Thursday, June 22, 2006
Are you have sweetheart?
Because after nine and half hours of waiting tables, the only thing that's going to get me through this evening is whisky and the prospect of bed.
Yesterday, I had a moment when I thought "What is wrong with these people! Do they think it's my job to wait on them or something?" Which made me laugh out loud, through my hospitality-related pain. Smile, though your heart is breaking, little Sarah.
And then, today I broke more than just my heart. As a veritable waterfall of plates and glasses rained upon my head I could feel the last few vestiges of my soul just, gently, rip under the strain, like something stretchy that had stretched past it's breaking point. Elastic, or mozzarella or something. This meant that later I found myself crying into the sink over a Travelling Wilburies song.
Here is a poem I have composed about my relationship with hospality, written in the "Teen Angst" style.
Eggs, coffee.
Everyday I go to work, these words ring throughout my head.
Do you people want blood?
Blood coffee? Blood eggs?
The words are like little needles, little knives
And they bury their way into my soft tissue.
The tissue around my eyes, my brain -
I can feel the pressure building.
I worry about the potential for implosion.
Imploding, folding into myself.
Damaged
Forever
By eggs.
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Sarah,
ReplyDeleteDo you find blank moments? When you suddenly wake up in a strange place covered in blood an axe in your hand and no memory of how you got there? I know I do.
Hopefully I wont read in world headlines, 'Kiwi waitress butchers Aussie customers in restaurant slaughter fest'.
Oh yeah, avoid shower curtains and big knives, I've found they sometimes set me off as well.
I've just reread that poem without any whisky and after ten hours sleep and it does sound like I'm going to kill people, doesn't it?
ReplyDeleteFunny how the subconscious works.
I think I was more worried that I would collapse into a heaving, writhing mess of egg-stress, twitching on the rubber mats behind the counter and muttering - "two strong short soy macchiato" "large weak decaf soy latte single shot" &c.
Sarah,
ReplyDeleteUndoubtedly the waiters lot is not a happy one. Surely it would be better if the menu only contained one item to eat and one item to drink. I think too much choice can be stressful to staff. And if anyone asks for a weak decaf raspberry latte you could say 'Fuck off you thick tosser this is a restuarant not a chem lab." And then show them the door with the toe of your boot.
And through such small changes work can become joy.
Issue waiters cattle prods is what I say.
Hey, and I'm a customer and I'm saying this. Just can't stand the posey shits who can only ask for food using abbreviated codes.
I just think I'm not cut out for hospitality. I've worked with a lot of really amazing waiters/baristas who just maintain cheerfulness and niceness so well... but I can't bear it. I would leave but I have no real qualifications (except for my $40,000 BA) and am depressed with rejection.
ReplyDeleteWhich makes me a lot like most other waiters, I feel.
You need to serve at large functions where none of the responsibility is placed on one person.
ReplyDeleteI've gotten to the point where I try to get through the whole night without serving one drink. I just walk around the room looking like I have another purpose and avoid eye contact with all the customers.
I've been successful on numerous occasions.
Also, revel in the fact that you're NOT cut out for hospitality.
ReplyDeleteIf you were that would be more depressing.
I'm quite a tool when it comes to serving and that makes me quite pleased.
Sarah,
ReplyDeleteS40,0000 BA? Better than not having one methinks. However waiting on tables has always struck me as being a tough job. Other than the crap job how's living in Australia? It's a tad larger than New Zealand and even I've noticed that, but is is very different? Up here we tend to think of Aussies and Kiwis as the same, a part of the family that no one really talks about. Who went astray but we hear are doing okay. Oh yeah, and they're better at cricket than us, which is another reason to be snooty about them.
Abbeyruth,
Did you know that that the real meaning of the roman word for slave was 'talking tool'. Kind of says it all, dontchathink?
Dan: $40,000 student loan debt.
ReplyDeleteThe Latin word for slave is "servus".
Oooooh Sarah, you are so sharp today..
ReplyDeleteAh, debt! Hmm maybe 40 grand of debt is not such a positive thing.
Saturday I was a grumpy-assed bitch. And you would have been too if you'd had a drink with someone who teaches "Goddess Dancing" for a living and wants to meet more New Zealanders because in her opinion, all New Zealanders are really lovely and nice. How freaking patronising is that
ReplyDelete