A long time ago, when I was in college, I paid my bills by waiting tables and tending bar. At that time, I loved the work. It was a great way for a young college student to make good money. The money was usually very good and the scheduling was always flexible, which made it easier to attend classes and study late at night if I needed to. When my daughter went to college, I advised her to do the same thing. At first, she wanted to work an office job part-time, but she quickly saw that by waiting tables, she could easily make $20-$30 an hour most nights. It’s a great way to make a living when you’re young and energetic. I couldn’t do it now, and I sure couldn’t put up with a lot of the nonsense I used to tolerate uncaringly. The young woman in the fictional story below had a good taste of the bad side of waiting tables for a living.
(A father is letting five kids make a complete mess of the restaurant. They’re ripping napkins and using it as confetti, breaking chopsticks and screaming their little heads off)
Me: “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to tell them to stop doing that. They are disturbing the other customers.”
Father: *beaming* “No.”
Me: “No, as in, no you won’t tell them to stop it?”
Father: *still beaming *”Yes.”
(I have to get back to work at this point and sure enough, the kids keep misbehaving. Several customers complain to me but I have no authority to throw them out. The last to complain is a table with about eight young guys.)
Customer 1: “So there’s nothing you can do about them?”
Me: “I’m so very sorry sir, but no. I can get you a drink from the house to make up for it.”
Customer 2: “No, that won’t do.”
Me: “Well, I can see if I can get you a free desert…”
Customer 2: “Not what I meant. Can’t you get your boss?”
Me: “I’m afraid he’s not in, sir.”
Customer 1: “Well we won’t accept any free stuff. I bet that would come out of your pay.”
Customer 3: “Hold on…”
(The customer gets up and the others immediately follow him to the noisy, messy table. They’re now surrounded by eight tall young men who look mighty pissed.)
Customer 3, to the father: “Tell them to stop it.”
Father: *still beaming* “No.”
Customer 1: “You’re upsetting the waitress.”
Father: “Do you guys even work here?”
Customer 1: “No, we’re from that prison up the street. We’re out on parole. Funny coincidence, we all served seven years for kidnapping and murdering a bunch of noisy brats and a jerk who made minimum-wage waitresses cry.”
(At this point the kids become very, very quiet and the other patrons start giggling and staring)
Father: “You’re lying.”
Customer 4: “Wanna take that chance, buddy?”
(One more lecherous grin was enough to send the whole bunch of misfits scurrying to the exit. My knights in shining armor actually got applause from the other diners and a free meal from me)
