The Band Played On

Last night was my first solo shift at the place on the avenue. I was so pleased when the tables started coming in early. Not like last week during training when the first two hours were void of any real business. I was thinking, "Wow! Mondays kick-start early!" Then these guys in green vests started getting in our way, coming through the kitchen door, stopping in the office off the kitchen proper. (Does every kitchen in every restaurant have an office off to the side? I swear they do)!

When I figured out, and remembered from last week's training, that Mondays are band nights, I began to see why the customers were all senior citizens. And why the dining room was full by 5:45 pm. I was also feeling pretty lucky to have the front row seats for my tables. Surely they must be 'out and about' kind of people who would understand the protocol of tipping fat for such wonderful entertainment. Err, right?

Here's how it went down for Night Number One. I got four tables before 6:00 pm. They ate salads, burgers, light fare. Then, they sat with their sodas and coffee until 8:00 pm. We cleaned up the kitchen and completed our side work, chatted among ourselves. I made myself busy by expediting for those who actually got new tables during the second set. I cleared and wiped some tables since we didn't have a busboy. I followed protocol and asked Fluffers if I could go have a cigarette when my tables were all paid and there weren't any unbussed tables in the dining room. I enjoyed a cup of soup and roll before the tear-down began. (Soup and a roll is our one freebie. We don't get much of a discount on food otherwise. I've never worked anywhere that staff didn't get a half-price or at least 25% off of food. This is a major disappointment since their food looks positively delicious). Tick-tock. Tick-tock. The clock moved, but slowly. Surprisingly, the night did get over with pretty fast, given the fact that all of my tables were seated before 6:00 and I didn't punch out until 9:30. I attribute that to the newness of the experience.

I had two ho-hum tables; just the usual older couple. I managed to order the wrong half salad for one woman, and hit the wrong booze for one man's martini. I had the single guy in a wheelchair who is a regular. He doesn't tip, so I shouldn't feel bad according to the other waitresses. The ninja on the staff bolstered me with, "You don't get a tip, but you get good kharma from giving him good service!" Ohhhh-kay.

Then there was the star table. An older woman sat down and waited for her two friends. When I asked if there would be three of them, she told me she wasn't sure. It might be two, or it might be three. "It depends on if Delores brings Leona." In the end, it was a four-top. The table saver looked to be about 75-80. She was actually 92. Bright and beautiful, I complimented her on her youthful looks when she revealed her true age. I love these discoveries about the elderly. Even so, she wasn't my favorite at the table. The woman with the freckles and shoulder-length white hair won my affection. When I asked her what she'd like to drink, she pulled me in and told me to put it all on one bill and give it to her. Coolness. She ate as a vegetarian, drank a glass of wine, and was the only one at the table to indulge in pie and ice cream for dessert. She impressed me with her zest for enjoying the moment! She was sweet, complimentary for the great service, and just bubbly. She made me think she was someone I would like to have been friends with in our twenties. When she paid the bill ($59.06), she told me to put $10.00 on for a tip. When I brought the slip back, she handed me $2.00 and told me she realized she didn't tell me to put enough on, "so, here's two more dollars...you were terrific!" I knew I liked her for a reason. For those who are not aware, senior citizens rarely tip 20%, which is the standard if you are very pleased with your service. (Does this mean that senior citizens are rarely very satisfied?)??

The star table enjoyed the band immensely. It seemed the entire dining room did, actually. Toes were tapping, hands were keeping time on the table, and occasionally hands were clapping with the beat. Our Monday night felt like a Sunday afternoon on a patio table in New Orleans. I have to admit that I really liked the old time live music with the brass blasting out those jazzy tunes, the guest woman singer who sang like June Carter Cash in her last years, the aged wise vocals of men who may have fought for our freedoms in their younger days. It made for a better Monday. Everyone left a little happier than when they'd arrived for the efforts of a group of men who enjoy this little gig they scored for every Monday of the summer. I'm not sure if the audience or the band was more grateful for the evening that had just passed when it was all over. It was sweet, and American, and wholesome. And while it did not net me an evening worth my time monetarily, it was still a fascinating first night at the traditional place on the avenue.

Not being busy with tables afforded me the opportunity to scope out the cast of characters in more depth. The queen bee of the hive emerged last night. I had not worked with her in my training. One learns quickly to stay out of her way. 22 years on the job allows her to be bitchy, I guess. Genuine smiles from her probably stopped at least a decade ago. I won't be engaging her in any outside conversation. The gay man who thinks he is the best server ever is really just a bloated ego who tries to avoid work. The rest of the serving gang is pretty fun. They blend into a jovial entourage who will step in and help when necessary, and crack a joke when you need to hear one.

Hopefully, the tantalizing Tuesday specials will bring in a better crowd that makes the eight bucks I spend in gas getting there worth it. I can chalk up last night as more training, but if the money doesn't start coming in, I'm gonna need Fluffers to tell my landlord why I don't have the rent. I have to admit that I was a little stressed thinking that I would have made more at corporate last night. The scheduling nightmare that is occurring because I can't pin down any definite nights with my new hostess is frightening. I had to let six nights go unscheduled at corporate since I don't know what Fluffers has in mind. Does she know that nobody else is paying my bills, except me? I'm out on a limb that I have no business being on. The rest of this week will be very entertaining (in a sarcastic way). I'm going to think GREEN all week and hope for the best. There's always the chance that I can pick up a shift at corporate on my "day off." (I think "day off" is a term that is leaving my vocabulary).

It's tough to be calm in the storm of this job shuffle. The stress is making me tired. I come home, eat a late simple meal, and crash before midnight. I am never asleep before midnight! Until now. Now, I fall asleep on the couch and can't drag myself to bed when I wake up at 3:00 am because I'm too tired to walk that far. So I roll over and fall fast asleep again.

Someday I'm gonna figure out what it all means. Until then, the band plays on....