No more Serving Tables - ever again!  I had wanted to blog about frugal living, waiting tables, and making lemonade from lemons - happy stuff!

Working for one of *insert Largest Casual Dining  Restaurant Corporation in the World’s name here*’s  restaurants proved to be an experience I will never forget or repeat.  It left me unable to blog about good happy stuff.  Slaving for this company left me too depressed to write.

The economy and a pending personal injury lawsuit bound me to this position.  Not only would finding another job be difficult given the economy, but the insurance company’s lawyers could have used it against me at the trial - painting me as an irresponsible, careless, job hopper.  If I blogged about it and those lawyers found my blog...

I won the lawsuit.  The award was modest, but will cover the outstanding medical bills.  That said, *big insurance company* is going to tie it up in post trail motions for a very long time.   What this means is I still have to be careful about what I write.

So that means:

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No writing about management dressing servers down like a Drill Sergeant at basic training during the Friday Night dinner rush.  

No writing about how the servers are blamed for everything.  

No writing about the fictional Open Door Policy.  (Has anyone encountered a real “Open Door” policy?  or was that book by the Brothers Grimm?)

No writing about discrimination, pretty 22 year old girls getting the best shifts, or the unwritten yet official “Don’t Say A Word” policy?

No writing about the dishwasher that wouldn’t wash the glassware even though there were no clean glasses in the entire restaurant and you tried begging, charming, and pleading with him.  

No writing about how the salad guys would take 5 - 6 minutes to make salads, while the grill was pushing hot food out in 12 minutes - somehow also the servers fault?  (Some folks get really angry if their hot food comes out while they are eating their salad).   I still want to know how you can gill a 22 oz Well Done Steak in 12 minutes....

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Also:

No writing about my injury and my experiences with *big insurance company.*  I will say that the doctors fixed me.  There are some minor, occasional discomforts and there could be some problems later, but I view myself as lucky to be fixed and able to work.

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We’ll keep the above as a future topics list....

Unfinished Moment in the weeds and my *Thank God” former reality:

Unfinished Moment in the weeds and my *Thank God” former reality:

Physics 101 no one can be at two separate locations at the same time.

I physically can not  greet, take drink orders, and spiel appetizers on two new tables (double sat), plus a table of 5 where 3 of the guests have just arrived (essentially a triple seat), and be in the alley to pick up food/ salads at the same time.  

When I rang in table 66’s order, I only had that table and two of  what would become 5 guests at table 45.  Table 66 ordered strawberry salads instead of the standard Cesar or mixed green - In my experience, the salad guys traditionally take longer than any server would like to (usually longer than 3 minutes) to make any salad - after ringing in the order, I collected the glass of wine table 45 had ordered from the bar and returned to the dining room.  

When I returned to the dining room, I found the remainder of the guests for table 45 had arrived along with two additional tables.  I greeted, spieled appetizers, and took drink orders from the two new tables, plus the now complete party at table 45 (essentially three new tables) and returned to the alley to assemble drinks, get bread, ring in appetizers, and collect the salads for table 66.  Thankfully, one of my co-workers Buffy ran the strawberry salads for me, kudo’s to her for teamwork!  As I was in the dining room trying to adhere to *Chain Restaurants* standards of service with essentially three new tables, I was unable to also be in the kitchen collecting and delivering salads.  

I returned to the dining room to deliver drinks, bread, and take orders from table 46, 56, and 45.
While I was taking the dinner order from table 56, I saw the steaks arrive and be declined from table 66.  When I returned to the alley, I was ….

The story concludes with a 2 managers screaming at me during the peak of the busy shift, followed by a reprimand for late salad delivery - somehow my fault even though it was the kitchen that couldn’t / wouldn’t make them in a timely fashion. ( BTW,I was running 5 tables when corporate standards are 3.)

"24 Hour Nightmare of Death" - 10 year old describes annual pilgrimage

4th Grade Homework Assignment -Write about family traditions.
Transcribed by Aunt Sunny

    Every year the week before Christmas my family goes to visit my Grandmother in Virginia.  This tradition, has spawned many smaller traditions: some good, and some not.  

     Like clockwork, as soon as school ends for the Holiday Break,  we pile into the van and head North.  Thus begins what I call: “The 24 Hour Nightmare of Death.”

    Each time I am seated next to my big brother - aka- “The Monstrous Thing That Would Make a Grown Man Cry.”  Last year, he decided that the heel of his foot should connect with my nose during the second hour of our trip, right as we crossed the Georgia Border.  As a result, my nose bled for the next two hours.  I don’t want to continue this tradition.

    While riding in the car, our favorite past-time is to continually parrot the question: “Are we there yet?  Are WE there yet?  Are we THERE yet? Are we there YET?.”  We do this until we are already THERE or until my Mom yells:  “Enough Already!  You’re gonna make me pull my hair out!!”  I like this tradition.  It is fun.

    Halfway through our trip we stop at a stinky old motel where I get to share a bed with “The Monster,”  also known as my big brother.  Shortly after I fall asleep “The Monster” will start flailing around in his sleep.  I wake up and realize that my dream about getting beat up was not a dream, it is actually happening!!

    Fortunately, Mom always wakes up and sees what’s going on.  She then removes “The Monster” from the bed.  This is a tradition I do not want to continue...

    For the rest of the trip I avoid heels and flailing arms while chanting “Are we there yet?.”

    After five days with Grandma roasting marshmallows and snowboarding, we pile back into the van.  I again sit next to “The Monster” and “The 24 Hour Nightmare of Death” repeats itself all the way home. Visiting Grandma is a great tradition, but I’m not so sure about the other traditions...

Note from the "moocher"

This was written 6 months ago.  I've since started a new position that shows some real promise.  The stress I describe is hopefully safely in my rearview mirror, so I feel comfortable posting this now.  If you have a relative or friend going through tough times, here is a window into their thoughts.

Dear Fully Employed Friends and Roommates,

Please stop assuming that I should loan you appliances that I can not afford to replace if something should happen to them.  Please stop assuming that just because I “seem” okay with my financial situation that I am.  Please stop assuming that just because a favor only cost a few bucks that you shouldn’t have to reimburse me.

Don’t guilt me about my financial situation.  Trust me, I like it less than you do.  I am lucky if I earn $200 a week.  I am not comfortable or happy with this income.  You don’t have to tell me that I have the ability or skill set to earn more.  So do the hundred other people applying for the same available positions I am.  Do not tell me to cold call employers - this isn’t 2004 - most employers see walk-in applicants as a nuisance and will direct you to their website for an application.  It’s too expensive to keep applications available on-site with all the hopeful job seekers walking in the door.  If they need a position filled they will either ask their existing staff for referrals (Who does not know several qualified folks that need a job right now?) or they will advertise the job for free on Craigslist or some other website.

If I “seem” happy with my situation, it’s because I have to look at the bright side.  I am lucky to have a job.   Every compliment I receive at work  makes me feel wonderful and more valued than it would have in the past.  Passing compliments validate me as a valuable member of society.  Every criticism or complaint hurts more than it should or otherwise would if I were able to be fully, productively, and comfortably employed.  Each time I err or make a mistake, I worry that I will lose my job or a shift on the schedule.

I am fortunate that you need my assistance.  I am happy to care for your child, when you leave for work in the morning.  I am happy to drop him off at school.  I enjoy tutoring and helping him with his homework.  I am happy to pick him up from school when you can not.

I am happy to do your laundry and iron your work clothes.  I know that you’re colleagues don’t look as well put together as you do when they arrive for work and it makes me proud to be able to help you look good.  I am happy to sew buttons on your shirts and slacks and repair hems and frayed spots on these as well.

I don’t mind (that much) cleaning up your dishes along with mine since I tend to be guilty of leaving dirty dishes in the sink for later too.  I do mind the disapproving looks you give when it’s just my dishes.

I am pleased that I moved in to your unfurnished bachelor pad and was able to furnish it with dishes, cooking equipment, kitchen table, sofa, etc from my going-back-to-the-bank home.

I struggle to pay the electric bill each month, but am glad to be able to contribute financially to the household expenses.  

I am happy to loan you my vehicle when yours breaks.  I am happy to bend over backwards to assist when there is a scheduling problem, broken vehicle, work conflict with Juniors football, baseball,  and drop off or pick up from visits with Mom.  I will and have given away shifts and rearranged plans to make sure that I am there when you and Junior need me to be there.

I am grateful that I am able to have my pets with me in your home.  I am happy that Junior enjoys my pets almost as much as I do and that I am able to both enjoy them and share them with limited inconvenience to you.

I am happy to do all of these things and I wish I could do more.  Please stop making feel bad for not contributing more financially.  Please return my vehicle with gas in it.  Please reimburse me when I upfront money for Junior’s sports pictures or spend money entertaining Junior when school is out.

Please stop “poor-mouthing” like my presence is costing you more than you can afford.  Please stop eating my food or assuming that it’s no big deal to eat it.  If I can afford to offer it I will.  You see me watch the weekly sale fliers.  You see me clip coupons.  You see me cook almost everything from scratch (I can’t afford the pre-packaged convenience foods.)  You don’t see the guilt I feel when I treat myself to $5 of fast-food, so please don’t judge.  Even if you aren’t judging it feels like it.

Sincerely,

Just as miserable as you think I should be - but trying to turn it around - Friend.