I was reading a book review this morning about a novel written by a freelance writer who spent 20 years waitressing until her career finally took off. It’s funny, though, how her writing career took off with a book about waitressing.

I was talking the other day to that pinch-your-cheeks cute boy I mentioned in an earlier posting. Friday business has been slow for the past few weeks. He was getting irritable and frustrated when he blurted out a piece of wisdom I found myself thinking about days afterward.

He was looking around at his empty section when he said to me, “Now I know why they call it waiting tables. You really are always waiting.”

Ironic isn’t it? And, don’t you just love irony. I mean, where did they come up the terminology? But if you think about it, the idea of “waiting” goes even further. This is something Deborah Ginsberg discusses in her book Waiting. Paige Bierma talks in her critique of the book on how people waiting tables are doing so in the anticipation of something else. Few people think to themselves as children or high school graduates. Wow, I want to retire a server! Most people are doing so on the layover to the rest of their lives. Myself, for example, I do this because it’s one of the few jobs for college students that pay enough for me not to have to work that often. If I worked retail, I would have to work three times as much to make what I do serving. I know this because I’ve done it.

At this stage in my life, I am waiting for more. I am waiting to graduate so I can become who I have always dreamed of being.

Some people who stay, in the restaurant business we call them “lifers,” often don’t plan to be in that position. Maybe their dreams didn’t work out. Maybe something happened and they found no more reasons to wait, except tables.

The book talks about the role a server plays. It’s interesting how 2 million people are servers in this country. Two million people are waiting and I find myself wondering: what are they waiting for?

Happy dining!

They keep telling me it's bathing suit season. Oh, I’m sorry. I’ve been too busy pulling my hair out with more work than I can stand. It’s May, people! This is college crunch time. Plus, I have a job. Who has time for the gym? Who really wants to go to the gym?

NOT ME!

Anyway, I was looking up new and interesting things to say to you when I came across this one waitress’s blog. She argues that waiting tables burns up to 200 calories an hour. I bet it’s more. The blog points out how physically strenuous the job is and how much of a work out the whole system can be. Who needs a gym when I spent 13 hours Friday and 12 hours Sunday working out at the restaurant? I bet my hips and thighs are in impeccable shape. Happy dining!

He calls it The 8 Percent Look.

To be a server is to be a master mind of human body language. If you want any chance of making money in this crapshoot business, you have to be able to read people. For example, are they looking for you, or are you bugging them so much they are looking to make sure your aren’t coming over again (so they can really steal the salt and pepper shaker). Do they want a refill? Do they seem to like the food? Or, are they trying to be polite by not saying anything? Is the music bothering them? Do they seem too cold or too hot? Do they want a refill or are they going to explode with another glass of soda?

I find that most people do, in fact, expect you to read there minds. This can be annoying seeing as that I am not a mind reader but a mere college junior. But, I would like to think I am getting better at reading the cues people consciously or unconsciously give me.

My friend Kenny and I were talking about this the other day. He was working in the bar area Friday night. The bar is interesting because you get a real mix of people. And, more often times then in the dining room, servers get the I’m-drunk-so-here-is-my-money tip.

Another important part about reading people, as Kenny made me see, is reading whether or not they plan on tipping you appropriately. Now, if you are a server and you’re busy with a lot of tables on a Friday night, you have to weigh your tables and look at which ones are worth investing in and taking good care of, and which ones are worth your basic solid service. I don’t want to spend a lot of time on tables that I know don’t tip well. For example, more often times than not, younger teenagers do not tip well. I’m not going to chat with them and make sure they are happy 100 percent of the time because I know that, for me, it hasn’t proven worth it in the past. I don’t want to spend a lot of time on rude people, for obvious reasons. And, I don’t want to spend a lot of time on people who give what Kenny refers to as The 8 Percent Look.

What exactly is The 8 Percent Look? I’m glad you asked because I found myself wondering the same thing. The 8 Percent Look is the pursed lips, slanted eyebrows, and tense eyed look of people who are very unhappy. Oh no! I forgot their 197 refill of diet soda! Oh no! Their well done burger took over twenty minutes to cook!

I use these silly examples because I think there are only certain rare situations when 8 percent is all you should leave a server. I had one the other night. I went out with friends. A few of us were servers so we were very polite to her. This girl was ridiculous. She never checked on us, took 10 minutes or so to give us the check after we asked her for it, and had the nerve to ask me “Are you sure?” when I told her she gave us a check from another table that was of a lesser amount. No, you dumb ho, I want to pay 20 dollars more for my meal which is why I am asking you for another check. Give me a break!

Anyway, these are the people you give 8 percent to. I’ll have you know I gave her 15 percent, which is to me like giving 8 percent. And, these were exceptional and appropriate circumstances for bad tipping.

Most people, however, have little reason to tip poorly. I think a lot of it has to do with some people just being cheap. Now, this is most certainly not all people. I think a lot of my customers are fine tippers. But, I try to give solid service to everyone so I know there are other factors coming into play. Sometimes I deserve bad tips. When I don’t, however, I want to figure out why. So, like I said, some people are cheap. They are the oops-I-didn’t-mean-to-spend-so-much tables. Some people were raised poorly. Some people don’t understand what serving is like. Some people don’t understand that I can’t cook their food and wait on all the tables I have to. I can’t be blamed when their food takes too long, is cooked wrong, or has foreign objects in it.

Long story short, reading people is important. It is how we make our money. Bad tippers deserve bad service. Bad tipping is a bad habit and, like I always seem to say, rarely necessary. So read some literature I have for you about tipping, and happy dining!

This will be a short one.

It just occurred to me that prom season is upon us. I work with quite a few high school seniors. I know that most proms include dinner, but the other day a group of kids came in dressed in formal attire. Proms aren’t the only formal dances going on right now.

First of all, I mentioned before that I worked in a corporate bar and grill franchise type deal. I hardly think a burger goes well with a dress and tuxedo. But, do what you want.

Second of all, there are a lot of dumb tweens out there who are eating out without mommy and daddy for the first time. I want to give you a heads up on the kinds of things you should and shouldn’t do, especially when eating out.

Check it out. It’s a Do and Don’t list for prom-goers. I think it applies to more people than that though. If you’re going to grab a burger in your formal gown, at least have some manners and class it up a bit. Happy dining!

Today we are going to be learning a valuable lesson. Ladies and gentleman don’t mess with the people serving you your food.

I have said this before. I never once have messed with a table’s food. The honest truth is that I don’t have the heart. Sure, people can piss me off. But, I find that with a little empathy, a smile and, of course, free stuff, people nearly always keep it cool with me.

Never once, however, have I met three people like the ones who sat in my section Sunday night.

It’s story time folks.

I was about to be cut when my friend Katie, yes the one who gave me the $3 tip table from before, seats me with three teenage girls. We were all goofing off at the hostess stand when they walk in. One had red eye shadow crawling across her face. One looked about 9 years old. And the other looked embarrassed. They were dropped off by one of their fathers and left for me to baby-sit. I think all three were probably 13 or 14.

Now, I remember being young and, yes, obnoxious. I do not, however, remember being dropped off or raised by wolves.

I approach the girls and introduce myself. “What can I get you ladies to drink?” I leave and return with their drink orders. They greet me with about 18 of the most obnoxious questions.

“Do you have chicken tenders,” eye shadow girl asks me.

“Yes.” I point to the menu right in front of her face.

“How much do they cost?” she asks.

I point again to same spot.

“Can’t I just get a side of chicken? I don’t want a whole meal!”

So you’re out to eat and you don’t want a meal? Interesting choice of how to spend the evening. Oh, and interesting choice in make-up, doll.

“I’ll let you order off the kid’s menu. There is a smaller portion there,” I inform her.

“No, I want a lot a chicken!”

So, you don’t want a whole meal, but you want a lot of chicken. Interesting.

“Well,” I say, taking a deep breath, “We don’t have a side of chicken so is the kid’s menu okay?”
This, dear reader, is when the little ho proceeds to huff, turn her back to me, face the wall, and mumble under her breath. I’m sorry; I don’t think I know you. Have we met? I’m Sara, and I am the one who touches your food before you do. Is this really how you want to act?

The girl sitting next to her orders a burger and the other orders chicken tenders off of the kid’s menu. Apparently, she liked my idea. Both look embarrassed. So, I put in their order and bring out their appetizers. The eye-shadow girl says to me, “I didn’t mean to be ignorant.” I accept her apology and, in my own nerdy way, laugh at her incorrect usage of the word ignorant. I then proceed to get their dinners together. At this time a different hostess, Jen, brings out their meals and they, of course, give her a hard time.

It seems that, after six hours of debating the cost of chicken, eye shadow girl didn’t really want chicken. She wanted grilled cheese.

Dear reader, take a deep breath with me now. I’ve had time to digest all of this so I’m not quite as furious as you might be. Are you okay? Alright then, we’ll move on.

Jen informs me of their displeasure. Angry like a retail clerk who has to listen to Celine Dion’s “Because You Loved Me” over and over again on the store’s stereo, I storm out in a fist of rage. “Dear,” I said with all the sarcasm I could muster up, “You did order chicken. And now, you want something else?”

She looks at me with surprise. I don’t think she expected me to give her attitude right back. “I wanted grilled cheese with a side of chicken.”

I remember her mentioning she wanted chicken. Interesting.

“Well, pick one,” I yell to her like her mother should have been doing at his moment, not I.

“Fine,” she huffs. “Grilled cheese,” she claims with a look of defiance.

She thinks she is clever but I will win the war. I take her chicken and I eat it in the kitchen while I wait for the completion of her new order. I could have made it into a side and charged her something for it.

No. I ate it.

Now, this is crucial point for any pissed off server: bringing out a re-cook. I’ll admit that I was tempted to spit in her food. I believe at one point I even asked the cook to. He gave me a look and I told him the choice was his alone. Then, I ate her fries. When the grilled cheese is done, I bring it out.

The girls eat their food. I ignore them. I was so tempted, however, to sit down and pass along some friendly advice.

I image myself saying, “Hun, you really should watch yourself. If you had the bad luck to be seated in any other section tonight, you would have gotten a spitball in your sandwich. Or, dare I say, much worse. So, be careful next time. You got lucky sitting here with me. All I have is attitude for annoying people who are too dumb to read a menu and order food properly.”

A lot of people don’t believe that servers actually will mess with their food. “They wouldn’t dare,” they think to themselves in blissful ignorance (notice correct usage of the word). People look at servers and they think that we are all working for them. Some people, not all, look down on servers.

In truth, it is servers who have the control. Sometimes a burger falls on the floor. Oops! If the people are nice, they get a new burger and an apologetic explanation. If they suck at life, they get a dusty, dirty, juicy burger. Would you like a side of lint with that?

I have heard worse stories though. One guy I work with, we’ll call him Bob, had a lady who continually sent back her martini. It wasn’t cold enough or strong enough or weak enough or whatever enough. Bob got so frustrated that he took her new martini into the bathroom and, let’s say, he dropped the ball (or balls) into her glass.

This one she enjoyed and drank with a smile. Ha!

There were so many more rude and obnoxious things these girls did. The only other one I will mention is my 10 cent tip. But, then again, I expected it. I rather have a dime in my pocket then give pretentious clowns like them any respect.

You think I’m bitter? There are worse out there. Check out bitterwaitress.com and keep well informed about the people dealing with your food. Happy dining!

Have you ever heard of 43things.com? Well, whether you have or have not, I’m going to let you know about it.

This website is a forum that asks people: what do you want to do with your life? I was looking around the site today. People say the expected things. I want to get married. I want to save money. I want to buy a house.

Other people say less obvious things like I want to love myself, stop lying, and buy a dog, ext…

I thought this one was interesting. Ninety one people said they want to eat out less.

As a server, I’m glad the number is low.

However, I think this is an interesting thing to point out. My record: in one day I ate out 5 times. I had breakfast at one place, lunch at another, appetizers at another place, dinner at the next place, and my final destination was for dessert. And, all of these places were sit down, tip the waiter, restaurants.

This is obviously excessive and I felt sick for stuffing my face and wasting money. I will never do that again. However, I think that this week I am leaving a comment up in the air. Do Americans eat out too much? I see some people in my restaurant every single week. Some of them I see more than once a week. Is this excessive? Or, is it simply a good way to meet people, enjoy good food and conversation, and get of the house? How much is too much and does it even matter?

I think I spend an average of $100 or so a month on eating out. Most people on this website complained about how if they ate out less they would have more money to spare. Plus, eating out isn’t always the healthiest option. Some doctors eeven argue that dining out is one facet of American's weight problem.

What do you think? Check this site out, look around, and think about it. Happy dining!

I think it’s time to have an entry about children dining out.

Quite a few of my fellow serving buds were bitching this weekend about a common pain for the server. Let’s all say it. We know what it is. We may hate to admit it. It’s children!

Now, don’t get me wrong. Not all children are small versions of the Antichrist. Once in a blue moon the server finds themselves lucky to be in the presence of a well behaved, polite and adorable child. Well, I had one just the other day. This child, probably only three or four, even ordered for himself and capped it all off with a thank you. And, you know what; the parent didn’t even have to tell him to.

I don’t know about you, but when I misbehaved as child, especially in a restaurant, my parents had no problem putting me in my place.

Oh, not 90 percent of parents these days. Half of them don’t even have the manners themselves so how can we really expect their kids to?

For all you servers out there, I feel your pain. I feel the pain of picking up shredded paper, chicken tenders, cereal, and crayons off the floor. I feel the look of disgust you get when a child is running rampant, in your way, around the restaurant. I feel your pain when the fresh-out-of-the womb infant is wailing and your customers show you their displeasure with a “Can’t you do something about that?” face. I do. I feel you.

(Sidebar: My parents NEVER went out to eat when us kids were 8 minutes out of the hospital, by the way. So, for anyone who has a problem with that statement about babies, you’re going to need to go ahead and get over it. You know it annoys you when other people’s children cry, so don’t act like the same isn’t for everyone else. Seriously now.)

Anyway, I suppose the moral of this story is, teach your damn rugrats manners. If you’re going to inflict on the worlds not only your bad manners but the ones you pass on to the kids, stay home. And, I found a good site for parents looking to teach their kids a thing or two about table manners. I’m no expert, but I see kids come and go and it is almost always the same thing: their obnoxious and they don’t have to be. I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking. Happy dining!