The Bitchy Waiter
Looking for a new restaurant job sucks big hairy donkey balls covered in dingleberries. There, I said it. What especially sucks about it is that you have to expel all this energy for something you don’t even want to do. And at this time of year, no one is hiring because every restaurant is closing up their patio and cutting shifts. Whenever I walk into a place the bartender or waiter says the same thing. “Hi. One for lunch?” Then I have to say that I am looking for a job and I see their eyes shift into a look of pity towards me. They take my resume to “put on file” but I know what that means. It goes into a drawer for a week and then it gets thrown out. I know this because I have been the one that throws that crap out. But I persevere.
Craigslist is a veritable feast for restaurant jobs, but you never know what you are applying for. I saw an ad today that caught my bloodshot eyes. It said “Waitstaff/Entertainers, Weekends Only.” I can do that. I can do waitstaff. I can entertain. I sent my crap via the internets I sent my waiter resume, actor resume and headshot. (Don’t judge.) Lo and behold I got a call. The guy starts to tell me about the job and I have to interrupt him to ask him which place he is from. Hello, I have emailed about a thousand places. He tells me that he needs waitstaff who can sing and he sees that I have extensive musical theater background. (Don’t judge.) So I am thinking it is some lame ass singing waiter job at like a 1950’s diner themed restaurant or something. He asks if I can make drinks. “Sure I can, I do it every night.” I didn’t tell him I meant at home. Then he asks if I can cook. What does he want? A singing waiter/bartender/chef? Jeez, what am I getting into? Then he tells me it is on a train. A train. Uh huh. For a flat fee of $250, he wants me to meet him at an Amtrak station on Saturday at noon to prep the train. Like I know how to prep a train. A salad bar, yes. Train, no. I would be serving food on a train going to Vermont and then entertain the patrons who, he informed me, are all old . And how would I entertain all these old people? Why with a karaoke machine, of course. I kid not. Then we would spend the night in Vermont and I would be home Sunday night at midnight. What is this? I would be gone for 36 hours. I don’t even know this man. What if I get on the train and there is some serious Agatha Christie shit going on? Intrigue, murder and mayhem! And how do I know what kind of place I will be spending the night at in Vermont? He said he had a suite for the crew, but what if I end up sharing a bed with a hairy greasy cook named Bruce? And what if I after all this crap he decided to only pay me twenty bucks? And you know what’s really fucked up? I actually thought about it doing it. I asked to think about it for 15 minutes and then I came to my senses and called back and said no thanks.
I just want to serve brunch. Is that too much to ask?