There's nothing like a busy Saturday in a restaurant.....
Chaos ensues as tables are ushered into The Valley.*
I sometimes feel like I'm trapped in an episode of Hell's Kitchen with Gordon Ramsay.
Cooks bark at eachother- at you- in foreign languages, I'm sure none of which is very nice
The owner can be found at either table 1 or 21 with his cronies. Half the menu is dished up in front of him as well as a bottle or two of our most expensive wines. This happens every other night. How are the finances not in the red?? Anyway...
A show is put on. One fun thing about this place is the amount of space there is to freely move. If we are on a wait, the walking space is further constricted. Tables are placed practically on top of each other. Since I can't stand in the aisleway, my tuckus is literally chilling in someone's husband's face as I try to take an order. Cute, I know. It's rather uncomfortable at times.
I had rung up drinks for a table close to the front entrance. I stacked them all neatly onto my serving tray: a few classes of wine, a fruity martini, and of course the breadbasket, salt/pepper, and olive oil.
My first route is completely blocked by the bar, so I head for the center aisle. Of course at this time, it's only fitting that the rest of a party joins a booth. Instead of just sitting down like normal people would, these Desperate Housewives get up and do that creepy squealy thing you would expect from a fifth-grade girl.
I held my breath and put a valiant effort into refraining from rolling my eyes.
"I haven't seen you in forever!"
"Oh mah gah! You look sO GoOd!"
"Lookit your hair!"
AHH gobbeldy gook!! Sit down!!
"Ahem...uhh...es'cuse me.." I say in a polite, not-too-loud voice...
Nothing. They were flipping their hair, and the bantering ensued. The weight of the tray started to bear down on my grip. My hands started to clam up, and my balance wavered.
Seriosuly now?
"DRINKS BEHIND!" Hah. Gotchya. Thank you very much.
As I smiled and began to navigate my way around the obnoxious women, my foot knicked one of their oversized luggage bags of a purse that was conveniently placed in the walkway.
My tray unsteadily jogged forward and back again. The oil shot out in front of me, smashing on the hardwood floor, splattering everywhere. The wine was saved, as it swirled in the stemmed glassware, but the martini sloshed, spilling and soaking down my front.
Of course the women sat there and glared at me, the klutz that I am.
Awesome. Now that I smelled like a French Whore (which most definitely was the name of that particular martini), I had to head back and deal with cleaning up the mess. Ah, rubbing salt in my wounds.
Chaos ensues as tables are ushered into The Valley.*
I sometimes feel like I'm trapped in an episode of Hell's Kitchen with Gordon Ramsay.
Cooks bark at eachother- at you- in foreign languages, I'm sure none of which is very nice
The owner can be found at either table 1 or 21 with his cronies. Half the menu is dished up in front of him as well as a bottle or two of our most expensive wines. This happens every other night. How are the finances not in the red?? Anyway...
A show is put on. One fun thing about this place is the amount of space there is to freely move. If we are on a wait, the walking space is further constricted. Tables are placed practically on top of each other. Since I can't stand in the aisleway, my tuckus is literally chilling in someone's husband's face as I try to take an order. Cute, I know. It's rather uncomfortable at times.
I had rung up drinks for a table close to the front entrance. I stacked them all neatly onto my serving tray: a few classes of wine, a fruity martini, and of course the breadbasket, salt/pepper, and olive oil.
My first route is completely blocked by the bar, so I head for the center aisle. Of course at this time, it's only fitting that the rest of a party joins a booth. Instead of just sitting down like normal people would, these Desperate Housewives get up and do that creepy squealy thing you would expect from a fifth-grade girl.
I held my breath and put a valiant effort into refraining from rolling my eyes.
"I haven't seen you in forever!"
"Oh mah gah! You look sO GoOd!"
"Lookit your hair!"
AHH gobbeldy gook!! Sit down!!
"Ahem...uhh...es'cuse me.." I say in a polite, not-too-loud voice...
Nothing. They were flipping their hair, and the bantering ensued. The weight of the tray started to bear down on my grip. My hands started to clam up, and my balance wavered.
Seriosuly now?
"DRINKS BEHIND!" Hah. Gotchya. Thank you very much.
As I smiled and began to navigate my way around the obnoxious women, my foot knicked one of their oversized luggage bags of a purse that was conveniently placed in the walkway.
My tray unsteadily jogged forward and back again. The oil shot out in front of me, smashing on the hardwood floor, splattering everywhere. The wine was saved, as it swirled in the stemmed glassware, but the martini sloshed, spilling and soaking down my front.
Of course the women sat there and glared at me, the klutz that I am.
Awesome. Now that I smelled like a French Whore (which most definitely was the name of that particular martini), I had to head back and deal with cleaning up the mess. Ah, rubbing salt in my wounds.
My mother always used to call me "Grace" just so I would have some. Very fitting. She clearly didn't use it enough. I never was the ballerina, as I was actually kicked out of little kid ballet class. How I ever came to be a waitress is beyond me!
I mean...I literally felt like THIS poor girl:
I mean...I literally felt like THIS poor girl:
Pretty bad, huh? I find certain instances like that very trying. I'm trying to work on my patience in dealing with others. I'm learning to breathe and just "let it go". I know it's not a race. And lucky for me, at the end of the day, everything comes out in the wash. Tomorrow is a new day.
-LM
Photo credit:
www.areyouscreening.com
Foodspottinghttp://www.foodspotting.com/reviews/1489273
www.areyouscreening.com
Foodspottinghttp://www.foodspotting.com/reviews/1489273
The Inspiration Room
"Carlton Draught in Slow Motion"
http://theinspirationroom.com/daily/2010/carlton-draught-in-slow-motion/
Youtube Video:
"Clumsy waitress falls through window" posted by jutube123
"Carlton Draught in Slow Motion"
http://theinspirationroom.com/daily/2010/carlton-draught-in-slow-motion/
Youtube Video:
"Clumsy waitress falls through window" posted by jutube123
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