Monthly Archives: July 2006

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On Notice

There’s a tired piece of corruption that unscrupulous restaurant owners and managers love foisting on hardworking waiters – tip stealing. Simply put, some managers insist on getting “tipped out” at the end of the night like a bus person or bartender. It’s almost always done

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Gladiator

Beth and I are in the kitchen drinking coffee. The lunch shift’s drawing to a close. The restaurant’s almost empty. Beth can’t wait to go home. “I’ve worked like six doubles in a row,” she says. “I can’t take it anymore.” “I’m here twelve days

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Funeral

“So how’s the party going?” I ask Beth, one of our waitresses. “Not bad considering,” she replies shrugging. “So who was the deceased?” I ask. “Did you find out?” “Their grandma,” Beth says. “She was like 90.” “An old soul whose time had come,” I

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Angels & Demons

It’s early Saturday night and one of my customers is throwing a fit. The problem probably started when he threw food at the woman sitting next to him. The situation’s out of control. Plates and utensils litter the floor. The lady’s covered with food. She

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Daddy’s Little Girl

It’s a hot muggy Friday night and the Bistro’s crowded. The central air system struggles to hold down the temperature. I guess we won’t be selling cappuccinos tonight. The hostess takes a smoke break. As I’m watching the entrance a foxy brunette walks through the

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Bad Concierge

It’s eight o’clock on Saturday evening. The Bistro’s mobbed. It’s the busiest hour of the busiest night of the week. Two couples hang anxiously outside the front door, hoping to get a table. Since no customer’s close to finishing they’re going to have a long

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Tomatoes Vs Baguettes

It’s Sunday afternoon. The Bistro’s dead. There’s not a single customer in the restaurant. The staff’s spread out in the back, reading magazines, fiddling with cell phones, or taking a nap. “Where’s Armando?” I say, not looking up from my newspaper. “I haven’t seen him

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Burned

It’s Thursday evening and I’m walking towards Café American for a post shift cocktail. A cool breeze floats past me, fluttering summer skirts and caressing bare skin. Sidewalk cafés teem with young people drinking beer and savoring the gentle night. Girls sit with artful carelessness,

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Party Favors

It’s four o’clock and the Bistro’s empty. I’m up front drinking espresso and sharing the newspaper with my coworkers Beth and Celine. “So when we getting our first customer?” I ask Celine, our occasional weekend hostess. “Not ’til six,” she replies, peeking over The Style