It really hits a nerve with me when a position of authority is given to someone who is undeserving of such credit... someone who is not experienced nor is willing to learn... someone who is not, nor will ever be, qualified.
I am not griping about this out of jealousy, as I would never want to be stuck in this particular person's shoes. However I at least know that given the current example, I could set the bar for the standard much more than several notches higher.
Turns out, this gutless wonder was introduced to our owner while on a date with one of Birmingham's most renowned womanizers. Let's just say she was clearly on the date for the man's money because there isn't much else appealing about him. Care to know more about the man? Look for the post "The Great Gatsby".
Serena was offered a hostessing position. Easy, right? Answer the phone. Pencil in call ahead requests in a chronological manner. Wipe fingerprints on the glass doors. Seat people. In a rotational method, let the corresponding server know. Organize menus. The trickiest part is getting the spelling correctly on all of our daily specials. Wow. Rocket science.
Somewhere along the line, her value as an asset to the team was lost in translation and reassessed by our owner. Why? Like anyone else's guess, because she is pretty and princesses should not have to work hard. Now, what we refer to as a glorified hostess, Serena is an active floor manager. To my dismay, she also has the power of creating the schedule so guess whose bar shifts went down... Ding, ding, ding, you got it.
I try. I try really, really hard to like someone. My efforts do not always avail. Sometimes, like with Kat, we bash heads but eventually come around to an understanding. We even might just become unbelievably good friends. This girl, I just do not get. At all. After being told she was to train as a server to gain a basic knowledge of our menu, to learn our customer service, to actually become physical in our sidework, our in's and out's of the trade....well, she shut her eyes, and raised her brows before opening up again to say, "I wasn't hired to serve." Just like that, she made "serving" a dirty word... An insult. A job that is looked down upon as degrading.
My point is this-- until Serena knows what we know, has worked as hard as we do, and can honestly say that "she's been there," none of us will ever take her seriously. She is not part of the team. This is not a symbiotic relationship. I am not afraind to call bullshit when I see it.
Picture this. A patient needs a liver transplant. The patient preps for the upcoming procedure, takes regimens of pills. The transplant is completed and the patient must continue taking antibiotics and anti-rejection pills so that the body does not attack the organ, fighting it off as the body would any foreign entity. If the patient does not put in the work to maintain the acceptance of the organ, the body will reject the liver and the patient will die. The Valley as a whole, is the body and Serena is the liver. If she does not put in her fair share, the team won't accept her and the whole kit and caboodle will go out the window. Simple as that.
It's sad. To have set roots down in a place. To spend more time out of every day at work than at my own home. To gain friendships between staff over the years, and in such a short period of time see everything from morale and ethics to effort go to shit and disintegrate. People who have invested years into the restaurant have become numb which is the absolute worst... because we're not even angry anymore. We won't even fight for what can't be fought over because what is the point? We are just mentally cashed out. We're done.
The worst part is, I am exhausted. Tomorrow is looking like a 14 hour work day...with the hostess with the mostest. I haven't stopped grinding my teeth from earlier. Still frustrated about the evening, I sit and pout and type away my misery... It's easy to say, "Why go back to a job you aren't fulfilled with?" Because. Beggars can't be choosers. If I had all the answers in this world, I would tell you. Today, I am sorely out of good reasons and explanations. I had promised myself this would be the last serving job I would have, and I have tried to adhere to that vow. What it all comes down to at the end of the day?
A job is a job. A grain of salt is all it is, even if it is salt in the wounds.
-Malia Etienette
Photo Credit:
Attila the Hun- www.motifake.com
The Help- www.magicdvdripper.com
Hate our Boss- www.rottenecards.com
So it's been a minute...or more like two months. Since the last post, work has been...well, still changing. We've learned that the new hostess and head server are the two new faces for management. As if we couldn't conclude that for ourselves.
Bossy Betty, or Kat as I think I have nicknamed her, has actually moved into my apartment structure and we are now neighbors...
Come to find out, I like her one hell of a lot more now than before. Plus, it's nice having an ally at work-- especially one that Wulf listens to-- one that I can vent back and forth with, and one that I can happily now call a friend.
With the time that has lapsed, I have come to a realization that fighting everything going on-- the good, the bad and the ugly-- won't get you anywhere. Sometimes you have to find yourself laying belly up, like a fish waiting to be gutted, and just succumbing to life as we know it. Taking, and accepting, life on life's terms. Forcing the issue will not get you nor anyone else ahead, and it certainly won't gain you any friends.
Now, don't get me wrong, not everything is rainbows and sunshine. I still have a few qualms with the way the restaurant is now being run, but those will be wrinkled out in time.
For example.... shall we?
Pre-shift meetings.
These are exactly what they sound like. A meeting held before the shift for the staff to hear what specials are being featured for the day, any out of stock booze or food, and poignant matters. Like trained monkeys in button-downs, we scribble down what we are told in order to repeat verbatim a hundred times later on.
Princess Serena, the hostess-turned-manager, wanted to make a point. The new policy is that servers cover the full expense (out-of-pocket) for any beverage or meal that is incorrectly ordered if it is not caught before preparation. Multiple times, over multiple meetings, Serena has mentioned this policy when bringing to the attention of the entire group who exactly effed up the night before and paid for it. Naming names obviously. No one needs to know. We got the memo the first time. Sure we are all adults and can own up to our mistakes, clearly we have already taken the blow monetarily speaking if we were the ones to err, however we should not have to come into a job knowing we will be singled out and made an example of, day after day. Who the hell wants to do that?
Not surprisingly, I was even thrown under the bus (by the cook/2nd in line to Wulf) yesterday for a matter that I still stand behind my position firmly. A guest of mine on Saturday night wanted a chicken kebab however he wished to add jalapenos onto the skewer. Simple right? Think again.
I was called into the kitchen and berated that we do nothing special for customers. This is the meal, take it or leave it (unless of course, you have an allergy, only then are you cleared). She threw her worn and disfigured hands up in the air at me.
"I do nothing special." I furrowed my brow and looked at her stupidly.
"Nothing special? How hard it is to cut some jalepenos as if they were lemon wheels and stick them on the skewer? Not rocket science."
"We don't do special orders. You tell them!" Frustrated, Mama waved my ticket order in my face.
"I'm not asking for a miracle, Mother Theresa!" I wailed, getting pissed off. "I'll even charge them to add on. What's the problem?"
"Get out. You were told no special orders. It's too hard for me. We don't do. You tell them. Not my problem."
That put me over the edge. Not my problem? What part of "service industry" and "how may I help you" begs to give the response "not my problem" to a guest?! Exactly my point.
"Not my problem" won't get you satisfied customers, nor will it get people to return and continue supporting the business. It's a half-assed cop-out. It's laziness. It's everything against what basic standards service is about. Such a lack of passion can be fatal. Shame.
And so I was made an example for arguing indignantly. Poo poo on you.
Another issue? We are told-- by Wulf-- to ring in refills on pop. My problem with that is that the restaurant does not list this policy anywhere in its menu. Smoothies and juice? I understand that. Pop? Something that costs the restaurant all of a few cents for each glass? No.
For the regulars that have been eating at the restaurant since day one, no. Change the policy on them and infuriate them? No. Nickel and dime every sucker that walks in there, already paying for the "Birmingham" price on our dishes? No. Until I see it spelled out in the menu so that my guests are aware of this change, I will not abide by the new rule.
A server approached my table last night. Asked the gentleman if "he would like another diet coke".
The server went under my account on the computer, rang in "another" soft drink, and brought it out to him. I was beyond livid. First of all, I do not appreciate charges to my tables made without my prior knowledge of what is happening. Second of all, I don't like applying additional charges for drinks when the glass is loaded with ice in the first place. At the end of the day, it's just plain tacky.
As I argued with her about the charge added to my table, she says she stated she would bring him "another," not "a refill". Would anyone else be offended by this vague, beating around the bush way of saying we are charging you for that next drink if you are still thirsty?
Oh wait.... Not my problem.
So many problems, SO little time.
-Malia Etienette
Photo Credit:
Fileting seabass- www.academiabarilla.com
Pre shift- www.photos.nola.com
NMP- www.boulderchristina.wordpress.com
Under the bus- www.englishfromfriends.com
No free refills- www.freerefillsamerica.com
99 problems couple- www.bustedcoverage.com
It is said that change is progressive. Change is positive, as long as it is in a forward motion.
Not all change is necessarily "good" however.
Take for instance, Kat, one of our newest employees. With Kat came new suggestions and tips for how to run a restaurant since she was raised in the service industry environment.
Well, there is a phrase that goes something like, "If it ain't broke, don't fix it."
Those are my feelings for her, when it comes to the workplace.
Change #1: Different containers for our yogurt sauce, ketchup, garlic sauces and barbeque...
Not horrible except I squeezed the container the wrong side facing down (since both the tops and bottoms are identical) and shot myself in the face with the garlic sauce-- reeking of it for the entirety of the day. Filthy.
Change #2: The plates the cups of soup are served on will now have a beverage napkin placed on it, which we will refer to as a "soup liner". For all intensive purposes, it will serve to stop the cup from sliding on the smooth surface of the plate. It's called a fucking doily. It's not a new invention; In fact, it's been around since the 17th century, I kid you not. Why the hell did this just go into effect NOW when I had mentioned it right AFTER I dumped a cup of steaming hot clam chowder on a man's crotch almost two years ago?! At the time, I was scolded for being wasteful with the napkins. So the sudden change of heart? Don't get me started.
Change #3: A marking tray. When I was told of this, I sat there with a look of "dead behind the eyes". A what? Yes, when you remove silverware from a guest, you should take another minute out of your busy night to walk this dish over to them, presenting like you would a dessert tray. Under a black folded linen lies (you think this would be good, but no) a bevy of both forks and knives. You are to let the guest reach and pick up their own silverware from the plate.
What? Ugh. Gross. Shouldn't a pump of purell be mandatory before touching? No, you can just hand me a wrapped up linen with utensils, thank you. In a restaurant where you don't know what bugs are being passed around, with other guests who are eating with their hands, licking their fingers, picking their teeth, for those that are hacking into their closed fists, sneezing into their palms, uh YEAH, like I'd want their hands all over the community utensil plate. It is as good as eating the peanuts from the candy dish on the bar. So unsanitary.
Change #4: If your name is Kat and you are a new employee, you can change the rules of tipping out and decide not to tip out your bartender because you didn't like our policy... You know, the one that has been in effect since years before you were hired and a part of the waitstaff. The one that everyone else pays mind to, except you? Cool beans. You still owe me; I'll just add that to your tab.
Change #5: It's a free for all. By all means, if you have not met a table yet (especially my regulars), go up to them and jam your hand in their face to introduce yourself while they are mid-conversation. And then pour the bottle of wine I had corked and chilling for them, ask how their food is tasting, and what else you could possibly get them. Oh wait... that's my table. Apparently "being a team" is making your fellow server, or bartender, look as if they are an inadequate worker. I am four feet away and am capable of serving them myself. This little stunt makes me appear lazy and gets my tips docked. Being a team is all chummy and whatnot-- but it sure as hell doesn't pay my bills.
Honestly, I'm glad we hired someone who not only shows up for shifts, but actually enjoys working. I just cannot wrap my mind around how much of a Bossy Betty the girl is. Yes, I know I'm the queen of bitches and moans with this post, but I need a break. Ask me if I've already confronted her. Ask me how productive that conversation went... Nada. What gives?
If there is a disagreement, I will try my best to level with you and see from your perspective. If anything else, I will try to find a compromise. I will not however be told how to do my job from a fresh face on the staff working the same position as I. Must I accept the things I cannot change? I'm running low on Excedrin-- this is going to be a long weekend.
-Malia Etienette
Photo Credits:
Tea Stained Doily DIY Mel's Monday: www.theoceansidebride.com
Bar Nuts: www.cooksandeats.com
Teamwork: www.memeguy.com
Little Miss Bossy: www.mymumdom.com
Hurriedly, a woman rushed through the entry doors. As I offered her service, she pulled aside a seat at the bar, and out poured a hundred words at once- She was a regular customer at The Valley. She and her family love our food. She's introduced our restaurant to many of her friends. She parked a good walk away and needed to use our restroom. Would it be a problem if?...
Of course not. Why would I deny anyone that necessity? We're all only human.
She rambled on that she would leave me a tip, mumbled thank you and hustled off down the long stretch of the hallway towards her salvation.
I get it. I know, at times, my owner cringes when non-paying customers use our facilities. He doesn't want the place turning into the stationed port-a-john of the city. But here's the thing, people aren't going to turn the place into a dump and dash, so relax. No one wants that awkward walk of shame when they have to ask to use the facility as it is, so it won't turn into a free for all.
She returned with a twenty clutched in her hand, asking for change. This time around, I denied her. Why take money for services non-rendered? I simply responded that for the day I need assistance, I would hope the person is just as understanding.
Paying it forward, is what she told me-- that's what I just did. I know I've mentioned it before but, the way she said it just stuck a chord with me and something resonated.
Last night at work, a regular dining in checked up on me. Asked how was I was doing. The whole, not just 'how are you', but 'how are you really doing'? Asked what I would want most in life to be happy and to get ahead. I told him that it's not like I'm rubbing on any magic genie lamps, but I would more than anything want to get back into school and finish.
So what was holding me back? A lovely little thing called a financial hold. That's what. Thanks Education Nazis. If that's what it took, then he would help. No questions asked. No repayment necessary. Nothing owed. Nothing creepy. Only genuine intentions. He explained how someone helped him out a long time ago, and it was time he repaid that debt.
Is this Karma? Is this the cyclical way in which life works? No, this is him, paying it forward. Surely I don't want to get too excited, get ahead of myself like I usually do. But if this is legit, I'll drop everything and break out into my foolish little happy dance... and then get back to the books as soon as possible. With knowledge comes growth and the ability to make great strides--Then again... when something sounds too good to be true, it usually is.
Steadily, one foot in front of the other, until I can run.
-Malia Etienette
Photo Credits:
90 Sketches in 90 Days: www.larissameek.com
Free the Pee- A Plea for More Common Sense Customer Service: www.douglaserice.com
Aladdin (Disney Character): en.wikipedia.org
Fitting that I work in a Mediterranean restaurant, no?
This was just it though. I survived another awkward Valentine's Day (just barely).
Went into work well aware of the fact that Janine would be getting showered-- and I mean, literally showered-- with gifts, roses and those damn edible arrangements. Flowers then arrived for Stacey. Come on now, at work? What cheese ball boyfriend does this? The girls do have their own address, right? As your coworker, I don't care to see the bills you receive, nor do I need a display of affection from your personal life to compare it to the lack in mine.
That kind of shit stings, especially when what you (and by "you" I mean "I") had going on didn't pan out. I'm just a Bitter Betty sometimes, what can I say?
With that alone, I caught an unexpected adult case of the five-year-old-who-never-learned-to-share...also known as the Jealous Bitch Syndrome. It's the middle child coming out in me-- although my mother will be the first to tell you and everyone else that as the only daughter, that excuse doesn't count.
So I wasn't in the best mood. Shoot me.
My boss had been riding my ass all week long, complaining of me being "moody" as it was.
To be honest, I had more than just one reason to be moody. My boss has been considering his generosity toward me to be something I need to repay, if you catch my drift. What an ugly truth.
He has reminded me, nearly daily, for his "invitation" to arrive, and that he has been patient.
Puke in my mouth. Really? Now do you blame me for being moody? It's harassment... His solution for my piss-pot attitude? Pull me out from behind the bar while I still have guests sitting there, down to his office in the basement (doesn't sound shady at all, right?), and rip me a new asshole. Forget asking me what the issue is. No, instead tear me down for having a problem with him allowing servers to dip their hands into my till while I am out running a lunch delivery. While everything that is behind the bar is his, as he put it, it is MY responsibility to pay out-of-pocket if my drawer is off the mark at the end of shift. Forgive me, for being concerned about my financial well-being. Forgive me for not wanting to have to witness such a showy, dramatic hallmark holiday, and forgive me for not wanting to blow you.
You ask me, why not move on? Because serving somewhere where you are basically living check to check doesn't allow for you to just up and quit, take time off to look for another opportunity, much less to train and not make what you were making before. That is at least an entire month's hit-- rent, bills, other unexpected expenses. This is the world of a server. Beggars can't be choosers, but I can also only play the game so long. If I could go back to school right now, I would. If I could leave where I'm at, you wouldn't have to tell me twice. But this, for the moment, is about survival.
It's hard to count down the days to a date of departure, when you don't have a set date.
It's hard to carry out a plan you've envisioned but haven't had the necessary resources for.
I guess it's just time to dream bigger, but not just dream, to act.
For if I don't, this black hole that waiting has been for me might just swallow me whole.
-Malia Etienette
Photo Credit:
"Camel Facts, Pictures and Habitat Information"- www.liveanimalist.com
"Reine Diamonds and Fine Jewelry"- www.facebook.com
"Love: The Ugly Truth"- www.lifescilife.wordpress.com
"Black Hole"- Vanishin.deviantart.com
