Difficult diners: WHAT DO THEY WANT FROM US?!

Don't even pretend you don't know the type: the water-with-lemon-no-ice set, who bluster through our doors simultaneously concerned with getting in and out as fast as possible and thoroughly enjoying their leisurely meals. They ask us to bring food and water to their poodles. They split checks 10 ways and ask for change on each bill. They order things that are not only not on the menu, but are not even the same cuisine. They demand that five minutes (no more, no less) elapse between their last bite of appetizer and their first bite of entree. They leave 10%.

When business was slow, I had more patience for these people because it gave me a challenge: draw out a smile and 20% from Poodle Lady, and you're officially a good server. I could take pride in the cool, professional way I somehow managed to get tofu (which we don't carry in house) on some woman's plate before her friends' chicken arrived. Honestly, I didn't care, and I didn't bitch about them half as much as my coworkers.

Now that business is picking up for the season, I've had enough. Unfortunately, though cover counts change, restaurant policies do not. We still have to do everything in our power to please absolutely everyone. This takes a long time. Ergo, fewer people are pleased overall.

After a particularly harrowing experience tonight, I've decided that people need to check their unrealistic expectations at the door. If you want Asian stirfry at a steakhouse- and you want it to be good- you're not the customer being right. You're just stupid. If you need to modify 5,000 parts of your dish ("cook it crispy, don't flour it, split it in half, take off the peas, add brussel sprouts, don't use any salt, add crushed red pepper") then by all means, come back behind the line and cook it your damn self. It's like customers who come into the store to try on shoes and then ask for 3 different types of padding, arches, and stretching devices; the shoes just don't fit you. Find another shoe or another store.

I hate the argument that "I'm paying for my meal and for your service, so I should get whatever I want." Bullshit. You should be able to get extra bread, a different vegetable with your entree, and split checks. You shouldn't be able to concoct your own menu and your own steps of service, and then snap your fingers and expect us to dance. Get. Over. Yourself.

Now a note about my progress bar. You may have noticed that it suddenly jumped well past $5,000.... No, it's not a joke. My parents' are holding onto about $4,000 for me, which will be exchanged for my car in May. So I am in fact 35% to my goal. Unfortunately, time-wise, I'm 50% there which means I still suck. Working on it!!

"Hello! My name is A and I will be your salesgirl this evening... what would you like to drink?"

When I walk into a luxury retail store, I don't mind being "sold" something, provided the associate is personable (and impeccably dressed). Feel free to talk up the product, display its features, elicit information from me to enhance the sale; I know it's your job. When I tell you, or suggest that, I want you to stop, I know you will. That's also your job.

When I sit down in a restaurant- high end or not- I do not want to be sold my food. I know what I want and what I like, please don't tell me that I would die for the rib eye. I would die before ordering red meat anywhere. Please don't spend five minutes at my table telling to pair the special (which I don't want) with a particular wine (which I don't want). No, I don't want a damn appetizer. If I did, I would ask for it.

Yet: more and more, we servers are being pushed to sell, sell, sell at our tables. Obviously, there is an advantage to upselling for both the server and the restaurant. Higher sales = higher tips. I don't mind making a few quick suggestions, but I am growing wary of the full-blown sales pitch we are forced (not encouraged) to make during our greet. I won't tell you what it is, in the interest of protecting my restaurant's identity, but I will say that it is bewilderingly long and tends to hit patrons like a slap in the face.

Some servers pounce on the opportunity, and to be fair, they pull it off nicely. They always end up selling loads of house cocktails, appetizers, and desserts, and their tips reflect that. The problem is that not all servers have such natural sales talent, and the same upselling that wins customers over with one server turns them off with another. Managers can tell certain employees to "get better" or "be more natural", but in the end there is only so much they can do. Then what? You let go of a handful of soft-spoken employees who have a dedication to service but an aversion to the hard sell? I know many servers who are pleasant, accommodating, and polite - who win over guests week after week - but who stumble over the greet. Does this make them unfit for the job? I just don't think so.

Calling all NYC servers...

To anyone who serves, or has ever served, in Manhattan: I need your advice!

In August, I swore that I would never, ever wait tables again after this. I was burnt out and beaten down by old ladies in Crocs demanding extra spoons. Time passed. I made some money. I made some friends. And long story short, I have decided that until I get that fab, full-time, fashion job post-Parsons, I am staying in this business. I'm the kind of person who gets bored easily; I need constant challenges and stimulation or I'm completely useless. The best way to get me to focus is to give me too much to focus on. Serving is of course a good fit then, for a part-time job. I don't necessarily object to cold hard cash either.

What I need to know before I move to New York is:

1) How easy is it to get a decent job as a server (for someone with two years experience)?

2) About how much do servers walk with each shift?

I know you're going to say "depends" so I'll just add...

3) Is it better to work in a high volume "turn and burn" restaurant or a more upscale, quieter restaurant, assuming you are qualified for both?

4) What are the qualifications/application process for most restaurants?

ANY help at all appreciated!

Do you pick up payment when the guest is still there?

Every server knows the feeling: You've been cut for two hours - now even the closer is cut - and you've got a table of campers that shows no sign of leaving. They've eaten. They've paid. They've gestured "no" for refills. The only thing they haven't done is gotten off their asses to let you go home.

Every server also knows that the best strategy is to come back with a pitcher of water ten/twenty minutes after you've dropped the bill. This usually prompts watch-glances and "Oh my! We should be going!" Sometimes, however.... nothing. You just get blank stares as they let you fill their waters up to the brim, utterly unaware that the place is empty and the music has been turned off.

I was bitching about this in the kitchen the other night when one of my managers cut in with, "What? Why are you waiting for them, just grab their payment and go home."

"Huh? Isn't that rude?"

"No, it's a sign of good service. I used to do it every time."

HUH?

I was under the impression that taking payment was the ultimate rude. It's like, hey, you took too long to leave so I'm going to take this and look at your 10% tip while you're still in the building, thus making you uncomfortable now that everyone knows you're both a table-hogger and a cheapskate.

I told her as much, but she replied, "Yeah, but if they left a great tip wouldn't they appreciate a thank you and extra goodbye?" I guess?

What do you all think/what do you do?

When is it time to find a new restaurant?

Two advantages of being a server are that, 1) your skills are highly transferable from one job to the next, and 2) some restaurant somewhere is inevitably hiring. Furthermore, most managers don't give a rat's ass about top-notch references... The fact that you worked in a restaurant before and weren't fired is generally sufficient.

No wonder turnover is so high. It's so damn easy to leave. Why stay at one place when the one next door has better hours/better business/better tippers/better food? There's often not much incentive to stay in one place. If you consistently eff up, whether you've been somewhere two months or two years, you will still find your shifts dwindling rapidly. So... you don't like the new dress code? Find another job. You hooked up with the bartender and Tuesday/Thursdays are consistently awkward? Find another job. Your manager just hired a staff of catty teenagers? Find another job.

I'm wondering if I've hit the point where I should do just that. I don't have a genuine problem with my restaurant, beyond the fact that we are over-staffed and our sections/schedules are taking a hit. I just think that I could use a change of scenery, pace, staff, BS (there's always BS). I'm not making quite what I need to be making right now... Walking with $100 is a good night for me, but I've been told that it's pretty mundane for most servers- even in this town.

What do you think? Is restlessness enough of a reason to go elsewhere?

OMFG- Is it really Month 6?

The phrase/word "I'm-just-here-in-Arizona-for-a-year" rooted itself so firmly in my vocabulary that its inaccuracy just recently hit me like a ton of bricks.

Maybe the fact that in College World it's still early in the year tricked me into thinking that I, too, was at the front end of my service industry adventure. But I'm not. I've been working at the restaurant about five months now, coming up on 6, and that means that I only have about 6 more to go. These will be, of course, the backbreaking 6 months, but also the months that bring in the real money- and the real savings. I'm already seeing my daily earnings increase rapidly, and expect to see that trend continue all the way through April.

Perhaps more shocking than finding out I'm at the halfway mark was finding out I had mixed feelings about it. I should be gleefully crossing off the days on my Shoe Calendar (yes, shoe), right? I should be re-immersing myself in NYC's Craigslist and figuring out where the hell I am going to live. In short, my brain should be catapulting toward my fabulous future.

Instead I'm becoming entrenched in a life here, which is in a way what I both hoped and feared. I'll stop here and say that I am definitely moving to New York next summer, so that's not at all in question. But I am finally coming to terms with that fact that saying goodbye is going to be tough. I have great friends here and a great rhythm to my life. I enjoy both of my jobs, at least 80% of the time. I have a comfortable apartment to myself. Even when life temporarily sucks, I have something to look forward to, whether it's a concert, a date, or a girl's night out. It's so natural, and it's hard to imagine recreating this for myself in a whole new city.

At the same time, something about this town doesn't sit right with me. It still does feel like an extended vacation where the locals are fun but a little off, and everyone seems to run on a slightly different/broken clock, and the seasons are disturbingly absent so time never seems to pass. These are things that don't bother me when I'm in this work-save-party mode, but I know that I could never settle down here.

But will I have some amazing memories of my year waitressing and selling shoes in Arizona? Um... actually, yes.

In the weeds

As the season picks up, I'm finding myself more frequently in a state of panic. Sometimes it's just momentary: "Did I ring up those cocktails?!" Other times it's a long and diffuse anxiety spanning an hour or more: "Does 20 have bread? Where is my manager for the discount? We're out of glassware! 30 hasn't been greeted but 41 is flagging me down for the check.... that kid just spilled cranberry juice all over my section. Fire 20! I already did- when??"

Keeping busy usually makes time fly- at the store I'd much prefer a steady flow of traffic to 2 hours standing at the counter alone, staring at shoes- but in this case, it slows time to a halt. I can't tell you how many times my jaw has dropped at the time, mid-shift. After turning my tables two or three times, I feel like 5 hours have been swallowed up in a black hole of ice tea refills and comp'd creme brulees. But no: it's usually only 2.

A part of me loves it, but another part of me is concerned for the state of my heart. Or my weight... thank god I make it to dance clubs on an extremely regular basis, or cortisol alone would have me puffed up like a blimp.

Anyway, all I have to say is: bring it.