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!

So, it’s been a while.

I had an interesting weekend. I did. I’ve been thinking a lot about my last blog, my squatting friend, and paying close attention to what my co-workers do to earn tips. One girl puts a big grinning smiley face on every check. Another will sit in the booth with tables she really gets a long with. Another guy cracks jokes.

I’ll admit, I added smiley’s to my normal thank you note on the bill. I still however, refuse to squat.

But, it all got me to thinking: does any of it really matter?

Think about it. Your server is average. He or she smiled when appropriate, doesn’t give you candy, but keeps your drink full. Do we really need the smiley’s and the conversation. Personally, I hate when I’m eating out and my server talks to me. I don’t know. I’m not dining out with them, right? So, I try to give people their privacy and be the silent server.

Does this make me less worthy of a good tip? Check out this article. CNN’s Jeanne Sahadi writes, continuing her 2003 series on tipping with the article “Tipping not Optional.” She talks about how, in the long run, it doesn’t matter. Even the worse servers often get tipped anyway because of the all too familiar American guilt complex. For example, this weekend, I totally forgot to put in this couples order.

Let me break it down for you. There were five of them: three small children (yes, children) and two parents. They asked me to ring in the kids’ food with the appetizer and, in attempt to manage the time they all came out, completely forgot to go back and ring in the parent’s dinner. Yeah. I got to wondering why it was taking so long when I dawned on me, I didn’t even ring it in! Now, this was truly crappy of me. I was so apologetic. I felt so bad. They had three small kids who were bored and fussy. They had to wait! I gave them dessert for free to compensate for the hour they waited for their food. I kept thinking, their not going to leave me anything. They left me $10 on a $50 check. I didn’t deserve that.

Now, think back to my previous posting about the women, the kids, and the $3 on a $60 check. People are going to tip what they’re gone tip. That’s what I’m learning. It's the luck of the draw with every table that walks in the door. Here's hoping Lady Luck doesn't forget me. My car payment's due!

Another dissappointing weekend. Well, Sunday I was sick so that was understandable. Fridays, however, are just not what they used to be.

In one of my moments of standing around bored I got to thinking about this guy I work with. He is this adorable goofy guy who only started working there a month or so ago. But, he keeps getting put on the best side, in the best section, and rolling out at the end of the night with more money than anyone else, even the closers.

Why?

Sure, he is pinch-your-cheeks-cute, funny, and sweet. But he, like the rest of us, finds diners occasionally irritating and gets angry and weeded and flustered. Why, I ask again, is he sometimes making twice what I do?

I was browsing the web and I came across this CNN article called Waiter Tip Tricks. The writer discusses a study conducted in 2004 that addresses the habits of servers in restaurants like mine and what they did to increase their tips.

Now, I do pretty much everything on the list down to the thank you note on the bill. So too does this guy I work with. There was one difference, however, between the two of us and our serving styles: the act of squatting next to the table. He does it. I don’t.

Few servers I work with do this, actually. In fact, I can only recall one other girl doing it and she usually only does it when there is a kid at the table.

Now, this is something you would never do if you were working at a fine dining establishment. But, somehow, with these “low- to mid-priced casual dining restaurants,” as the writer calls them, the rules change.

Whatever.

I watched this guy at work. He walked up to his tables, greeted them the same way I do, said the same things I do, but he squatted.

He makes more money.

Is this all it takes to make people happy? Squatting? Think about this for a minute. I mean, really think about it. Squatting. Squatting next to a table seems to make people tip more.

People are ridiculous.

I guess I’ll have to stick to making less money. Or, I can put some smiley faces on the bill next to my thank you and throw my tables some extra candy. Maybe that will compensate for my lack of squatting. Happy dining!

I can believe it; this is what happened to me… almost exactly!

I was reading my favorite blog for servers, waiterrant.net, and the entry titled “Tiramisu Dream” this morning when I shot up in my chair in amazement. This guy practically told the story for me!

So it was a warm Sunday, or hangover Sunday as I like to refer to it. Everyone, and I mean everyone, in my restaurant is hung-over on Sundays.

So, everyone is in a grumpy mood as the Sunday “holy-rollers,” as my boss affectionately calls them, come in.

I was doing great, in a good mood, and the money was reflecting that. It’s about 3pm when this couple rolls in. They, of course, complain about their original table and move into my section. Sonja hands me the silverware she intended to give them. “They’re all yours,” she tells me with a sly grin.

I take a good look, sizing them up. The man is wearing a white turtleneck under a blue blazer. He looks a little over fifty. The women he is with slides into the green booth. He slides in next to her. Wait, I think to myself, is this a table for four? I walk closer. No, they only have two menus.

They two begin to embrace one another as I approach them. I blush three shades of pink and look at them. They notice me, unwrap, and I introduce myself. They give me the, oh so funny, well I’m such-and-such and this is such-and-such. Very cute, right? I’m supposed to introduce myself. I smile politely and ask them what they want to drink. The two are obviously flushed as look at each other giggling because it is just so funny that they don’t know what they want to drink. The man looks at me with a smile, “Could you give us a minute?” he asks.

“Sure,” I tell him, slightly relieved. I need a reprieve.

I go back after noticing the two, after embracing more, have, in fact, seen we have Coke products.

She orders a root beer. He gets water. You guys are so good at making decisions, I think to myself. That was a tough one.

I give them their drinks and the man tells me they want an appetizer to start off with. I take their order, his hand feverously close to her inner thighs at this point. I ask if they need more time to order lunch. He says they do and sits the menus on the other side of the table. If you aren’t going to look at them, why do you need more time?

I decide to avoid them until their food is ready. I sit the plates down and ask if they have thought about they want to order. He tells me they just want to munch and orders more apps. Fine, I think. They’re low maintenance and polite. I mind the PDA (or Public Displays of Affection), but I’ll get over it.

I decide to only go to them now and then. They seem to appreciate the privacy as they gaze affectionately into each others eyes while gobbling down dips and wings.

I watch them from the service stand and say to Sonja, “These two are like teen-agers.” She leans against the stand with me as we look at the two, oblivious, kissing and laughing and smooching.

“I hope I love my husband that much when I’m their age,” I tell her.

“Ten bucks says they’re not married,” she says.

“You’re probably right.”

“I bet it’s a second marriage. Or, they’re dating.”

“Or, their dating on the side,” I smirk. The funny thing about cheating men and women, they think they are so sneaky. I remember this one man in particular. He came in one day, rolls up in a red sports car with a leggy blonde. What a cliché right? Anyway, a week later I see him again in the restaurant with a wedding ring and a bitter looking woman. I could be wrong, but I bet she thinks something’s up. I sure do.

Anyway, like in waiterrant.net, I was suspecting a decent tip. Smoochy couples nearly always tip well. Like he says, the man knows he’s getting laid and wants the whole world to feel his glee. He left me $10 on a $20 or so bill. I am happy for you sir! “Have a nice night.”

“I will,” he tells me. I bet you will slugger. Now, go get ‘em!