Due to the massive amounts of mail (email, fan mail, hate mail, females) pouring into the offices of First Team Cut, we have decided to respond to some of the more interesting feedback from restaurant patrons who feel that they have no representation on First Team Cut. These patrons are writing, texting, Tweeting, and calling at all hours of day and night to say that they feel they aren’t getting a fair shake. Fair enough; there are two sides to every story and so First Team Cut sat down with a test panel to discuss the other side of the dining room aisle.
In an earlier edition of First Team Cut, we profiled several genres of patron that we have an especially hard time not spitting in their food…or at least considering it. And to be fair (kinda) to those eating at our tables and controlling our financial destinies with the swipe of a pen on a credit card slip, we have agreed to profile several categories of servers who are likely to working for free. These profiles are based on information gleaned from lengthy interviews with patrons on what especially irks them in a server. So servers be advised; you also are being watched. The profiles listed below are in no particular order and fitting any one of them can severely affect your proverbial tip jar. Class is now in session; please take out a pen….there will be a test.
The Happy Gilmore:
According to those surveyed, The Happy Gilmore is irksome for the same reasons that no one likes clowns in the dark; given their surroundings, no one is that freakin’ happy unless something is wrong with them. The Happy Gilmore is that server who every night must go home and alternate heating pads and ice packs on their cheek muscles because they have spent the entire shift smiling from ear to ear like Marlon Wayans in Little Man.. “Heeeeere’s Calvin!” This server is as bubbly as a shaken bottle of Sprite, just fizzing and running over with manufactured gleefulness. It’s one thing to be pleasant with the guests. It’s another thing to make the people sitting at the table feel exhausted from just trying to match the server’s hey-I-just-got-a-pony exuberance. Maybe you really are this happy to be working six straight double shifts at Applebee’s without a day off and your favorite pastime really is getting booster seats for a table of screaming triplets. Maybe. But we doubt it. So tone down the light-bright deal ok? Be sad for two seconds, you’re makin’ people nervous. Thanks.
The Phantom/The Hovercraft:
This server profile is a mix because it represents the furthest extremes in terms of the amount of attention paid to the table. The Phantom is easy to identify..mainly ‘cause you don’t see him. This server appears suddenly, usually from a fog machine produced haze, takes your order, and then disappears for the remainder of the meal. The patron will see neither hide nor hair of the Phantom; no one knows where this server goes, or where he or she hides. Restaurants can be big places, but for an entire human being to vaporize like that? Maybe we’ll never know who or why The Phantom does what he does.
The Hovercraft is irritating for the polar opposite reason. This server is like a cat hair on a black sweater; no matter what you do, you can’t shake get him or her off you. The Hovercraft server clings to your table with the tenacity of a lioness on the back of a wildebeest on the Serengeti . The patron cannot take one sip of his drink, much less finish the glass, before the Hovercraft is right there to refill the cup. No table conversation is possible because the Hovercraft is incessantly asking the table does anyone need anything. How is your food? Does it taste good? Better yet, does it taste delicious? Would you like more sauce? More ice? A full-body massage? Can I change your socks for you? May I give you a refill? Could you use some more napkins? Is your food still super-duper delicious? May I give you a refill? FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, ENOUGH ALREADY!!! The Hovercraft is best dealt with by using an icy stare and the command to stay away from the table until summoned. Well, that or by spraying him or her with a can of Raid. Fly-swatters and high powered paintball guns can also do the trick.
The Pigpen:
Let’s talk about some basics. People go to restaurants to eat food. Servers bring that food to the person who wants to eat. People want their food to be safe, as in clean and sanitary. So it would follow the realm of logic that people would like clean servers to bring them clean, safe, sanitary food. Are all the servers reading this paying attention? Good. The Pigpen server, yeah you over in the corner with the dirty and/ or chewed-to-the-nub fingernails, this goes out to you. No one wants their meal served by a person with mustard, ketchup, salsa, barbeque sauce, and two or three other unidentifiable substances caked on their clothes. For Heaven’s sake, wash your clothes, and yourself if you can find the time. The Pigpen server seems to either not care or just be oblivious to the fact that they have the hygiene of a homeless bum. How would you like it if someone brought you their dinner looking like a pile of past expiration date dumpster meat? Sound appetizing? We didn’t think so. At this time, would all servers who fit this description report to the pressure washer area? Feel free to bring your own towel….we will provide the Lysol and Brilo pads.
The Simon Cowell:
Harsh criticism should come with being a contestant on American Idol, The X Factor, and being a grown man wearing skinny jeans and New Balance jogging shoes to the mall. That being said, harsh criticism should NOT be coming from the server to the guest when the guest places his or her order. A meeting with a Simon Cowell server may sound something like this:
Guest: “I’ll have the cheddar burger with double fries instead of the veggies and steamed rice. Thanks.”
Server: “Wow. Isn’t that like, a whole lotta carbs? I mean, if you really want that, ok, but I’m just saying that isn’t gonna like, look good on you in five years.”
What? People come to restaurants to eat, not to hear you critique their eating habits. If the five hundred pound individual at your table wants to order half the menu and a Diet Coke to wash it down with, just roll with it, no pun intended. If you know the chicken broccoli soup tastes like trash can juice and droppings from a dirty gerbil cage and the guests wants it, it’s their funeral. Keep the commentary to yourself, or at least wait ‘till you get back to the kitchen to tell all the other servers about the light bulb at table thirteen who wants a side of mayonnaise to go with their order of raw onions. Just keep the mop and bucket ready, and your mouth shut. Got it?
There you have it folks; the servers patrons cringe to see coming. Servers…don’t be like any of these. Life is hard enough without you makin’ it worse. Thank you all and goodnight.
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