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...

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 wait....

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...

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...

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...

Sounding Gay

It’s Saturday night and the Bistro’s packed. I’m managing to keep my tables under control but Saroya, whose section’s just been triple sat, isn’t so lucky. “Can you help me?” Saroya pleads, “I’m going into the weeds.” “Whatcha need?” I ask. “Can you tell table 23 the...

HOW TO USE A CELLPHONE WITHOUT LOOKING LIKE AN ASSHOLE

HOW TO USE A CELLPHONE WITHOUT LOOKING LIKE AN ASSHOLE I don’t own a cell phone. I used to but I got rid of it. It never worked during those “emergencies” mobile carriers try and convince you are survivable only if you own one of their phones. Has anyone done a study...

Hideous

It’s Friday night. The dinner rush is starting and the Bistro’s half full. I’m up front training Holly, our new hostess. She’s a pretty twenty year old redhead. “You were born in 1986, right?” I ask. “Yes,” Holly replies, “Why do you ask?” I take a deep breath....

Lust

It’s a warm summer evening. Beth and I are trudging towards Café American for a post shift cocktail. We’re both exhausted. The dinner rush was brutal. We did, however, make a lot of money. “I need a drink,” Beth says, sounding shell-shocked. “Me too,” I reply, equally...

Tipping Tips from Experts

I apologize for the lack of posts recently. I’ve had a busy couple of weeks inside and outside the Bistro. So today I’m letting the Daily News do my job for me. On Tuesday they ran a nice little article about tipping in their business section. I’ve...