Strange nights...

The dinner services at the restaurant where I work have really picked up in terms of business lately - I think we're officially past that point of "maybe we'll be busy, maybe not" and can start expecting a mob of hungry customers whenever we open our doors. Then again, maybe it's just because the summer/alfresco dining season is at its peak - things tend to take a natural dip once the weather cools down, so we'll see (it's my experience that business usually nosedives around January through March). In any case, with the already-hectic services kicked up a couple notches, the place is lively with activity - and where there's activity, there are stories. To be honest, no singular event over the past couple services is worthy of its own blog post, but I feel compelled to share several small instances that occurred:

Night one: The restaurant's two computer terminals (used for transmitting orders to the kitchen, completing payment transactions, and so on) had been on the fritz all week when running customers' credit cards, requiring the staff to bust out an old-school device whenever someone didn't pay in cash. I've only seen it in movies, but it's the machine where you have to lay down the card under a credit paper slip and physically slide the handle over it, resulting in a loud "clack-clack" that echoes through the dining room, informing everyone of yet another failure from our schizophrenic computer system. Anyway, the antique's heavy use from earlier had depleted all but a handful of the credit slips required to complete payments. So, despite notifying the owner/manager of the shortage days before, the servers found themselves up shit creek when the system went caput at the height of the dinner rush - myself included. With no credit slips, we were unsure if we would even be able to start the slower and more confusing process of entering payments/tips the old-fashioned way. Without getting too into the details of the long-term consequences, I should say that unless credit information is properly authorized and accepted, tables in the computer can not be "closed out", therefore steadily reducing our options for transmitting orders/information to the kitchen. When you consider each server has their own section, table numbers, and code to access them, it becomes an organizational nightmare. Not to mention our customers can't leave if we still have their credit cards. You get the idea.

I think the other waitstaff got it worse than me, but I did wind up running around with a table's credit card in my pocket for 20-30 minutes before finally presenting them with their check to sign. An inexcusable amount of time, I admit, but I had no other option than to wait for one of the owners (who was expediting the food) to reboot the computer system (which failed) and dig through his office in a last-ditch attempt to obtain more credit slips. Fortunately, the aforementioned table was a five-top who actually enjoyed each other's company (not always the case with diners, especially couples), and they barely seemed to notice the wait. Even stayed a good 15-20 minutes after the fact, so at least I felt that my fumbling and bumbling hadn't single-handedly kept them from going home. Could have been a lot worse, had my people not been so cool - I'm grateful for the luck.

Moving on: At one point in the night, I pass by the owner (the one who had been expediting) as he chews out a waitress at the server's station and overhear him saying that we're "kicking the head chef when she's down". In other words, he's pissed that the food orders were not more evenly distributed amongst the various cooks, resulting in one chef having to do the bulk of the work and pick up most of the tickets. A little difficult when said chef insists on having nearly 60% of the menu on her station. I slink away quickly, as I had just punched in a miso salmon and miso-glazed chilean seabass for my deuce outside - both items that same chef's responsibility, as well. Unfortunately, however, the waiters can't hide behind a curtain of anonymity when it comes to the food orders - the tickets that print out in the kitchen have the server's name right at the top, so when each member of a six-top I had the week before ordered the exact same kind of soup (a definite no-no, in the eyes of the kitchen) before their salads-as-entrees, you better believe I heard about it.

Later in the night, right as I set down a customer's beer in front of him, a mammoth insect (that I'm sure had flown in from the outside - our patio seating means the doors are constantly swinging open) swooped down and into the head at the top of the glass. It immediately twitched and drowned in the foam as I stood there, frozen in disgust/horror. My eyes quickly darted to the customer, who fortunately had been engaged in conversation with the diners next to him. Before he could notice, I scooped the glass right back up and did a complete 180 back to the server's station, where I corrected the problem. Even though it wasn't my fault or anything, I hope no one else at the table saw what happened (or wondered why I immediately ran off with the beer I had just delivered).

Ugh, I should also say that, while I usually like taking care of the outside tables (you get to somewhat enjoy the nice weather, rather than stay cooped up indoors, watching everyone else bask in the sunshine) the humidity this week has made things absolutely unbearable. Zipping around all evening makes you work up a sweat in the first place (even in the air-conditioned dining room), so when you need to go outside to handle customers, it feels like you're in some sort of sauna or rainforest - especially when wearing two layers of clothing. I contemplated ditching the undershirt before realizing that with just the dress shirt sticking to my skin, unsightly sweat stains would assuredly take center stage, killing any appetites in their path. Would you want to see your waiter looking like he just got hit with a bucket of water as he sets your food down? Neither would I.

More coming soon - stay tuned for part two!