I'm sure there are some tried and true secrets to making relationships work. While keeping the lines of communication open and honest is a great policy to employ to that end, a table conversation I once listened-in on leaves me convinced that you can't always lay every card on the table, even though the person sitting opposite you may know exactly what you've been holding in your hand.
"I'm not liking this solitaire situation, Jake," A certain Mrs. anteed up to her man as I cleared away their dinner plates.
"It's just an online thing, Sharon. What's your point?" Jake called Sharon on her two cents.
"You play it alot, Jake." Sharon raised the conversational stakes. "I've woken up more times than you know while you've been playing solitaire late. and I know you lock that door."
Man of the house and I made eye contact. He was in serious guy trouble. I did what I could.
"Perhaps an after dinner drink?" Is what I came up with.
"We need a few minutes, please." Sharon was terse, not thirsty.
I backed off, and started pretending to straighten up my station to stay within earshot.
"So Jake; tell me what's so fascinating about late night, locked door, online solitaire." Sharon went all-in, putting the real name of the game Jake was playing pretty much out there. I turned my back to the uncomfortable moment, still eavesdropping and simply assuming Jake would continue to ride out his bluff.
"Just say it, Sharon." He folded instead.
"No more solitaire. Not while I'm around, conscious or not," the Mrs. laid down the deal. "I know; 'boys will be boys,' but seriously, find another hobby."
Her point made and well-played, the Mrs. stood up, turned on her heel and headed for the front door, leaving little in the manly department for Mr. Man of the House to do.
"Can I get a check?" He waved me over from where, apparently, I'd been too obviously hovering.
"I'm assuming two things:" Jake said to me, shrugging. "You heard that whole conversation. And you've played some solitaire yourself."
"Could've been worse," I answered without admission, from one card shark to another.
At least she didn't actually catch him shuffling his deck.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
My Kind of Crowd
When you wait tables for a living, the luck of the seating draw can either make your day or turn your shift into a nightmare. Accentuating the positive, here's my short list of preferred customers:
1. My fellow food & beverage professionals- Taking care of customers who've walked in my service shoes leaves me gellin'. They know the circus nature of the business and the juggling act that is serving hungry and thirsty customers who can be a handful. They don't expect me to jump through hoops to make them happy, but when I do, they certainly know how to show their appreciation.
Slinging drinks in busy bars, I sometimes feel like a captive animal with customers rattling my cage for attention. Waiting tables, my service hands get bitten every now and then. There's just something oh-so-cathartic about serving those who've also served. From their empathy to their generosity, they turn the table on what I do by taking great care of me.
2. Guys in suits- Show me businessmen doing the power lunch or dinner thing, and I'll show you a tip sure to cover my next cable bill, inclusive of pay-per-view charges. High, let's-make-a-deal testosterone levels make my job easy. It's a simple matter of baiting the hook properly:
"Gentlemen, the bacon-wrapped filet crowned with lump crab and Hollandaise is our signature." Like pond carp, guys can't help but compete for whatever's thrown in the water.
"And to whom shall we entrust the wine list?" That's another go-to move. If no hard-charger makes a quick grab, the right guy almost always gets flattered into action by his deferential associates around the table.
But sorry, working girls, this is generally a male gender-specific dynamic. Fairer-sexed execs and their dining companions just tend to be more frugal (not a bad thing, necessarily) and keep a better eye on the dietetic bottom line, which all adds up to less for me, unfortunately.
3. Urban New Yorkers- Admittedly, there was a time when waiting on Gothomites really got my goat. They struck me as surly and self-absorbed; know-it-alls who made a point of letting everyone know that they came from the worldliest place on the planet. But as I took care of their kind time and again, I began to get the message most of them were actually sending (insert vowel-accentuating, nasal accent here): "Look, you'se don't need to be extra nice or nuttin'. "Dat ain't 'da thing. We'll make it worth your while. Just answer a few questions and keep things comin', Capisce?"
Nowadays, whenever I get a group of these goodfellas and gals, I give 'em what they want and they treat me right. Bing, bang, boom.
4. Gays- It's absolutely true: As a consumer demographic, they're near the top of the food chain from a server's perspective. Generally more genteel and generous than their straight counterparts, who's to say whether such traits are learned behaviors or just something folks either do or don't have in their genes? One thing's for sure; if given the choice between waiting on either some Ward and June Cleaver or a Siegfried & Roy couple, I'd play the odds, choose the latter, and probably leave work with a few extra bucks to spend on my girlfriend. Just so you know.
1. My fellow food & beverage professionals- Taking care of customers who've walked in my service shoes leaves me gellin'. They know the circus nature of the business and the juggling act that is serving hungry and thirsty customers who can be a handful. They don't expect me to jump through hoops to make them happy, but when I do, they certainly know how to show their appreciation.
Slinging drinks in busy bars, I sometimes feel like a captive animal with customers rattling my cage for attention. Waiting tables, my service hands get bitten every now and then. There's just something oh-so-cathartic about serving those who've also served. From their empathy to their generosity, they turn the table on what I do by taking great care of me.
2. Guys in suits- Show me businessmen doing the power lunch or dinner thing, and I'll show you a tip sure to cover my next cable bill, inclusive of pay-per-view charges. High, let's-make-a-deal testosterone levels make my job easy. It's a simple matter of baiting the hook properly:
"Gentlemen, the bacon-wrapped filet crowned with lump crab and Hollandaise is our signature." Like pond carp, guys can't help but compete for whatever's thrown in the water.
"And to whom shall we entrust the wine list?" That's another go-to move. If no hard-charger makes a quick grab, the right guy almost always gets flattered into action by his deferential associates around the table.
But sorry, working girls, this is generally a male gender-specific dynamic. Fairer-sexed execs and their dining companions just tend to be more frugal (not a bad thing, necessarily) and keep a better eye on the dietetic bottom line, which all adds up to less for me, unfortunately.
3. Urban New Yorkers- Admittedly, there was a time when waiting on Gothomites really got my goat. They struck me as surly and self-absorbed; know-it-alls who made a point of letting everyone know that they came from the worldliest place on the planet. But as I took care of their kind time and again, I began to get the message most of them were actually sending (insert vowel-accentuating, nasal accent here): "Look, you'se don't need to be extra nice or nuttin'. "Dat ain't 'da thing. We'll make it worth your while. Just answer a few questions and keep things comin', Capisce?"
Nowadays, whenever I get a group of these goodfellas and gals, I give 'em what they want and they treat me right. Bing, bang, boom.
4. Gays- It's absolutely true: As a consumer demographic, they're near the top of the food chain from a server's perspective. Generally more genteel and generous than their straight counterparts, who's to say whether such traits are learned behaviors or just something folks either do or don't have in their genes? One thing's for sure; if given the choice between waiting on either some Ward and June Cleaver or a Siegfried & Roy couple, I'd play the odds, choose the latter, and probably leave work with a few extra bucks to spend on my girlfriend. Just so you know.
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