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?
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
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.
Monday, January 19, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, January 16, 2009
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.
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, “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.
Karma can be a bitch!
Next time: Dealing with An Irate and Irrational Guest
Thursday, January 15, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, January 12, 2009
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 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 . . .
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
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
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