Running

This is a repost from a few years ago, while rereading I noticed some sleeping and grammatical errors.

I decided a while back that I needed to get back into shape. Needless to say I did little about it about other than taking long walks when time and weather allowed. Until yesterday that is. I have two goals in starting an exercise program.

First, is an overall concern for better health. My mother recently had bypass surgery. Now my mother is very active, and fit, she skis, bikes, works out regularly, and pays attention to her diet, so needless to say it was a shock to all of us. So that made me think about my own health and while I try to eat well, working as a bartender does not lend itself to good habits.

Secondly, I have noticed that my strength and conditioning are not what they used to be.

So before jumping in the shower I did some crunches and push ups. Went until I was fatigued (it did not take much) and I felt good afterward.

With the nice weather I decided it would be a good day for a run. I set out with the idea that if I could go 30 minutes I would be pleased.

I am not much into the stretching thing and have never suffered because of it. I decided to warm up by walking until the blood started to circulate. As I was walking down our street, I intercepted my brother-in-law Mark walking the kids home from school. We walked and chatted for 5 minutes or so. Nice to see the kids and I was thinking in the future this would be a good time to go out. Hang with the kids for a bit and then hit the trail.

So how far did I get? Anyone have an extra pair of knees? Only half kidding. I went for about 15 minutes and made the turn back towards home. About 5 minutes into the return trip my knees started throbbing.

This is not a new occurrence. I have really bad knees from skiing competitively throughout high school. I was prepared for a little pain, and I was able to hobble home. But this does point to the fact that at my age I will need to ease into this work out thing. Next time I will put on my roller blades. My knees are still sore today, and really I should have known better. Roller blades, roller blades, roller blades. The pounding from running is just to much for my worn out knees.

Having said that, it felt good to get out in the sun and expand my lungs. The key now will be to see if I can keep it up.

Until next time.

The I Can’t Believe It File

I was looking through my notes for a good story idea and decided there were a number of things that were too small for a full story but could be used as a collection of rants. So I present The I Can’t Believe It File.

I feel the need to clarify something at this point. I do not hate this industry, I have worked with some really great people, and continue to, I would not have stayed this long if I did not enjoy it. Perhaps one day I will write about why I like serving. However, at the moment I feel like getting worked up about a few things.

I can’t believe some of the things that take place in restaurants. For example, I can’t believe you could own/manage a restaurant for more than a few months and not know what we use for pop glasses, what we use for water glasses and how we garnish our plates. How can you not know that we sell bottled root beer, and not fountain? I Can’t Believe you don’t know your own product.

I am one of the worlds worst spellers, I need to spell check everything and would love a phone that spell checked text messages. Yes it’s that bad. Having said that, we live in a technological age with all kinds of programs to help with spelling, grammar and all manner of things related to publishing documents. Perhaps this reliance on computers to fix our mistakes explains why people do certain things. People have become lazy. What other explanation is there for some of the things I have seen. As an example read the following story. We get a daily fish order, and thus our menu changes on a day to day basis. I have seen several things happen with this. For example, one day we ran a rib special (I know, a rib special at a seafood restaurant?!?!), the price was set at $14.95, except the menu said $4.95. One word Tweedledum, proofread. I Can’t Believe It.

I have had several guests comment on the perceived work ethic of our owners. A few Saturdays ago we had a packed house, no hostess, no busser and not enough floor staff. There was a couple at the bar waiting for a booth to become available. After about a 20 minute wait a booth opened up. Instead of cleaning the table so the couple at the bar could be seated, Tweedledee runs around looking for the server, and then stands and watches her buss and set the table. I wait for him to come and walk the couple to the table, five minutes pass and no sign of Tweedledee. Eventually, he yells across the store for me to seat them. I seat the couple and when I arrive back at the bar some of my guests comment on it, stating their shock at his work ethic. Something like this happens on a weekly basis, and I Can’t Believe It.

I can’t believe Kiss Ass came in for dinner with his wife on his night off. How romantic.

I am constantly stunned at how few people really understand the concept of teamwork. A few weeks back we had a staff meeting. This was an opportunity for the Tweedles to formally introduce themselves. It was also an opportunity for them to explain their concept and clarify some issues. One of the points they stressed was teamwork, they talked about supporting one another, running each others food, busing tables, etcetera, and etcetera,. If you run another tables food you should offer the guests P&P (parm and pepper), this was something the Tweedles talked about at our staff meeting, as this was not being done on a consistent basis. I am sure you can guess what I observed the very next day. Practice what you preach Tweedledum. I Can’t Believe It.

I Can’t Believe how many guests send food back. This is true regardless of what type of restaurant you work in. Guests are constantly sending food back and some of the reasons are truly amazing. On the flip side, I Can’t Believe how personally chefs and cooks take this. Guests send food back for the most ridiculous reasons, and when they do, the kitchen staff goes absolutely ballistic. Instead of fixing the problem, they rant for a good five minutes. I Can’t Believe they can’t see the big picture.

It felt good to get that off my chest. Have a nice week.

The Barman

I’ll Never Do That Again (yeah right?!?)

Stop me if you have heard this story before, as I am sure something similar happens somewhere every week.

I am not a big drinker, never really have been, don’t get me wrong, I am no saint. I spent five years at boarding school, and six away at university, not to mention the influence of the industry I work in. Most of us unwind with a drink or two after work, and we do not always stop after one. Before Saturday night, I would have been hard pressed to recall the last time I was truly drunk. Saturday night was different.

Saturday night my sister, Susan, held a surprise 40th birthday party for her husband, Mark. Mark is a firefighter and a dedicated father of three, but he is also a former high school quarterback, get him together with his buddies and the man can party like a rock star.

I spent a good part of the day helping Susan set up for the party. She did a good job of getting him out of the house, telling him his present was arriving sometime that day, but that they could not give her a specific time. When you think about it, she was being completely honest. His present was the party, and in truth she did not know how long it would take to set up. She rented a dance floor that Luke (my other brother-in-law) and I put together in the living room after we moved all the furniture to the garage. Luke then set up the stereo with an old set of speakers I lent Susan for the occasion (more on that latter). She even rented a tent that we set up outside the sliding doors at the back of the house, to serve as the bar area. Luke managed to secure a keg and Susan was able to keep everything out of Mark’s way by storing everything at our mother’s house.

Susan had arranged the surprise well in advance, and everyone did a great job of keeping Mark in the dark. Anticipating the copious amounts of alcoholic beverages that everyone was likely to consume, Susan had arranged for people to take cabs or stay over at friends and relatives in the neighborhood. No need to worry about drinking and driving, and perhaps this goes a long way to explaining my behavior.

By the time I arrived at 11:30pm, there was still a good crowd and everyone was in full drunken party mode. One of these days I will sit down and tell you about the restaurant I worked at after I graduated from university. It was a great place to work and I made some good friends while I was there. Ivan was a career server and supplemented his income with a woodworking shop he had set up in his garage. He was married with three children, and a typical maritimer. That is to say, he could drink like a fish and had a very high tolerance for alcohol. Ivan had some great expressions, some of which I have adopted myself. For example, every time we sat down for a beer he would follow the first mouthful with a satisfied sigh and proclaim; “that tastes like more.”

Saturday night that first taste of draught tasted exactly like more, and more, and well you get the idea. By the time I left to walk home, somewhere around 3:00am I was officially three sheets to the wind, feeling no pain, juiced, laced, stewed, totaled, and generally !@#$%^ up. Susan went with an 80’s theme, and everyone really got into the spirit of the occasion, great music and great people. Speaking of music, do you remember those speakers I lent to Susan for the party? Well I only have one now. If you have never experienced a blown speaker let me tell you I am certain it is better to be a little out of it. First the foam around the woofer blew across the room. This was followed by a loud whoop and column gossamer smoke rose from within the wood box. You are probably thinking this signaled the end of the party. Hey not so fast. A little thing like a blown speaker is not about to slow down this crowd. Out comes an ipod and portable speaker system and we barley skipped a beat.

Getting out of bed the next morning was an adventure. In fact, I had to attempt the maneuver twice. The first effort left me feeling dazed and confused. Fortunately I was able to sit back down before falling head first into the bedside table. How ironic would that be, walk home safely in a drunken stupor, only to get myself injured crawling out of bed the next morning?

I wandered downstairs for breakfast, washed two Advil down with a bottle of Gatorade (the only real hangover cure) and then drew myself a long hot bath to sooth my full body aches. Feeling much better, I crawled back into bed and called a friend for comfort and support. I received none, not that I really deserved or expected any, but a man can hope can’t he?

Mid day was fast approaching, so I had four hours to get myself in some kind of condition to work that night. It was at this time I first thought, “I’ll never do that again.” I took a small amount of solace from the fact that both Mark and Luke were apparently in much worse shape than I. Unfortunately, in this case solace did not cure my headache. I spent most of the day in bed.

Sunday was a complete write off and fortuitously the restaurant was slow. Not sure I could have handled a busy night. Fortunately I have been serving long enough that I could do it in my sleep, a fact some of my guests that night can attest to I am sure. The ribbing I took from the rest of the staff was well deserved and in some ways kept my spirits up. Sunday’s we close early, for which I was extremely thankful. I stumbled through the front door, no longer suffering from a hangover, but exhausted and in need of sleep. Once the front door was closed I made a beeline for my bed. Oh how I longed for sleep. I swear, “I’ll never do that again.”

The Barman

Bad Timing

I raised the subject of bad timing not that long ago and I have some further observations on the subject. As I recall, the subject of bad timing came up previously with regard to Tweedledum and the issue of inventory. While I could spend a great deal of time ranting about inventory, and I will at some point, it has become clear to me that Tweedledum suffers from bad timing and a sever lack of judgment.

A few weeks back, on a very busy Saturday night I was bar-tending as I often do. Things started out poorly and went downhill from there. I had no bar back, no cocktailer and quickly ended up deep in the weeds, with all four booths filled, all five high-tops, about 10 people at the rail (or wood), and service chits a mile long. In desperate need of help, I asked a server to get the MOD to take care of service. Mary came to my rescue and was working her way through the chits, when Tweedledum decided now would be a perfect time to talk about next weeks schedule. They get into a protracted conversation, meanwhile the printer continues to spew drink orders like it’s the fountain of youth and a bus load of blue hairs have just arrived. Pure chaos, but Tweedledum is oblivious to the immediacy of the situation.

As I come back to the bar to close a few tables she is blocking my entrance to the bar and is unaware of my presence. My first instinct is to scream at her about the need to serve guests and to focus on the here and now, not what’s going to happen next Sunday afternoon. I hold my tongue, actually I almost bit through it, but that’s not important. Eventually the rest of our staff arrives and sometime near closing time I finally emerge from the weeds.

Talking to our executive chef Jack at the end of the night reveals the depths Tweedledum will go to in order to demonstrate her skills in the area of timing and judgment. The incident at the bar took place around 5:15pm and was in part due to an unexpected early rush. Jack informs me that at about 6:00pm Tweedledum jumped on line and started to make her self dinner. We are in no way through the rush, the board is full of chits and we are on a 30 to 40 minute wait. Is there a better time for the owner to jump on line and start her own meal? I mean really, you supposedly worked as a bartender, and it does not take a genius to figure out when the store is busy. Or maybe I have not given my fellow servers and cooks the credit they deserve. Perhaps it does take a genius and we are all in the wrong line of work. Perhaps the solution to the world’s problems can be solved by the servers, bartenders and chefs of the world. Wow, what a concept. Then again, perhaps I have given Tweedledum too much credit.

You might think this was enough when it comes to the subject of bad timing, but alas I have one more story. It has become a regular practice of the Tweedles, to entertain friends and family at the restaurant. On a theoretical level I am perfectly fine with this. The demands of owning a restaurant make it very difficult to have a social life and we are by nature social beings, so why not. In fact, as guests, they are low maintenance; they tip very well, and then comp everything, so you don’t have to tip out.

As you may have guessed the issue is with timing. For some reason they do not feel the need to wait until after the rush to entertain, and more often than not, sit down on Friday or Saturday night the second we get on a wait. I drove our Head Chef home the other night and we talked about this phenomenon. He informed me that at first it pissed him off, but that he no longer lets it get to him. He simply places their order in line with the others just like any other table, and if the board is really full, he puts them last.

All this simply demonstrates the truth of life in the hospitality biz. When it comes right down to it, the inmates run the asylum.

I am fascinated with their inability to get it. I suppose it just demonstrates one of my theories on life. You see, the problem with common sense is that it is not really all that common.

Until next time,

The Barman

Just a Note

If there is anyone out there who started to follow this blog I owe you an apology. I have been distracted lately and have neglected the blog. I have renewed my commitment to writing and will be posting consistently from now on.

I have added one new feature to the site however. I am an avid reader and have decided to add a list of the books I have read most recently. If you have comments or would like to know more about a particular book let me know.

The Barman

Move Over

I have never, ever heard of this happening.

The other day, one of my regulars (we will call her Jan) came in and related the following story to me. Apparently, there is a restaurant she frequents when she goes to the movies. The last time she was in, she took her usual seat at one of the high tops in the bar. The restaurant was not overly busy, but busier than a usual early weekday. Jan was approached by a female server she had not seen before. According to Jan, this server was of an age that would suggest she has serving experience. The server approached the table and took Jan’s order, the following conversation ensued:

Server: “If a couple comes in, we will have to ask you to move to a bar seat.”

Jan (surprised): “Really, why is that?”

Server: “Well, you are just one person and you are sitting at a table for two.”

I don’t recall how Jan responded to this, but she was not impressed. Apparently Jan has been a regular there for some time, and she has gotten to know the owners. The point of this story is not Jan’s response. Rather, it relates to the issue of customer service. It boggles my mind that someone would say such a thing. What would this server do if a couple sat at a four top?

This points to an unfortunate trend within the service industry. Many people say they are committed to customer service, and claim to understand the importance of if. Unfortunately, too few actually know how to follow through. More often than not, customers are taken for granted. It is important to remember they have other choices and your actions today could send them somewhere else tomorrow. People have a choice when looking for products and services, and they are even more discerning in today’s economic climate.

Does this mean you let customers take advantage of you? Absolutely not, however, it does mean you need to look after their needs as best you can. I realize customer service can be difficult at times, (see the Clublife post from Feburuary 10th for instance) but most of the time it is actually very simple and effortless. Subtlety seams to be a dying art.

What responsibility do I have?

So, I am struggling with a dilemma. A while back I asked the question “What responsibility do I have?” with regard to our new owners. That question has become more pressing seeing as they have asked for my input. It’s not a case where they have asked for just my input, I got the impression they wanted input from everyone. I am struggling with the issue of trust, and that is causing a certain degree of reluctance on my part. Additionally, I don’t want it look like I am kissing ass, because I am not. At the same time, from talking with friends in the industry, this is not a good time to be looking for a job. What to do?

I could go in several directions here. One way would be to do a full report on everything I think I know. That would take time, but it would also be a valuable exercise for me. Putting my ideas down could be enlightening, and I would have something that could be useful in the future. The second option would be to do the full report for myself, and then provide them with a condensed version. And thirdly, I could just give them a specific list of suggestions. Not sure what to do here. Perhaps I need to think about it for a bit.

Back to Life, Back to Reality

Our new owners returned from their vacation the other day. From the moment I walked into the store there was a very different feeling in the air. Not sure exactly what it was, but there was definitely something there. The best way to describe it would be to say there was a less jovial atmosphere.

Speaking of our owners, I have finally come up with nicknames for them; henceforth they will be known as Tweedledee and Tweedledum individually, and the Tweedles when using the plural.

My shift starts as usual with Jen working her way out and me setting up the bar for the night. Our efforts are somewhat hampered by the fact that Tweedledum is doing a bar inventory. Never mind that she has been there all day, now is the time to do this. To say Tweedledum is a master of bad timing would be an understatement (but that’s a story for another day). The Tweedles have some hospitality experience so presumably they are knowledgeable when it comes to beer, wine and spirits. So much for assumptions; more expensive does not mean better quality (especially with wine), it’s pronounced lef or lefa not laugh, Guinness needs to be poured in two stages (actually the website says 6) not one, and I know how much wine to open for the night.

Prior to leaving for a week, Tweedledum asked Mary and I to make a list of the wine and alcohol we would need. The list we prepared would have been sufficient for the week, but for some reason Tweedledum decided to order about half of what we suggested. I can only presume that after a month she knows more than we do. As a result we ran out of a few things while they were away, specifically wine and vodka. This leads to Tweedledum commenting that they will need to investigate how we went through so much. First off, we sell a great deal of wine at our store, especially when you look at it from a percentage of total sales, our clientele likes wine. Secondly, we did not go through three bottles of vodka, because you only purchased two. Tweedledum strikes again.

Make of this what you will: our uniforms are black, black shirts, black pants. At one point in the evening I was taking plates to the dish pit and walked past the host stand. Standing there are four people, three servers and Tweedledum, three in black, one in white.

Shortly after this Kiss Ass made an appearance, amazingly he walked out an hour latter under his own power. Not sure why he came in tonight, other than to kiss ass. James said he was amazed Kiss Ass did not get frostbite without the warmth of ass cheeks to keep his face warm. Kiss Ass decided to plant himself at the end of the bar; fortunately, I was busy enough that I could avoid him. It was not long before Tweedledee joined him and they engaged in a lengthy conversation. I did not hear very much of this discussion, but I heard enough to know Kiss Ass was up to his two faced, backstabbing ways. I suppose the old saying is true that a leopard can’t change his spots. Personally, I could give a shit what Kiss Ass says, if the Tweedles want to listen to him and judge my performance by what he says and not by what they see, I don’t want to work for them. On the other hand, do not, ever, disrespect me. Kiss Ass and Tweedledee crossed that line. Do you really think I don’t notice you speaking in hushed tones, and turning your back to me? It’s one thing to act like I am not there, it’s entirely another to acknowledge my presence by your actions. If you have something to say to me or about me, grow some !@#$ing balls and say it to my face. Otherwise, if it is not for public consumption have some !@#$ing class and professionalism and talk in the office.

For the most part I can get along with anyone, even if I don’t like you I can respect you. The second you disrespect me, forget it, you’re done. Not that I carry a grudge, but there are consequences for your actions. I treat people as I would like to be treated, and conversely, when, matters warrant, I will treat you as you have treated me.

One final thought on the return of the Tweedles. Tweedledee was our MOD tonight. There are two things that will kill profitability; food costs and labour costs. There are also ways to control these, one is to pay close attention to your sales and make cuts at the appropriate time. This tends to be a difficult task when you are on your cell phone most of the night. When staff cut themselves due to low sales, you know management is not doing its job. We had three servers and me on tonight. I know what I sold and based on tip out I can speculate as to what others sold. Based on last night’s sales, I would be surprised if labour for the day was less than 50% of sales (the magic number is somewhere in the low 30’s). You simply can not run a business like that.

On one hand I feel poorly for the Tweedles because they must have invested a significant amount of money into the purchase of this store. It would be a shame for them to loose it due to incompetence on their part. I would like to sit down with them and be of assistance. Conversely, I have zero confidence in their ability to listen and change. What responsibility do I have?

Barrack Obama

Rarely are we given the opportunity to witness a moment as pure and powerful as the events of today. To comment further would diminish it's significance. May you take hope and inspiration from today.

Amusing Amusement Park Stories Part II

I have one other story from my time at the large amusement park north of the GTA that I would like to pass along.

Latter that summer on a sweltering day I was told to go and clear tables. Despite the fact there were several garbage cans throughout the seating area, it was not uncommon for customers to leave their trays of half eaten food strewn across the tables. On occasion this would require one of us to clean the dinning area, if plastic tables and chairs qualify as dinning furniture. More like a cafeteria for pigs, although I’m not sure pigs would appreciate the comparison.

Over the years I have noticed there are some people who have no idea how to act in public. Some of these people suffer from a self centered view of the world that puts their needs above everyone else. Please, you are not the only guests in the restaurant, and they need my attention as much as you do! There is also that unique style of parenting that allows young children to run wild in public places. These people do not discriminate when it comes to location. Children are free to roam through movie theaters, banquet halls, amusement parks, and restaurants alike.

It is the latter group I would like to deal with at this time. I ventured out into no mans land, keeping an eye out for teenagers, and small children. Small children have an annoying habit of appearing out of nowhere at the most inopportune moments. Such was the case on this day. As I was cleaning tables I noticed a family with a couple of young children dinning on our fine culinary creations. As they were quiet and the children were seated, I put them out of my mind and went about the task of cleaning up. That turned out to be a mistake.

A few minutes latter I was clearing some trays when one of the youngsters suddenly appeared out of nowhere. This little guy slammed into me, causing me to bobble the trays I was holding. As a result, a cup full of pop toppled over and spilled on the child, soaking his white baseball cap and the back of his shirt. As you can imagine, the kid was at first shocked and then in tears. The father flew out of his seat and came towards us.

I was now face to face with an angry father and his whining son. The father accused me of intentionally dumping the pop on his son’s head. He tells me he saw the entire thing and that I should be ashamed of myself. I reply that if he saw what happened he should be the one ashamed, letting his son run wild. Perhaps this was not the best response. The father calls me a number of names, none of them friendly.

It is at this time my manager makes an appearance. Seeing an opportunity, the father goes off. He again claims I did it on purpose. He explains they just purchased the white cap the boy was wearing that morning and demands I pay for a new one. He even tells my manager to fire me. My manager tells the man he saw a very different series of events. He even takes it a step further, telling him to learn to control his kids. The father sensing he will get no relief gathers his family a leaves.

Chalk one up for the working stiffs.

Turns out several staff saw the entire thing and sent the manager out to save my sorry but. Everyone tells me their own similar war stories and we wonder why some people are allowed to procreate.

Amusing Amusement Park Stories, Part I

I was sixteen years old at the time and had just finished my first year of high school. Although I had worked for my dad’s company on occasion, this was my first real job. My best friend Bart and I both ended up working at this large amusement park north of the city. He worked games of chance, while I drew the glamorous task of sloping food onto plates. Although we shared a car, we often worked different shifts. This meant at times we would spend the entire day at the park working and waiting for the other to finish. Long days, but at that age with free access to rides, attractions and food it was a great way to spend a summer.

It was not long before I was introduced to the realities of employment. I actually had two jobs. Most days I worked on the line plating food, occasionally I worked the lemonade stand. It was during one such shift I received an involuntary three day vacation for following direct orders.

It all started innocently enough. I was scheduled for a morning shift, while Bart did not start until latter that day. This meant he would spend the morning wandering the park, while I would do the same in the evening. I arrived at work and was informed I was to man the lemonade stand. This was only my second or third shift pouring lemonade. My first shift had been a few weeks prior, and as part on my training I was shown, by a manager, how to mix the lemonade and fruit punches. That training included tasting the refreshments to make sure I had mixed them properly. I set about the task of setting up shop and had just finished mixing the first batch of lemonade. As instructed I tasted the lemonade to get the recipe correct. Just as I was removing the paper cup from my mouth a manager walked in (not the same manager who trained me).

Manager, “What are you doing?”

Barman, thinking the answer should be self evident, “Tasting the lemonade.”

Manager, “Why would you do that?”

Barman, confused, “Mark told me I needed to check the beverages once they were mixed.”

“We don’t to that. You were helping yourself to a drink.”

At this point I am getting somewhat upset. I had never experienced anything like this. I was just tying to do my job. “No. I was only doing what Mark told me.”

“Mark never told you that, you’re lying and I caught you steeling. Come with me.”

“What! I was not steeling. Ask Mark.”

The manager was not interested in what I had to say, nor was he interesting in what Mark might have to say. He hauled me off to the office and informed me I was being suspended for three days, for steeling. To say I was in shock would be an understatement. To make matters worse I had to wait all day for Bart to finish his shift. I decided to go and tell him what happened. Keep in mind this was long before everyone had cell phones, and texting was not even a pipe dream yet. This meant I had to walk the park and hope I ran into Bart. This was slowly turning into one of the worse days of my young life. The temperature was sweltering, and I could find Bart nowhere. I finally gave up when I realized it was almost time for him to start work. I decided I would give him some time to get settled in and then I would go and tell him about the days events.

Bart was visibly surprised to see me as our shifts were to overlap and I should have been working. I explained what had happened and he was as dismayed as I was. We talked for a short while and eventually I left him to finish his shift. As was our routine I wandered over to Bart’s booth about half an hour before he was scheduled to finish. Strangely, Bart was nowhere to be found. Confused, I decided to walk over to the staff area and see if he was getting changed. Sure enough, there was Bart, changed and ready to go. I could tell he was not happy and we walked out of the park as fast as we could without saying a word. Once in the car and on the road back home Bart asked me for a cigarette. I had just started to smoke that year. A family friend that was a few years older and went to the same high school took me under his wing. As a freshman in high school, having an upperclassman as a friend saved me from a lot of the usual hazing one experiences in grade nine.

One of the unexpected consequences of running with the older kids was that I was expected to not be a stupid freshman. If I wanted to be a part of the group I would need to act like I belonged. They all smoked and in an effort to be accepted I picked up the habit. A habit I was able to kick 16 years latter. Isn’t peer pressure great?

By the summer my habit was well established, but as far as I knew Bart rarely smoked. When he asked for a cigarette on the way home I knew something was bothering him. We both lit up, taking a few moments to enjoy the sweet taste of tobacco and allowing the blue smoke to drift out the open windows. Bart cranked to radio, a clear indication he was not in the mood for conversation. We cruised down the highway in content silence enjoying the breeze from the open windows, the music and the smoke. I could feel the tension of the day slowly leaving me.

Bart and I finished our smokes and he turned down the radio, “Looks like we both have a mini vacation.”

Barman, “What?”

Bart, “They suspended me as well.”

“What for?”

Bart, “They accused me of steeling as well.”

Turns out Bart had a far worse experience that I did. Apparently, a number of people working the game stands had been skimming from the days take. For some reason neither of us could ever figure out Bart was accused of skimming. Towards the end of his shift he was approached by park security and was asked to follow them. Bart was taken to the security office, where they asked him about his shift, and explained that theft was becoming an issue. Bart is a very honest and trustworthy person and it never occurred to him that he was under suspicion. That changed when they asked him to hand over his cash from the day. They counted the cash and claimed it was short. There was in fact no way to know if Bart was short or not, there was no method for recording the days sales, so it would be impossible to determine how much cash Bart actually owed. Regardless they accused him of steeling and asked him to empty his pockets. I had Bart’s wallet at the time; this was something we had agreed upon shortly after starting work at the park. We were both uncomfortable leaving valuables in our lockers and if you worked a games booth you were not allowed to have your wallet in your possession while on shift.

As a result Bart’s pockets were empty. Security was not satisfied, they were convinced Bart had been steeling. They even accused him of giving the stolen cash to me. They said they were aware of the fact I had been suspended for theft and accused us of working together to steal from the park. They claimed to have been watching us both for some time and had even searched our lockers. I am not into conspiracy theories but it was starting to look like I was set up and Bart was being falsely accused of theft on a significant scale. Convinced of his guilt the guards performed a strip search. Bart was understandable upset.

Welcome to the working world. Welcome to picking on the wrong people. Perhaps Bart and I should have used the “Do you know who I am” line. A short time latter justice was served.

Bart and I got our jobs through my father. One of my dad’s best friends was in the publishing business and published all the promotional material for the concert hall at the park. It was through that connection we found ourselves employed that summer. Oh and did I mention my father is a lawyer? Needless to say I told my father of the days events and he was furious. He threatened to take all kinds of action and at that moment I thought he might take the park down through legal action. I never did find out exactly what happened. All I know is that when we came back to work after serving our suspensions there were a few notable changes. Both managers involved in my suspension were no longer there, someone said they had been transferred to another part of the park. I never saw either of them again. As for the security guards, neither Bart nor I saw either of them the rest of the summer. Bart he was never again accused of steeling and we both received letters of apology with out next paychecks.

Karma can be a bitch!

Next time: Dealing with An Irate and Irrational Guest

Power? We Don't Need No Stinkin' Power

Tuesday was a prime example of how things never play out as expected in this crazy business. I went into work tonight fully expecting to give Kiss Ass his comeuppance. Turned out to be an interesting for a very different reason.

When I arrived at the appointed hour I was greeted by our day bar-tender, Jen. There were a few people at the bar and I noticed the high tops were all pushed together. Jen informed that the lady at the end of the bar was hosting a surprise farewell party for her husband. As Jen had the situation well in hand I wandered to the staff area to prepare for my shift. It was at this moment that I first encountered Kiss Ass. As is his often the case with the insincere, he was very cordial and attempted to engage me in conversation. I continued through the kitchen and back to the staff area, trying to avoid eye contact and giving minimal response. I had no desire to interact with him at that point but he followed me like a lost puppy. James and Jack were on line and preparing for the evening. I changed and retraced my steps through the kitchen taking a moment to acknowledge James and Jack on the way by.

By the time I arrived back at the bar, a few more patrons had joined the party. I consulted with Jen that she had things under control, and went to service my tables. Tuesday nights are typically slow and we run with less staff. This means I pick up tables in the restaurant, thereby providing my with consistent income despite the lack of business. I greeted my tables and took their drink orders and explained that I was also serving the party in the bar and asked if they would bear with me if my service was a bit slow. I have found this is often a great way to deal with a busy night. In most cases if you are honest with guests and give them advance warning of any issues with service, they are very receptive. For the most part, guests hate waiting for things, especially when it appears to them they should not have to wait. If you assure them they will be looked after they tend to relax and give you some leeway.

Once back at the bar I told Jen I had things under control and that she could be on her way. She brought me up to date on the party and I introduced my self to the woman hosting the event. One of the other servers, Ann, helped take some drink and app orders from my new tables and I prepared myself for a busy night. By this time 5:30 was rapidly approaching and I had my hands full. I now had all four booths full (two couples and two families of three) and about 20 people in the bar area.

I was getting into a good grove and feeling good about the night. As I had not had a service chit for Kiss Ass, I promptly forgot the plan and went about the task of serving my guests. It was at this time that our MOD came to the bar, clearly in a state of distress. She explained to me that Kiss Ass and James were going at it in the kitchen. It seams James had decided to follow through on the plan to put Kiss Ass in his place.

In the end Kiss Ass only had two tables, the first ordered coffee and tea, while the second drank water. I was therefore not afforded the opportunity to mess with him. James on the other hand was more fortunate. Apparently when Kiss Ass sent his first order to the kitchen, James decided it was time to exact his revenge. I should mention that James never intended to not make Kiss Ass's food. Rather, he intended to make it take as long as possible, and to make his night as difficult as possible. So a short time latter Kiss Ass walks into the kitchen and does not see his chit on the board, nor does he see any of his food being prepared. So he asks James if he got the chit and James indicates he has. Kiss Ass asks to see the chit and James tells him no and that his food will be up when it is ready. Kiss Ass is annoyed but leaves.

About 10 minutes latter Kiss Ass comes looking for his order and still, he does not see it in the window.

Kiss Ass, "Where is my order?"

James, "It's in the oven and you'll get it when it's ready."

Kiss Ass (to Jack), "Have you seen the chit? Where is my order?"

James, "Go and take care of your tables. Your food will be up soon."

Kiss Ass, "It should have been up five minutes ago, and we are not that busy."

James. "I told you it's in the oven."

Kiss Ass, "Do you know who I am?"

James, "Yes I do. Your a brown nosing, ass kissing, back stabbing piece of shit. And if you took a moment to pull you head out of the owners asses you would see that you are pissing everyone off."

Apparently the conversation went downhill from there and resulted in Kiss Ass storming out of the kitchen.

Shortly after this, a chit comes up in the kitchen indicating the order has been comped. James asks the MOD why she comped the meal. Turns out she didn't, it was Kiss Ass. Looks like he has ingratiated himself enough that the owners gave him a management code. Not a smart move on their part, and when the rest of the staff find out they will not be happy.

It was about this time the power went out.

Strange thing is, not all the power went out. I had just cashed out one of the booths and was about to log into the POS to close out the table when the screen went blank. At first I thought maybe I had accidentally turned the screen off, but upon further investigation I discovered we had a much bigger issue. I noticed the lights in the beer fridges were out, and upon closer inspection discovered the fridges, along with the glass washer and the satelite box were all powerless. Strange but everything else was fine, TV's were still on, as where the house lights, the sound system and everything in the back of house.

So now the fun begins. I tell the MOD about the problem and we both assume it is a breaker due to the localized nature of the power loss. She heads back to the breaker box to investigate and I head back to the bar. As a precautionary measure, I talk to all my guests and explain the situation. With few exceptions they are very understanding.

It is not long before some guests start asking for their checks. I explain that the system is still down, and ask for patience. I have a feeling the problem will be rectified soon, and I would prefer to not do things manually. That is a nightmare. We can still process credit and debit cards as that system is separate from the POS and is up and running. The issue is manually calculating bills. I still have two booths, and about five bills amongst the party in the bar. Seams simple enough, and for the booths it would be, it's the party that concerns me. There are three factors that would make this an arduous task. The first is the fact that Jen started the first, and largest, check for me. I trust her implicatly, and with me being fully enganged pouring drinks and serving tables, I have not taken the time to look at everything she punched in. I am aware of the food, but not all the drinks, so tallying that bill could be a nightmare. As for the other checks, I have a fairly good idea of what people have ordered, but I am not sure my memory is up to the task of remembering everything, and I would prefer not to find out. Finally, there is the time factor. With this many people it could take a serious amount of time to tally all the bills. Time I don't really have, nor do I want to.

It is at this point one of the servers mentions the hostes terminal is still on. Perhaps that will allow me to print checks. I approach the hostes stand with the knowledge that the main computer is down, but hoping the hostes terminal is still operational. I know in the back of my mind this won't work, but some guests are getting impatient, and even if there is a slight chance i'll take it. No such luck, I get to the terminal and notice take-out is loged in, I log take-out off and things look hopefull. Just as I am about to log myslef in a warning comes up that the POS software is unavailable. Desperate to get it working I close the program and try to reload, no dice.

Back at the bar I try my best to smooth things over with my guests. They are not pleased. It has now been about 15 minutes since we lost power and I can feel the tension building. I go to talk to my tables and get stuck in a conversation with a guest up here on a short term work assignement. I have seved him before, very nice gentleman, and I usually enjoy talking him. At the moment I don't have the time, but I don't want to be rude either. He keeps me there for a good five minutes, my mind is elsewhere, so I attempt to nod and smile at the apporpriate times. He seams satisfied to talk, but I really have other guests to deal with. Fortunatly I am saved by the MOD. She comes by to tell me the power is back and the syatem is rebouting. Relief washes over me.

I excuse myself and head back to the bar. The satelite is back on and guests notice the system is rebouting and the mood is much lighter. I explain we need to wait a few minutes for the syetem to load and we can print checks.

Disaster is averted. For a brief time we did not know if we could reestablish power, and there was talk we might have to close the doors early. Fortunatly the situation was recitfied and we finished the night without further incident.

Just another exciting night behind the bar.

The Mole

I will get to my amusement park stories in a few minutes, first there are a few things I need to get off my chest.

The restaurant I work at has a mole. I am not speaking of the cute little furry kind. This is a new employee who appears to be loosely connected to our new owners. Not long before the holidays the store I work at changed hands and as you can imagine there have been some bumps in the road. Lets just say we have needed to replace some staff who were not comfortable with the new direction. Recently some new staff was hired to replace those who left. In my humble opinion this was a questionable decision. The new owners have reduced the number of staff members on shift at any given time due to the inevitable cycles of the service industry. January is always a slow time as people have generally maxed out their credit cards over the Christmas break. The current state of our economy is not helping either. Anyway, we have hired a few new staff members despite these changes of supply and demand.

One such newbie came in with very unrealistic expectations. For some reason she expected to get prime shifts and sections without having proved herself. I mean who the !@#$ does she think she is. She supposedly has a wealth of experience, but she looks more like a deer caught in the headlights to me. She attempted to pump me for information regarding my fellow employees and the changes that have taken place, but I was wise to her ways and kept my comments very vague.

More on this as things develop.

One final comment on the Mole, as she will be known from now on. The Mole was working a split shift today. Perhaps I should explain. Split shifts are the bane of any servers existence, and in general are considered something reserved for newbies and an indication that you do not have the cajones for the more lucrative opening and closing shifts. A split shift is when you are scheduled to work both at lunch and dinner of the same day. In both cases you work until business declines and your services are no longer required, at this time you stop taking tables and work your way out of the store. This is described as being cut, it is not a litteral term, but rather a description of what happens. Most restaurants have a diagram of the floor plan at the hostes stand, this diagram is used to indicate what tables the wait staff are responsible for. The act of assigning tables is called cutting the board. Latter in the evening as business declines and fewer staff are needed the board is recut, hence the term used to describe the end of a shift.

Back to the Mole and split shifts. Generally a split is a waste of a day and in many cases you make less money than you would otherwise. As to the Mole, she worked a split and was actually given a good section tonight as a way of seeing how she would respond, and in fact she performed rather well. That is until the Manager On Duty (MOD) cut her, at which time the Mole gave Mary (not her real name) unwarranted attitude. This resulted in a conversation between the Mole and Mary that was anything but pleasant. I was not privy to the conversation, but I have it on good authority that the Mole was put in her place. Well done Mary

One more thing, we have an ass kissing SOB of a server who is royally pissing off the rest of the staff. This spineless wonder has his head so far up the asses of the new owners that he can taste their food before they do. In his defense it is the only way he can keep his job considering the depth of incompetence he displays on an hourly basis. While we can all take solace in the fact that his true colors will eventually come to light, a few of us have decided to take matters into our own hands while we have the opportunity. Other than management, there are three people you do not want to piss off as a server because they collectively control your income. You do not want to piss off the hostess because she will seat you last, and will give you screaming kids, Europeans (they don't tip), and old people (they can't afford to tip). You don't want to piss of the kitchen staff because they control your food and have all manner of ways to make your life miserable. In fact if you want to be successful as a server you need to have the respect of the kitchen staff, even more than management they hold your financial well being by a very precarious string. Beyond that, and to a lesser extent, never piss off the bartender. A bartender makes all your drinks and in some cases your cappuccino's, lattes and espressos. I have personally witnessed the demise of a server because the bartender refused to make her drinks due to a misunderstanding regarding tip out. In general, patrons should receive their beverages within three to five minutes of ordering them, and definitely before their apps hit the table.

The Kiss Ass has pissed off two of those people, James (chef) and me, the Barman. Guess who closes the bar and the kitchen tonight. We have heard of the Kiss Asses back stabbing comments and have decided to take matters into our own hands. Stay tuned for a summary of the evenings festivities.

It's late and I need to get some rest. I have not been to bed before 3am the last three nights and it is catching up to me. I will give you all the details of Kiss Asses comeuppance soon and will regale you with my amusement park stories before the week is done.

The Begining

I started in the industry at a very young age. My first foray into the world of food service took place at the tender age of 16. I was employed at a major amusement park just north of the GTA. I was assigned the joyful task of serving customers as they came through the cafeteria. To say the food was edible would be an insult to taste buds the world over.

The one benefit of working in a large amusement park was free access to any and all rides and attractions, and I often spent my free time taking advantage of the thrills offred by rollercoasters and other hairraising rides. In the interest of full discosure I should probably mention I have not been back to the park since that fatefull summer, a case of ammusement park burnout I suppose.

Two other incidents of note took place that summer. I had my first experience with an irrate and irrational customer, and I experienced three days of involuntary umeployment for obeying direct orders.

The day is getting long and that means it is time to get ready to head into work. Until anon . . .

Starting Out

Hello all.

I am new this concept of blogging, but have decided to give it a try. I have worked in the restaurant industry for many years and I hope you will find my obsrvations interesting.

I currently live and work in the Greater Toronto Area (GTA). In the interest of protecting the innocent, and the guilty, names have been changed. However, the people I know are very real and I will attempt to stick to the truth.

We should have a fun ride through the late nights, and oh so fun split shifts that are part of serving.

The Barman