A re-post, following last night's serving gig, wherein we reminisce about an earlier serving gig...
I worked a buffet in a church great room yesterday, one attended by 500 people.
Have you considered serving? Are you wondering whether or not you have an aptitude for this kind of work? Just answer the following questions!
Does working for cash make you happy?
Do you have a pair of black pants?
Are you familiar with the differences between plates, bowls, forks and spoons?
If so, let me know if you and your black pants are available. We’re always looking for new blood.
Or perhaps you prefer to utilize servers, rather than become one?
Do you believe that the coffee could be hotter, the ice water icier?
Does making demands of people in black pants make you happy?
Perhaps most importantly, would you rather enjoy a meal with friends and family than work an additional job?
Simple, iddin it?
If you’re already a server, let me say that you have both my admiration and condolences.
But if you’re not, and have no plans to become one, may I offer some advice, on behalf of servers everywhere?
If you’ve been told that the tables will be released four at a time following the presentation, then that’s what is meant. When whole tables get up, on their own, jumping ahead of the tables that really should be next, it’s an invitation to anarchy.
As one of two people “releasing” tables to go to the buffet line next, some of those line-jumping made their excuses as they passed me.
“The Vikings game is on in 30. We need to go next.”
“Two of the women at our table are handicapped and we need to go next.”
“I’m hypoglycemic. Our table has to go next.”
Some of them said nothing, just walking past me to the buffet, averting their eyes.
They knew they were wrong.
I spit in their desserts, but it lacked the subtlety I prefer.
And no, of course I didn’t spit in their desserts.
I spit in their drinks.
No, no, no; I didn’t do that, either. There’s nothing you can do, is there, but smile? It’s a church function, they’ve paid good money for this, and I can’t very well send them back to their tables, can I? Not to mention that it’s Minnesota, and even while they were making it harder on the people who were playing by the rules it was all I could do, after they offered their excuses, to keep from saying, “Oh, that’s okay.”
We say that a lot around here, even when it’s not okay.
So there you have it: My thoughts on line-jumping in a buffet situation. There will be further instructions on what not to do where servers are concerned, but I think we’ve covered enough for one day, don’t you?
Questions? Suggestions? Dirty jokes? We’ll can discuss them over Bloody Marys and buffalo wings – and if the server treats us right, we’ll tip 20%.
...In Which I Introduce The Adjective "Penish"
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