Our caprese salad is spinach, tomatos, mozzarella, and some dressings. One woman wanted it with basil leaves instead of spinach, and her dining companion wanted it with no green at all.

One of our steaks can be done with teriyaki sauce and noodles. A man wanted it seasoned with teriyaki but no noodles.

We have an adult portion of chicken tenders as well as a kid’s portion. We have an adult grilled chicken dinner and a kid’s portion. One girl ordered two of the children’s portions because that was cheaper (by $1) than the adult dinner.

When a guest ordered one of our hottest buffalo sauces, I warned him that it would be very spicy. He asked “Can you make it less hot?” The answer I wanted to give was, “Yes, by tossing your wings in a different sauce,” but all I said was, “No, sorry. Do you want to choose a different sauce?”

People put ranch on the oddest things. I do not like ranch dressing at all, so perhaps it does go with more than I think. Here are things that have “needed” ranch in the past: cheese steak sub, BBQ bacon cheeseburger, fish sandwich, pierogies, and nachos. Likewise, mayo apparently goes with everything. People enjoy it with buffalo chicken sandwiches and cheese steaks as well as their hamburgers.

Fruit is a tough request because anything other than a lemon requires that I go to the bar. I’ve been asked for cherries with water and limes with sodas, but oranges only with beers. I realize those aren’t unusual requests, but sometimes the number required is extreme. I’ve watched people squirt four and five slices of orange into their beer (I could have just brought them orange juice instead of the beer). It is not uncommon for someone to ask for three or four lemons or limes to go with their beverage.

I’m not going to get started on alcoholic requests. People develop a liking for a particular drink, and they want THAT specific drink. And people order their “usual” drink as if I were their usual waitress who brought that unusual drink to them several times a week. For example, “Absolute Citron martini with three olives, sugar on the rim.” Or I’d like a mojito, but I only want it if it’s really sweet, and I want there to look like a jungle of mint in there, so put lots of mint in it.” It takes me a few moments to write such an order to make sure I get it correct; I will get an ear-full if it’s not their usual.

And the time element is what is toughest about these usual requests because it takes me time to get these correct. I have to ask the chefs, ask the bartenders, run to get the extra ranch, etc. And while I’m processing weird requests, I am not doing the other things I should be doing at my other tables.

(Digression: I am currently reading Narrative Discourse for my graduate seminar. I believe that last sentences was an internal prolepsis in that it foreshadows future events that are within the scope of my narrative. End digression.)

Being at work at 8 am for our open meant getting up only 15 minutes later than I usually do, since it takes me half an hour to drive into the city and then 15 minutes to walk from the $5 parking garage. For those who don’t know, the parking on the North Shore is almost exclusively pre-sold or over $35, neither of which is viable for me. The morning is always slow because only the die-hards want to drink heavily before 9:00, and once again I was in the bar area. But there was a steady pace of people who sat, ordered some appetizers, and wanted to drink. And, as usual, I was working hard for $1 tips. Each time I delivered a round, I was presented with $1 for my efforts. By the time the game started, I was busy though, so the slow start didn’t concern me.

I ended up with lots of “hoverers,” people who stand next to a table waiting for the people sitting to leave. This is tricky because I don’t want the people sitting to feel rush, but I don’t want the standers to wait too long. I usually try to calm the standers by explaining that once the others leave, they are free to elbow others out of the way and rush the empty table. This type of “advice” about lack of etiquette usually put the standers on my side, instead of allowing them to become annoyed at their wait. Similarly, the sitters don’t want to feel rushed, and I need to laugh and joke with them so they leave a good tip. My line is usually something about, “Don’t let anyone glare you out of here; you earned this spot, and it’s yours.” Once the sitters do leave, I have to quickly clear away their empty glasses, napkins, etc, or the new people become annoyed. It’s a delicate balance. But my best table of the day were hoverers. They ordered nothing but alcohol, including about six rounds of shots. Their bill was nearly $300. I told them it was my birthday at one point. When I showed them my license to prove it, they dropped my ID in their spinach and artichoke dip. On the receipt they wrote, “Happy Birthday,” and left me a $100 tip.

They weren’t the only fun table I had on my birthday, however. I also had the return of my cell phone men, the group of guys who showed me how to use my iphone earlier in the summer. (Digression: note the external analepsis.) These phone guys turned a napkin into a birthday card and all signed it. Lots of tables wanted to guess my age. I know they were low-balling it, but it was consistently either 21 or 22. I’ll take it as a compliment. Several tables offered to buy me shots, but I explained I can’t drink while working or I will be fired. About three tables toasted me instead, and one decided to sing. There were many hugs (from men both old and young), some high fives, a hand-kisser, and one guy who asked me out.

The people I worked with also gave me superstar treatment. I got dinner, a custom-made dessert, and a shout-out over the PA system, announcing to the entire restaurant it was my birthday. I did not serve anyone else who was also celebrating their birthday, so no birthday twins, but one gentleman’s birthday was the day after mine. At midnight we passed the birthday torch (not literally).

I sold about $350 in food and $1400 in alcohol. I tipped out $50 and walked away (after paying my parking) with $400 in cash. Not a bad birthday.

Saturday brought some very friendly men into the bar. I watched as one fan walked from his table into the bar about every 10 minutes to check the score of another game that was showing only in the bar. He followed me through the crowd a few times, saying he couldn’t make his way because of all the people, so he would let me clear the path. After about ten visits to the bar, he turned to me and said, “I think I’m in love with you,” which is an odd pick up line considering I wasn’t even his server and had said perhaps three words to the man. He grabbed my hand and kissed it. He came back about 15 minutes later with a friend who asked if I was single. I explained that I wasn’t married, but have a guy. They proceeded with 20 questions and ended with the hand-kisser telling me, “I don’t care. I still love you.” That is when he kissed me…yikes! Didn’t see that coming.

I also had a table Saturday offer me a ticket to Sunday’s Steeler game…free if I’d sit with them. I had two groups of guys come back after the game because, they said, they wanted to see me again. I had one guy who kept ordering rounds of drinks that came to $16 and giving me $20, no change, if I’d give him a hug. As I walked across the bridge, there were three guys walking towards me. One guy said, “I’ll catch you later guys, I’ve just met my future wife.” I did not stop to talk to him.

On Sunday, however, I was not so fortunate. We cannot serve alcohol until 11:00 but open at 8:00. At 11:00 on the dot, every server will ring in 20 drinks. The bar was overloaded with orders, and it took 15 minutes for me to get two bottled beers. At one point I walked away to get more orders, only to return and find that my two bottled beers had disappeared. Either a customer or another server took them, meaning my people were still without beer. Because of the incredible wait, people stopped ordering from me and went to the bartenders themselves. Or, when I would finally return with their $5.75 drink, they handed me $6 and said, “Keep the change.”

At the end of the night, the managers took off all the drinks that the bartenders spilled and that other people took, so I don’t have to pay for those drinks. But the computer still counts them in my tip out because the bartenders made those drinks. That meant that I had about $50 of undelivered drinks that I was never tipped on that I had to give a tip out to. It doesn’t seem like much to say that I had to give $2 to the bar, but when I only made 25 cents for each beer I delivered, I had to deliver EIGHT drinks in order to break even on those spilled and stolen drinks. And when it took 10 minutes for each beer I ordered (because people won’t order all at once, but one beer at a time), I worked for an hour and a half to get out of the red…and did I mention I had to pay to park my car? It was the hardest money I’ve ever worked for, and the odd thing is that there is really no one to blame but myself for going into work. And of course, I generalize. There were some people who did tip $1 per drink, but over half of my service resulted in 50 cents or less of a tip.

So bar-goers please remember my Sunday story. If the drinks take a long time, please don’t beat up the cocktail waitress. I would have GLADLY gone behind the bar to get my own bottled beer, but I am not allowed; I’d get fired. And I have no control over the fact that there were 100 drinks that needed to be made simultaneously. All I can do is put the order in and wait for it. Please don’t punish me for that. Be like college football fans and tip appropriately. I would have been happy with $1 per drink yesterday, seeing as I delivered about 100 drinks. What I learned this weekend was that if I am not scheduled to work, I do NOT pick up extra shifts; they don’t work out for me. And I also learned that the bar, like the restaurant in general, is hit or miss. Here’s hoping I hit next weekend!

A guy came into the restaurant alone on a non-busy day and sat on the patio. Since I wasn’t particularly busy, and since he was alone, I started to chat with him a bit more than usual: what brought him out that day, and other banal chit chat. He was HEAVILY tattooed, and he told me that was his next stop, to get another one. I asked what they meant, how he decided what to get where, where he went. I told him that I’d like to get a small one on the heel of my foot (true story), but that I am extremely weary because I do not like pain and want something that means something to me. He offered to take me to get my first tattoo. As I brought him his check, he said, “I’m not very good at this but…” sip of his beer in which time I considered saving him the embarrassment, but who wants to jump the gun and preemptively turn someone down only to find out they weren’t asking you out. “Can I buy you dinner some time this week?” It was the nicest way I have been asked out, possibly ever. I told this customer that I was very flattered, but I wasn’t single. He paid in cash and left before I could return with his change, meaning I ended up with a nice tip.

During a game, people stand in the bar and sit at tables without ordering anything because they are watching the game. With nothing to do one one game day, I stood in the bar as well to watch to plays. One man approached me with the line, “I’m married, but I’m bored, so I thought I’d come talk to you.” That might be the oddest way I’ve ever been approached, and to make it odder, I wasn’t even his waitress, and he knew I was a waitress. When the home team scored, he high-fived and then hugged me. Not sure if that counts as being hit on, but it was odd.

On the same day, another man approached me as I watched the game, which is against the rules when we are busy, but as I was not busy, I was allowed to watch for a brief time. This second man was not married and seemed much more eager to talk to me. I am often asked how long I have waitressed there, sometimes innocently and other times in order to find out who I am. This leads to my admitting that I only work in summers because I teach. It turns out that I taught this man’s cousin my first year. I adored this student, however, which gave this man at the bar something else to talk to me about. As I sensed the impending asking out that usually follows, “I suppose I can’t buy you a drink if you are working,” (which was what this man said to me, and something I’ve heard before), I told him that I am not allowed to loiter in one spot too long while I’m working, and left before I had to tell him I have a guy.

One table told me they wanted to “kidnap” me and take me to Ohio because they wanted me to meet their cousin. “He’d like you,” was their excuse. I said that compared to $2.83 an hour, kidnapping sounded like a deal. They laughed and left a nice tip.

I was given a phone number on a check (by someone other than a friend I knew before they sat down) once. It was a kid who had just graduated high school and was moving to Pittsburgh to attend college. I laughed and threw it away.

I had the bachelor from his bachelor party ask me to stand in front of our two-way mirror while he “used the facility” (those words in quotes are my words that I am putting in air quotes to emphasize that I just used a euphemism where this drunk bachelor did not; he was a bit cruder). I laughed at him and told him if I wanted to work in a place like that I would be making more than $2.83 an hour. The party left a great tip.

A business man came in with his family: wife and perhaps three young daughter under ten years old. He complimented the serve he received as well as the food and told me he wanted to return but would only accept me as his waitress. As his wife was there, I took it as a compliment on my work only. When she took the girls to the bathroom before they left, he pulled me aside and whispered to me again that he was very impressed with me and would be coming back the next day when his wife returned home with his children. I thanked him, and again didn’t think anything of it. When he didn’t return the next day, I wondered if his pulling me aside was his way to ask/tell me something else that he was interested in, and that I simply hadn’t picked up on it at the time. Perhaps he hadn’t returned because I hadn’t given him the proper response. I am GENUINELY hoping that is NOT the case because his wife and children were lovely. In retrospect, I do wonder.

I got a $100 tip from a man whose bill was $47. That is more than 200%! I thought it had to be a mistake, but he never came back. He didn’t leave me a number or anything, and the oddest part is that he was with a girl. Perhaps he was trying to show off for his date by throwing around a $100 bill. But when I opened the check presenter to find $147 exactly, I was shocked! Again, not really being hit on, but shady behavior non-the-less.

Some phone salesmen were in the bar one night. They quizzed me on each of their names and teased/flirted with me all night. I was happy that they were able to show me how to work my iphone I had JUST got that morning. As they left, they all gave me high-fives, except the one sober guy who had paid the bill. He leaned in and gave me an uncomfortably long hug. The tip was great, but I am always uncomfortable when the customers think we know each other well enough to hug me.

Two guys came in JUST after the kitchen had closed for the night. I told them I could make them desserts, but there was no more dinner. They decided on their desserts, and since we were almost closed, they were the only table I had. They wanted to know about the local beers, so I told them (I work in a sports restaurant/bar, so I am able to BS my way through drinks and games pretty well). Then they wanted to know about the Pirates, who continue to put up poor stats. So I talked a bit. In the middle of my scripted speech about how it all comes down to a salary cap and what is the use of getting young talent if we are going to trade them when they begin to show potential, the one man told me to stop. He said that he thought it was “so sexy” that I was talking about beer and sports. I blushed, lost my train of thought, and for the remainder of their stay tried to find a reason to avoid them because their next questions were did I have a guy and did he treat me well, and I really don’t want to talk about my personal life with strangers who are turned on by my knowledge of Troegs.

Finally, I think I wrote about my men from Texas before. They were four business men ranging from my age to perhaps 50. The one who paid the check actually asked me to be his wife, telling me that I could stay in Pittsburgh, and he would fly up to visit me from time to time. He hugged me when he left.

We had our incentive meeting the other night. We get business cards when we do something good. It’s a token economy that is suppose to motivate us to work harder in the hopes of earning these cards. We throw them all together and draw names for prizes several times a year. I won at the end of last summer, so I was prepared not to win this time. But in fact, my name was chosen three times; I was the first and the last winner. The grand prize was $200 cast, no too shabby!

As with last summer, I told the managers that they could call me for weekends. Those of you who know where I work understand why working weekends are helpful to the restaurant and money makers for me. I told them I could work Saturday OR Sunday, but not both. They told me to be prepared to work every weekend, but we will see if they call. It’s like meeting a great guy at a bar who says he’ll call. Occasionally, you will get the call, but more often than not, he won’t call. It’s just what you say to people. Should I work this fall, I will inevitably have some fantastic stories to report, so I will send out the all-call to let everyone know. Otherwise, this might be the conclusion of my waitressing career. I’ll have to find another summer gig that I can do undercover and report on.

Thanks all for reading!

When I am not a closer, as soon as I am cut, I have a few chores to do. I have to count the sugars on my table because there must be eight sweet and low, eight splenda, eight equal, and eight real sugars on every table before I can leave. I have to make sure the salt and pepper shakers on the tables are full, and I have to make sure the ketchup bottle is full and not messy. I sweep my section. Then I do my “side work.” Side work is the other stuff that needs to get done, and everyone has one thing to work on. For example, someone has to run ice to the bins throughout the day and make sure it’s full at night. Someone takes out the dirty linens. Someone empties the trash, etc. Finally, I have roll silverware until there is no unrolled silver. Then, as a non-closer, I can leave.

I do close the restaurant on Sundays. As a closer, I have to stay until the last guest who is eating leaves. Our kitchen closes at 10, so luckily I don’t have to stay too late. But the bar remains open until midnight. That means that if my table who just ate wants to sit and drink until midnight, I have to stay too. As a closer, I have no side work; that is apparently the reward for staying late. It also means I make more money because I get more tables after all the other servers have been cut. But one of the responsibilities of being a closer is that I have to check everyone else out. That means that as the other servers get cut, I have to check that their sections are clean (sugars, swept, etc), and I have to check their side work.

Now if you trust the people you work with, then being a closer is easy. But knowing that many people do deceitful things so that they can leave, I have to be careful. Anything not done properly when I leave, must be done by me. For example, if the person doing trash takes out the trash at 8 when he is cut, there will inevitably be more trash at 10 when I leave, and I have to take it out. Last night, I had two people mess up their side work, and I had to re-do it. And any silverware left has to be rolled by me. We wash silverware twice, so what some people will do is give the silverware to the dishwasher. He runs it through the machine for a first or second wash (during which time I can’t see it), and then they will say, “Renee, there is no more silverware to roll.” If I’m not careful, and if I let them leave, I am stuck with all that silverware!

As I said, luckily I close only on Sundays. I do not double on Sundays, and Mondays and Tuesdays are my weekend, so it’s really the perfect day to stay late and get a few extra tables.

I served one of the regional managers after the fourth of July. He and my restaurant’s managers sat in my section on our patio. I greeted them, but obviously knew who they were. I more formally introduced myself to the “top” boss, Mike. I explained that I knew who he was since I had worked last summer, but I knew he didn’t know me. His response was, “Oh you’re Renee. The teacher who is really good but can never work when we need her.” That’s a pretty good reputation to have.

Tonight, I was speaking with the general manager of our restaurant. When I mentioned that I was running out of time, he asked where I was going. I reminded him that I go back to teaching soon. That led to his telling me that the people who knew me had told him, “Renee, the teacher, is coming back.” He said he had been told that I am very good at my job. He also said I was not as big a pain as people had warned him. While I’m not crazy at the idea that people think I’m a pain, I admit that I kind of am a pain. I take my work, as menial as it is, very seriously, and I do get upset when things go wrong. I hold others to a high standard and am disappointed when they fail. So I am a pain in many ways. But I’m NOT as big a pain as he anticipated, which is sort of good…I think.

Recently, as the people I work with get to know me better, they have asked for my number. I hate being rude, but I really do want to keep my restaurant life separate from my real life. As friendly and wonderful as some of the workers at the restaurant are, I have no intention of hanging out once the academic year begins. Juggling teaching, being the coordinator or the auditorium (my newest hat at school), graduate school, my love life, and my real friends, is enough to keep me busy.

In a similar vein, my Facebook space has been invaded by restaurant employees. Facebook is a great way to find out things about people you have met once and do not know at all. My motto for friends has been that I will tell you things when I want you to know them. So please do not go onto Facebook and friend me when we are clearly just co-workers and not friends. I do not want to ignore these people, because I see them almost every day, but I am equally uncomfortable with adding you into my real life by allowing you to be a Facebook friend. I’m glad you want to know more about me, but I am breaking up with the restaurant in about three weeks; let’s not pretend this is something it isn’t or make this harder than it has to be.

When I get to work, I clock in because I am at the restaurant and expected to do things like roll silverware, sweep, etc. I do not clock out until I have handed my money and tip out to a manager because until then I could still be required to do similar menial tasks. Because of this, according to the clock, I frequently work 10-12 hour shifts, when in reality I may only be serving tables for 8 hours. Another server told me that he doesn’t clock in until he gets his first table and clocks out as soon as that last table leaves. So he will never hit overtime and can continue to take tables and earn tips. But he will probably not get ANY paycheck and, will in fact, OWE more money to the government because of those extra tips without the extra hours.

My strategy has been to use my hourly (and overtime) wage to pay off those taxes, but perhaps I would make more money if I did not clock in based on my time in the building but my time actually serving.

My section was in our bar, and I had only two tables. That is SMALL. Sections are usually 5 tables, and at least one of those tables will be able to seat six guests. I had two tables that could hold a maximum of four people each. I was prepared for a slow evening. But I was also “in charge” of what we call the rail, which is the area around the bar where people stand waiting to be seated at a table or who can’t reach the bar. So I took drink orders all evening and had people cash out immediately or run a credit card in case they took off. Good money.

The question is how much should you tip a cocktail waitress. Most of these people exchanged less than a dozen words with me, and yet, most of them still tipped 15-20%. When I order a drink at the bar, my rule is usually to tip $1 per drink unless the bartender is making something fancy (like a mojito). I wasn’t making the drinks myself, and yet most of the people I served still gave me more than $1 per drink I delivered. While I appreciate this money, I feel a bit guilty for not really EARNING it. But I made out well, as drinks are the most expensive part of our restaurant. I had checks with 3 drinks that were higher than most of my lunch checks.

But I still managed to make it stressful for myself. These people wanted one thing: alcohol quickly. When the bartender got backed up, he got sloppy. He began spilling the pints. I had to decide what was worse for me, to deliver drinks visibly less than 20 oz or to ask the bartender to top it up. If he gets angry with me, I won’t get my drinks quickly, then my guests won’t tip well. But if I bring less than perfect pints, they still won’t tip well. It’s a debate I’m never sure how to answer. And that was my night as a cocktail waitress.