I was scheduled at 4:45, which I assumed to mean many things:
There were probably 2-3 NBDs (“Night Business Declines,” who work from 11- or 12-something till the time when Night Business Declines [hence the acronym]), 2-3 splits (who are cut after the NBDs) and 1 or 2 3:45ers (at this point, after NBDs and splits are cut, cut times go in start-time order, earliest to latest).
I figured, based on these estimations, that I’d be 4th cut. It’s a Friday night, so NBDs would be cut around 7:30, and all other “categories” a half hour or hour afterwards, per group.
I figured I’d get cut around 9.
Nope!
I had the misfortune of having my second table seated in a section halfway across the dining room, in someone else’s section, who had not come in yet, for no particular reason, so when I got my third table and walked them to it myself because we were short-staffed in the seaters department, the hosts forgot to write down that my third table had just been sat.
So they sat me immediately at another table in my section.
I paid no attention to this table, as I already had 3 tables, and we’re not allowed (at ALL! Ever!) to have more than 3 tables at a time, until a host came up to me and said, “You know 11 is yours, right?”
I said no, I have three tables already. This is when she figured out that I had table 21 (whom I sat) and the host had forgotten to write that down. The manger bought their entrees and they left me $10. They paid nothing for their meal. It was an excellent tip on what would have been a $25 ticket, had it not been comped. I was happy. People have proven to be very kind and reasonable when in these situations, in my experience.
Then, I get sat a party of 9, and share it with another server. I’m so preoccupied with the party and the nice but high-maintenance 4-top at my booth that I don’t notice that I’ve been sat at 21 again. Completely retarded and horrible server-like of me, and a host brings it to my attention, and I go greet them. They’ve been waiting ten minutes. The host gets a manager (not to tattle, but because it’s required to get a manger in such situations). He comps their appetizer. They are the nicest people in the world, and possibly the most attractive couple I have ever seen. Tattoos all over, beautiful makeup on the girl, perfect emo/hipster/shaggy hair combo on the guy. They converse like they are the best of friends and will likely be married with kids and live happily ever after forever more.
Anyway. Not only do I not greet them for 10 minutes, I also forget to bring them their salads. I have been the world’s worst server EVER to these people. My manager goes to them to ask how they are, if everything is okay, and that’s when they bring the salads to his attention. He tells me I forgot them. I freak out! What should I do?! I can’t believe I’ve screwed up on one table SO MUCH. He brings them their salads, and tells me to pick up my game tomorrow on my lunch shift.
I feel like crap then. Because I’ve been managing this triple-seating, parties like crazy, Friday night madness with such awesomeness, this table excluded, and I get no recognition or thanks for that, but a stern warning because of this one incident. I feel I need to defend myself and make sure I don’t get punished with a two-table section next shift because of it. I am reminded of an hour earlier, when it was slower, and I was just standing around in the bar and a coworker said that he could tell when I was busy, because of the determined look on my face and my pace. He’s one of those people that can pick up on just about anything; very intuitive. Then he said that I’m a “lifer, for sure.” “Lifer” would normally insult me, in any other job that I’ve had before in retail establishments, but in server world, and in my mind, it meant, “You have the potential to make a great living by simply waiting tables. You are now part of the club. Welcome.” Not that I ever planned, nor wanted, a “career” in serving, but neing indoctrinated into this strange culture has for some reason made me very happy and motivated to continue it. I could get a career earning much more than I’d need to make and I think I’d still do it part-time. I actually really like serving. A lot. It’s weird.
Then this shit happens. I show my newbie status and seem to prove that I can’t even handle one two-top, one four-top, and half of a nine-top without having to comp meals because of it.
I feel incompetent.
The table (cutest couple ever?) that I took ten minutes to greet tips me $15 on a $40 tab. A fantastic tip even if you include their comped $9 appetizer.
I had a great night.
I thought I’d leave around 9, but didn’t get home until midnight. I thought I’d make around $80, but earned $135 before tip-out (left with $116). Felt like shit because of random incompetent things, but my guests understood what was going on. Last table of the night was a shared party of 8, made $22 on it, after splitting the tips with the other server 50/50. They all left extra tips even after the automatic 15% gratuity.
Tonight rocked.
