The Bitchy Waiter
I get a lot of comments and flack from people who question my bitchy ways and ask me why I keep this job if it’s so fucking miserable and demeaning. Most of these comments probably come from people who have never had to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous food service and maybe they don’t understand my point of view. Waiting tables is like wearing a pair of golden handcuffs. My friend Annie was describing her non food service job and I totally related to it. Sometimes you find yourself in a situation or job that is not ideal, but the benefits outweigh the negatives. In the restaurant world, the benefits are the quick cash in a short period of time, the complete flexibility and the opportunity to wear khakis and Pay Less slid resistant shoes everyday of your life. Serving food is not the easiest job in the world but it sure isn’t the hardest either. Am I handcuffed to my waiter jobs? Maybe. But they’re made of gold so it’s not that bad. So I continue to wait tables and then come to this blog and bitch about it and complain about all the annoying people and then when I am done, I feel better. It’s like therapy, this blog. It keeps me sane(er). And every once in a while, I show up to work and The Bitchy Waiter slacks off a bit and the 4% of Friendly Waiter gets to pokes his timid ass head out and say hello. This rare event happened a few nights ago and the customer left a comment card regarding my service. I quote:
Excellent, friendly service. Very polite. Manners matter!
Did you just now hear the fucking angels singing Hallelujah? Did you feel the temperature in the room change a bit as the bolt of electrical excitement shot right through you? The birds are singing and the rainbows have shot their wads in the sky because someone took the time to write a comment card about how great a waiter I am. I must stop typing now because tears are falling into the keyboard at an alarming rate.