The Epic Tale of Sally's Waitressing Downfall

Apparently it's possible to have simultaneously the best and worst day ever. It started out all right: I ate me some oatmeal, put my shoes on the right feet (yes, I have two right feet) and made my way off to work. Little did I know it would be my first and last day as a server.
CUE OMINOUS MUSIC.
But first, I should really illustrate the beginning of this grand tale, this epic journey of how I came to fail at the demanding task of waitressing. As with most of my stories, it begins with a lie.

1. Oh! You mean REAL experience, not PopCap waitress flash game experience?

I walked in to open interviews at Emmet O'Lunney's Irish Pub, and talked to the manager.
M (for manager): Well hi there, how ya doin'?
S (for Super awesome-pants): Great! Thanks, how are you?
M: All right so I see here you have serving experience?
(Thanks, fabricated resume!)
S: Yes...
M: Great! When you served, how many tables were in your section?
S: Well, it wasn't as big a restaurant as this. I'd say... thirty?
Her eyes widened.
M: You... you served thirty tables at once?

Oh shit, that's probably a giant amount.

S: Oh! Haha! In my SECTION, I thought you meant WHOLE RESTAURANT. Yeah, uh, I had five in my section. Ha! Thirty! What am I? Superwoman? Ha!

What am I, AN IDIOT?!

M: Haha! Yeah... so what program did you use?

Wow. Something I can't bullshit. She's good.

S: You know what? I can't actually remember the name of it! I know it was a touch screen...
M: Aloha?
S: Aloha to you too!
M: No no, the program name, Aloha
S: Oh! Haha! Yes! Yes that was it!
M: Great! That's what we use here! You should be familiar with it.
S: Oh you know actually that may not have been it. I'll have to give it a look.
M: Okay well great, I'll give you a call later if I want you to come in tomorrow! Thanks!

And later that day, while I was buying salmon at Whole Foods, she totally did. My word. What a nice lady, right?! (Hint: THAT BECOMES A LIE) So I worked for two days as a trainee, I got a couple of tables but very few people came in, and I made simply abysmal money. This morning, she promised me I would get my own whole section. I was thrilled, despite the fact that it was a sports pub, it was my first real day as a server, and the england and USA games were playing simultaneously. Awesome.

2. No that's fine, feel free to elbow me in the boob as I shove through you holding nine beers.

It was still early, but people were already piling in, and Lisa (my lovely, lovey boss) hadn't yet assigned us sections. A man sat down near me and glanced at me expectantly. I sprinted over to help him, both because I wanted to please a customer and because he looked exactly like a more attractive version of someone really attractive, and took his order. He wanted a cheeseburger, so I rung it up and sent the order to the kitchen. Then he flagged me down and informed me he wanted to change his order. So, I went back to the computer and changed it, and got Lisa to void the item.

S: Hey, uh, Lisa?
M (for MEPHISTOPHELES): Yes?
S: That man over there ordered a cheeseburger and then changed his mind, could you please void the item?
M: You already need to void an item? You clearly can't handle your own section today, I'm sorry.
S: But it wasn't my fault, I-- I, he just changed his mind.
M: You know what sweetie, I really don't have time for excuses.
S: Okay.
M: Now you have three tables: 300, 800, and 900.
S: Okay. Thank you.

Three tables? Thanks. Also, do I know where 300 800 and 900 are? You'd think. But no, this restaurant has to have the most ridiculous numbering system known to man. Instead of using numbers, they instead use NONSENSE. Guess what's next to table 300? Table 7. Yeah, good ol' table seven. I eventually figured out where my area was and saw a woman in a red shirt sit down, so I took her order. I was exceedingly polite and friendly, 'cuz my mamas raised me right, and she was equally as nice, so I brought her some spit-free coffee.

S: So what can I get started for ya?
Her: Do you know what's in the Irish Breakfast?
S: You know what, I'm so sorry, this is my first time serving breakfast and I actually don't know. Just a second and I'll go check for you!
Her: Sure thing!

Guess what? No one knew. Not a single waiter. So I asked Lisa. I can't believe I asked Lisa. Without even bothering to respond to my question, she marched, pointy nose first over to the lovely red-shirted woman, and told her the contents of the breakfast while shooting me a dirty look. Well, I'm fired. So I continued to be attentive to that woman, who informed me that she'd be having two friends come join her soon. Meanwhile, the restaurant had filled up and I just couldn't even move. I finally made my way back over to my lady, who asked for an omelete, so I ordered it. Fifteen minutes later, it hadn't come, so I told Lisa.

M: Well, did you order it?
S: Yes...
M: Are you... sure?
S: Yes ma'am.

So I told the Red Shirt lady that her omelete would be out soon (I hoped for my sake that it would) and apologized for the delay. She said something incredibly polite and then her friends entered.

3. You're too famous to be this nice.

Who should enter but HEATHER MATARAZZO, the awesome lady who played Lily in Princess Diaries. Thank you, Times Square pub. I did a double-take and then went to go attend to some other tables when Lisa approached me and said, "That woman's omelete took to long to come. You clearly can't handle three tables. You now have two." Can I get double-fired? I was really angry inside, but I murmered, "All right." And went to go check on lovely Red Shirt lady, who, despite no longer being my table, was friends with Heather Matarazzo and was super nice. I refreshed their drinks and then sputtered something awkward and starstruck like, "Weren't you on Princess Diaries? You were excellent I just love you oh my word!" And she grinned sheepishly and patted me on the shoulder, confirming my suspicions that she was famous. Then, everything went as planned for a while, until I got combo-fired.
I was walking around, milling (because I was barked at for standing still despite the fact that I only had two tables in a giant restaurant and the members of those tables were calmly sipping water watching a 90 minute game) and a man asked me for a beer. Excuse me, sir, what table are you at? How do I ring up your beer? Are you just roaming around this cattle ranch of soccer fans? So I asked the bartender, who told me to just take the guy under my own section and come up with a random table number. So I asked Lisa. You know how you're always taught that it's better to ask questions than to do something wrong? Yeah well that's a lie. They're both a terrible idea. Turns out, Lisa is one of those things that's pretty on the outside, but ACID on the inside. Spending too much time with her is like walking into the Louvre only to discover that it contains piles and piles of sewage. Or dead bodies. A dead body/sewage medley.

M: Sally, I don't know what I'm not getting through you to--
S: No, I--
M: Don't interrupt me! You can't handle another table!
S: But, he--
M: You can't take him!
S: But, I'm sorry, but the bartender told me to take him, I just want to know how to ring him up since all the tables are taken, I'm fine with putting him on another server's section, just please tell me how to put his drink in the system when he's standing.
M: Just, just point him out to me.
S: Oh... okay.

4. Quadruple fired?
Just after that, Red Shirt lady asked me if I could watch their fantastically polite table while then went to have a smoke. I said, "Certainly!" And stood there, smiling, back straight, for ten minutes. Lisa of course walked behind me and glared at me for doing something I'm sure I wasn't supposed to be doing, and Red Shirt lady returned. "Oh I can't believe you really waited there that whole time! Aren't you just the cutest thing!" Then, things winded down. I cleared away my tables, was tipped extremely well by my few guests, and then people started to clear out. I walked past Red Shirt lady on her way out, who stopped me.

RS: You get the tip we left, right?
S: Oh actually, that goes to my friend Corey, he's a great guy!
RS: Oh what but he barely did anything, you were great!
S: Oh thank you so much, but I was switched away from your table, I really appreciate it though. Have a great day!
RS: All right, well... bye

And then, about a minute later, who should walk back toward me but Heather Matarazzo. She reached toward me and gave me my first real money handshake. A MONEY HANDSHAKE. "I just wanted to tell you that you were excellent, and you deserve this. Thank you." I sputtered something very grateful, and Lisa, right on cue, shot up to me.

M: Whatwasthat.
S: Well, that was just, uh, you know, a celebrity coming in here to tip me personally and say that I deserved it. No big deal or anything.
M: How did she know that you didn't get the tip?
S: Well, her friend asked and I said no, that goes to my friend Corey, and she left, and then Heather came back and tipped me personally.
M: You know, in this restaurant, we don't take other servers' tips.
S: But Corey was tipped in the bill, this was just separate money.
M: You know, I feel like you're questioning me a lot.
S: Okay.
M: I'm going to have to cut you right now. Go cash out, I'll call you if we ever want to you come back, all right?

And her face dripped a saccharine smile. So I sighed, grabbed my things, and muttered frustrated goodbyes to the rest of the wait staff. I stuffed four complementary Munchkins in my cheeks and ate them furiously while I bagged my tips for the day. Then I remembered Heather's tip, which I had immediately pocketed. Oh what's this? A fifty! Best way to get fired. Ever. I was still upset though. I really dislike performing poorly at anything, and I was angry. So when I exited, I was close to tears. And who should I see on the corner but Heather Matarazzo and her angel friends (one of whom, I later found out, was her girlfriend). So I ran up to them.

5. You're my new best friend in the whole world, sweet famous lady

S: I just wanted to say, thank you so much for being the b-... the best part of my day.

In the middle of my already ridiculous sentence, I had broken down and started sobbing uncontrollably.

H: Oh honey! Oh what's wrong?
S: Well I actually was just f-ff-ffff-fired.
H & company: OH HONEY!!
RS: Oh we were all just talking about how much first days suck and how great you did!

They all nodded reassuringly.

S: Oh th-th-thank you, oh man I'm so sorry I'm just crying in front of you and I don't even know you!
RS: Sweetie don't worry about it!

Then Heather grabbed my hands, looked at me in my puffy eyes, and said in a smooth, calm voice

H: You know what? Soon, you're going to feel so grateful for this. You're not meant to be a waitress. That job's not for you! What's your dream, sweetie?
S: I'm, I'm, well I want to be a writer.
H: Oh yeah? Well that's what you're going to be!
RS: Yeah, you're not meant to push drinks!
H: Hey! This is exciting, right guys?
RS: Yeah! Yay!

And they all did a little clapping dance and hugged me. HOW ARE THEY SO NICE.

S: Oh man, Heather Matarazzo, you are so wise! Thank you so much, you guys were just the sweetest customers, thank you so much for making my day, I'll just, I'll be going now, I'm sorry, and thank you, and I'm sorry, and thank you!
All: Good luck/ Bye/ Thank you, cutie!

What a city. What a day. That happened. That totally just happened. And now my life is dedicated to fulfilling my dreams of becoming a writer and later hiring Heather Matarazzo for all my acting positions. I love her.

His friends must take "gag gift" a tad too literally...

So as many of you guys might know, I recently moved to New York for the summer. So far, it's fantastic. I'm fresh with awe! Everything is exciting and beautiful! And there are so many cupcakes! The people are much friendlier than expected too (it's been one whole day and I have yet to be spit upon), and there's chai here. Yes, that's right, I was frightened that there wouldn't be.





Also, my apartment is a titan. There's a gorgeous suede couch (the one place that my roommate has told me I'm not allowed to sit naked, oddly excluding her bed), and fantastic wooden floors that are ideal for high-speed sock-sliding. The current sublessor is a film professor at a university in New Jersey, which (sort of) explains the apartment's general decorative flair.





He has some amazing things-- incredible books (including Deepak Chopra's Kama Sutra, which should make for some G-rated summer reading, and oddly, the exact Biopsychology book required for my on-line class), great movies, and awesome little tchochkes. I'm very upset that the giant Pegasus drum is a tad too suspicious to smuggle.












But let's face it: the child's skeleton costume hanging grimly on the wall is just terrifying. The last thing I want to see before I go to bed is some tiny glow-in-the-dark femur.















But his apartment revealed many excellent finds. This morning my roommate, Liz, and I rearranged our gigantor living room to make ourselves feel more at home, and to gain access to a closet that was blocked by a small coffee table. Curious, and in need of a place to put some of our things, we opened it, only to discover this:

That's right kids, It's complete with THREE tender love openings. I'm positive that this was some sort of joke gift, as it was clearly unopened, but it nevertheless made my morning. Of course, to make my day would have been much more of a feat since it was so amazing. I spent the afternoon job hunting in Manhattan, and learned two valuable things about New York.

1. It is not acceptable to take someone else's napkin
So this isn't fantastic etiquette anywhere, but I felt especially awkward this afternoon in Barnes & Noble, when I was sitting reading by the window and spilled my drink on my shir, as is my general custom. I looked over to my right and saw a pile of napkins. For some reason it didn't occur to me that those napkins could, in fact, belong to the surly-looking Indian man sitting about four inches from me, and so I casually reached for one. Indian man was not amused. He whipped the GQ magazine he was reading aside and pierced me with his napkin-hoarding gaze. My hand hung awkwardly over the pile and then I retracted, blushing. Turns out, napkins are kind of a big deal.

2. I am not a New Yorker
I stopped for lunch today at this place called Tasty's (how the hell could it be bad?) and ordered some pasta, got some chai, and possibly added a few too many "please"-es, because the cashier asked me, "Hey sweetness, where you from?"
Me: Ha, you don't think I'm from around here?
Him: Baby, you too soft to be from this place.
Sigh.

So maybe I don't quite fit in on day one, but there's time :) And I'm so excited to check out what's around me! I do miss Seattle already though. I had the best luck leaving. It was like the city was giving me a goodbye hug. I went to check my bag and the bag-checker man calmly informed me that both of my bags were fifteen pounds overweight.

Him: That'll be $30 for the bags, and $50 for the extra weight. Each.
Me: Oh, total? That's not so bad.
Him: No, additional.
Me: Well that's a little outrageous.
Him: Hey well, it's--
Me: Oh no! I know it's just your job, no biggie, I'm just exasperated and cheap.
Him: Well, all right, so that'll be $160.

I reluctantly pulled out my wallet.

Him: (glancing at my ID) Hey, you go to UW?
Me: Yeah! Do you go there too? Or are you a fan?
Him: Nah, I'm a WSU fan actually.
Me: ... are you going to charge me extra now?
Him: Haha no! In fact, I'm in the mood for some charity. This bag's free. Just gimme $50. Also, I hooked you up, put you in first class.

I have no idea why that happened. I'll be back before we know it, Seattle.