So there's this girl...

So there's this tiny girl with big, wavy brunette hair who's been in twice within the past week or so.  She is one of the most bizarre people I’ve ever waited on.

She's allergic to everything but doesn't know what's in anything.  

On her first visit, for example, she actually asked me, “Does ice cream have fat in it?  I’m allergic to fat.”  Seriously?  Who doesn’t know ice cream has fat.  She continued, “What’s it made of?”  Again, who doesn’t know what ice cream is made of – milk, cream and sugar.  Then she asked, “Does sorbet have less fat?  It’s high in sugar though?  I’m allergic to sugar too.”  Okay.  At least she knew sorbet has high sugar content.  But really, allergic to fat?  Allergic to sugar?  Is this girl for real?  Or is this her deranged method of dieting - claiming allergies.  Whatever the case may be, this girl is no fun to be at a restaurant with.  She can’t have a boyfriend either. There’s just no way.

Every time I walked by her table, she’d get my attention, then start asking me more ridiculous questions.  “Do you use organic fruit?  Does this salad dressing have dairy?”  Of course, after her laundry list of questions, she still didn’t order anything.  The problem with these types of diners is that they’re incredibly time consuming, with virtually zero financial gain.  All questions, no decisions, no ordering of any kind.   Basically, one of the worst types of diners out there.  We, as servers, spend all of our time with these types, taking us away from other tables who are actually ordering food and beverage, and who will be tipping us appropriately.  And this issue almost always snowballs, eventually affecting our entire section of diners.  Because having to spend time with Miss Gazillion Questions actually takes us away from our clients who will be ordering promptly and who will be tipping us based on our performance.  So if we’re not around for them, our tip average just keeps plummeting all around us.  

On top of her so-called allergies and ridiculous ordering banter, she has a yappy dog named Fox (who looks exactly like a fox.. how creative) and who barks at all the other dogs. When he starts barking more than usual, the girl picks the dog up with her two hands like a baby, hold him nose to nose and says,”Nnnnno,” which as you can imagine, does not do a lot of good to stop him from barking.  If fact, it probably reinforces this behavior. 

Frustrating girl.  Annoying as hell dog.  They’re a match made in heaven. 

On her second visit, our conversation started like this:

Me: Hi again, how are you today?

Her: Good.

Me:  Something to drink to get you started?

Her:  Um, I’m allergic to alcohol.

Me:  Sure, iced tea, soda, juice?

Her:  I’m allergic to sugar.

Me:  Oh yes, that’s right.  (Keep in mind, she did end up ordering mango sorbet on her first visit.) I’ll get you an ice water.

Her:  I can’t have ice.  No ice please.

Me:  OK.  (Can’t have ice?!?) Something to eat then?

Her:  Well, I’m not really hungry right now, I just ate. 

Me:  OK.  Well then I’ll just let you relax for a while. 

I walked away and thought, “Really girl? Then what the hell are you actually doing here?”   

The first time she dined, she finally decided to design her own sushi role, then over 45 minutes later, went with the mango sorbet (allergic to sugar, I think not!).  On her second visit, she only ordered miso soup, which took her about 45 minutes to figure out, because she "wasn’t hungry" when she arrived.   

This is one form of an eating disorder I never knew existed. 

As much as I'm talking smack, I embrace these types of people.  They fascinate me.  I just can’t even begin to imagine what it would be like living in these people’s heads for a day.  I can only pray she comes back so I can wait on her again.  Even though she’s annoying to serve, she gives me great material to write about.   

And she makes me thankful I don’t live in a world where I’m scared of fat and sugar.  
~ HK ~

A Brief Pause Out of Necessity

This brief post is for all of my readers who've noticed I haven't written a single thing in over a month.

Most of my family and friends know I've been going through a difficult time; a transition, a major life change. But for all of you others out there, I want you to know I don't plan on ignoring this blog anymore.  I'm back and am planning on diving head first into this hobby of mine, hopefully stronger than ever.

Life can sometimes get ugly.  It can keep us from the things we enjoy and love.  As of today, I can officially say I am through that nasty headache which has prevented me from writing for what seems like an eternity.

Thanks for reading and your continuous support.

Timing is Everything: In Serving and in Life

Timing.  Relationships, jobs, friendships, career shifts, love and opportunities in life are all about timing.  If the timing is even slightly off, true love may never have a chance, a new friendship may never have the opportunity to blossom, or the opportunity for that promotion may never occur when you needed it, crushing your dreams for eternity.  Life can throw you a massive curve ball at any moment, and depending on the timing of it all, you may embrace it in a positive way or spiral downward until you crash and burn up in flames, never to recover.

Same is true in the restaurant world, only on a slightly smaller scale.

I've touched on this subject before, but over the past few days it's become more and more prominent, so much so that I've decided to dig deeper into the topic.  Perhaps it has something to do with the timing in my personal life, and the slap in the face timing - good and bad - at the restaurant too.   Whatever the reason it's happening now, I know the universe has created this celestial, thought-provoking timing topic for me, right now, for a reason.

I was swiftly cruising along through my work day (as happily as I could be for the fourth day of returning back to work after a week off), when suddenly, every single table needed something at once. And as timing would have it, immediately.  Ugh, stress retuned with a vengeance.  It's disturbing how the flow of my work day can go from steady to freak out in less than thirty seconds.  A new table had just sat and needed to be greeted.  At that very moment, two other tables told me they needed the check - separate ones (six total separate checks for two tables) - and of course right away because they'd just realized they were going to be late for a meeting.  I also had two drink orders waiting for me at the bar for two different tables and I was just about to go to the back and grab a side of ranch dressing for another table.  Help!  The most important factor right now - prioritize, multi-task, get help if I can and take a slow deep breath to regain power and quickly de-stress as much as possible, if at all.  Step One:  new table.  Tell them I'll be right with them.  Done.  Step Two:  Catch the food runner and tell him to bring me a side of ranch dressing for table four.  Step Three: grab the drinks at the bar because people are much happier after they've got alcohol in their bloodstream.  Step Four: print out six separate checks and deliver to tables one and twelve.  Step Five: while they get their credit cards out, I head back to the new table and take their order, with my 'everything is all good and I'm not stressed out at all' smile and demeanor.  Step Six: quickly pick up the credit cards at tables one and twelve and head to the side station.  Step Seven: enter the new table's order as quickly as possible.  Step Eight (clearly I could reach Step 218 by the end of the day): swipe all six credit cards and organize with pens and check presenters and rush them back to the tables.  Thank them, invite them back and head back to the bar to pick up the new drink orders.  Step whatever at this point: drop the drinks off at the new table while glancing over at my other tables, making sure no one needs anything else at that moment.  No? Phew.  Deep breath.

Later that day,  I was making new friends at table ten.  One was a yacht broker and another owned some vineyards in Napa (ummm... yes, I'd like to go out on your yacht and sip your wine tomorrow afternoon.  Sounds like a plan!  In my dreams).  Every time I went to their table, I had plenty of time to chit chat.  I found out where they were from, talked about wine (and of course my recent travels to Napa).  We talked about boating and how I grew up yachting in Canada and Alaska.  Shortly after their entrees arrived, I got sat a party of nine.  At this point, I had to redirect my attention to the large party, which are always time consuming.  When I checked back with table ten, probably after 15 minutes or so, I could tell they wanted to keep chatting, but I just couldn't spare the time.  Then, before I could even get the drinks out to my nine-top, I noticed a new table of three, who of course looked hungry, irritable and ready to order immediately.  And at that point, I realized my chances of talking any more to my yachter and wino were completely shot.  By the end of their meal, after I'd "neglected" them for a while, they joked, "We're sad you didn't have any more time for us..." to which I tactfully replied, "I've got all the time in the world, just not right this minute."  It was so frustrating, because as much as I wanted to get to know those two better, I just couldn't.  Time wouldn't allow it.  If that nine-top hadn't of walked in (and the additional three-top), who knows what kind of friendship I could have started, or maybe even a new career shift and/or a job opportunity.  But instead, I was forced to do my present job, and take care of everyone as equally and as efficiently as possible.  Of course, a couple minutes after my potential new buddies left the restaurant, my time freed up, and the flow of my section slowed back to a snail's pace.

What timing.

Reciprocation Vacation

It's not that I haven't been motivated to write over the past week or so;  I've been on vacation.  So please excuse the lapse in time between this post and the last, but I've been enjoying complete and absolute bliss.  In my world that translates to sipping wine and dining my way through Napa Valley.

étoile.  Chandon.  Napa.

I think I speak for most servers when I say there's almost nothing more enjoyable than going to a fine dining restaurant (or trendy, or casual chic, or old school glamorous or whatever type of restaurant you prefer) to be waited on.

We, the restaurant industry people, work so hard, day in and day out, weekends and evenings, holidays and happy hours.  We work our hardest when the normal eight-to-fivers are free to do what they desire. As the typical work force plays, we (service industry people) put aside all of our life's stresses and flash a beaming smile back at them, as actors in a play, wishing we were one of them out with friends drinking our worries away at happy hour.  Because we spend our entire "work week" serving others, it makes being served that much more special.

I believe that service industry people feel the need to be pampered more than the average person.  I could be wrong.  Perhaps everyone has the innate desire to be waited on.  It's about reciprocation.  We spend all of our time serving; therefore, we enjoying be served ourselves.  It all comes full circle in that divine way.

And I sure got my divine intervention over this past week in Napa and Sonoma.  Even if I mentioned I was in the industry, it was like I was a member of their elite society.  Whether it was a discount on a bottle of wine, or a free tasting at a winery, or just giving me the outstanding service I deserve, they knew I was a part of their society, the family, no further questions need to be asked.  Of course, if they hooked me up (with a discount), I hooked them up (with an eye-opening, brag to their fellow server in the side station type of tip).  Obviously.  That's what we family members do.  Reciprocate.   

I'm back home now.  Back to work and back to reality.  It's time to reciprocate in the other direction.

Time to serve my family again.

Comic Con Celebrity Encounters

Every year in the summertime, Comic Con International blasts through San Diego with superman force.  The geeks, the freaks and most recently the Hollywood A-Listers crowd the world famous San Diego Convention Center and the streets of the Gaslamp Quarter.  On any day during Comic Con, you might see a storm trooper pass you on 5th Street, a group of Halo characters drinking cocktails next to you at the bar, or if you're really lucky you might find yourself caught up in a zombie mob as you're crossing Market Street.  As San Diegans like to say, it's Halloween in July.

Thursday, day one of Comic Con, I waited on actor/comedian, Chris Parnell.  I was pretty stoked as he's been in tons of funny TV shows and movies.  He cracked a couple jokes at the table and I think I blushed a bit.  He was there during a busy lunch rush, mostly full of other Comic Con exhibitors sporting their badges around their necks.  The conversations at the tables were filled with industry chatter, talking of action figures, story boards and current and past movies.  It was like I was transplanted into a hipster Hollywood restaurant, learning all of the gossip from the producers, writers and who knows who else I served.

Saturday, day three of Comic Con, we saw a few celebrities here and there.  I actually got the opportunity to wait on the Sons of Anarchy stars Kim Coates and Theo Rossi.  I didn't know who they were at first, but I could tell there were famous.  Their style, their demeanor, their hairdos ... the fact they mentioned they were going to a "panel" later all tipped me off (the "panel" is the media interviews that take place at Comic Con).  They also passed on bread when we offered it to them and ordered practically zero carb lunches which also tipped me off they were actors.  One of my managers ending up informing me they were actors in Sons of Anarchy.  I don't watch the show, but had heard of it.  They were extremely polite and chatty.  The two actors were with a producer or some sort of executive who they kept calling "their boss."  The Executive Chef at our hotel was informed they were there, and apparently he's a huge fan, because he had to come to the table and not only greet them, but take a photo with them as well.  Those two guys were really cool, and after my encounter with them, I'm down to check out their show. They were truly good people.

Saturday night, very unfortunately after I left, the three guys from Workaholics came in.  I was, and still am, very sad that I wasn't there when they were.  I love that show.  If that says something about my style of humor, than be it.   I know that show is immature and ridiculous, but I love it. 

Comic Con, day two, Friday the 13th (yes I know I am backtracking, but because of the caliber of the celebrity who came into the restaurant on Friday, I thought I should end my post with his visit). 

The Friday night shift arrived and the entire staff was unusually goofy and excited for some reason.   There was just something wild and intriguing in the air that night.  A couple hours into my shift, my food runner told me I was waiting on one of the young X-Men actors from one of the newer movies.  I didn't know who he was until he told me, but I was happy I didn't know until after they were almost done.  Throughout my shift, more and more executives wined and dined their way through their Friday night networking meetings.  It was a ton of fun to eavesdrop and rub shoulders with the big wigs.

About the fourth hour into my shift, the excitement peaked as .. drum roll please ...  Mr. Anthony Bourdain himself walked into the restaurant and sat at the bar.  My mouth dropped.  I was star struck.  As a food lover, an avid traveler, a cook, a writer, and as a fan of his show No Reservations, I couldn't help but to stare.  It was actually him, sitting five feet in front of me, drinking a margarita, meeting up with a few friends.  I wanted to talk to him so bad, but of course, I had to maintain my professional composure.  My GM quickly got into action as soon as he noticed him sitting at the bar.  He shifted from third gear to fifth, as he informed everyone who he was (in case people didn't know), to be absolutely sure we were providing stellar service.  This was not only the GM's time to shine, but the restaurant as a whole as well.  If Anthony Bourdain walks into your restaurant, you'd better make his visit not only as perfect as possible, but you want to impress the hell out of him and wow his socks off.   A few minutes after Mr. Bourdain took his seat,  I saw our hotel's Executive Chef come out of the main kitchen in a suit to come and greet him.  That's was impressive.  I've never seen him change out of his chef's uniform (even for the photo with the Sons of Anarchy guys).  Keep in mind a much more experienced server waited on him, thank god it wasn't me.  I would have fumbled over my words and possibly spilled something on him out of pure nervousness.  Instead my GM chose a calm and confident server to wait on him instead.  Good call GM!  I kept peeking my head over at Mr. Bourdain's table, trying not to stare.  A few times as I passed through the kitchen, I noticed our Chef de Cuisine was intense in making sure his food came out immaculate.  She was also gathering her thoughts on what dessert special she could wow him with.  After their main course, our Executive Chef was back again at his table, checking in on his food and experience so far, I imagine.  I was busy with my own tables, but I couldn't help my attention wandering back over to his section.   Finally, after the special dessert the Chef de Cuisine prepared and executed, and after plenty of intelligent, witty and sophisticated moments at his table, a firework show bolted off Coronado and into the bright San Diego Bay skyline.  If he didn't like his meal, I sure hope the firework show sealed the deal.  What timing that show was.  Of course our GM or anyone at our hotel had nothing to do with the firework show, but as far as a wow factor, it couldn't have hurt.  In the end, when I noticed he was getting ready to leave, the GM, the Executive Chef, his server, along with another server who's just as big a fan as I am, and myself, stood at the exit and gave him a final farewell.  I grinned politely, and perhaps slightly flirtatiously, and said, "Goodbye Mr. Bourdain.  Thank you."  His eyes met mine briefly, as he mirrored my grin, nodded and said, "Thank you."  He waked down the stairs, and onto the harbor boardwalk, alone.  The lone traveler, the ever absorbed writer, the ultimate food fan and renowned chef, walking away from our restaurant, into the warm and gorgeous San Diego night.  The other female server and I just stared, wondered... Where was he headed?  Where was he staying?  What did he think of our restaurant?  And as quick as he came, he was gone.

Oh Comic Con.  You blast in as quickly as you blast out, a la Anothony Bourdain.   The crowded streets, the lack of parking, the costumes, the make up, the parties, the celebrities.. it's all such a whirlwind of an event.  As much as I'll never forget who I waited on, who I spied on from afar, who I missed and who I got nervous around, I proud to admit, I'm happy it's over.  Back to the normal, mellow San Diego lifestyle we all live here for.

Now, what should I be for Halloween this year...?

In a Hurry Schmurry!

Talk about an annoying party of eight.  Well, it was mostly just one person in particular who annoyed me, but nonetheless, it ruined the vibe at the entire table.  One nasty germ in a group will undoubtedly spread quickly like a virus.

It was a party of eight - seven females and one male.   The first few women ordered food that wasn't too complicated, right off the menu.  Then, the nasty germ released her toxic verbiage into the crowd and had to break that easy order taking ride for me.   She requested her own entree; nothing remotely close to an actual menu item - freaking Sundays!   After I complied with her special request, two other women piped up and asked, "Oh!  Can I do something like that too?"  Ugh.  Just as suspected, her germs were rapidly spreading and soon everyone wanted to change their order.  With all my being I wanted to say no.  But I couldn't.  I spent what felt like five minutes or more retaking orders.  The germ lady spoke up again, "We're actually in a hurry."  Of course you are.  I told her straight, "For larger parties, ma'am, it usually takes a minimum of 20 minutes."    She then leaned in toward me and said, "Well, could you actually ask the kitchen to hurry up.  We need to be at a hospital soon."  Seriously?  She pulled out the hospital card?  Really?!  It's possible they were all truly headed there.  But is this recent news supposed to make the cooks disregard all of their orders ahead of theirs or what?  And would anyone really ever run back to the kitchen and tell the cooks that?   I honestly doubt that if this party of eight truly had to be at a hospital, they wouldn't have stopped at a restaurant for a leisurely Sunday luncheon first. 

Almost immediately after the food came out, in what seemed like a reasonable amount of time, the germ told me she was ready for the check.  But wait!  She needed a nonfat cappuccino to go first.  Again, her germs spread quickly and another lady demanded she needed a soy latte to go.  Don't they understand that if they really needed to leave quickly that asking for two custom coffee drinks to go at a restaurant is going to take a minimum of 5-10 minute longer?  Maybe they were that oblivious.   Maybe they truly thought I could be as quick as a Starbucks and I've got baristas just waiting on pins and needles to make coffee drinks for me in the back of the restaurant.  What she didn't realize was that I had to find soy milk in the far back kitchen walk-in  (because there weren't any in either of the four refrigerators on the restaurant floor).  This was hardly a simple "coffee to go" task like she imagined.   Not to mention, I did have several other tables I was working.  The germ lady and her infected crew were not my only clients at that moment, and it was obvious I was juggling a lot of other requests.

After ten minutes or so, I finally got their coffee drinks and brought the check.  Luckily, because it was a party of eight, I was able to add a gratuity.  Mrs. Hurry Schmurry germ lady put a line through the tip section on the check, took her perfectly prepared nonfat cappuccino and left with the rest of them. 

Note to fellow diners in this world:  if you're in a hurry and you're with seven friends, don't go out to eat at a nice restaurant.  Go to a pizza place or a fast food restaurant and move on with whatever it is you need to do in such a hurry.  Putting that much pressure on the server, the kitchen, the bussers, etc.. just isn't fair.  It's actually quite rude, inconsiderate and unreasonable.  And for the love of god, if you do find yourself in that situation, please order off the menu.  Ordering specialty items takes so much longer.  From the server taking the order,  to placing the order in the computer, to the server clarifying the specialty entree to the cooks, to the cooks actually making the item, to the food runner double checking the specialty entree with the server, this process inevitably takes much more time than the average Joe might realize. 

Think about it.  And don't do it.   

There's a Menu for a Reason

As the first hour passed on this glorious Sunday, I was talking with a couple other servers and one of them suggested that we just close on Sundays.  This was the most genius idea I've heard in a long time.

I've written it before, and I'm writing it again, "What is it with the Sunday crowd?"  Every Sunday without fail, these nutty diners come out in full force.  They not only make us work harder (with all of their special menu requests), but they completely knock us off our rockers with their snobby attitudes and poor tipping habits and make our day a living hell. 

The number one annoyance from these typical Sunday crowds is the special menu requests; a.k.a., ordering something that's not on the menu. 

My very first table today (of a six hour shift) asked for something that doesn't exist on the menu whatsoever.  There's a reason restaurants have a menu.  Do these people just come to dine at our restaurant for the view?  The location?  The sunshine?  My guess is a big fat YES.  Most of our beloved Sunday crowd strolls by, sees our restaurant, is simply hungry and decides to take a seat.   But when they actually read the menu they freak out.  Modifications are normal; no tomato, no cheese, substitute fruit for french fries.  Sure.  Normal.  No problem.  I am happy to accommodate those requests.  But when people literally make up their own entrees - meaning nothing they want is even close to what we offer on the menu - it's extremely obnoxious, to say the least.  And the kicker for me is when people order with complete arrogance, like they just assume we can do whatever they want, no problem.  That was my first table today.  They ordered specific items that were not on the menu, ordered with snooty attitude, then ordered their cocktails, closed the menu and pushed it away and started chatting with each other.  Like I'm  just supposed to say, "Sure, no problem," and walk away.  There's a menu for a reason people. 

This is the mentality of the diner: "Hmmm... They have salmon in "entree A."  They have the potatoes I want in "entree B."  I see they have the mixed greens I want in "entree C." And I see they have the sauce I want in "entree D."  I'm sure they have tomato, cucumber, mushrooms and feta cheese back there too....   Therefore, they most certainly can combine all of those ingredients together and prepare them exactly as I'd like!"  Bzzzz!  Wrong!  Not exactly.  If that's really what you wanted, you should have stayed home and made it yourself.  A restaurant isn't your own kitchen.  Nor is it your friends' kitchen, and I am definitely not your friend at this moment.  It's an actual business with employees, specific inventory and a hierarchy of staff.  Even on a slow day,  it's just not possible to accommodate these preposterous requests.  If we don't have something, we simply don't have it.  Why can't people understand this concept? 

And on busy days, forget about it.  Picture this:
The chef de cuisine is on the main line, another cook is on the deep fryer, two cooks are on the salad line, one on the pastry line and an additional two cooks on the grill.  They're all running around, grilling, frying, tossing, searing, toasting, running in circles, sweating and yelling at each other to get their entrees out correctly and efficiently.  Now, what do you think would happen if I went back there during the busiest part of the lunch rush and asked, "Chef?  Can you somehow make an entree with this part of A,  another part B with the sauce from C and ... "  (you get the point).  The chef is usually so stressed out, most likely sweating, dealing with thirty-something or more entrees at that exact moment.  The chef will inevitably give me the stare down.  "Really?  Are you actually asking me to do this right now?  Don't you see what I'm dealing with at this very moment?"  It's the same I want to kill you look that I wish I could give my clients when they order this absurdity. 

A special order here and there (on a non-busy day) is manageable and quite frankly expected.  But when I get special requests for entrees all day long, on busy Sundays full of demanding diners,  it really gets under my skin. 

Seriously, my work life would be so much less stressful if our restaurant could just post a footnote on the menu (or a sign on the door, because apparently these people don't actually read the menu) that states,  "We do not accept special menu requests."  And while I'm dreaming in this fantasy work world of mine,  I might as well hang a sign on the door that also states, "Closed on Sundays." 

Ahhh, that sounds like heaven.