Sex & Calamari

It’s 9:00 PM on a slow Wednesday night. The only customers in the restaurant are a stuck-up looking couple who’ve made it clear they “don’t want to be rushed.” As they chatter and slowly munch their grilled calamari, their entrées are desiccating under a heat lamp in...

Source Municipal

It’s Friday night and I’m finishing the wine liturgy for the Yuppies on table 13. The host, a pretentious bald man wearing expensively layered clothes, grilled me about the wine list. Asking questions designed not to gain knowledge but to showcase his knowledge of...

I’ll Take Care of You

Another busy Saturday night at Café Machiavelli is finally winding down. My biggest table of the evening, a clamorous Italian familia of twenty people, are finishing their desserts. “You drop the check on that table yet?” Willem, the manager, asks me. “Not yet.” “Give...

Shoot Them All

It’s been raining heavily all night. Because our wimpy customers are afraid of a little moisture, Café Machiavelli’s been experiencing an abnormally slow Friday night. It’s almost nine o’clock and I haven’t even cleared a hundred bucks. “Oh man,” Paolo, the executive...