. It's just not fair. It's practically impossible to give stellar service in a situation like that. Anyway, I think I managed it okay... for the most part. Well, at least I thought I did, until this one man rudely told me otherwise.
His table started off without him - it was just three women and a young girl. I was thinking it was a casual ladies day out. Easy. The table flowed smoothly, as far as I was concerned. They got their drinks, their appetizers and their main entrees in a timely manner. Then, two men showed up. One of the men told me he was in a hurry (Mr. Rude.. I'll call him... who ended up ruining my day). My first thought was, "Oh great. Of course. Right in the smack dab middle of my rush, this guy is in a hurry." (A note to you diners out there: it's very annoying when people join a table and don't tell the staff that they might have joiners. We have to stop everything, add tables, chairs and place settings, and then, of course, rush the food and drink out. It completely throws everything off it's normal pace). After demanding menus and drinks immediately, they ordered a cheeseburger well done and lots of sushi (both of which, as you can imagine, take a while for a kitchen to prepare)." I was going to say something and tell them to order something else, but I decided not too. I continued to work my section, making laps over and over again, delivering drinks on trays, taking orders, clearing plates, the usual. I kept eying their table. The food seemed to come out in the average 15 minutes. I checked in once and everything seemed to be okay; no frantic faces or anyone eying me back. The next time I passed, I noticed Mr. Rude waving me down for the check. I told him I'd be back to bring him his check. When I dropped it off, I had three other checks on my tray, as well a a glass of Zinfandel. He fumbled around with the check, looking at the total. I assumed he was looking for an automatic gratuity charge (because the rules stipulate the automatic gratuity is included for a party of 6 or more, which they ended up being). I politely told him I didn't put it on because he was in a hurry and I couldn't find a managers card to add the gratuity. I was saving time by not adding it (although this is risky behavior, I try to put the guest's needs before mine). He told me he wanted me to add the 18%. I told him, "Thank you," and that I would, and I'd be right back. Of course, right then, I got stuck taking a very complicated sushi order, two tables away from his. I also had to stop at a few other tables too as they all seemed to want to pay as well... of course! (this is inevitably what happens when servers get sat too many tables at once). On my way back into the restaurant, Mr. Rude followed me in and demanded I run his card immediately because he had to speak at a convention (why didn't he tell me this sooner?!). Thankfully the manager's card was there so I could add the 18% gratuity as he requested. I swiped his card and printed the check, feeling a bit uncomfortable with him staring me down. He bolted, "This is a quite a large automatic tip for such horrible service." He made a frightening scene and stormed out.
Guess he wasn't the speaker in an anger management convention.
First of all, anyone who yells at someone who's providing a service for them is rude, inconsiderate and, well, ... (I can think of a lot of other words too)... cruel. Second of all, if he was in that much of a hurry from the get go, be proactive! Don't just sit there and get mad that I haven't brought you the check. Can he really blame me for being late? He did show up a half hour late to his lunch with his family. And, unless he was completely oblivious to his surroundings, he knew the restaurant was really busy. Lastly, why would he ask for me to add the gratuity to just spit it back in my face? What kind of passive aggressive nonsense is that? UGH.
Tip: If you're in a hurry at a restaurant, don't do the following:
1.) Order a frozen margarita
2.) Ask for one of the most time consuming food items on the menu
3.) Wait until the last minute before you have to leave to ask for the check - especially when it's obvious the server is busy.
If you didn't catch that, Mr. Rude was guilty of all of the "don'ts" above.
As awful as he made me feel for the remainder of my day, I had to remind myself that it truly wasn't all my fault.
His table started off without him - it was just three women and a young girl. I was thinking it was a casual ladies day out. Easy. The table flowed smoothly, as far as I was concerned. They got their drinks, their appetizers and their main entrees in a timely manner. Then, two men showed up. One of the men told me he was in a hurry (Mr. Rude.. I'll call him... who ended up ruining my day). My first thought was, "Oh great. Of course. Right in the smack dab middle of my rush, this guy is in a hurry." (A note to you diners out there: it's very annoying when people join a table and don't tell the staff that they might have joiners. We have to stop everything, add tables, chairs and place settings, and then, of course, rush the food and drink out. It completely throws everything off it's normal pace). After demanding menus and drinks immediately, they ordered a cheeseburger well done and lots of sushi (both of which, as you can imagine, take a while for a kitchen to prepare)." I was going to say something and tell them to order something else, but I decided not too. I continued to work my section, making laps over and over again, delivering drinks on trays, taking orders, clearing plates, the usual. I kept eying their table. The food seemed to come out in the average 15 minutes. I checked in once and everything seemed to be okay; no frantic faces or anyone eying me back. The next time I passed, I noticed Mr. Rude waving me down for the check. I told him I'd be back to bring him his check. When I dropped it off, I had three other checks on my tray, as well a a glass of Zinfandel. He fumbled around with the check, looking at the total. I assumed he was looking for an automatic gratuity charge (because the rules stipulate the automatic gratuity is included for a party of 6 or more, which they ended up being). I politely told him I didn't put it on because he was in a hurry and I couldn't find a managers card to add the gratuity. I was saving time by not adding it (although this is risky behavior, I try to put the guest's needs before mine). He told me he wanted me to add the 18%. I told him, "Thank you," and that I would, and I'd be right back. Of course, right then, I got stuck taking a very complicated sushi order, two tables away from his. I also had to stop at a few other tables too as they all seemed to want to pay as well... of course! (this is inevitably what happens when servers get sat too many tables at once). On my way back into the restaurant, Mr. Rude followed me in and demanded I run his card immediately because he had to speak at a convention (why didn't he tell me this sooner?!). Thankfully the manager's card was there so I could add the 18% gratuity as he requested. I swiped his card and printed the check, feeling a bit uncomfortable with him staring me down. He bolted, "This is a quite a large automatic tip for such horrible service." He made a frightening scene and stormed out.
Guess he wasn't the speaker in an anger management convention.
First of all, anyone who yells at someone who's providing a service for them is rude, inconsiderate and, well, ... (I can think of a lot of other words too)... cruel. Second of all, if he was in that much of a hurry from the get go, be proactive! Don't just sit there and get mad that I haven't brought you the check. Can he really blame me for being late? He did show up a half hour late to his lunch with his family. And, unless he was completely oblivious to his surroundings, he knew the restaurant was really busy. Lastly, why would he ask for me to add the gratuity to just spit it back in my face? What kind of passive aggressive nonsense is that? UGH.
Tip: If you're in a hurry at a restaurant, don't do the following:
1.) Order a frozen margarita
2.) Ask for one of the most time consuming food items on the menu
3.) Wait until the last minute before you have to leave to ask for the check - especially when it's obvious the server is busy.
If you didn't catch that, Mr. Rude was guilty of all of the "don'ts" above.
As awful as he made me feel for the remainder of my day, I had to remind myself that it truly wasn't all my fault.
Saturday, June 16, 2012
Summer Has Officially Begun
Funny... Yesterday I started a drab post about how there's been nothing to write about lately because it's been so slow at work. I hadn't finished it yet because it was a rather dull post, mirroring on the whole theme of nothing to write about. Fate saved me from that pointless banter, and ironically enough, tonight at work was busy and full of stories. I deleted that spiritless post and am writing a new one, with a awaken motivation.
Tonight was a slow build to full blown chaotic mess. Because it has been so slow, I wasn't mentally prepared for the hustle. I really had to switch my brain from first gear to fifth. At one point, when I was in front of the computer, I had to take a deep breath and remind myself, "Okay. Focus. Breath. Concentrate. It's time to switch gears." I finally got in my zone but I was still at a high stress level. The San Diego summer season has officially begun.
The stress wouldn't have been as bad as it weren't for management calling off a busser. That's one thing that's really difficult to judge in a restaurant - how busy it's going to be. If the reservation count is low and we've been really slow all week, cutting a busser seems like the right thing to do. On the other hand, it is Friday night, and you just never know. Well, they picked the wrong Friday night to call off the extra two hands we all could have definitely used. Clients were without waters for over 5 minutes or more - a huge no-no at a corporate fine dining restaurant. Bread sometimes came after the first course. Also a huge no-no. But what could I do? Hardly anything. I was slammed too. Of course I took waters out a few times when it was a total necessity. But doing that also puts me back a few minutes on other important tasks I should be doing, like ordering food and drinks, or opening a bottle of wine, or presenting the dessert menu. Anyway, we all survived. But it would have been much easier with that extra set of hands.
Tonight was filled with "transient" guests (we refer to transients as people who are travelers, non-San Diego residents, and anyone who is literally passing by on the boardwalk and have decided to come in and dine. They are not a hotel guest, our normal, steady clientele (who might be at the hotel for a convention or meeting and have an expense account). They are out-of-towners and are from all over the world. These people are usually high maintenance, usually on a budget (low spenders and low tippers) and are, for the most part, usually clueless about the normal dining world; a difficult bunch, to say the least.
There were many stories from the evening that I could write about; however, the most interesting story of the night comes from a young transient couple. They were on vacation from Memphis, but the male was originally from the Caribbean (which explained why the slight breeze at dusk made him chilly, requiring them to switch to an inside table.) He ordered a sweet tea, which obviously we didn't have. This is not The South (it's amazing how many Southerners ask for sweet tea). I gave him an Arnold Palmer instead (iced tea and lemonade.. of course I made his 3/4 lemonade, 1/4 iced tea). The female simply requested water. They were asking me for all kinds of different snacking foods that we don't offer on our menu. I had to reiterate several times that the menu in front of them was all we had available at the moment. I convinced them to order two of the most "Southern" items we had, fried spring rolls and crab cakes. They enjoyed them. They decided to order off the dinner menu next. The male asked me about the Osso Bucco. I explained to him that it was lamb, bone in, and what it came with. He despised vegetables so I told him I could give him rice and potatoes if he wanted. That seemed to work. The female told me she just wanted "fish and rice". Our menu is much more complicated than just fish and rice. I gave her options of what we had available. But her mind kept wandering to something completely different - the lobster pot pie. I told her it was really good, but a heavier dish, including a pastry top, chunks of lobster, cream sauce, Boursin cheese and vegetables. She kept asking me a million questions and she still couldn't decide. The male told me to put his order in because he was starving and told me to come back to take her order because she needed more time. Who does that? They realized the timing of their meals was going to be way off, right? In the meantime, they asked for more bread and butter. Obviously. As my section was starting to fill up, I got busier and busier. After five minutes or so passed, the female began to stare me down, and I'm thinking, "This is why you order together people!" I eventually got over to the table and she still was confused. I just told her to go for the lobster pot pie. It's creamy, rich and delicious. She commits. Thank God. The Osso Bucco was delivered and he seemed to like it. About 15 minutes later or so, the lobster pot pie arrived. Everything seemed to be going well. I was working my other tables, juggling everything and in my zone. Then suddenly, the couple stares me down again and gets my attention. "Oh god, what now," I thought. I walk up to the table and ask, "Everything okay?" The female quickly responds, "Is there pork in this?" My heart skips a beat. I'm speechless. Think! I wasn't sure to be honest. I reply with my honest answer. She told me, "I don't eat pork. I think there's pork in here. " She pushed the pot pie away from her. She's disgusted. Appalled. I asked her if she wanted a menu and order something else. She said no. The male, equally disturbed, asked to see the menu again and that he's ready for the bill. Damn. I cleared her plate and walked over to the side station. "She never asked me specifically if it had pork in it," I thought nervously. "Although if I knew it had pork, of course, I would have mentioned it." Ugh. What a mess. I immediately got anxious. I felt so bad. Is pork against her religion? Is she going to go puke in the bathroom? Oh god... I opened the menu and checked it out. "Lobster, winter vegetables, Boursin cheese, linguica, puff pastry." Ugh. "Linguica." I think that's Portugese sausage. How did this slip my mind?! Meanwhile, I had four other tables staring me down, ready to order, needing more drinks, ready for their check, and I was in the middle of a crisis! My heart rate spiked. I needed a manager. Stat. ASAP. None were around. Of course. I had to continue working my tables, avoiding that particular table and it's nasty situation and all the while, keep my professionalism. "Where is my manager?! God I need him!" I knew he would tell me to take the lobster pot pie off their check, so that's what I did. I had to talk with them and bring them the check. There was no avoiding it any longer. Too much time had already passed. I took off the pot pie, went to their table, apologized again, and hoped they had a great eventing (a bit of a moo point, but I am a professional, and that's what I'm required to to say). I refilled their water again, smiled softly, and avoided eye contact until they left.
From this moment on, if someone asks me about the lobster pot pie, I will never forget to mention it the Portuguese sausage. Ever again.
Sometimes, you gotta learn the hard way. What a night.
At least it saved me from posting that hideous dull blog I was about to publish.
Tonight was a slow build to full blown chaotic mess. Because it has been so slow, I wasn't mentally prepared for the hustle. I really had to switch my brain from first gear to fifth. At one point, when I was in front of the computer, I had to take a deep breath and remind myself, "Okay. Focus. Breath. Concentrate. It's time to switch gears." I finally got in my zone but I was still at a high stress level. The San Diego summer season has officially begun.
The stress wouldn't have been as bad as it weren't for management calling off a busser. That's one thing that's really difficult to judge in a restaurant - how busy it's going to be. If the reservation count is low and we've been really slow all week, cutting a busser seems like the right thing to do. On the other hand, it is Friday night, and you just never know. Well, they picked the wrong Friday night to call off the extra two hands we all could have definitely used. Clients were without waters for over 5 minutes or more - a huge no-no at a corporate fine dining restaurant. Bread sometimes came after the first course. Also a huge no-no. But what could I do? Hardly anything. I was slammed too. Of course I took waters out a few times when it was a total necessity. But doing that also puts me back a few minutes on other important tasks I should be doing, like ordering food and drinks, or opening a bottle of wine, or presenting the dessert menu. Anyway, we all survived. But it would have been much easier with that extra set of hands.
Tonight was filled with "transient" guests (we refer to transients as people who are travelers, non-San Diego residents, and anyone who is literally passing by on the boardwalk and have decided to come in and dine. They are not a hotel guest, our normal, steady clientele (who might be at the hotel for a convention or meeting and have an expense account). They are out-of-towners and are from all over the world. These people are usually high maintenance, usually on a budget (low spenders and low tippers) and are, for the most part, usually clueless about the normal dining world; a difficult bunch, to say the least.
There were many stories from the evening that I could write about; however, the most interesting story of the night comes from a young transient couple. They were on vacation from Memphis, but the male was originally from the Caribbean (which explained why the slight breeze at dusk made him chilly, requiring them to switch to an inside table.) He ordered a sweet tea, which obviously we didn't have. This is not The South (it's amazing how many Southerners ask for sweet tea). I gave him an Arnold Palmer instead (iced tea and lemonade.. of course I made his 3/4 lemonade, 1/4 iced tea). The female simply requested water. They were asking me for all kinds of different snacking foods that we don't offer on our menu. I had to reiterate several times that the menu in front of them was all we had available at the moment. I convinced them to order two of the most "Southern" items we had, fried spring rolls and crab cakes. They enjoyed them. They decided to order off the dinner menu next. The male asked me about the Osso Bucco. I explained to him that it was lamb, bone in, and what it came with. He despised vegetables so I told him I could give him rice and potatoes if he wanted. That seemed to work. The female told me she just wanted "fish and rice". Our menu is much more complicated than just fish and rice. I gave her options of what we had available. But her mind kept wandering to something completely different - the lobster pot pie. I told her it was really good, but a heavier dish, including a pastry top, chunks of lobster, cream sauce, Boursin cheese and vegetables. She kept asking me a million questions and she still couldn't decide. The male told me to put his order in because he was starving and told me to come back to take her order because she needed more time. Who does that? They realized the timing of their meals was going to be way off, right? In the meantime, they asked for more bread and butter. Obviously. As my section was starting to fill up, I got busier and busier. After five minutes or so passed, the female began to stare me down, and I'm thinking, "This is why you order together people!" I eventually got over to the table and she still was confused. I just told her to go for the lobster pot pie. It's creamy, rich and delicious. She commits. Thank God. The Osso Bucco was delivered and he seemed to like it. About 15 minutes later or so, the lobster pot pie arrived. Everything seemed to be going well. I was working my other tables, juggling everything and in my zone. Then suddenly, the couple stares me down again and gets my attention. "Oh god, what now," I thought. I walk up to the table and ask, "Everything okay?" The female quickly responds, "Is there pork in this?" My heart skips a beat. I'm speechless. Think! I wasn't sure to be honest. I reply with my honest answer. She told me, "I don't eat pork. I think there's pork in here. " She pushed the pot pie away from her. She's disgusted. Appalled. I asked her if she wanted a menu and order something else. She said no. The male, equally disturbed, asked to see the menu again and that he's ready for the bill. Damn. I cleared her plate and walked over to the side station. "She never asked me specifically if it had pork in it," I thought nervously. "Although if I knew it had pork, of course, I would have mentioned it." Ugh. What a mess. I immediately got anxious. I felt so bad. Is pork against her religion? Is she going to go puke in the bathroom? Oh god... I opened the menu and checked it out. "Lobster, winter vegetables, Boursin cheese, linguica, puff pastry." Ugh. "Linguica." I think that's Portugese sausage. How did this slip my mind?! Meanwhile, I had four other tables staring me down, ready to order, needing more drinks, ready for their check, and I was in the middle of a crisis! My heart rate spiked. I needed a manager. Stat. ASAP. None were around. Of course. I had to continue working my tables, avoiding that particular table and it's nasty situation and all the while, keep my professionalism. "Where is my manager?! God I need him!" I knew he would tell me to take the lobster pot pie off their check, so that's what I did. I had to talk with them and bring them the check. There was no avoiding it any longer. Too much time had already passed. I took off the pot pie, went to their table, apologized again, and hoped they had a great eventing (a bit of a moo point, but I am a professional, and that's what I'm required to to say). I refilled their water again, smiled softly, and avoided eye contact until they left.
From this moment on, if someone asks me about the lobster pot pie, I will never forget to mention it the Portuguese sausage. Ever again.
Sometimes, you gotta learn the hard way. What a night.
At least it saved me from posting that hideous dull blog I was about to publish.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Working for The Man
The past few days at work have been oddly slow. Consequently, it
presents me with an opportunity to write about a topic that I've thought
about for a while, which is difference between working at a corporate
restaurant versus a 'Mom and Pop' restaurant.
I've worked at a family owned restaurant, two national restaurant chains, one internationally renowned hotel-owned restaurant (which I am currently at), I've co-owned my own restaurant and I've worked at a partnership restaurant with several local (San Diego) locations. Without a doubt, my favorite restaurants I've worked at were the smaller ones: the family owned "Mom and Pop" restaurant, as well as the local partnership restaurant which had a similar family feel.
The smaller ones are inevitably easier. You go in, do your job, you leave. This might not be the case with all smaller restaurants (Lord knows the restaurant I used to co-own and operate wasn't the easiest place for our employees to work at!). However, in general, there's less staff, less drama, less management, less product, not as many rules, less paperwork, little hierarchy, less stress, not as much side work, and not to mention, less product and service manuals and testing. Bottom line, less work and generally more enjoyable. That's been my experience at least.
In the corporate world, as you might have guessed, it' more of everything mentioned above. More drama, more stress, more menu testing, more beverage quizzes, monthly department meetings, hierarchy till your blue in the face, more rules, longer time to change policies (not to mention longer time to order something new or to fix anything), more politics in every department, more side work, more staff, more people, more personalities... complete bureaucracy. It's a freaking small town in there! The list goes on. I could easily write a book about this topic, but I probably wouldn't have the patience because I'm getting flustered just thinking about all of the issues that come up on a daily basis at a hotel restaurant if this caliber. Yes, the benefits are good, including their employee recognition programs, discounts on hotel rooms throughout the world, and of course, the almighty good quality, yet inexpensive, health insurance. And the latter two benefits is what keeps us there. We get suckered into the health plan and the free rooms, and that's supposed to make us feel better about our jobs at the end of the day. That's what keeps us there. No matter what department, housekeeping, laundry, rooms, food and beverage, banquets, engineering, etc.. there's that common bond we all share that when we have a bad day, or we're working long hours, or when we work even more hours on a holiday weekend, we all think, "Hey. At least we have good benefits." Ugh.
I could expand greatly on this topic, but for now I'm throwing in the towel. Maybe on another slow week when I have little to write about, I'll revisit the differences between corporate versus non-corporate restaurants and dig deeper into into.
Until, then I have to get ready for work on this beautiful Sunday. I've got to log those hours in so I can keep enjoying my benefits.
I've worked at a family owned restaurant, two national restaurant chains, one internationally renowned hotel-owned restaurant (which I am currently at), I've co-owned my own restaurant and I've worked at a partnership restaurant with several local (San Diego) locations. Without a doubt, my favorite restaurants I've worked at were the smaller ones: the family owned "Mom and Pop" restaurant, as well as the local partnership restaurant which had a similar family feel.
The smaller ones are inevitably easier. You go in, do your job, you leave. This might not be the case with all smaller restaurants (Lord knows the restaurant I used to co-own and operate wasn't the easiest place for our employees to work at!). However, in general, there's less staff, less drama, less management, less product, not as many rules, less paperwork, little hierarchy, less stress, not as much side work, and not to mention, less product and service manuals and testing. Bottom line, less work and generally more enjoyable. That's been my experience at least.
In the corporate world, as you might have guessed, it' more of everything mentioned above. More drama, more stress, more menu testing, more beverage quizzes, monthly department meetings, hierarchy till your blue in the face, more rules, longer time to change policies (not to mention longer time to order something new or to fix anything), more politics in every department, more side work, more staff, more people, more personalities... complete bureaucracy. It's a freaking small town in there! The list goes on. I could easily write a book about this topic, but I probably wouldn't have the patience because I'm getting flustered just thinking about all of the issues that come up on a daily basis at a hotel restaurant if this caliber. Yes, the benefits are good, including their employee recognition programs, discounts on hotel rooms throughout the world, and of course, the almighty good quality, yet inexpensive, health insurance. And the latter two benefits is what keeps us there. We get suckered into the health plan and the free rooms, and that's supposed to make us feel better about our jobs at the end of the day. That's what keeps us there. No matter what department, housekeeping, laundry, rooms, food and beverage, banquets, engineering, etc.. there's that common bond we all share that when we have a bad day, or we're working long hours, or when we work even more hours on a holiday weekend, we all think, "Hey. At least we have good benefits." Ugh.
I could expand greatly on this topic, but for now I'm throwing in the towel. Maybe on another slow week when I have little to write about, I'll revisit the differences between corporate versus non-corporate restaurants and dig deeper into into.
Until, then I have to get ready for work on this beautiful Sunday. I've got to log those hours in so I can keep enjoying my benefits.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Rock 'n Roll Marathoners
The famous San Diego Rock and Roll Marathon was on Sunday. Downtown was filled with 40,000 runners, selling out every hotel in the area. All of a sudden, it seemed like everyone walking and jogging along the boardwalk was insanely fit. It made for excellent people watching while clients dined and stuffed their faces. What was bothering me, however, was the amount of neon running shoes and workout clothes I saw. Since when did bright neon become a popular fitness color again? I know the 80's style is back and all (puke), but what gives! I understand that neon is great as far as safety when you're jogging along the road, and for that, it definitely serves a purpose. But as far a fashion, this bright lime/yellow/orange it's hideous. I'm a fan of hot pink, because, let's face it, blondes look great in hot pink. But these other neon colors are driving me crazy.
Okay, I'm done venting about neon.
I waited on a 70 year old Italian man who was here for the marathon. He ate a huge bowl of pasta on Saturday, along with a Heineken. He followed that with a chocolate dessert and paired it with a sweet Riesling from Mosel. He tipped me well, 35%. He was back the next day, around noon or so after the race. He told me he finished the half marathon in one hour and 50 minutes. That's amazing. I "ran" a 10K a few years ago in one hour and seven minutes (just less than half the distance of a half marathon). When I told him that he replied, "You mean, you walked." Low blow old man! But I had to laugh. I never walked. Of course, I probably did start my race at the pace of a tortoise. But I finished strong. I love seeing older people so fit, and yet, still eating and drinking so well.
I also waited on a larger woman, who said she was here for the marathon. I was a bit surprised, because she was quite big. But I thought, good for her! I waited on her Friday night. She had a couple glasses of wine, and a three course meal. She was a coach for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society Team in Training and was ultra friendly. She was back in the restaurant Sunday after the race with four others. She apparently walked the half marathon and said she was the last one to finish. However, she beat her time from the previous year by three minutes. She was proud. Of course then she proceeded to order a cheeseburger, fries and a cold beer. But more power to her. She's doing an amazing thing, for an even better cause. She was inspiring in her own way.
Most of the clients that weekend were very friendly and excited to be in San Diego for the big race. I know I feel better when I work out all the time. It's amazing what natural endorphins can do for the psyche.
I wish there was a marathon every weekend in San Diego. Good vibes. Happy people. Great tippers.
Except for those damn neon shoes.
Okay, I'm done venting about neon.
I waited on a 70 year old Italian man who was here for the marathon. He ate a huge bowl of pasta on Saturday, along with a Heineken. He followed that with a chocolate dessert and paired it with a sweet Riesling from Mosel. He tipped me well, 35%. He was back the next day, around noon or so after the race. He told me he finished the half marathon in one hour and 50 minutes. That's amazing. I "ran" a 10K a few years ago in one hour and seven minutes (just less than half the distance of a half marathon). When I told him that he replied, "You mean, you walked." Low blow old man! But I had to laugh. I never walked. Of course, I probably did start my race at the pace of a tortoise. But I finished strong. I love seeing older people so fit, and yet, still eating and drinking so well.
I also waited on a larger woman, who said she was here for the marathon. I was a bit surprised, because she was quite big. But I thought, good for her! I waited on her Friday night. She had a couple glasses of wine, and a three course meal. She was a coach for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society Team in Training and was ultra friendly. She was back in the restaurant Sunday after the race with four others. She apparently walked the half marathon and said she was the last one to finish. However, she beat her time from the previous year by three minutes. She was proud. Of course then she proceeded to order a cheeseburger, fries and a cold beer. But more power to her. She's doing an amazing thing, for an even better cause. She was inspiring in her own way.
Most of the clients that weekend were very friendly and excited to be in San Diego for the big race. I know I feel better when I work out all the time. It's amazing what natural endorphins can do for the psyche.
I wish there was a marathon every weekend in San Diego. Good vibes. Happy people. Great tippers.
Except for those damn neon shoes.
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Stuck in the Eye of the Storm
It's been a while since my last post. I guess I've been in a bit of a funk. Over the past week, work has been very sporadic and confusing. A busy day, followed by a slow one. A boring first hour of waiting around then "BAM!" like lightening out of the sky a flash of people blast through the restaurant; then just as quickly as it came, they're gone. Back to the calm of the eye of the storm.
The restaurant world is not a place for people who embrace the balanced and stable work environment. I'm a capricious woman, and I love not knowing what to expect everyday when I walk into work. There's a certain allure to it all.... The clients we meet and the places they come from, the management changes and their moods, the corporate world dining and schmoozing, the social aspect of it, the gossip (good Lord), the pedicabs pedaling along the boardwalk blasting their highly inappropriate music, the internal structural changes, people trying to break laws, the sociology of it all, the employee hiring, firing and quitting. It's fascinating.
But I'm bored. I'm bored of it all. Lately when I've been walking into work, I tell one of my food runners, "Otra dia mas..." He nods his head and smile and repeats it back to me. He's worked there, in that same hotel, in the same restaurant, in that same position for over ten years. It really is an otra dia mas for him. But in an industry so dynamic, so unpredictable, how can I be bored? I remember serving being fun. What happened?
I want my hurricane back. Maybe I'm stuck in that eye of the storm. When am I going to reach the other side?
Perhaps this eye, this funk I'm, in has to do with the June gloom, the famous coastal San Diego fog that sits grey and heavy in the sky this time of the year. I think it makes all of San Diego depressed.
The restaurant world is not a place for people who embrace the balanced and stable work environment. I'm a capricious woman, and I love not knowing what to expect everyday when I walk into work. There's a certain allure to it all.... The clients we meet and the places they come from, the management changes and their moods, the corporate world dining and schmoozing, the social aspect of it, the gossip (good Lord), the pedicabs pedaling along the boardwalk blasting their highly inappropriate music, the internal structural changes, people trying to break laws, the sociology of it all, the employee hiring, firing and quitting. It's fascinating.
But I'm bored. I'm bored of it all. Lately when I've been walking into work, I tell one of my food runners, "Otra dia mas..." He nods his head and smile and repeats it back to me. He's worked there, in that same hotel, in the same restaurant, in that same position for over ten years. It really is an otra dia mas for him. But in an industry so dynamic, so unpredictable, how can I be bored? I remember serving being fun. What happened?
I want my hurricane back. Maybe I'm stuck in that eye of the storm. When am I going to reach the other side?
Perhaps this eye, this funk I'm, in has to do with the June gloom, the famous coastal San Diego fog that sits grey and heavy in the sky this time of the year. I think it makes all of San Diego depressed.
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