dhf and the newbies

Turnover in a restaurant such as the one in which I work is high. Anyone who works in any sort of retail or service position will probably echo this statement. This is true for many reasons – the main being low pay and having to put up with unreasonable customers. These are two reasons I don’t want to wait tables, but unlike the college students still living at home and the suburban moms who are just working to get a few hours away from the kids, I have no choice. I wait tables because I need the money. I wait tables because my son expects to eat dinner every night. Spoiled brat.

Anyway, turnover is high. Of the original sixty or so servers I trained with before the store opened last February, I am one of maybe ten left. There are probably only four of us left working the night shifts. Servers don’t last at my restaurant. What this means is that every few weeks I show up on a Monday evening to work with a new batch of co-workers, of which only two, maybe three, will still be working with me in another three weeks. Some won’t last that long. Some won’t be back on Tuesday. One might even walk out mid-shift. You just never know.

Working with so many new employees, some who have never before waited tables, makes the job difficult. Although I’ve never been asked to directly train anyone (partly because of the hours I’m available), those of us who’ve been there a while are constantly placed in the position of coaching the newbies. They need to know how to ring in a salad with no tomatoes. They need help substituting hash browns for fried apples. They need to be reminded to put ‘out’ on their bread and soups so we don’t run it out again with their food. They need to be reminded to spot seat, spot seat, and spot seat. And all of this would be fine, it would be no big deal at all really, if it didn’t mean taking time away from my tables to help out.

This Monday was the same as most – one other server who started with me and one who’s been there a couple months but who’s waited before and is awesome, and five or six who have been there no more than two weeks. Mondays are usually a bit slower than the rest of the week and a nice break from Sundays, which are crazy busy with the pre- and post-church crowd.

But we got in a party of twelve and a party of twenty at the same time, right in the middle of our dinner rush. The manager gave the twelve top to two of the new servers and split the twenty into two ten tops, giving one to me and the other to the other more experienced server. I had three other tables including one in the smoking section at the time, so it was a little hectic, but things were going smoothly. Then another party came in.

Since I’m one of this particular manager’s go-to people (his words), he sat them at three tables – two of which were in my section and one in another newbies’. We only had two grill cooks in that night and they were slammed with the three big tables we had just put in, plus all the other tables in the restaurant, so I greeted the new table, introduced myself, and in order to stall a little and give the grill some time, told them I had a large order to put in and that I’d be back to get their drink orders in a just a few minutes. They seemed agreeable and went about chatting, and I headed to the kitchen to get salads and bread for my first ten top.

When I came back out to the diningroom, there was one of the newbies at my table, taking their drink order. Already. Then I checked the board, thinking maybe that the third table was in her section. When a party is sat across tables like that, and the tables are in different servers’ sections we can either split the party (and the tip) or trade the party for the next table we get sat in our section. It’s not even an unwritten rule – it’s in our handbook. Tables are like real estate. We own them. We keep them up. And once the hostess has rented them out for us, we take care of the tenants and collect the rent.

But the third table wasn’t even in this newbies’ section. It belonged to someone else. So when she came back to the kitchen with the drink order, I walked over to her and said, “That party is in my section, so I’ll help you with it. I already greeted them and we were trying to stall them to let the grill catch up.”

I thought this was reasonable. I thought I said this politely, as opposed to something like bitch, that’s my table, what the hell are you doing?

Apparently, I was wrong.

The newbie snapped. “Well, just take it then!”

“Uhm, no,” I said. “We can split it. [The manager] sat them in my section for a reason (because you’re new and can’t handle your four-tops, let alone a twelve), so I’ll just help you.”

“Just take it,” she said again.

I reiterated that I wasn’t trying to be a bitch, but two-thirds of the party was in my section and we could split it.

She rolled her eyes and agreed.

Then the manager asked why we were splitting the table when it wasn’t even in her section. I told him I didn’t know and he moved another newbie over to help me (the one who actually had that table), so the original newbie walked off in a huff.

The second newbie and I took the drinks out and started getting orders from the twelve-top. I took my two tables and she took hers. Then she handed me the order slip and as I stepped up to the micros to put it in, the first newbie and another told me my ten-tops’ food was ready and they started out the door with the trays. I grabbed the third tray, assuming they had checked to make sure everything was there and walked out to the table. I started passing out the food only to discover that I was missing grits for two orders and one sandwich had mayo when there wasn’t supposed to be mayo and two entire meals were not even on the tray.

I was, to say the least, a little irritated by this point. Not only had another server tried to steal my table and been an ass to me about doing so, but now they had sent me out to a table, a big table, potentially worth big tip money, with trays that hadn’t even been checked, making me look like a fool. I rushed back into the kitchen and called for the food I was missing. And I complained. Not at anyone directly. But I was frustrated, and I said, so all the new people could hear, “If you’re going to set up a tray, make sure everything is on it. Otherwise, don’t bother.”

And of course, we’re all expected to run trays, so not running isn’t an option, so what I really meant was, “Get your shit together!”

While I was rushing around getting the missing meals and a new bun for the messed up sandwich and grits and a manager to visit the table and pretty much anything else I could do to salvage my tip, a couple of the newbies said to each other, “I don’t see what the big deal is.” I was pretty frustrated but didn’t have time to argue, so I ran what I could out to my table then came back and had to enter the order for the second party.

I put in all the orders for the part of the party that I took, then picked up the sheet from the other newbies’ order pad to put in the rest. Only she hadn’t done any spot seating. And I couldn’t find her anywhere. But it had been a good five minutes since we’d taken their order, so I just put the plates in and figured we’d auction off their food at the table. Annoying, but better than going out to the table to ask and letting them know we hadn't put the order in yet.

Then I discovered that she’d written catfish for one guest, but hadn’t specified grilled or fried. This was slightly more important. I finally found her and asked her about it, but she hadn’t even bothered to ask the guest. So I had to go back out to the table and ask the guest his preference.

Back at the micros, I mentioned to the newbie that she hadn’t spot seated, to which she responded that she wrote down the meals in the order in which the guests gave them to her. I stared blankly back at her for a moment.

I told her why it is we spot seat. Guest one is always the first person to our right. Always. If I know what meal goes to the guest in each seat and I have to run another servers’ tray, I can just drop the food off ask if they need anything else and go back to serving my own guests.

Why is this important? Because in the fifteen minutes between ordering and receiving food, many guests have already forgotten what they had their hearts so set on earlier. Having it all written down on a ticket, in a format all servers recognize, saves a lot of time. Time which I can spend at my own tables, earning my own money, instead of helping other servers earn theirs and neglecting my own guests.

The newbies response?

“It’s no big deal. They’ll get their food. Who cares if it takes longer?”

My response: “That’s fine. But I won’t split anymore parties with you then.”

This apparently angered her enough that she followed me halfway to my table, asking me to repeat what I said. I ignored her, refilled my guests’ drinks, and walked her back to the vestibule where I reiterated, “If it’s no big deal for you to do your job right, then I won’t split a table with you anymore because it is a big deal to me to get it right.”

Of course, I said this in front of several other new employees as well.

And then I rushed back out to my tables to see if anyone needed anything, since you know, they were going to be paying me and all.

During my absence, all the newbies formed a dhf hate-club. They decided they wouldn’t run any of my trays, wouldn’t refill my guests’ drinks if they had a pitcher already in the diningroom, and I think they even ordered t-shirts for their new club. Then they all went in the back to smoke and plot my demise.

Okay, so I could have been much more pleasant. And I could have not let the frustration of so many screwups in a fifteen minute timespan get to me. I won’t argue with that. I understand that they are new. I understand that some of them are not accustomed to the quick pace. I understand that mistakes are going to be made. What I don’t understand, and what ultimately pissed me off, was their complete lack of concern for having made mistakes or any acknowledgement that maybe they should do their job the way they’ve been asked. Because, you know, we might do things for a reason.

Also pissing me off:

The ten-top with the missing meals left me a twelve percent tip and complained about me forgetting their food.

The second newbie never came back to the twelve-top after we took their order. I refilled drinks three times, got them more bread, brought them dessert and to-go boxes, pre-bussed the tables, and reset them after they left and I still had to split the tip with the newbie.

The other four tables I was working, who didn’t get spectacular service from me while I was trying to recover the ten top, and didn’t get refills as quickly as they wanted (since the other servers weren’t helping out) left me lighter tips. One completely stiffed me.

Making me feel better:

I work my ass off at the restaurant and will help anybody with anything (despite my apparent grouchiness). The newbies will come crawling back once they figure out they sparred with the wrong server.