Prinses on… Waitering (Part II)

In the previous post, I ranted about the restaurant industry, and the circumstances that waiters have to put up with. I likened the restaurant industry to one big steaming machine, with the staff as the components that make the machine function. This analogy can only be complete if you also take into consideration the final element that renders the machine useful: its (ab)users…

The Customers
That’s you, dear reader. You are just the average person, looking for a nice served meal. You are willing to pay for your food and the service. You are just a valid contributor to the economics of our country, right? Well, 80% of you are. The other 20% are socially deranged. Customers are the sustenance as well as the demise, the provider as well as the parasite and the happiness as well as the haemorrhoid of the waiter. Customers are to waiters what food is to an aspiring anorexic. The source of frustration is also the source of livelihood. These customers come in categories:

The Regulars – Ah. You go to a certain restaurant regularly because it’s you favourite place to chill. You know everyone and they know you, it’s like a home away from home. Not. You are in denial. If you had real friends you would be checking out new places together. You are insecure. You feel special when the waiter says “The regular for you eh, John?” This is okay, to an extent. We respect you and we are grateful for your support and generally enjoy your company, to an extent. Some regulars tend to take advantage of the staff’s kindness, rendering them undeserving of loyal service… Anywhere… Ever. They are recognised by their not-so-subtle name-dropping and ridiculous requests – i.e “Just ask (enter Owner’s name) he always lets me have my steak without meat and the sauce especially made with dolphin tears and my vegetables arranged to spell my name.” Yah. Right. Fuck off. This being said, there are also many nice regulars, somewhere, or so I’ve heard.

The Foreigners – Yes, I will recommend the most expensive wine and the most expensive food if you are not South African. What with the current state of the Rand to the Dollar/Pound/Euro/Yen/Peso being what it is, I’m sure you don’t mind it either. Yes, nice slave girl will bring Frenchman big meat for cheap! What an unpredictable bunch, though. They will tip below ten per cent and then have the cheek to ask what the standard rate is for the vest-wearing bum who ‘watches car nicely’! Yep, don’t mind me, the friendly white girl who actually provides a service, both as waitress and tourist info-agent. Pay the scary African man. Another big factor with this type of customer, is the inevitable language barrier, which greatly adds to annoyance levels at the table. I know what a co-ca-co-la is, but excuse me for not knowing what 罗汉斋 is. Also, Mr. West, us not serving Budweiser does not make us weird.

The VIP’s – These are prominent people in our society, for example, presidents, ministers and other figures in entertainment, like famous actors or sport stars. Also in this category are celebrities like health and safety inspectors or food critics. The presence of these people give the Owner a false sense of ‘being a famous restaurant owner.’ There’s no such thing. Name one. I dare you. These people are to receive ‘the best’ treatment by the staff. This concept is ridiculous. As a waitress, I take special care to give the same amount of attention to all my tables. You are expected to gravel at their feet, polish their shoes, kiss their hands, cut their meat for them, feed them and help with the digestive process by rubbing their bellies after dinner. Fuck that.

The Guys – Being a girl, this is my favourite kind of clientele. If you think the previous statement is true, you’re obviously a guy. No, my number is not on special with our Steak au poivre. I am not on the dessert menu. You are not as original as you think. There is a difference between serving and servicing. The fact that I’m wearing a skirt and that you have a credit card does not render it okay to touch me. Now go home to your wife.

The Ladies – The presence of a table occupied by a bunch of hot women can greatly affect the dynamics in a restaurant. This is fun to watch. The bartenders suddenly have an attention span. The manager suddenly becomes helpful and the chef suddenly finds time to wipe his forehead, chuck his apron, step out of the kitchen and ask the bar for a glass of cooking wine himself. Truly amazing to behold. The girls obviously notice the attention. They eat, treat the waitress nicely, tip fairly reasonable and then politely excuse themselves to move from the restaurant area to the bar area. Apparently these two are divided by a warp zone. The nice ladies from the table transform into alcohol slurping strippers. Once again, fun to watch, but the outcome is nasty.. (Stay with me here for the pun..) One tequila, two tequila, three tequila..(the waitress has to mop the) FLOOR!

The Couple – This is either the easiest or he hardest able to serve. Valentine’s day. Ugh. I have to come and ask you guys if you want drinks, I am not trying to seduce your boyfriend. I have one of my own. Who has to sit at home while I attend to your blind consumerist needs. Not that I mind. Val’s day is one of the best days for making money. The trick, I’ve found, is to flirt with the girl. The tip is directly proportional to the guy’s illusion of whether he’s going to score with his date.

The Loner – Usually a very easy table to serve, The Loner knows what he wants. (I say he, because I’ve never served a woman alone. Girls don’t even go wee-wee alone…) There is however, every so often, the creepy fella, who views your serving him as quality time for the two of you, popping in often for these ‘dates’, jealously looking on as you serve The Guys. Yeah. They exist. Some even leave their numbers on the bill… No jokes…

The Family – This type of customer comes in many varieties. Dad-dominated, mom-dominated, kid-dominated, indecisive, rich, budget-buyers, the big and loud family, the awkward family, the in-laws, the fat family, the sharers… The list is endless. [Script note: SFX – Educational Program Female Voice:] Can you figure out where you fit in?

Check, I generally love waitressing, can you tell? No, seriously, it is a very satisfying job, comparable to none. Waiters are a special kind of species, not afraid to get their hands dirty, willing to make someone else’s night awesome, even if they have shit of their own, and if they succeed, there’s no greater feeling (except maybe getting a phone call from your manager just before a shift telling you you don’t have to come in). This experience will not be possible without the special people who fill the restaurant seats, who show us everyday that we are not, contrary to common belief, as fucked up as we might think. Thank you.

Prinses on… Waitering (Part I)

We’ve all done it at some point in our lives, right? Or at least, that’s what I thought. Working part-time at a local steakhouse to earn some extra cash seems like a pretty common thing to do as a young adult. The juggling of studies, work and an over-booked social calendar is certainly what my five years at varsity revolved around. The choice of working as a waiter seems viable as it is a fast way of getting cash (for an honest job, that is). All good, in theory. In practice, it is quite a rollercoaster of a lifestyle.

What ever can be so hard about taking out food to tables for tips? Steve Dublanica sums it up nicely in his book Waiter Rant, when he states that waiters today “are expected to be food allergy specialists, sommeliers, cell phone rule enforcers, eye candy, confessors, entertainers, mixologists, emergency medical technicians, bouncers, receptionists, joke tellers, therapists, linguists, punching bags, psychics, protocol specialists, and amateur chefs.” Yet, under no circumstance may a waiter imitate normal humans. Eating and drinking, smoking, checking your cell phone and small things like, sitting down in front of customers is taboo. But it is totally acceptable in the kitchen. This line of work is full of tears, mental breakdowns, tantrums, and that’s just the customers!

Look, it’s not all bad. I quite enjoy the you-never-know-what-you-might-get vibe of the restaurant industry. Having done this for over five years, I would like to dispense some of the experiences I’ve come across as a waitress. Mainly, because it helps to bitch, but also to give you some insight on what it’s like.* I hope this is educational.

*Please note, I have greatly generalised most aspects here, based on the average waiter’s working conditions. There are exceptions where waiters are treated like humans, where they get fed edible food for staff meals and where they are truly excited to go to work. It’s called their dreams.

The Machine

We have to go to work when everybody else is going home. Especially on a Friday, it’s a pretty crappy feeling to start your shift with, knowing that your friends are busy dressing up getting ready to go and party, while you will be in a generic uniform, putting on your best smile to make someone else’s night fun. I can just see the movie montage in my head a la Mr. Ritchie: Cross-cut editing between them suiting up vs. you getting into your uniform; fastening of belt vs. tying of apron; checking pockets for keys, wallet and gum vs. checking apron for pens, notebook and waiter’s friend; final look in the mirror, hoping you’ll get that guy’s attention tonight with your gorgeous red lips vs. final look in the mirror, hoping you’ll get at least some financial remuneration for your smile (and i called this an honest job!?) to be able to join your friends after work, because by some miracle your tables will all be gone by ten o’ clock. Pfft.

Also, waiters work on those special days you normal folks like to celebrate. Nice, relaxing days when, supposedly, everyone has a holiday. I vaguely remember a time, when I was little, family and friends would come together, eat and exchange gifts under a tree. Christmas I think they called it? Those memories have been replaced with sore feet and red wine stains.

Everything in a restaurant works according to a process. The FIFO-system is key: fit in, or fuck off. Ultimately, each process is dependent on another process. This, as you can imagine, is frustrating. Follow me here. For me to take out your food or drink like you ordered it, I need, firstly, a clean plate and cutlery or a clean glass. This needs to be washed by the scullery staff, who need a working dishwasher, which needs power, which needs to be paid by the owner. The food needs to be prepared and cooked in the right order for the different dishes to go out at the same time. The waiter needs to be in the kitchen when the plate is done to deliver it to your oh-so-anticipating table. The barman has to prepare your drink, along with all the other customers’ drinks. Simple, right? In a perfect world, maybe. There’s always something wrong. Shortage of forks, The sculler didn’t pitch for shift. You are busy pouring wine when the food is done. The sous chef burnt the last chocolate brownie, and it’s your fault that the customer now has to settle for ice cream & chocolate sauce. The amount of potential errors are endless. Restaurants are the textbooks for Murphy’s Law. The background music does nothing to soothe this tense atmosphere. If you work your average four shifts a week, the restaurant resembles the US Psy Ops’ torture chambers fit for acoustic bombardment, a technique in which they exposed Iraqi POWs to theme songs from Sesame Street and Barney for days on end before they finally buckle. (That playlist includes many pro-American songs such as Neil Diamond’s America. Damn, that is mean. Also included in this patriotic list are Bruce Springsteen’s, Born in the USA and Eminem’s White America. Check it out here, it’s pretty interesting…)

The Components

The Owner
It is said that, upon signing a contract when purchasing a restaurant, one undergoes a majestic personality change, converting the individual into an instant doos (Source Unknown). The Restaurant Owner is a rare breed, usually, though not always, male, between the age of 30 and 50, and single. Those facts should shed enough light when contemplating the extreme frustration the Owner experiences when at work. On the occasion that the Owner is in a relationship, the partner is known as the First Lady (man or woman) and is also to be treated in this manner. You, as waiter shall run all errands for her, such as making pedicure appointments and running to KFC because she only likes those rolls. General characteristics of the Owner include a short temper, the inability to see anyone else’s point except his own and an overall god-complex. The Owner is a heartless dollar-eyed businessman. Where his heart should be, there is just another savings account. Practices of the Owner include the exploitation of kitchen staff and the underestimating of waiters’ intelligence. He has no responsibility to his staff whatsoever. When the Owner feels intimidated, it is a common retaliation to threaten his workers with the tax law (as waiters, we quite like our tax-free earnings, thus making too much noise about our shitty circumstances might end us up in the labour court which might then decide that waiters need to be protected which might mean that we need unions and contracts and all that ‘real-job’-jazz which might lead to us paying taxes. Scary huh?). The Owner is the law, the police, the court and the jail of the community that is the restaurant industry. And don’t you forget it.

The Manager
Not to be confused with the Boss (although they would disagree), we have another breed of authority known as Managers. They can be found right behind the Owner, busy kissing his rear end. Some even attempt to enter it. In the event that there is more than one Manager, all hopes of clear, consistent communication vanishes. Managers take pride in the fact that, beside the Owner being, well, The Owner, they are the ones… (script note: pause briefly, do your best impression of John Black of the Days of our Lives-fame) …who really know what’s going on. Managers are the link between the staff and the Owner and they are extremely well trained to do a very, very poor job in this area. Managers tend to dish out discipline in a manner that reminds one of rejected school principles, linking your hair colour with your performance.

The Chef
This is an artist who is not so much misunderstood as just plain scary. Their easy access to deadly weapons combined with their drinking habits makes for plenty o’ kitchen-fun. In the ‘I-am-so-shit-scared-right-now’ kind of fun way, of course. A waiter would gladly polish all the glasses in the world, with a hangover, and no hands, just to avoid having to take back your overcooked steak, not to mention trying to communicate your ‘special request’ to the doomed hole of terrors that you, ignorant customer, would refer to as a kitchen. Think about that next time your waiter smiles and says “No problem sir, I’ll sort that out for you right away.”

The Waiters
My colleagues. Such a colourful bunch. The bottom feeders of society. Alcoholics. Depressed. Mental cases. Bound by the act of complaining, usually combined with the after-shift staff drink, relationships between co-workers lie somewhere between fellow sufferers, best buds and rivals. The complaining stops after a couple of beers and double the amount of that in tequilas. Then it just gets ridiculous (read, ‘a night of crazy drunk feeling-sharing, potentially hooking up with a co-worker and eventually passing out’). Future working conditions can get weird.

These bottom-feeding, dollar-a-day freaks come in stereotypes: ‘the one that’s been there the longest’, ‘the newbie’, ‘the one that’s screwing the owner/manager/chef’, ‘the one that’s screwing the customers’ (and no that’s not all of us), ‘the junkie’, ‘the shit stirrer’, ‘the emotional one’, ‘the over achiever’, ‘the one that doesn’t really need the job’, ‘the greedy table-grabber’, ‘the one that is probably going to do this forever’. See if you can spot your stereotype-server the next time you go out for a nice meal.

For people interested in becoming a waiter, some totally useless tips:

• Twenty Things You Should Do And Not Do While Imitating A Waiter
• Terrible Things That Can Happen While Waitering

Prinses on... Film: Avatar - Medium vs Message

So, like most of you, I went to see James Cameron’s Avatar. With excitement we all headed for the Labia (yes, that is what the cinema in Cape Town is called), eager to watch the film we’ve been hearing so much about! When we got to the ticket sales the lady behind the counter calmly explained that there was something wrong with the reels and our movie was not showing that day!! So, we settled for Avatar…

In all honesty, the film was a visual picnic, truly a leap in CGI, VFX, performance capture and 3D cinema. But that was it. The story bored me with the perpetuated Hollywood narrative and its happy ending, the romance and the hero’s journey – in contrast to its technology, the story was nothing new. Underlying themes of the West (ahem.. America!) as the bad guys who should be beaten protrude through the portrayal of the human military as ignorant, obnoxious and driven by capitalism. These brutes are contrasted by the Na’vi folk in that they are a primitive, nature-driven (not to mention blue) race. So very, very different, yet in the film, it is the humans that are portrayed as the beastly Other.

What I find ironic about this film is the medium used, in relation to the message. The film takes us to a fantastical world where humans have to be simulated to blend in. This takes some programming, eh? So all this technological effort is channelled into allowing humans to enter a world where they have to regress to survive. Technology is used to go to a place where it is not needed. Furthermore, the technology used to create the film itself defeats the purpose of the film’s message, that of cherish nature, be scared of science, procreate and see yourself as nothing but a particle in one harmonious system.

The good ol’ fight between good (nature) and evil (technology) continues yet. Only, what this film implies is that the ‘good’ is the fantasy, and the ‘evil’ is the reality. But, not to worry! Avatar shows us that it is in fact possible to beat the system! All you need is a four meter, non-human body, a dragon and a magical tree. Oh, and a girl to impress. No biggie.

I have found a much more effective, less technologically advanced version of Cameron’s story. If you haven’t seen Avatar, save money and effort and check it out! For those of you who have seen it, see if you can spot the differences!

[*Dankie Marcel! Sonder jou sou hier seker nooit 'n eerste post gewees het nie! ♥]