To-Go Tips Galore! -- Tip #6

I'm sure we've all looked at a restaurant's menu and found that *one* entrée that you would just love to get...... if it didn't have mushrooms.... or pineapples... or peanuts... whatever the case may be.

Perhaps you're allergic to the item. Perhaps you just plain don't like it.

Perhaps you're vegetarian and need to find a dish without any meat. Perhaps you're super vegetarian and need to find a dish without any chicken broth, bacon grease, or meat-related bases or flavors.

Some dishes you would need to avoid completely because they can't be modified in the way you would want. Some dishes can be modified easily, simply by clearly communicating your wants and needs to your server.

Whatever the case may be, it is your right and privilege to ask these questions of your server. It is the server's responsibility to know the answer. Or, if he doesn't know it immediately and with complete certainty, it is his responsibility to get the answer to you as soon as possible.

But here's the catch... ask informed questions. Asking vague questions gets you nowhere. Asking informed questions gets you answers.

There is a key difference between asking your server something completely vague, "What's good here?" and asking something slightly more specific, "What's your favorite dish?" The more specific, the better: "What's your favorite dish with grilled chicken?" Bingo. Get ready for a good conversation on the dinners available with grilled chicken, as well as a personalized recommendation.

The more information your server has about your food interests, the better he can tailor his suggestions to you. That is a key part of the service he provides in being a waiter. He can't help a customer pick a meal nearly as adequately without some cooperation from the customer herself. Otherwise, he's just going to resort to promoting the special of that day or week regardless of how much it would interest you, simply 'cause management told him to promote it -- or bribed him to, by means of competitions and prizes.

The question-asking scenarios get a little rougher when there's a pair of telephones in between the customer and the server, though. Usually that's 'cause the customer hasn't looked at a menu anytime recently [ but I've discussed this before ]...

To-Go Tips Galore! #6: Ask informed questions.

Here's a bright idea..... THINK!!!

[ photo credit ]

Regardless of the situation, I once again implore customers, especially those who place to-go orders via phone, to please take a few minutes to prepare your order -- including your questions -- before picking up the phone.

Want some [ unfortunately ] real examples from my daily experiences?

** "Uhh, yeah, hey, can I get a chicken salad?" is NOT acceptable.
[ All entrée salads have chicken on them. Unless specifically ordered otherwise. ]

** "What kind of chicken salads y'all got?" is NOT acceptable.
[ Same reason applies. Plus, If you just waited nearly five minutes on hold to talk to me, you can safely assume that I am busy helping other people. So why the hell would you think it's okay to ask me to explain the menu to you? ]

** "What sides y'all have?" is NOT acceptable.
[ With our recent new menu rollout, I now have nearly two dozen side dish options, including the price upgrade options. And the number of sides you get -- not to mention the prices -- varies depending on the category of entrées and sides selected. You're just going to order Fries and Broccoli Cheese Casserole anyway, so quit wasting my time asking me to list them all. ]

** "What is the size difference between the lunch and dinner portions of catfish?" IS acceptable.
[ One fillet versus two fillets. ]

** "Is the bourbon glaze spicy?" IS acceptable.
[ And no, it is not. It is, however, totally awesome. ]

** "Is it possible to add an extra breast of grilled chicken to that Alfredo pasta?" IS acceptable.
[ And yes, it is possible. Only $1.99 more. ]

** "What does the 'loaded' for your 'loaded baked potato' mean?" IS acceptable.
[ Butter, cheese, and sour cream. "No ma'am, no chives... No, we don't even have chives, ma'am... There won't be any chives on your baked potato whatsoever... No chives, I got it." ] 

** "What do you mean 'loaded' don' come wit' bacon bits?! You serious I gotta pay 79 sint fo' bacon? Das crazy. Everywhurr else put bacon on dey potatoes! Nu-uh, I ain't payin' no extra fo' bacon bits!" IS NOT ACCEPTABLE.
[ If you want free bacon on your baked potato, go to a restaurant with bacon as part of their 'loaded.' *cough*Chili's*cough* Have fun making up for it by paying more for any of their entrées than you would have for any of ours. ]


[ degreed waitress ]

Exciting news!

To the few of you who care,
 
I have launched a Confessions of a Degreed Waitress Tumblr account.
 
Y'all should totally check it out.... or better yet, follow me!



Here's my first post:



When people find out I've been waiting tables with a college degree for two years

 


[ degreed waitress ]

No, honey, that's not what I mean.

That awkward moment when you tell your GM that you haven't applied to that corporate job you were interested in just quite yet,

because you should be hearing back any day now from the graduate school program you applied to,

and it would require moving 300 miles away in less than two months,

...and she somehow still believes you'll be coming back to work for her after you're done with school.




[ photo credit ]
 


[ degreed waitress ]





Wait, when did jalapenos turn into sexism?

Around 3:45 on Wednesday, a server brings a stack of boxes down to the to-go end of my bar. One of the side house salads fell off the stack, spilling rabbit food onto the floor area just in front of the sink and trash can. He apologizes and says he's going to get a new salad and help clean up the fallen one. [ wanna guess which task he didn't do? ...P.S. either way, your guess is right.]

[ photo credit ]

Around 3:50, a man walks in and sits down in the to-go area. In fact, his spot at the bar is directly over the sink.  I'll call him Statler. [ The resemblance was uncanny! No, seriously! If that Muppet were human... ] Statler is oozing discontent from every pore, and I am not looking forward to whatever interaction is to come. He tells me he'll be placing a to-go order, and that he needs a menu. As he glances over it, I continue to tidy up and wipe down any surface I can reach.

A few minutes later, Statler says he's ready to order -- every guest's favorite lie. We only make it to the second item -- the Trio Sampler appetizer -- before he has to look at the menu again to actually choose the items that would make up the trio. Yeah. "Ready," my ass.

He looks down and furrows his brow in decision-making. This decision should take 10 seconds max. But no, apparently this is some sort of critical ordeal that must be reasoned out thoroughly. After about 20 seconds of standing there in awkward mutual silence, I am quite tempted to walk off and just leave him to his thoughts. Let him call me over when he's actually ready. But there's no way of doing that without appearing rude. Sigh. Looks like I get to just stand here. Awkwardly waiting. Knowing Raymond will walk in any moment. And all I want to do is get things clean for him.


[ photo credit ]

"I know!" my brain exclaims, "I'll clean up this lettuce! Cleaning without walking away -- excellent! self-five!*" I squat down pick up most of the lettuce, stand up, and drop them leaf things into the trash can. I squat back down to pick up the rest of the tidbits, when lo and behold! he's finally ready. Ugh, awkward timing.

"Okay! What can I get ya?" I ask from the ground. I finally finished picking up all the lettuce, threw it away, and washed my hands in the sink while he anwered my question. He lists his choices, tell me he wants no jalapenos anywhere on or near his nachos, and then lists all the dipping sauces he wants. Yay for full and complete orders! :) I dry my hands, place the order, and bring him a complimentary glass of sweet tea while waits. 

About those jalapenos, though.... guess what button I completely forgot to press?

** ding ding ding, we have a winner!

Well, technically I did press the "no jalapenos" button. But there were so many other modifications that the guy made, and the Squirrel [ our computer system ] was being so, well, squirrely [ per usual ] that I had to delete and re-do several of the modifiers so many times that, by the third go-round, I didn't notice that I'd inadvertently left off the jalapeno directive.

I thought nothing of it again until about 15 minutes later [ about 4:10pm ] as I opened the box in front of the guest to show him the finished product.

"Oh, no! Jalapenos! I am so sorry. I'll go get this fixed right now."

I picked up the box, grabbed the order's ticket, and started towards the kitchen. I snuck a look at the ticket to see if the mistake was my fault or the kitchen's. The words "no jalapenos" were nowhere to be found. Damn. It was mine.

"Wait," he snapped. "I don't want them to just take off the jalapenos 'cause it'll still have the hot on there."

In my head, I totally snickered. First of all, "hot" isn't a noun. Secondly, how intolerant to jalapenos ARE you? These really aren't that hot. But, hey, in his defense, he is old and white. Also in his defense, I did say "I'll go get these fixed." My words did not adequately reveal my plan of action -- whether I would have the cooks simply pick off the jalapenos or have the cooks completely restart the nachos.

"Oh no, sir," I corrected. "I'm going to have them make fresh nachos for you."

"Well, how long is that gonna take?"

"Only a few minutes."

Since it is well enough after 4 o'clock, it would actually take less time to make the nachos the second time around than it did the first time; 4pm is the clock-in time for the first wave of PM shift cooks and by now they've completed their shift change and are settled into position. Prior to that -- as when I first placed Statler's order -- there are only 2 cooks left from the AM shift, so things take just a few minutes longer. But of course I didn't get the opportunity to explain that the recooking would take far less time than the original cooking.

[ Also, about this time, Raymond appeared behind the bar out of freakin' nowhere, till and towels in hand. Damn. I am so not ready for him. ]

"No, no. It's going to take too long. The rest of the order is going to get cold!" Statler protested. "I want the whole thing remade."

My face dropped and my eyebrows shot up. I put the box of nachos down on top of the other three boxes of food and braced myself against the bar. "You want us to remake the entire order, not just the nachos?" I repeated slowly. Not gonna lie, I had a little attitude in my voice. Somehow I held myself back from blurting out, "IT'S TO-GO FOOD, DUDE. IT'S GOING TO BE COLD ONCE YOU GET TO WHEREVER YOU'RE GOING ANYWAYS." Yay for self-restraint!

"Yes, I want you to remake the order," he repeated.

"Alright --" I quickly snatched up the entire stack of food. "-- I'll go throw all of this away for ya," I snapped at him through a thin veil of politeness. I turned and walked away, only getting about two steps away before he stopped me, "Now, you wait a second. I wanna talk to your manager. Bring him over for me." He motions towards Raymond who is completely oblivious to my situation, as he is currently in his I-need-45-minutes-of-silence-when-I-first-walk-in-to-my-shift bubble, an is walking away from the bar and towards the kitchen. "Hah!" I thought. "He thinks Ray is a manager. Can't he see that Ray is wearing the exactly the same uniform I am?" Whatever.

"Sure, I'll get a manager," I actually said. And resumed walking.

The only "manager" available at the time was Jackie, a Floorwalker. [ A Floorwalker is an experienced and trusted server promoted to assist the management on a shift-by-shift basis. Floorwalkers dress professionally like a real manager, interact with guests as if they are a real manager, and essentially act as the bosses' filter, as they have the authority to handle the more minor issues ]. Luckily, Statler won't know that Jackie isn't a real manager. I explained the situation to her -- including the fact that the error was my fault and that I gave Statler an inappropriate amount of attitude. Jackie set out to handle my mess, and I instructed the cooks to start again on the order with no jalapenos whatsoever.

I avoided the conversation between the two of them so that I could cool myself down a bit and focus on the rest of my cleaning. Plus, Statler stood up to tower over Jackie when she approached -- between his height [ and her lack thereof ], his attitude, and his overall demeanor, he looked quite formidable. Throughout the conversation, Jackie's face showed a mix of helpless and flabbergasted, with a side of trying-to-maintain-her-composure; I couldn't help but wonder what was being said. Ten minutes later, and Statler's food finished before he did. Raymond silently bagged up the boxes, and watched as Statler left. Luckily, Jackie filled me in on what I'd missed.

He told her everything she already knew about the situation -- the jalapenos, the attitude. He also mentioned that he thought that I'd been washing my hands in a dirty sink because he saw the lettuce on my hands. *false* Furthermore, he claimed he was afraid to get his order remade because he didn't want us to mess with his food. He thought that I would spit in his food before I walked out of the kitchen. *also false*

The conversation quickly changed course, though, when Statler exclaimed that "Ever since she [ motioning towards me ] and that big one [ referring to one of my bartender friends Sybil, another thick white girl like myself..... but taller and thicker ] started working back there, this bar has "gone to shit." *definitely false* He continued with more rather sexist comments for the majority of the conversation, all leading up to his final statement, "I don't know why they let you people behind the bar anyways!" -- complete with a condescending sneer and a direct point towards Jackie's chest.

The entire time, Jackie was trying ineffectively to get a word in edgewise. Each attempt of "Sir--," "I underst--," "Well--," "I apologize--," etc. was interrupted with the next part of his tirade or with an even more infuriated, "No you do NOT understand! How can you? You keep interrupting me! You're not even listening to what I am saying. This is not how you talk to a customer." He trampled all over her, then took his fresh food and left the restaurant without paying. [ Jackie's exact words? "Basically I just bent over and took it." ]

Jackie trudged jaw-dropped back to the office and related the story to our Kitchen Manager Melissa and myself. Melissa became infuriated when she heard the story. Forget about Melissa's perfect blond hair -- with her fire, I'd swear she was a natural redhead like me. I seriously would have paid money to see her talk to Statler. But, alas. Her outburst was only for our ears.

"Why didn't you stand up to him, Jackie?!? You don't have to let him talk to you like that! Oh, I wish I had been the one who talked to him. I would have given him a piece of my mind!"

Jackie mumbled and bumbled something about "didn't know we could talk back to a customer..."

Melissa is pacing the three square feet of open space in the office. "We have the right to refuse service to anyone. And when someone makes a personal attack against our employees, I don't think we should take that! ...I mean, seriously, half of our bartenders are female. You're a female. Most of the other Floorwalkers are female. Three out of our five managers -- including our General Manager -- are female! We need to stand up to that kind of shit! I would have told him that if he can't be respectful, then he should take his sexist business elsewhere, that he and his money were no longer welcome in our restaurant!"

Jackie blinked as if she were about to crumble under her guilt of not having stood up for me. And for all of us.

Naturally, I turned to my phone and posted a snarky Facebook status:
"Didn't realize that I was born with the wrong genitalia to be competent behind a bar. Whoops. My bad."

My favorite responses?
"What dude goes to a bar to get waited on by a dude?"
followed by, "It's not like we're stirring the drinks with our junk..."

*le sigh* What an ordeal. I don't even know what to make of it all.


[ degreed waitress ]

Why are teenage hosts always idiots?

10:45 AM

A guy comes to the restaurant to eat this morning. But we're not open yet. So the host cracks open the door and says, "Sorry, we're not open yet."

"Okay. What time do you open?"

*pause*

The host backs up a few steps and leans into the cocktail room. "Hey, what time do we open?"

I blink at him.

Never mind that the front door clearly states the hours of operation in full view of both guys.... not to mention it's also listed online....

Never mind that one of the first things they make you memorize on your first day of New Hire Orientation is our hours of operation....

Never mind that you have worked here for a couple months now....

Never mind that you are the host and it is your job to open the doors for the guest and greet them all morning....

"11:00," I answer him.

"Okay, thanks!"

And he goes back to the front door to tell the guy.

Seriously, dude?


[ degreed waitress ]

This JUST happened.

[ catching up with an old friend's dad after church this morning ]

"So where do you work?"

" [ my restaurant ]. I'm a bartender."

"A bartender? Four years of college, and you're a bartender?"


Gee, thanks. Can I slap you in the face now?


[ degreed waitress ]

A(ballsy)broad

Once again, I had the what are you doing with your life? conversation with my guests.

Oh, joy.

They kept asking me questions between bites (it was somehow less awkward than it sounds, I promise), but unlike any other conversation on this topic that I've ever had with a guest, I never felt judged for my employment choice or demeaned in any way. This middle-aged married couple seemed legitimately interested in getting to know me. It was weird, well, at first, anyways.

We talked about my International Business degree. We talked about my love for traveling the world, acquiring new languages, and building cross-cultural relationships. We talked about my indecisiveness, my uncertainties. But most importantly, we talked about her life.

The two seated in front of me shared my international interests. The wife especially had vastly out-traveled me, thanks mainly to this story: At age 21, she was a single mother with a one-year-old daughter and an overwhelming urge to travel the world.  And what did she do?

She traveled the world.

Yup. With no plans and no goals, a young woman left all friends, family, and familiarity behind to travel extensively throughout Europe and Asia for the first time. For nearly a year. With an infant.

Why can't I find the balls to do that?

I mean, seriously. Why am I still here? I'm 23, educated, single, no kids, relatively little debt, and in a job that I can easily (and most days, gladly) leave. My wanderlust was my main reason for choosing the International Business major. My only positive academic memories from elementary and middle school are from my Spanish and Latin classes because I loved learning languages so much. My soul's sole craving right now is just to be a traveler.

Not a tourist, mind you. A traveler. There is a difference.

A traveler. My imagination soars into wild creativity building scenario after fantastic scenario. My gut clenches around what feels like a thousand butterflies. My heart leaps, racing over each Olympic hurdle of a rib.

I become a whole new person when I travel. I become bold, where I am normally cautious. I become an adrenaline junkie, where I am normally apprehensive. I become serene, where I am normally feisty. I become spirited, where I am normally lazy. I become conscientious of my surroundings, where I am normally inattentive. I become the better version of myself.

And yet, I'm still here. I find a way to talk myself out of it, every time -- How will I afford it? What will I do while I'm there -- will I just travel on my own, or will I seek out a job while there, or enroll in a service immersion program? How long would I stay? What would I do when I get back? Where would I even go? Would I be safe? What if I got lonely traveling by myself? What about all the friends I would miss? How would my mother get any sleep at night? blah blah blah... -- And then I take the easy road yet again -- the highway to my hellhole of a restaurant job -- and I am disappointed in myself for talking myself out of going, every time.

Why can't I find the balls to do that?

The question still rings in my head. Every time I look at table 114. Every time someone mentions traveling. Every time a guest/coworker/friend/parent asks me what I want to do next in life.

Why can't I find the balls to do that?

Why am I holding myself back from the one thing I want most?

Maybe one day, I'll just go.


[ degreed waitress ]

This thing called a diploma (or, in defense of being a waitress)

Given that this blog is called "Confessions of a Degreed Waitress," I feel I should discuss how possessing a degree has affected my serving job (and, how being a server has affected the way I view my degree).  This particular post is one I wrote several months ago, but I've been sitting on it for a while rather than posting it, as my thoughts about the scenario I will here discuss have fluctuated greatly over this period.  But there's no sense in holding back these thoughts any longer, I guess.

In the midst of my year(+) of serving, I graduated from college.  At least once a week, someone I'm serving will pop the question (no, not that question), "So, are you in school?"  I guess because I give off that "in school" vibe.  Just kidding.  I'm just of that "in school" age (23 years old).  When I explain that I just graduated college in December 2011, I get something along the lines of one of these two responses:

Supportive and suggestive

Guest: "Oh, congratulations!  What's your degree in?"

Me: "I have a BBA in International Business."

Guest: "Nice!  What do you want to do with that?"

Me: [insert whatever career or educational path I've been thinking about that month here]

Guest: "Oh wow, good luck with that!"

Then they usually proceed to throw in their two cents with suggestions that usually aren't helpful at all.  Buuuuuuut……thanks for trying………

"Wait, you've already graduated?"
"Yeah.."
"Then what are you still doing here?!?"

[I can't even count the number of times I've had this conversation.]

OR

Condescending….at first...

Guest: "So what are you doing waiting tables?!?" [in this "Are you crazy!?!  You're an idiot for being here waiting tables if you actually have a degree" kind of tone, as if the university automatically hands you a "real" job along with the diploma but I just chose to be stupid]

Me: "I'm still trying to figure out what I actually want to do with my degree."

And then the guest either says,

"Oh, well that makes sense!  It's a great idea to figure all that out while you're actually working. Especially in this economy!"

Way to dig your way out of that grave, "guest."  And THANK GOD for a bad economy--I can get away with having almost no clue what I want in life for a little while longer.

OR he says,

"Well, get out there and do something!  You'll figure it out along the way!"

While there certainly is merit to this statement--a lot of merit, actually--I still hate this comment.  To be honest, this comment somewhat offends me.  I think it's just the tone of voice, really.  Throughout the entire conversation, it's always there, carrying this implication that waiting tables is a complete waste of my time.  That there is nothing to be gained here whatsoever.  That it is a skill-less job, beneath my credentials as an educated woman.  That it will have nothing to do with my future education or career choices in life.  That I'm making a stupid mistake by being in a restaurant rather than in the "business world" with a "real job."

I swear, if one more church friend tells me she'll pray for me to find my "real job" soon,
I will show her the "real muscles" I've built from carrying super heavy food trays over my head for over a year.
[photo credit]

On the contrary, I have probably learned more about the practices of dealing with people, of being a good salesman, and of providing stellar customer service while I have worked in the service industry (hence the name) than I have in the classroom.  And I've learned a lot of other things, too...

...my strengths and weaknesses as both one who serves and one who leads.

...how to effectively delegate tasks and hold my peers accountable for their successful completion (concepts I was previously rather weak in).

...a heightened sense of humility and understanding as I interact with coworkers who are just barely getting by in life (whereas I have been blessed with a more fortunate upbringing and financial situation).

...how to rectify problems with customers as efficiently, pleasantly, and thoroughly as possible.

...how to better accomplish multiple tasks, for multiple tables simultaneously.

...awesome new skill sets.  I mean, I'm a bartender, too.  I'm now the most popular person at a party. 

With the exception of the last one, of course, being a waitress--and a pretty darn good one, I might add--has made me better suited for my future career than I had been at the time of my graduation.

There's so much more to say, honestly, but I'll save some for another post, another day.  Though, I will say this: Waiting tables has been one helluva journey, and it really has changed my life.  

[ degreed waitress ]