Phew!

God am I knackered! 4 double shifts in a row and I need a drink!

I’m moaning but I love it really, Saturday double shift is without a doubt my favourite shift. It’s always busy so the time flies in. And I make lots of tips....which are of course the best part. It is also, I am assuming, the reason Myrtle was back at work today after her three day absence because she had something in her eye! Myrtle does not work weekends, they make her physically sick, she got given set shifts, shifts that she wanted. It bemuses me that the managers allowed her to pick up a Saturday shift because it sits her.

I work a double shift every Saturday, I’ve asked for this and I actually moan when I don’t have a double shift on a Saturday. Saturdays are busy from when we open until we stop serving food. What I would hate is starting a shift at 4 or 5pm and going straight in to the mayhem. A double shift on a Saturday means I know exactly what’s going on. What the bookings are, what food is running low and how the day has been in general.

Saturday gives us a whole mix of customers it’s actually amazing to see such a variety in just one day. Without fail there are the two old ladies that come in for lunch, have a starter each and tea and sit for three hours.......and don’t tip. We have the ladies what lunch that have a salad and a bottle of wine each and sit for three hours.......and don’t tip. We have the family of parents and children who have long since left home and are doing the weekly lunch, the dad orders the most expensive wine on the menu and moans about the food.........and doesn’t tip. There is the family who think they are trendy and bring their young children, who run riot, and babies, who cry and throw food everywhere ...........and don’t tip. The evening brings a whole different crowd. The first date. The young couple out for a nice meal. The done up girls who are heading out on town after their meal. The married couple. The coupe treating their elderly parents. The upper class couple who have just been to the theatre. It is amazing to see such a variety of people all eating in the same place.

Saturday however brings out the complainers. I don’t think I have ever worked a Saturday shift without a single complaint and today was no different.

The morning went by without much grief, for some reason my lunch guests were all fairly happy. This evening was a different story altogether. 

Saturday evening is the busiest shift by far. We are full from about 6pm. When the restaurant is full we have a bar area where people can wait for their table. Our lovely host team tell guests as they arrive how long they should expect to wait on a table.  At the busiest point on a Saturday the wait could be up to 2 hours long. All guests know this and make a conscious decision to wait in the bar whilst enjoying a drink. When the bar is full and for fire safety reasons we can no longer let any more people in the lovely host team tell guests this as they arrive. Some guests chose to wait outside until they can be shown to the bar.....so a queue forms outside the building. Again the lovely host team tell people how long they should expect to wait before being admitted to the bar and then how long should they expect to wait in the bar before a table is free. Clearly some people have nothing better to do on their Saturday night than wait outside a restaurant for a table that won’t be ready for up to 2 hours but hey, that is their choice.

Usually the way a Saturday goes is that the first sitting of tables are all pleasant, they are enjoying a nice meal, they haven’t had to wait for a table and they are going off to enjoy the rest of their evening. As the night goes on then the fun begins. Tonight I think I had all the moaners.

My first complainers were an elderly couple. Not happy bunnies at all. I do the usual, “hi how are you, can I get you something to drink?” The grumpy old man says “I should bloody well think so, half an hour we’ve been waiting for a table.” Hmm, well you would have been told as you came in how long you would have to wait wouldn’t you! But I say in a sickly sweet voice “did you not enjoy a drink whilst you waited” grumpy old man says “at your prices no chance” o...k....if you wanted cheap Tesco are doing a deal on multi pack cans of lager! So I ask him again, in my, oh so charming “customer” voice, would you like me to get you something now that you have sat down? So he orders his wine and barks at me “are you going to take our order too?” Impatient much?  He orders the sea bass for his wife and the steak for himself, well done of course. I tell them I will be right back with their wine and take a step back from the table. Grumpy old man hollers me back. When I say holler I mean you would have thought I was at the other side of the restaurant and he was shouting over a live band. “Where is the toilet” he shouts, why is it that old people feel the need to have no decorum what so ever. Firstly, why does he find it appropriate behaviour to shout as he has just done to the waitress who is serving him and secondly why does he think no one can hear him ask where the toilet is? I tell him it’s down stairs knowing full well that he is going to complain about this, what’s the point? I mean it’s not like I can bring the toilet upstairs for him! So he shuffles along and huffs and puffs, probably all the way to the bathroom and back. Whilst he is away I hurry and get his wine so I don’t have to put up with his moaning while I’m standing at the table opening it. The Wifey looks really uncomfortable when I ask her if she wants to taste it and tells me I had better just leave it on the table for Hubby to taste and pour when he gets back. When Hubby gets back he is quite clearly unimpressed about something. I am taking an order from a couple 2 tables away and can see Hubby out the corner of my eye furiously waving at me, half out his seat. The couple I am talking to have so many questions about the menu, most of them would be answered if they actually read the menu but hey, maybe they forgot their glasses? Hubby MUST be able to see that I am mid conversation but apparently thinks that this is not good enough because obviously my sole purpose of the evening is so be available for his persistent demands. Hubby starts shouting “waitress, waitress....WAITRESS” I can hear him; the whole restaurant can probably hear him. My manager catches my eye and I shrug, what does he want me to do, stop mid order and tell the customer I am speaking to that there is someone more important and I have to go see what he wants? So I continue as though I’m the only person in a 2 mile circumference that can’t hear Hubby. When I’m finished I turn round and head towards the still shouting Hubby. “About bloody time” he says to me. I hate him I really do!  I smile. I really don’t want to open my mouth in case I can’t stop myself. He points at the open bottle of wine on the table, “What’s this he demands?” I’m  thinking.......he did order wine didn’t he.....yes he did......this is the wine he ordered isn’t it......yes, it definitely is. “It’s the wine you ordered” I say to him. “Well god damn it, pour it lass, I don’t pay your prices to pour my own bloody wine” I hate him even more! I pour his wine, absolutely fizzing inside but I don’t show it, I pour it calmly and slowly and think to myself if this old git expects me to refill his glass all night I’m going to smack him with the bottle!

My manager comes to find me “what did he want” he asks. “He is an old c**t and he wanted me to pour his wine” I tell him. He gave me his tone and asks why on earth I didn’t pour it when I opened it. BECAUSE HE WAS AT THE BATHROOM AND HIS WIFE TOLD ME TO LEAVE IT ON THE TABLE I hiss at him...IM SURPRISED HE DIDNT WANT ME TO GO TO THE BATHROOM WITH HIM AND WIPE HIS ARSE! I can tell my manager is trying not to laugh “did he do a jobby?” he asked. Aaargh I have to storm away!

I have been bursting for a pee for about two hours I’d guess but I haven’t had a minute to go. I don’t want to risk going until Hubby has his food and I’ve had the chance to check everything is ok....it’s just not worth the risk. Just as well I didn’t go because Hubby is waving at me. What could he possibly want, he has wine and water and it’s only been just over five minutes since I took his order. I go over all smiles, still not trusting myself to open my mouth. “Should we expect to eat tonight, or will I phone a take away and wait here till tomorrow for my food.” I check my timing and wonder what I can say without being cheeky. So I take the safe option and tell him I will go and check with the chef. I have no intention of asking Chef about his order, at this time on a Saturday evening Chef would be liable to kill me. He ordered the sea bass which I know takes at least twelve minutes to cook and that’s if it got put in the oven as soon as I ordered it, which I doubt considering the restaurant is full to bursting and there are 200 other people waiting on food too. So I go into the kitchen, because I know Hubby is watching me and I eat some chips.

Reluctantly I go back to Hubby, I have to, it’s my job! I tell him that the kitchen got his order 7 minutes ago, it’s getting prepared and explain to him that the sea bass is cooked from fresh and takes fifteen minutes to cook (just to be safe) Hubby grunts and lifts his hand and actually waves me away....I hate him even more.

Hubby’s food is ready, I take it over, ask if they would like anything else and exit unscathed, a few more minutes I can do a check back and pee. No such luck, Hubby has called me over again. “Take this away” he barks at me, waving his hand in the general direction of Wifey’s sea bass, food spraying out his mouth. “Is there something wrong with it?” I ask Wifey. I think Wifey must be mute because hubby answers for her. “It’s full of bones” he splutters, food still getting spat all over the table. It’s a fish, it’s a WHOLE fish, of course it has bones in it, you don’t see limp fish swimming about the ocean do you? But there is no point, as I lift the plate I ask Wifey if she would like the menu to choose something else. “No she doesn’t want the bloody menu, we’ve had just about enough of this place, get me your manager.” Shouts Hubby, still spitting out food.

First point of call is the kitchen, I still have the uneaten sea bass in my hand and I know I’m going to have to deal with Chef. I walk into the kitchen......”what’s wrong with that?” shouts Chef. “It’s got bones in it” I say. “ITS A F***ING FISH OF COURSE ITS GOT F***ING BONES IN IT.....HES STILL PAYING FOR THAT.....MAKE SURE HE IS STILL PAYING FOR THAT!”......I’ll tell you what Chef why don’t you go to the table and tell him he’s paying for it!

So now I find my manager and explain the “Hubby” story from the start. Ah he says is this the one that had a jobby? So off he goes to try and pacify Hubby.....good luck. A good 15 minutes of ear bashing later my manager comes to find me. “He’s an old c**t” he declares. “Really? You thought that? Because I’ve been having a barrel of laughs!” He tells me to take the sea bass of the bill and offer desert and coffee on us. WHAT! I scream, he has given me hell and you want to give him free desert and coffee? Can I not just give him the bill and get rid of him?  Well no apparently not because Hubby and Wifey (who as it turns out is not mute) are celebrating their wedding anniversary and we have ruined the whole night for them. First of all we MADE them wait half an hour for a table with no free refreshments available, then we put him out by making an elderly man walk downstairs to the bathroom, he was appalled at the fact he had to pour his own wine. He waited 45 minutes (yeah I know) for his food and when it came the fish had not only bones in it but also a head and a tail. So they eat their free but “sub standard” desert, they have coffee and a liqueur, which he tells me he had better not see on the bill. He pays, and moans about the price, and of course doesn’t tip. My manager goes over again to speak to Hubby before he leaves and gives him £60 worth of vouchers to come back again............REALLY? REALLY?

There is no way in hell that I am serving him!  

Moaning Myrtle

Let me introduce to you Myrtle.....Moaning Myrtle.............

Myrtle is a girl I work with. I say work but what I really mean is that Myrtle is a girl who is employed by the same company as I am but gets paid more in sick leave than she does for actual hours worked.

Myrtle is the reason that I have worked two unscheduled double shifts over the past two days and am due to work my third (scheduled) double shift tomorrow.

Myrtle has worked with me from the start, since the restaurant opened and honest to god I don’t know how on earth she still has a job. To date reasons for her being off sick include, but are not exclusive to......

·         Her cat was sick this morning

·         She had to go home mid shift because her 13 year old cousin fell off a swing

·         She “thought” her belly button piercing was infected

·         Evening shifts make her feel physically sick

·         Working at the weekend makes her feel physically sick

·         She banged her head and thought she had concussion so had to go home

·         Her boyfriend called her mid shift, he got made redundant and she could not concentrate so had to go home.

·         She had period pain.............every month without fail

·         She was driving round for half an hour trying to find a parking space and she couldn’t so she thought she had a panic attack and had to drive home

·         Her boyfriend had food poisoning and she might have it too (although showed no symptoms) so best she stay home

·         She had a kidney infection.........she was off for two weeks

·         Not technically sick but.......it was her aunts 40^th and the whole family was going and if she was at work she wouldn’t be able to concentrate

·         She dropped a plate on her foot and was worried she broke her toe so had to go home

·         She had a fight with chef and was so wound up she wouldn’t be able to concentrate for the rest of her shift so had to go home

·         She came back to work after one of her ridiculous absence excuses and felt that all the staff were talking about her so she had to go home

All these excuses are apparently acceptable with management, she does it because she gets away with it, and I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have a job if it was me.

So thanks to Myrtle tomorrow will be double shift number three for me followed by Saturday double shift number four.

Since evening shifts and weekend shifts make Myrtle feel physically sick she has set shifts. These are Monday till Friday 11:30-5. Everyone else works on no particular shift pattern. No set days off, often not even two days off together but that’s the nature of the business, this is what we signed up for when we took the job.  Not Myrtle, Myrtle got the exact shifts she wanted and STILL has the brass neck to find it impossible for one reason or another to not be at work.

As you can tell I’m grumpy and I’m tired, I will have worked 40 hours over 4 days and I still have the rest of my shifts to work............this is clearly the “tears” section of my blog..................

It's Monday!

Monday comes around and all of my friends who work “regular” jobs are moaning about it being Monday. I quite like Monday’s because for me it means the weekend madness is over for another week and I have my time off to look forward to. I just have to get myself through my Monday day shift which is by far the worst shift of the week....other than Sunday when the place is run riot with kids..........or Saturday evening when there is a queue out the door and Chef is in a foul mood........or Friday evening when the offices close for the weekend and middle aged women are getting drunk on Chardonnay...........Well let’s just say that on a Monday when I’m in that particular time in that particular place it is the worst shift of the week.

12 noon sharp the doors open and as usual there is a queue of impatient people outside waiting to get in. They pile in and push past staff to get to their seat as though the music will stop and someone will be left without one. This always bemuses me, look around people there are close to 300 seats in here and 20 of you............you are going to get a seat!

My first table of 2 have been shown to their seat by the one of the lovely door team.  I can see them looking disapprovingly at the table I know there are talking between themselves saying that they don’t like the table.  Blondie however has a hangover and is doing her best to get away before they actually address her. Customers do this often, they complain to each other knowing full well that the staff can hear every word of what they are saying. As staff we have to remain invisible until spoken to. If we make any comment at this point we are shot down in flames as though we had heard what they were saying by bugging their private telephone line. So Blondie escapes and I know I will have to deal with them. I approach with a smile on my face, “hi ladies can I get you something to drink just now?” they look at each other as though I have spoken a different language and then look at me with such distaste and one says in a tone that suggests she would rather not be here at all “I suppose ill have some wine”.  What I would really like to say is....you know if you don’t want to be here you can leave because I really don’t want to be nice to you. But I go over the wine list and ask her which particular wine she would like. She hums and haws and the younger of the two, I assume it’s her daughter, asks which is dry which is sweet and then asks to taste two of the wines from the menu. I come back with a taster of the two wines she asked for and they both sip and make appropriate noises and then the Mother uses the same tone as before and says we’ll just take the house thanks. Yeah thanks for wasting my time. I put their drinks order through to the bar and go to greet my next table.......who are lovely.

I can see the wine on the bar for my table of moaners and I really don’t want to take it over to them, but I have to, it’s my job. So over I go with the wine and smile as I open it. “Would you like to taste the wine” yeah of course you do even though you wouldn’t know the difference AND it’s a screw top! “Yeah its fine” says the Mother, which to me would normally means it’s anything but fine but I know she is just being huffy for no reason in particular.  I tell them the specials with enthusiasm and explain the menu to them, I say I will be back in a few minutes to take their order but if they have any questions just to ask. As I turn to walk away the Mother growls “ERM EXCUSE ME” I take a deep breath and turn back around and smile....and wait. “Do you think we could have a better seat” she says. I KNEW IT! right from the start I knew it. They are actually sitting in a pretty good seat, a booth actually with soft padded seating. “Where would you like to sit” I ask.  She turns round and points to a table that has clearly been set up for a booking, tables pushed together to make a larger table and menus on the table waiting. So I tell her that this has been reserved for a booking and they are due in 10 minutes. She isn’t happy with this and says “well they aren’t here yet why can’t we sit there and you can put them somewhere else?” Because my love, the world does not revolve round you and we have a restaurant to run which involves a seating plan! So I smile and say so sincerely that I will find a more suitable table but that one is reserved. If I thought she was in a huff before she is at boiling point now her face is red with rage and for a minute I think she is going to walk out. I ask her what kind of table she is looking for and I will check with the door team to see what is best. She doesn’t even look at me and barks “somewhere in the middle”. I don’t know why but so many of my customers want to sit in the middle of the restaurant. It’s as though they are missing something, like there will be some sort of performance in the middle of the restaurant. Really it’s just a bunch of people eating food. I like to laugh because the middle sections of the restaurant have the worst tables, they are more squashed together and the chairs are hard, round the sides there are nice comfy booths with good space. By this point the restaurant is starting to fill up and I know that wherever I move them to they will be sitting so close to the table next to them they could probably eat off each other’s plates, so I have a little chuckle to myself. I go over to the host and tell her that table 52 wants to move to the middle of the restaurant and ask if there is a really uncomfortable table I can take them too......there is. Now I am smiling without effort as I go back and say ladies if you can just follow me, I take their menus and pick up their wine bottle. The mother attempts to give me her jacket and bag, yeah right I’m not your servant so I use my free hand to pick up her wine glass, the daughter will have to carry her own. Mother dear is not amused at having to carry her own jacket and bag and is making such a fuss about it mumbling to herself and she has such a face on her. I squeeze my way through the now busy restaurant to the tiny table for 2 set among all the other full tables, I look back to check that they are still following me and I can see they are regretting the move.........well it’s too late ladies Blondie is wiping down your old table for another set of customers!!! I place down the wine and the menus and explain that the lovely girl standing by the bar will be their server; she will be over once they are settled to take their order. Lovely girl at the bar was out with Blondie last night and also has a hangover so good luck to all involved I’m just happy I don’t have to deal with you any longer.

By this time I have acquired 3 more tables and have an order to take from the lovely couple who witnessed the whole unhappy Mother scenario. I decide that I should speak to them first. I go over and ask if they are ready to order. The guy looks at me and I can tell he is trying not to laugh so I smile and he buckles, his girlfriend starts laughing too and says “I don’t know how you do it” That I say happens every day, you get used to it and believe me it gets far worse. These are the customers I like, the ones that treat you like a person and realise you are only doing a job. I can have a laugh with these customers and this is why I do what I do.

I look round and realise I have some catching up to do with my neglected tables, one by one I get them drinks and take their food orders without much hassle. Just as I was catching up with myself my last empty table has just been filled. I go over and offer to get some drinks, “wine” they all say at so almost the same time it could have been rehearsed, I laugh and say “that bad?” they don’t find this funny and look at each other, then me. One of them says “Its Monday!” as if this is an explanation, and then says “bring us the wine list” no please no acknowledgement just a statement. What I would like to say is yes it is Monday, I’ve been here all weekend doing double shifts and I’m here again on the same Monday you are.........and you will find the wine list on your table. But I don’t, because I can’t. So I ask them if their table is ok in the hope that they would like to move.

Day Off

So I had every intention of getting up this morning early, going to the gym and generally being productive with my day off. It all started well, I woke up at 9.30 without the aid of any alarm whatsoever, and then it hit me...........the red wine hangover!

Why do I do it? I have a nice wee day shift and the next day off why can’t I just be sensible so that I don’t waste my precious luxury “me” time with a thumping headache?

Grumpus works in a bar with a late license, you know the type, food and crap music during the day. At night the lights go down food is served till 10pm and there is a DJ in from 9pm. It’s in a busy area in the centre of town and has a 3am license most nights of the week. Usually they close when there are less than 30 people left. Sometimes Grumpus goes to the 24 hour gym in town after a shift and doesn’t get home till any time between 2am and 6am. So I had the flat to myself last night, like most nights actually.

I am a member of “love film”, they send me a DVD I watch it and send it back, and they send me another one. Yesterday I got through The Book of Eli so that was my night sorted DVD bottle of vino and pizza............because there’s no point cooking for one is there? I finished the bottle, of course I did who was I kidding saying I wouldn’t.......well there’s no point leaving a glass! Last night in my moment of wisdom I didn’t think I was drunk, I even read a chapter of my book before I went to sleep, a chapter that granted I will probably have to re-read....clearly not tonight because I have just opened another bottle of vino!  It was just after 1am when I turned out my light, that’s a decent amount of sleep by any manner of means you would have thought? Well apparently not because at 9.30 this morning when I tried to get up my head was banging and the flat was freezing. So I slowly got up, turned the heating on and lay my poor wee head down for half an hour. 1pm I woke up feeling like I was in a sauna, Grumpus was snoring obliviously beside me. I was so warm I couldn’t stay in bed even if I wanted to so I got up to inspect the damage.

Grumpus, you see leaves a trail of destruction from room to room; today it wasn’t too bad, empty cup of tea on the floor next to the couch and an empty take away tub on the kitchen unit next to the bin took me 2 minutes, then I had nothing to do. Soup I thought! I’ll make some soup it’s freezing outside and it’s always nice to come home to some soup. So off I trek to the supermarket for soup ingredients. Shop number one for vegetables lentils and stock cubes then a short walk to shop number 2 for a few other bits and bobs easy..........you would have thought. Shop number one had no lentils, not a problem I’m going to shop number 2 anyway. But no they don’t have lentils either. I have walked round the shop 3 times now and there are definitely no lentils. So I ask anyway “excuse me, do you have lentils?” It’s not an unreasonable assumption that they would sell lentils I’m in Tesco express for god sake. The shop assistant looks at me as though I have asked does he sell live snakes and curtly replies “no, we don’t sell lentils”.

Now I have a dilemma, the next nearest shop is a bit further away do I go there with the 3 heavy bags I have just purchased or drop my shopping off home first. Yes better to drop the shopping off. Grumpus is still snoring. Third shop no lentils. A Short walk fourth shop, no lentils what is going on either there is a national lentil shortage or the whole world is making soup! Further I wander to the last supermarket before I have to get on public transport in search for lentils. They have some I have never been so excited to see a packet of lentils in my life.

So at home I’m making soup it will be ready for Grumpus to have some before leaving for work. Next minute Grumpus comes into the kitchen and says “bang bang bang with your hammer” I look down somehow expecting to see a hammer there but no I’M CHOPPING A BLOODY CARROT! Grumpus goes for a pee and comes back and looks at the vegetables I have set out to grate and chop. “What are the potatoes for? I don’t put potatoes in my soup” I reply well you’re not making the soup, I am” to which Grumpus says “yeah if I was making it it would have been ready by now and I would have had a bowl” so the potatoes go away and I continue making the soup.

Grumpus is in the shower and I decide I’ve had a stressful day I deserve a bottle of vino. I forgot to get cat food so I need to go out anyway. When I get back Grumpus is getting ready for work, I ask “on your way to work could you post back the DVD so they can send me another one. “Yeah sure, leave it beside my keys so I don’t forget”.

So Grumpus leaves in a frenzy, late as usual, and I go into the bedroom to inspect the damage, everything is left on the floor, wet towel, hair products, socks that were worn to bed, empty cup of tea, clothes that were tried on and taken off......the DVD I wanted posted........I sigh and start the tidy Grumpus doesn’t even make the bed!

 Now here I am its 10.30 and I’ve just sat down to update my blog, that’s what I get for giving my mother a quick call! I am suddenly reminded that it is the weekend in the worst possible way; on the corner of my street there is a bar that has karaoke at the weekend....loud karaoke! It is utterly horrific! Right now I am enduring some old man’s rendition of rhinestone cowboy and I know there is worse to come....thank goodness for vino is all I can say.

It’s still early so I’m going to find myself something to watch and finish my vino in peace but before I do I’m going to put potatoes in MY soup!

Day 1

So here I am home after shift number one to blog about..........my alarm goes off at half 7, I can hear it’s raining where I am and god do I not want to get out of bed. The cat is scratching at my bedroom door wanting fed there is a baby crying next door. Before I get out of bed I can feel its freezing cold outside the covers. My partner who is clearly not working this morning got to bed about an hour ago and woke me up, since then I’ve been tossing and turning so I know if I switch the alarm off and take 10 more minutes of cosy bliss ill fall asleep for hours and be late for work. There’s nothing for it but to get up. So I do and realise that not only is it raining there if a full blown storm raging outside!!! Before I can make myself even look human I need heat and tea. Sitting having my morning tea I can see the day far enough, I hate it when it’s cold outside people tend to complain more. It’s like I personally asked them to leave the warmth of their homes or offices to come for lunch. It’s still dark outside when I get out the shower I need to put on the bedroom light and risk waking Grumpus, another reason I hate working mornings, Grumpus predominantly works nights therefore comes to bed anytime between 4am and 7am each morning. Grumpus does not like getting woken by me getting ready to go to work. It seems the more I try to be quiet the more noise I make. Grumpus refers to this as me and my hammer.....the hammer being metaphorical of course.

By the time I get to work I am soaked through, and some chef has laid claim to the I-pod and the spice girls are blasting through the restaurant, just how I love to start my day. So I go through the ritual of set up enduring choruses of “if you wanna be my lover”. Somehow time actually passes quite quickly and its 11:30 and time for the pre shift brief. Still bucketing down outside there is already a queue of people forming outside waiting to get in. I don’t get this? The opening times are quite clearly displayed on the door we open at 12am every day. We have close to 300 seats in the restaurant you people are going to get a seat, go away and come back in half an hour instead of standing in the rain like idiots! But no they remain outside standing in the torrential rain. Occasionally someone will yank on the door in the hope that it will open and that these idiots are standing outside for the fun of it, but no, the door does not open and the individual walks to the end of the queue and waits in line.

Pre shift meeting over and the doors are now open the rain soaked individuals are now beginning to be seated. I approach my first table, 2 elderly ladies. “Hi ladies, how are you? Would you like a drink just now” the how are you was clearly a mistake. Were soaked through and freezing after you made us wait outside for almost half an hour. Oh how much would I like to say excuse me but the opening times are clearly displayed on the door. We open at 12 just like every other morning, the fact that you waited in the rain was your choice and clearly shows that you are an idiot! But instead I offer to take their jackets and smile all the while imagine slapping them with a wet fish. I go back; I have to, “can I get you a drink ladies?”

“A pot of tea for one, and two cups.”

Honest to god could you not could you not have stayed at home and had tea???

So I return with the pot of tea for one with the two cups and ask if they are ready to order. The more miserable of the two looks at me and says, “After standing out in the cold I’d really like some soup, I don’t see soup on your menu, tell me love what is your soup today”

Inside I’m screaming “YOU DONT SEE SOUP ON THE MENU BECAUSE WE DONT DO SOUP YOU FOOL” instead I say with a smile, “sorry ladies we don’t do soup.” Why am I apologising I ask myself? You stood long enough outside you could have looked at the menu, which by the way is right next to the opening hours!

The old dear looks at me in astonishment and says “you don’t do soup? Why not?” hmmm well because the people who get paid way too much money to design the menu decided no soup that’s why not.

“Go on” she says “ask the chef to throw together a pot of soup.” Now if any of you have had dealings with chefs in your time then you know what kind of response I would get if I wandered in to the kitchen and said “hey chef I have this wee old woman wanting some soup, do me a favour and make a wee pot would you?” yeah right I would leave the kitchen with my head in my hands to play with!  So I smile and say we don’t do soup I will give you a few minutes to have a look at the menu and come back.

Meanwhile I go to greet my next customer, a business man in a suit. “Hi I say can I get you a drink?”

“A pint of beer” he says........we don’t do pints!

From the beginning

Well here I am, a 32 year old waitress in a well known restaurant in one of the UKs busiest cities, answering every day the question “so when are you going to get a real job?” 

The thing is I have been to university, one of the best in the UK actually and TWICE. Yes I am a waitress with not one degree but two. The truth is that I have never seen myself in a 9-5 office job. I have tried it, I have, but it’s not for me. The office politics the gaggle of cackling woman, the rush hour commute, going home to mind numbing TV and a routine with a set bedtime. Whilst I understand this may be ideal to hundreds, thousands of people out there it’s just not for me. No thanks give me my lie in, my saunter to work, my flexible hours and my 2 days off during the week.  This suits my lifestyle, I can go out after work, mid week nights out are so much cheaper than weekends in the city, and less pretentious by far.

Do I want to be a waitress forever? Of course I don’t it suits me for now, I have a great job I make more than my salary on tips and in this financial recession my job is pretty secure. People still need to eat right? My work is busy every day there is no shortage of customers or shifts. My work is also expanding, opening in new locations at a rapid pace there will be plenty of opportunity for me to progress.....just not yet I’m having too much fun enjoying my life.

I’ve thought for a long time about starting a blog, to share with you all the lives of those in the service industry. The laughs, and believe me there are laughs but there are also tears, anger and frustration. I want to share with you all what as service staff we endure on a day to day basis, those of you in the service industry yourselves will relate to what I am saying and laugh and rage along with me, those of you not in the service industry will maybe learn what it’s like to do so.

I hope you all will have a lot of laughs..........