I’ve been wearing drugstore reading glasses for years. Working in low lighting and squinting at computer screens have screwed up my vision. Without them I can’t read. Refusing to pay for prescription lenses I keep buying cheap spectacles at the rate of one per month.
Michael Lynn, the professor at Cornell’s School of Hotel Administration asked me if I’d put this survey for WAITRESSES up on my website. This survey focuses on physical characteristics like age, height, weight, waist size, hip size, bra size, hair color, etc, and whether or
It’s 3 o’clock. I step inside the Bistro to work my 300th Saturday night. Carrying my dry cleaned uniform over my shoulder I walk around and start saying my hellos. “Hi Maria,” I call out to one of the busgirls. “How’s your daughter?” “She went
“Do you make Linguini Puttanesca?” “No Madam,” I reply, “We don’t have it on the menu.” “Well,” the lady harrumphs, “The chef made it for me the last time I was here.” God – I hate when customers use that line. “Really?” I say, hiding
As you may have already figured out, the segment about tipping on this morning’s Today Show got bumped. If it’s scheduled to air another time I’ll let you all know. Television’s a fickle mistress. Bummer.
Tomorrow morning, between 7:30 and 8:00 AM I’ll be on NBC’s Today Show. It’s a prerecorded segment that’s part of a larger story about tipping. I’m shot in silhouette so no one will know what I look like. The producers tell me it’ll be on
I’m in the back having a cup of coffee with Mitzi, our newest waitress. Mitzi’s been toiling in the restaurant/hospitality biz for almost thirty years. Pushing fifty, she’s what we waiters call “a lifer.” “So Mitzi,” I ask. “What’s the toughest place you ever worked?”
“…and finally we have the rack of wild boar. Sauced with a porcini mushroom demiglaze and served over vegetable risotto, it’s the best dish of the night,” I say, concluding my recitation of the specials. “Wow,” my customer, a portly man in his late fifties,
It’s a bright and cool Sunday afternoon. The sidewalks are choked with young couples walking dogs, moms pushing double-decker baby strollers, and middle aged husbands trudging behind their wives. I notice most of the men skipped their morning shave. I wonder if Sunday facial stubble
It’s a busy Sunday night. Louis and I are by the pick up window waiting for our food to come up. The line cooks are struggling to keep up with the orders. The sink’s piled high with plates waiting for a spin in the dishwasher.