It's a Mystery

Friday had the potential to be another painful 16+ day. Class at nine, bar by four. The impending-ness of St. Pat's also made me suspect that it'd be pretty busy. In light of this, I shuffled my SCWP hours slightly so I could get off campus by one. Even one hour is helpful, I've gotta say.

I got to the bar at four. There was one guy at the bar and nobody else besides staff. I got my first table almost an hour later. A couple more in quick succession, and I started to suspect that the rush I'd been expecting had arrived. Not so. I topped out at four tables, lost one and added two between then and when Laura arrived at six. It stayed slow for the next four hours, except now there were two of us.

In the course of this I sold a dozen or so appetizers, etc. Nothing incredible, but more than the others, so when I stepped back in the kitchen around eight-ish, Debbie handed me a "prize" for being the one with the most food orders. I got a Carino's mystery card. $5-$5oo, it promised. I'm always down for free stuff, and anything, even a $5 gift card, is nice to have by way of positive reinforcement, right? Since I was off Saturday, I decided right then and there that Saturday would be my day for solving the mystery of how much free stuff I'd been awarded.

Meanwhile, a couple of people I knew wandered in so I had someone to chat with for a bit. Then I wandered downstairs and set up the sinks for Skunk. Then back upstairs, a look at the clock, a sigh, and a "It's only nine o'clock?"

Guy: Lemme buy that table a round.
(2 hours later, after asking for the check)
Guy: Hey, I didn't order this shiraz.
Me: That's right, you didn't. The table you bought a round for did.
Guy: Oh yeah.

A couple walks in and looks around, trying to decide where to sit.
Brandi: Who are these losers? Are they my losers, or your losers?
Me: Yours.
They sit at the bar.
Brandi: I hate you.

Guy talking about his son-in-law: I'm the one who introduced them. I figured that if I introduced them there'd be no way she'd have anything to do with him, right? (He sighs)

Guy: I didn't know you were getting your masters or anything... You look way too young.
Me: Thanks for the, um, compliment?

By nine thirty I was pulling my hair out. Our end-of-the-bar regulars gave me somebody to talk with a bit, but even with them, it was painfully boring. By a quarter 'til ten, I asked Julia how long she thought I should stick around.
Julia: Doesn't matter to me, check with Laura.

Me: Hey Laura, you mind if I get out of here before the owner gets here and makes me stay two more hours with nothing to do?
Laura: See ya.
Me: I love you.

So, on the Friday night directly before one of our biggest drinking holidays, a Friday night which had seemed to promise loads of people and lots of running our collective butts off, I'm cleared out and on my way home by ten o'clock. I can offer little explanation.

On Saturday I did some shopping and went to Carino's to redeem my mystery card (a whopping $5). That place is downright quiet at five on a Saturday, I've gotta say. I brought a magazine to read while I waited and didn't even finish one story before my order was out. I felt a bit bad for my waitress, as far as I could tell she only had two tables: me and a couple at the booth next to mine. Later I overheard her and the hostess mention another server who was late for her shift, followed by my waitress saying "Just give that table to me since she's late" in a way that hinted she was as bored as I'd been the night before.

As I was finishing my fantastic blackberry cream soda I recognized one of the waiters in another section as a regular at the bar. It's always bizarre to recognize bar patrons in the real world - the whole seeing them outside of their normal context thing. He's one of the easy low maintenance types, and seeing him yesterday explains why. It makes me think of Tony's post from a while back. Having been a server for a while now, dining out tends to be stranger than it was before. Getting that behind the scenes look rubs off.

On a side note: Best wishes to all in the service (and especially alcohol-related) industry tomorrow. I'll be nowhere near the bar, and I am infinitely excited about that fact. If you got stuck working, I hope you have far more cool people than drunk amateurs and whatever you do, don't forget to wear your green.

Girls' Night

Friday night I met up with two gal pals to catch a movie and have dinner.

The Movie: There Will Be Blood. We walked out and said, "Well then." Not my favorite. It could have easily been about forty five minutes shorter and it would have been better had they really committed to the funny bits. Daniel Day-Lewis was good, but the script/pacing/directing were kind of tedious. Ah well, can't win 'em all.

The Dinner: We opted to go to the Outback Steakhouse, thanks to its close proximity to the theater, and got there a bit before ten. The Friday night crowd had mostly cleared out. There were two tables near the booth we got sat in, and both were pretty loud. Obviously, they'd been around for a bit drinking those huge beers the Outback serves. At one point, I heard a man say something very loudly that started with "My wife" then trailed a bit so I didn't catch it all.

Our waitress headed over to bring our drinks (water, aren't we exciting?) and I immediately liked her. Some servers just have that competent aura to 'em, which is alwasy reassuring. She squatted down to table level to point out the specials, then gave us a minute to ponder our choices. Poor gal, I think she was also taking care of the two rowdy tables as well.

Dinner was good, the server was too, and she thanked us for being such a low maintenance table, which was cool. Meanwhile, two guys from the loudest table got up, conferred with her, and put down cash on their way out. Shortly thereafter, the remainder of the table quieted down (presumably, the departed guys were the hosts and therefore the table had just run out of someone to pay for booze).

The best part, though, was when I ordered a scoop of ice cream and she comped it 'cause we were so easy. It was very cool. I felt just a twinge guilty that the loud drunks on that Friday weren't the slightest bit my responsibility. The twinge quickly passed.

The Dinner Auction

Last night, just as we do once every other month after the writers group meeting, a bunch of us went out to the chain restaurant near our meeting spot for dinner and chatting. This is always an interesting experience. On one hand, I know we're a big group and therefore a pain in the ass, but I've handled big groups at the bar, and there is a way to do it and keep things straight.

However, thanks to the relative inexperience of most of the servers we get (I think they pass us off on whoever is newest as a hazing ritual) there is usually no keeping things straight. Usually, when the drinks and the food come, instead of the server matching customer to drink/entree, we do the auction game.

Server: Who had a coke? Ice tea? Chocolate shake? Another coke?

It's exciting. You watch to see what she'll grab next. Is that my chicken wrap? Oh boy, I think it is. You raise your hand to place your bid, and if you're lucky, the server notices before walking over to the other side of the table to check there first.

Last night the gal we had played the auction game to the point of silliness. She couldn't remember what anyone had, not anyone at all. It was impressive. Granted, I give as much blame to some of my co-diners who weren't all paying attention as the gal called out, "Coke, who had a coke?" However, the part that entertains me the most is that, when it came time to hand around the checks, she matched everyone up just fine. Well, until a couple of people gave her credit cards and she handed the wrong ones back.

Now, at the bar I don't technically use the pivot system, since the pivot system means starting with a specific seat. Instead, I pick someone for some reason (like the little old lady sitting with the group of younger folk) and go around the table from there. I also love my notepad because I can take another look at it if I get mixed up. The vast majority of the time, I can match people with their drinks or food, even when there's a group of fifteen or more. It's all about having a system.

So, I can't help but wonder why we so often do the auction. Is it simply the inexperience of the server who gets stuck with us? Or is it that this particular chain does a poor job of training said newbie? Hard to say. Of course, I have a certain amount of pity on the poor soul saddled with the ten of us and I often add an extra dollar or two to my tip on these nights. I just keep feeling like I should pull our server aside, borrow their apron, and say, "Here, let me help you."