Since I have started to work in the restaurant industry over 13 year ago, I have worked with more than 500 people, including chefs, waiters, managers, etc...I also served a hell of a lot of customers. To be more prescised, let's say I have served an averege of 50 customers a day... working 5 days a week over about 13 years, if we calculate quick, that makes just about 37440 people served by me during those years. People served in different places. Different people from different cultures with different toughts and worries, different diets and religions. So I think I can say that I have seen my load of strange things but also many nice things happening too. The life of a waiter is full of surprises, every single day.
It is not an easy job...it is not that bad either. It is just crazy to think how people end up beeing waiters but it is even more crazy for a professional waiter to think about doing something else when you have been serving others for so long.
Last night was very busy. It was one of those nights when you don't have time to smile or go to the toilet. La Tratoria was full from 1pm until midnight when we finally got the last orders. I really needed a cigaret and a beer.
While I am rolling my old fashion style cigaret, Bertok, our hungarian waiter, asks me if I can take care of his tables while he goes to the toilet. His face looks red, his forehead is shining of sweat... Oh God! Poor Bertok! My beer and cigaret can wait a few more minute. I say: "Ok Bertok! Just go for it mate!" With a funny smile on my face I add: "You should start drinking Activia in the morning, you know, it makes you go to the toilet at proper times." Bertok says: "Proper times? What is the proper time to have a shit?" I just laught while smelling my cigaret. It smells like Texas, highway 35 that connects Texas to Mexico. I was imaginating myself, wearing an old jeans, cartepillar boots and, an old brown and white country style shirt, driving my 1969 green Mustang listening to Johnny Cash songs all the way long...when the lady from table 54 wakes me up from my awake dream: "Excuse me, can I get my bill?"
Many minutes later, Bertok is back. I ask him sarcasticly if he enjoyed his 20 minutes in the toilet. He smiles and says: "Actually yes, I had my Iphone with me and I was reading some new posts on my facebook in the meanwhile!"
Wow! I could imagine the scene. He seated on the toilet, all sweaty, looking at his facebook...I am better i go for my cigaret before it is too late.
To go for a cigaret, I have a smoky mate, Rios, the kitchen porter. We open the restaurant's back door that leads us in front a very posh ''discopub''. Rios lights his cigaret and mine. We both look very tired. I say: "Man, I think I have walked 1000 miles today in this reataurant." Rios looks at me like am complaining for no reason and responds: "Mate, I have washed every single plate in this restaurant today many times and when I come back from my cigaret, I'll still find another pile of at least 60 plates and pans to wash."
A yellow Lamborgine Gallardo distract us from our conversation. It is driven by, I would say, a 19 years old probably american boy. He accelerates just in front of us. It sounds beautiful to a men's ears. He opens the door for his blond, slim, beautiful girfriend. We look at them, we look at each other...and we think about how life is unfair. Jaleousy? Maybe not, maybe yes.
I ask Rios: "Rios mate, do you believe in God?" Rios finds my question funny and laughs. He says: "Mate, I used to belive in God but for many years now I have been asking myself the same question." Me: "Well Rios, I just dont understand how it is possible that some kids are hungry in Africa while this boy drives a Lamborgine in Edinburgh." Rios says: "I think that most of the rich people inheritate the money from their family and if they are competent enough they will go through and keep making money for the family and if they dont walk the line properly they will loose it all." I say: "It is true Rios mate, but I think it must be really hard to loose all the money when your are multimillionaire.There is so much people involved that you won't have time to make enough mistakes. There must always be a man behind making sure everything goes nice and smooth."
It reminded me that I once lost my appartment key. It was five o'clock in the afternoon. I had just finished my morning shift at La Tratoria. I was tired and hungry. When I arrived at home, I put my hand in my pocket and realised that I had lost the key. I went all the way back to work but I couldn't find it. I then called my sister who is my neighbourg and asked her to give me any ''locksmith'' number. It was Saturday, I had spent at least one hour over the mobile phone, calling all the locksmiths in Edinbugh, when I finally found one that would come and to the job...The locksmith arrives 2 hours later. He doesn't say anything. He just looks at the door, open his leather briefcase and takes an old credit card. He sticks it on the side of the door, between the locker and the wall and unlock it, just like that, as fast I light my cigarets. He looks at me, he looks at my sister who can't believe it, just like me, and says: "Guys, it's 50 pounds please."
My sister looks paralised, it took the locksmisth less then 30 seconds to open my door and he wants 50 pounds for it.
He realised that we were shocked with the speed of his job and even more shocked with the price and says: "Guys, you don't get paid for what you do but for what you know!"
Straight away I pull my wallet out of my pocket, I take the 50 pounds he asked and I give it to him...Cheers mate!
It made me think a lot about the boy driving a Lamborgine. Maybe it is fair, maybe he has a good story to tell us of how his father o great grandfather got the money to provide richness to many generations and I am pretty sure that in his family history, someone must have had a great idea and worked hard enough to assure that the generations to come would have a good time in life.
And me in all that? I made my decision...I am going back to school !
It is never too late, knowledge it is never too much !
Saturday, 11 June 2011
Monday, 4 April 2011
Saturday night at Madhouse
Sometimes I really try to understand why everyone likes to eat in restaurants so much. Even if the food is not good, there is a big chance that you will enjoy your night somehow. Maybe it will be because of the food, maybe it will be the atmosphere, maybe you will enjoy your waiter or some sexy waitresses, maybe you will simply enjoy gossiping about what the other people in the restaurant are wearing or eating, maybe you will enjoy someone else company or even read a nice book while having a good meal and a glass of Chianti. The truth is that restaurants are a huge source of entertainment, and I am here to prove it.
I always tell my work mates that if one of those big TV companies decided to create a reality show in a real restaurant it would be a success for sure in the whole world.
You can't even imagine how people can loose they composure during a diner by showing they biggest fears, they rudeness, their happiness, their love or, most of the time their craziness.
I remember one of those crazy Saturday night when I started to work at 5pm, a bit later than usual as I usually start at 4 pm or 12 pm. I had a great morning and afternoon relaxing and watching ''The Godfather Part II'' for the 23th time. I ordered some chinese food over the phone and 11 minutes later the food arrived, hot and really tasty. I wonder how they do that all the time, I just ordered and the food was already there! Pronto! It's always so fast and the food is always warm and good...in just 11 minutes? Unbelievable! At "TheTrattoria", a restaurant where I used to work a few years ago, in 11 minutes they wouldn't even have got their drinks yet.
When I got at work, I just opened the restaurant door and I was really surprised because the restaurant was almost empty which is not usual for Saturday at all. I go straight away upstairs to get changed. I open the door of the guys changing room. It stinks like old ''gorgonzola and rotten fish'' together, not a very nice mix , but I got use to it , I just wear my tie and apron and I am ready to go.
I go to the bar, 15 minutes before I am suppose to start to work so I can take my time to enjoy my little expresso, and find out about our chefs specials and the bookings for the night.
As I am about to have my first sip of coffee, my supervisor arrives, walking like a supersized fat duck but he actually looks like a mutation between ''Shrek" and a rhinoceros. He asks me: "Hi mate can you take over my tables?" I look at him, look to my fake ''Bulgary'' watch and I see that I still have another 10 minutes before I officially start to work but I look at him him again and as I can't stand him for more than 10 seconds, I just reply: "Sure yes, you can go. I'll take over your tables."
My section looks like a bombsite. Half of the tables are unset, and the customers are looking around desperated for some waitressing attention. First of all I go to table 4 where this mediterranean couple doesn't stop to stare at me. I ask: ''was everything ok for you guys?'' The man, who doesn't seem very friendly just replies: "Give me my bill!" I count until 10 to try to calm myself down and recover from his rudeness and I reply : "Ok".
While taking their plates to the kitchen, I look to the table 6 that just got their food served a few minutes ago and I realise that the posh woman wearing GUCCI clothes is eating her ''risoto'' with a soup spoon while her classy husband is cleaning his teeth with his nail...Wow! I say to myself what a well assorted couple!
When I give the check to the table 4 (the bad mood table), four people entered in the restaurant and I gave them the table 14 which is Sarah's section today. After getting the payment from table 4, I go to the bar and Sarah is talking about her boyfriend that went out the night before and came back home at six o'clock in the morning without his shoes and jacket. I can't really pay attention to those girls conversations otherwise the restaurant is going to become a chaos as I am the only man waiter working tonight. I am better keep working for everybody so I just quickly tell Sarah that she has a new table of four ladies on table 14. She thanks me and goes to the table to give the menus. As I was serving another table just behind the table 14, I could hear and see Sarah approaching the table very friendly and smiley: "Hello ladies! How are you?" ... (silence) One of the ladies twit her mouth. Ahahha! I am having a laugh already, this is going to be a good night! The ladies did not even answer the poor girl.
Trying to still be polite and patient with them, Sarah tells them the soup of the day and the chefs' special when one of the ladies shout: "Can't you see? We are talking about an important subject! I look at Sarah's face and I say wow...that was a rude one...But I can't hold myself. I start laughing. Those situations are more usual than you can imagine so better you laugh about it, otherwise you will go crazy and won't be able to finish your shit , sorry I meant shift. I guess Sarah was not having great night either. In the meanwhile I have a new table of two american girls from Colorado. While I was taking their drinks order, I noticed that one of them kept holding her old cheap scarf against her breasts. At first, I thought she maybe had cold. I went to get their drinks. When I came back to the table, she wasn't wearing the scarf anymore but as soon as she saw me arriving to table she quickly took the scarf to wear it over her boobs again. I didn't understand why she was so obsessed about her boobs. I wasn't looking at her boobs at all. I wasn't even looking at her. I just wanted to take their order and get rid of them but again, while I was taking their food order, she kept doing the same thing, holding her scarf against her flabby unsexy boobs, raving herself that she was she Pamela Anderson but the truth was that she is so ugly, she would give Freddy Krueger nightmares. I think she might have some trauma because of a sexual maniac waiter that used to look to her boobs all the time when she was going for dinner or something.
About 8 o'clock, the restaurant was pumping. I was just going to drop a couple of dirty plates to the kitchen porter Rios, a galician marine mechanic who, for some reason, gave up his job in the marine to come to Scotland with his girlfriend with the dream of traveling the world but since I know him, since he started to work with us, the only travels he did is going from home to work and sometimes to the casino but he has been banned from it lately by his girlfriend after waisting a couple of wages at ''black jack''. I looked inside of the kitchen, Rios and Mario, the pizza chef, are dancing ''Macarena'' while my table 7 has been waiting for their pizzas for over 30 minutes... no wonder why! I stopped smoking over a year a go but right now, I really feel like having a fag and a pint too.
I went to the bar to make a desert for one of my crazy costumer, a russian guy that ordered a tiramisu as starter and spaghetti meatballs as main course. I wondered what he would have for desert. A minestrone soup? Could be. We never know. Sometimes, at The Trattoria, we have to prepare our own desserts as the barmaid, Natalie, a polish girl that spends most of her time over the phone texting her boyfriend is obviously very busy. I have to keep the track of what is going on while working with girls who really enjoy having a chat at any time and anywhere. Trust me, better you don't interrupt them during their very important chat update...remember the four ladies on table 14 in Sarah's section? So you know what I mean.
While serving the tiramisu starter to the russian guy, I saw my manager, a scottish man, seating a couple of middle aged men in my section. They seemed to be drunk...I went to the table and asked them if they wanted any drink, hoping they would order an orange juice or anything alcohol free but the answer was hopeless..."Hi pal, just give us a pint of lager and some single malt...Cheers pal." I knew they were drunk but as they were well dressed and they seemed to be very polite with me, I though it would be fine. Scottish people are use to it. They can drink a lot. A few minutes later, they ordered and got their food served.
The american girls finaly asked me the bill. They paid and left me 1.20£ for a 48£ bill. I went back to their table and gave the girls their 1.20£ back and I told them to keep their change. They seemed to be embarrassed which made me feel great. I hope they have learned the lesson: when you have a great night at the mad house remember to tip the waiter, even if he is not looking to your flabby tits.
Suddenly I saw the russian guy getting up from the table and asking to move to one of the waitresses. I looked around and realised why...one of the scottish middle aged men just vomited on the table. It was a mix of spaghetti Carbonara and beer. It was very disgusting. The russian guy moved to another table and the vomiting man paid the bill but didn't tip either. I went to the kitchen and I offered all the chefs and kitchen porter a good 10£ for who would be courageous enough to clean the table for me. They didn't seem to be very interested and told me to fuck off and get out of the kitchen. Shit. I had to clean the Carbonara myself.
After that day, I wont be able to eat Carbonara again for the rest of my life and you will start to believe that when you go to the restaurant you don't go just for the food but for the entertainment too. Trust me, we, waiters, are just spectators while you, your friends, your own family and all the customers are the actors of ''our own private'' reality show''.
I always tell my work mates that if one of those big TV companies decided to create a reality show in a real restaurant it would be a success for sure in the whole world.
You can't even imagine how people can loose they composure during a diner by showing they biggest fears, they rudeness, their happiness, their love or, most of the time their craziness.
I remember one of those crazy Saturday night when I started to work at 5pm, a bit later than usual as I usually start at 4 pm or 12 pm. I had a great morning and afternoon relaxing and watching ''The Godfather Part II'' for the 23th time. I ordered some chinese food over the phone and 11 minutes later the food arrived, hot and really tasty. I wonder how they do that all the time, I just ordered and the food was already there! Pronto! It's always so fast and the food is always warm and good...in just 11 minutes? Unbelievable! At "TheTrattoria", a restaurant where I used to work a few years ago, in 11 minutes they wouldn't even have got their drinks yet.
When I got at work, I just opened the restaurant door and I was really surprised because the restaurant was almost empty which is not usual for Saturday at all. I go straight away upstairs to get changed. I open the door of the guys changing room. It stinks like old ''gorgonzola and rotten fish'' together, not a very nice mix , but I got use to it , I just wear my tie and apron and I am ready to go.
I go to the bar, 15 minutes before I am suppose to start to work so I can take my time to enjoy my little expresso, and find out about our chefs specials and the bookings for the night.
As I am about to have my first sip of coffee, my supervisor arrives, walking like a supersized fat duck but he actually looks like a mutation between ''Shrek" and a rhinoceros. He asks me: "Hi mate can you take over my tables?" I look at him, look to my fake ''Bulgary'' watch and I see that I still have another 10 minutes before I officially start to work but I look at him him again and as I can't stand him for more than 10 seconds, I just reply: "Sure yes, you can go. I'll take over your tables."
My section looks like a bombsite. Half of the tables are unset, and the customers are looking around desperated for some waitressing attention. First of all I go to table 4 where this mediterranean couple doesn't stop to stare at me. I ask: ''was everything ok for you guys?'' The man, who doesn't seem very friendly just replies: "Give me my bill!" I count until 10 to try to calm myself down and recover from his rudeness and I reply : "Ok".
While taking their plates to the kitchen, I look to the table 6 that just got their food served a few minutes ago and I realise that the posh woman wearing GUCCI clothes is eating her ''risoto'' with a soup spoon while her classy husband is cleaning his teeth with his nail...Wow! I say to myself what a well assorted couple!
When I give the check to the table 4 (the bad mood table), four people entered in the restaurant and I gave them the table 14 which is Sarah's section today. After getting the payment from table 4, I go to the bar and Sarah is talking about her boyfriend that went out the night before and came back home at six o'clock in the morning without his shoes and jacket. I can't really pay attention to those girls conversations otherwise the restaurant is going to become a chaos as I am the only man waiter working tonight. I am better keep working for everybody so I just quickly tell Sarah that she has a new table of four ladies on table 14. She thanks me and goes to the table to give the menus. As I was serving another table just behind the table 14, I could hear and see Sarah approaching the table very friendly and smiley: "Hello ladies! How are you?" ... (silence) One of the ladies twit her mouth. Ahahha! I am having a laugh already, this is going to be a good night! The ladies did not even answer the poor girl.
Trying to still be polite and patient with them, Sarah tells them the soup of the day and the chefs' special when one of the ladies shout: "Can't you see? We are talking about an important subject! I look at Sarah's face and I say wow...that was a rude one...But I can't hold myself. I start laughing. Those situations are more usual than you can imagine so better you laugh about it, otherwise you will go crazy and won't be able to finish your shit , sorry I meant shift. I guess Sarah was not having great night either. In the meanwhile I have a new table of two american girls from Colorado. While I was taking their drinks order, I noticed that one of them kept holding her old cheap scarf against her breasts. At first, I thought she maybe had cold. I went to get their drinks. When I came back to the table, she wasn't wearing the scarf anymore but as soon as she saw me arriving to table she quickly took the scarf to wear it over her boobs again. I didn't understand why she was so obsessed about her boobs. I wasn't looking at her boobs at all. I wasn't even looking at her. I just wanted to take their order and get rid of them but again, while I was taking their food order, she kept doing the same thing, holding her scarf against her flabby unsexy boobs, raving herself that she was she Pamela Anderson but the truth was that she is so ugly, she would give Freddy Krueger nightmares. I think she might have some trauma because of a sexual maniac waiter that used to look to her boobs all the time when she was going for dinner or something.
About 8 o'clock, the restaurant was pumping. I was just going to drop a couple of dirty plates to the kitchen porter Rios, a galician marine mechanic who, for some reason, gave up his job in the marine to come to Scotland with his girlfriend with the dream of traveling the world but since I know him, since he started to work with us, the only travels he did is going from home to work and sometimes to the casino but he has been banned from it lately by his girlfriend after waisting a couple of wages at ''black jack''. I looked inside of the kitchen, Rios and Mario, the pizza chef, are dancing ''Macarena'' while my table 7 has been waiting for their pizzas for over 30 minutes... no wonder why! I stopped smoking over a year a go but right now, I really feel like having a fag and a pint too.
I went to the bar to make a desert for one of my crazy costumer, a russian guy that ordered a tiramisu as starter and spaghetti meatballs as main course. I wondered what he would have for desert. A minestrone soup? Could be. We never know. Sometimes, at The Trattoria, we have to prepare our own desserts as the barmaid, Natalie, a polish girl that spends most of her time over the phone texting her boyfriend is obviously very busy. I have to keep the track of what is going on while working with girls who really enjoy having a chat at any time and anywhere. Trust me, better you don't interrupt them during their very important chat update...remember the four ladies on table 14 in Sarah's section? So you know what I mean.
While serving the tiramisu starter to the russian guy, I saw my manager, a scottish man, seating a couple of middle aged men in my section. They seemed to be drunk...I went to the table and asked them if they wanted any drink, hoping they would order an orange juice or anything alcohol free but the answer was hopeless..."Hi pal, just give us a pint of lager and some single malt...Cheers pal." I knew they were drunk but as they were well dressed and they seemed to be very polite with me, I though it would be fine. Scottish people are use to it. They can drink a lot. A few minutes later, they ordered and got their food served.
The american girls finaly asked me the bill. They paid and left me 1.20£ for a 48£ bill. I went back to their table and gave the girls their 1.20£ back and I told them to keep their change. They seemed to be embarrassed which made me feel great. I hope they have learned the lesson: when you have a great night at the mad house remember to tip the waiter, even if he is not looking to your flabby tits.
Suddenly I saw the russian guy getting up from the table and asking to move to one of the waitresses. I looked around and realised why...one of the scottish middle aged men just vomited on the table. It was a mix of spaghetti Carbonara and beer. It was very disgusting. The russian guy moved to another table and the vomiting man paid the bill but didn't tip either. I went to the kitchen and I offered all the chefs and kitchen porter a good 10£ for who would be courageous enough to clean the table for me. They didn't seem to be very interested and told me to fuck off and get out of the kitchen. Shit. I had to clean the Carbonara myself.
After that day, I wont be able to eat Carbonara again for the rest of my life and you will start to believe that when you go to the restaurant you don't go just for the food but for the entertainment too. Trust me, we, waiters, are just spectators while you, your friends, your own family and all the customers are the actors of ''our own private'' reality show''.
Saturday, 5 March 2011
Bubbly pizza
The summer is ending in Roma. It is the begining of October 2005, the sun isn't shining beautifully like it was three months ago. The cloudy sky and the strong wind already announce the winter time. It is 9:30am on monday, oh yes sounds lovely, I hate mondays too. I am in front of the Sistine Chapel giving flyers to the turists that are waiting for over one hour in the queue to get into the most beautiful chapel in the world where guys like Michelangelo, Raphael and Bernini enjoyed to paint Gods and angels using pure gold as a paint.
Suddenly, I heard someone screaming my name. I looked to the other side of the road and my lovely, fantastic and generous boss Vincenzo was there, waving and still shouting my name. I left my thousands of flyers on the floor to go see what he wanted from me. He seemed to be worried about the decrease of customers in the restaurant lately, and decided it was all my fault. He told me that the customers weren't going to the restaurant because I was not giving enough flyers a day. "1000 is not enought" he said, so he gave me 1000 more and asked me to tell every single person that this is an autentic italian restaurant.
So I decide to start to do what Vincenzo asked and I go back to the queue with 1000 flyers extra. Knowing that even if I was spending the whole day in the queue it would only be possible to give away 300 or 400 flyers as most of the people don't like to take it, I decide to wait until Vincenzo turns his back and I throw the extra 1000 flyers straight to the bin and keep doing my job.
While giving the rest of the flyers to a group of English Red Necks , one of them replies when I say "ITALIAN RESTAURANT" and says: "Oh! Italian restaurant in Italy? Really? Ahahahahah", and all of them start laughing together. That moment just made me realise how much I hated Vincenzo, my made in china Italian boss.
11:00 finally arrives and I can go back to the restaurant. I'll have my expresso and start my second shift as waiter.
Vincenzo's wife name is Morgana. She is even more crazy than him. She comes to me and tells me to go refill all the little bottles of olive oil on the tables but she says: Hey! Don't forget that it's half and half! I say: "Half and half of what?" Morgana says: "The olive oil is too expensive! Refill the bottles with half olive oil and the other half of the used sunflower oil from the kitchen frier."
Oh yes! I was shocked too! Especially because everyday after finishing my shift I was so tired and hungry that I was putting lots of olive oil on my side salad but a starving man doesn't take the time to taste any food, he just swallows it.
Once again, as Morgana turns her back, I refill all the bottles with pure ''extra virgin'' olive oil .
The old kitchen frier oil goes to sink immediately. Ahahah! I laught again. I know, I was not saving the world but for sure I was saving some people to have heart attacks earlier than expected.
The lunch time goes fast. It's busy, people eat and go and I get rubbish tips. It is almost time to finish and have my lunch time, usually around 3:30pm, when a nice family enters the restaurant. I give them a nice table on the terrace.
While taking their order, they start to talk to me, asking me where I am from, and what I am doing there. They tell me that they are from Porto Rico and they just arrived from an 11 hours flight from San Juan to Rome. I take their order and their two lovely kids order a pizza marguerita to share.
I go to the kitchen to deliver the check and I realise that all the chinese chefs are cleaning the greasy and dirty kitchen . When I say ''check on'', I just hear all of them swearing in chinese to me. Oooops! I am better walk away, those guys are good in karate, you know Bruce Lee, Jackie Chan etc.
10 minutes later, I hear the bell rigning and one of the chef shouts: ''VIAAAA''. The first two dishes for the parents are ready but the pizza for the kids is still in the oven. I take the plates, deliver them to the table and go back for the kids pizza. I see the chef taking the pizza off the oven but when he was about to put the pizza on the plate he falls on the floor, dropping the bucket full of soap all over and the broom flies to the top of the stove. Ahahah! I laught again. While laughing, I see the kids wondering where is their pizza.
Shit! The pizza is on the floor, mixed with the soap and the grease on the dirty kitchen floor. It fell upside down, the cheese facing the bubbly and foamy water. I call Vincenzo to tell him what happened. Vincenzo is good to take fast decisions... He says something in chinese to the chefs and tells me to hold on just one minute, that the pizza will be ready very soon. The chef then takes the bubbly pizza from the floor, puts some extra cheap mozzarella on it and puts it back in the oven...
I couldn't serve that pizza for these nice kids. I call Vincenzo again and tell him what they did but the chefs don't seem to be worried at all as it was Vincenzo's idea.
I take my apron off, indignated and decide to quit.
Just before I left, I told the puerto rican family that it was not safe to eat there and I explained them what happened to their pizza. I quit! The family invited me for a lunch at the nearest McDonald's and we lived happily forever. Well, forget the forever bit.
Suddenly, I heard someone screaming my name. I looked to the other side of the road and my lovely, fantastic and generous boss Vincenzo was there, waving and still shouting my name. I left my thousands of flyers on the floor to go see what he wanted from me. He seemed to be worried about the decrease of customers in the restaurant lately, and decided it was all my fault. He told me that the customers weren't going to the restaurant because I was not giving enough flyers a day. "1000 is not enought" he said, so he gave me 1000 more and asked me to tell every single person that this is an autentic italian restaurant.
So I decide to start to do what Vincenzo asked and I go back to the queue with 1000 flyers extra. Knowing that even if I was spending the whole day in the queue it would only be possible to give away 300 or 400 flyers as most of the people don't like to take it, I decide to wait until Vincenzo turns his back and I throw the extra 1000 flyers straight to the bin and keep doing my job.
While giving the rest of the flyers to a group of English Red Necks , one of them replies when I say "ITALIAN RESTAURANT" and says: "Oh! Italian restaurant in Italy? Really? Ahahahahah", and all of them start laughing together. That moment just made me realise how much I hated Vincenzo, my made in china Italian boss.
11:00 finally arrives and I can go back to the restaurant. I'll have my expresso and start my second shift as waiter.
Vincenzo's wife name is Morgana. She is even more crazy than him. She comes to me and tells me to go refill all the little bottles of olive oil on the tables but she says: Hey! Don't forget that it's half and half! I say: "Half and half of what?" Morgana says: "The olive oil is too expensive! Refill the bottles with half olive oil and the other half of the used sunflower oil from the kitchen frier."
Oh yes! I was shocked too! Especially because everyday after finishing my shift I was so tired and hungry that I was putting lots of olive oil on my side salad but a starving man doesn't take the time to taste any food, he just swallows it.
Once again, as Morgana turns her back, I refill all the bottles with pure ''extra virgin'' olive oil .
The old kitchen frier oil goes to sink immediately. Ahahah! I laught again. I know, I was not saving the world but for sure I was saving some people to have heart attacks earlier than expected.
The lunch time goes fast. It's busy, people eat and go and I get rubbish tips. It is almost time to finish and have my lunch time, usually around 3:30pm, when a nice family enters the restaurant. I give them a nice table on the terrace.
While taking their order, they start to talk to me, asking me where I am from, and what I am doing there. They tell me that they are from Porto Rico and they just arrived from an 11 hours flight from San Juan to Rome. I take their order and their two lovely kids order a pizza marguerita to share.
I go to the kitchen to deliver the check and I realise that all the chinese chefs are cleaning the greasy and dirty kitchen . When I say ''check on'', I just hear all of them swearing in chinese to me. Oooops! I am better walk away, those guys are good in karate, you know Bruce Lee, Jackie Chan etc.
10 minutes later, I hear the bell rigning and one of the chef shouts: ''VIAAAA''. The first two dishes for the parents are ready but the pizza for the kids is still in the oven. I take the plates, deliver them to the table and go back for the kids pizza. I see the chef taking the pizza off the oven but when he was about to put the pizza on the plate he falls on the floor, dropping the bucket full of soap all over and the broom flies to the top of the stove. Ahahah! I laught again. While laughing, I see the kids wondering where is their pizza.
Shit! The pizza is on the floor, mixed with the soap and the grease on the dirty kitchen floor. It fell upside down, the cheese facing the bubbly and foamy water. I call Vincenzo to tell him what happened. Vincenzo is good to take fast decisions... He says something in chinese to the chefs and tells me to hold on just one minute, that the pizza will be ready very soon. The chef then takes the bubbly pizza from the floor, puts some extra cheap mozzarella on it and puts it back in the oven...
I couldn't serve that pizza for these nice kids. I call Vincenzo again and tell him what they did but the chefs don't seem to be worried at all as it was Vincenzo's idea.
I take my apron off, indignated and decide to quit.
Just before I left, I told the puerto rican family that it was not safe to eat there and I explained them what happened to their pizza. I quit! The family invited me for a lunch at the nearest McDonald's and we lived happily forever. Well, forget the forever bit.
Thursday, 17 February 2011
Waiter or Superman ?
It is August in Rome. I am still working at Vincenzo's restaurant in Rome. By now, I have learned some very important waiter duties and extras like carrying four or five pizzas plates in one hand, open a bottle of wine the proper and elegant way, etc. However, the most important thing to learn in this career is how to distinguish wich customers are the good tippers and wich ones are the ''stiffers''(people that don't tip or tip less then they are supposed to).
There are several ways to find out straight away if your customer is a stiffer, a good tipper or at least an average tipper. The average tipper is the customer that doesn't tip very well but leaves you a little tip, usually the minimum expected for a standard service, but not the money expected for a good or exellent service as I normally give.
The first thing to do to distiguish the type of tippers you will be dealing with is to check the way they enter in the restaurant.
Even tough I always greet every single customer that enters the restaurant with a smile and a GOOD EVENING, somehow, I don't always get it back...Some people are having a bad, are in a bad moodor are just donkeys looking for grass to eat. Those people just ignore you, they don't even look at you and I wouldn't be suprised if one day one of them walks over my head for a plate of spaghetti. There is also this category of customers that ignore you simply because they don't unterstand what you're talking about unless you have some experience with languages like I do, so you can deal easier with them. The tourists get really happy when I give them a warm greeting in italian because it makes them really feel in Italy, feel in Rome, but when it's time to explain the specials, they will obviously prefer if you tell them in english, even tough at least 40% of the people won't understand english either. Luckily, I can speak some spanish, italian, english, portuguese, and I can understand some french too. It is an advantage because Spanish, French, Italian and Portuguese don`t usualy tip because in those countries and many other countries around the world, restaurants owners add between 10% and 15% of service on the bill. That's the biggest reason why they don't tip, but using my helpfull spanish language, I usualy tell the foreign customers that the tips are not included. At fisrt, they feel cheap but seconds later they, they feel sorry for us as it sounds like you are begging for money just like a homeless guy on the street ''Give me some change please.''. Feelings apart, waiters that have already some experience with the job know that the important is the money, tips, propina, mancia, gorjeta, pourboires.
No matter the amount of tips they are making, waiters are always broken, for many reasons. In my opinion, 20% of the waiters are alchoolic, another 20% will become alchoolic at some point, another 15% try their best to make their coworkers become alchoolic like them, another 25% have no idea why the hell they are waiters and hate the job, another 15% are students who have to pay for university, alchool, drugs, and eventually the rent. The remaining 5% of the waiters are professionals who only became professionals because they didn't know what else to do with their confused life.- What about me? Well, I fit in all of the descriptions above, and I am pretty sure that you, who work in the restaurant industry, know what I am talking about and sooner or later, you will fit at least one of the descriptions as well.
Waiters life is normally a mess. We wake up late, we go to sleep late. While we are on the bus going to work, normal people are coming back home after a long day at work. When we get home, we are usually tired, pissed off because of some crazy customers that didn't tiped us or complained about the fly in his soup. After shit days like that, we obviously need some distraction to refresh the brain before we can go home like a very cold beer and a nice scottish wisky...one of the very few good things made by a scottish man. Sorry to all the Scotts but it's true. Don't worry, Brazilians didn't invent so many good things either so we are quits.
Talking about shit days, it reminds of a blond lady who was having a party with her sister and friends a few days ago. They were six people. They were actually really nice ladies, just a bit too posh in my opinion but they were really polite and would know how to behave in any restaurant. They have had some bottles of our best sparkling rosé wine, and most of them ordered steaks as main course. I was really happy, they were spending a lot of money so automatically my tips would increase as well. Well, I thought so.
It was saturday afternoon during the summer. The restaurant was completely full and a queue of starving people was waiting at the door. I was going to check back at this table to make sure everything was ok but just before I arrived, I heard some people screaming: "Helen, Helen, breath, breath." I walked faster to see what was happening. The blond lady was getting blue and purple, chocking with her steak. The first thing that came to my head was try to help the lady. I went behind her and lifted her up with my arms arround her stomach, using the technic that I know from a friend that used to choke all the time because he wouldn't stop speaking while eating, just like that lady.
I managed to help her and she was fine in few minutes. Mendez, the other waiter that was working with me that day, saw what happened and went to call for an ambulance while I was saving her life .When the ambulance arrived the lady was already fine, thanks me, but guess what...They paid the bill and they gave me something like 5 euros of tips, while Mendez got 12 euros for calling the ambulance.
If I knew that, I would have let her die...
There are several ways to find out straight away if your customer is a stiffer, a good tipper or at least an average tipper. The average tipper is the customer that doesn't tip very well but leaves you a little tip, usually the minimum expected for a standard service, but not the money expected for a good or exellent service as I normally give.
The first thing to do to distiguish the type of tippers you will be dealing with is to check the way they enter in the restaurant.
Even tough I always greet every single customer that enters the restaurant with a smile and a GOOD EVENING, somehow, I don't always get it back...Some people are having a bad, are in a bad moodor are just donkeys looking for grass to eat. Those people just ignore you, they don't even look at you and I wouldn't be suprised if one day one of them walks over my head for a plate of spaghetti. There is also this category of customers that ignore you simply because they don't unterstand what you're talking about unless you have some experience with languages like I do, so you can deal easier with them. The tourists get really happy when I give them a warm greeting in italian because it makes them really feel in Italy, feel in Rome, but when it's time to explain the specials, they will obviously prefer if you tell them in english, even tough at least 40% of the people won't understand english either. Luckily, I can speak some spanish, italian, english, portuguese, and I can understand some french too. It is an advantage because Spanish, French, Italian and Portuguese don`t usualy tip because in those countries and many other countries around the world, restaurants owners add between 10% and 15% of service on the bill. That's the biggest reason why they don't tip, but using my helpfull spanish language, I usualy tell the foreign customers that the tips are not included. At fisrt, they feel cheap but seconds later they, they feel sorry for us as it sounds like you are begging for money just like a homeless guy on the street ''Give me some change please.''. Feelings apart, waiters that have already some experience with the job know that the important is the money, tips, propina, mancia, gorjeta, pourboires.
No matter the amount of tips they are making, waiters are always broken, for many reasons. In my opinion, 20% of the waiters are alchoolic, another 20% will become alchoolic at some point, another 15% try their best to make their coworkers become alchoolic like them, another 25% have no idea why the hell they are waiters and hate the job, another 15% are students who have to pay for university, alchool, drugs, and eventually the rent. The remaining 5% of the waiters are professionals who only became professionals because they didn't know what else to do with their confused life.- What about me? Well, I fit in all of the descriptions above, and I am pretty sure that you, who work in the restaurant industry, know what I am talking about and sooner or later, you will fit at least one of the descriptions as well.
Waiters life is normally a mess. We wake up late, we go to sleep late. While we are on the bus going to work, normal people are coming back home after a long day at work. When we get home, we are usually tired, pissed off because of some crazy customers that didn't tiped us or complained about the fly in his soup. After shit days like that, we obviously need some distraction to refresh the brain before we can go home like a very cold beer and a nice scottish wisky...one of the very few good things made by a scottish man. Sorry to all the Scotts but it's true. Don't worry, Brazilians didn't invent so many good things either so we are quits.
Talking about shit days, it reminds of a blond lady who was having a party with her sister and friends a few days ago. They were six people. They were actually really nice ladies, just a bit too posh in my opinion but they were really polite and would know how to behave in any restaurant. They have had some bottles of our best sparkling rosé wine, and most of them ordered steaks as main course. I was really happy, they were spending a lot of money so automatically my tips would increase as well. Well, I thought so.
It was saturday afternoon during the summer. The restaurant was completely full and a queue of starving people was waiting at the door. I was going to check back at this table to make sure everything was ok but just before I arrived, I heard some people screaming: "Helen, Helen, breath, breath." I walked faster to see what was happening. The blond lady was getting blue and purple, chocking with her steak. The first thing that came to my head was try to help the lady. I went behind her and lifted her up with my arms arround her stomach, using the technic that I know from a friend that used to choke all the time because he wouldn't stop speaking while eating, just like that lady.
I managed to help her and she was fine in few minutes. Mendez, the other waiter that was working with me that day, saw what happened and went to call for an ambulance while I was saving her life .When the ambulance arrived the lady was already fine, thanks me, but guess what...They paid the bill and they gave me something like 5 euros of tips, while Mendez got 12 euros for calling the ambulance.
If I knew that, I would have let her die...
Tuesday, 1 February 2011
beginner luck in Rome
When I first moved to Rome in Italy, I was struggling to find a job there. The economy at that time was going down the river, the percentage of unemployed people was huge, but there was a light at the end of the tunel for me as the summer was just starting and the sun was already shinning beautifuly. The atmosphere in Rome was great. The people were starting to leave their jackets and coats in the wardrobe and to wear their t-shirts and shorts. You could feel the feeling of freedom...well, not so free when you are completly broken. My money was finishing and I had no job. I had no idea how I would pay for the next month rent, I could not even afford a coffee.
The next morning, I woke up early, went to buy the newspaper to start one more day of job hunting. I went to the metro station and jumped the turnstile as usual as any desperatly broken guy does, got into the train that was full as hell. Suddenly, an american turist that was in the train with his big boobs wife started to scream: ''Ooohhohohoh, terrorist... terrorist...'' I told myself: ''Fuck what is going on?'' and I look behind me. Some people were already running and smashing other people on the wall to try to get to the next coach. They were trying desperatly to get out of the train as quick as possible. Somehow, I wasn't scared at all. I had nothing to loose. I had no money, no job. I was actually finding pretty funny how people got paranoid about terrorism. The truth was that the american guy was so paranoid about it that he went mental just because two bearded Muslims with turbans, were reading the Coran in the train and saying stuff like ''Allah'' and other words that no one understands. As everyone else, I also tought that it was strange to see those two guys packed with boxes reading the quran and praying, but come on, who would think that those boxes were bombs? Anyway, everybody was panicking but finally, the next station ''cipro musei di vaticani'', was fortunately my destination and I could get the fuck out of that train of madness and concentrate on my own war: find a job.
The place I was going was a restaurant, of course, called Ristorante da Giuliana. Wow! You would think that this is a proper italian restaurant, italian name, in Italia! It must be good! It will be a great experience. I started to get excited about the place. While waiting outiside because nobody was there yet to talk about the job, I noticed that I was the only one waiting to apply for the it. I found it very strange as everywhere I had looked for jobs for the last month it was full of people all the time, waiting in a queue for hours until you would get your turn to be interviewed by the manager who would say: ''Oh sorry, we already found someone.'' Anyway, after ten minutes waiting, I started to walk up and down the street to realise that this restaurant was very well located, just in front of the SISTINE CHAPEL'VATICAN. It was just there in front of me. I had been living in Italy for almost four months already but I couldn't afford to pay the visitor's ticket to the chapel. I just thought let's leave and I waited for another 20 minutes. Someone finally opened the restaurant's doors. I was expecting an italian boss, or some italian lady saying Ciao !!! Come stai? But no, it was a chinese man bending his head down insted to say hi. I was shocked, but what to do? I needed to work. He offered me two jobs at the same time. I was pretty happy. It wasn't good money. It was not enough but better than nothing.
I started to work on the same day just like ''now''. My first job was to to give the restaurant's flyers in front the Sistine Chapel where during the whole year there is a queue all day to get in. It is full of turistis from everywhere you can imagine in the world. My chinese boss wanted me to call himVincenzo but I was sure his name was something like Jim Hung. I don't know maybe he wanted to pretend that he was an italian guy with slit eyes...I actually was speaking italian much better than him and had been living there for just a few months. That was just an insane guy! He told me I was going to get paid as flyers ditributor from 9am until 11am and get paid 30cents of euro for each customer that was going to the restaurant to eat with a flyer in hand. After that, I would work as a waiter form 11am until 5pm. I did my first job well. I got straight away 29 Americans to eat to the restaurant by 11am. It was just perfect. I had finished the flyer job, I got a few euros and now I was going to get changed wear my white shirt, my tie and my apron to serve the american people that I got in the queue outside..:)
When I gave them the menu, they looked at me surprised: ''Is it you again? Or your guys are twins?''
I smiled and said no Madame, I am a multi task man..everyone laughed and they really appreciated my hard work. They gave me good tips. I even received compliments from Vincenzo who couldn't believe that I had done all that on my first day. The only thing was: if, in the first day I managed to do all that, I am going to have to do better tomorrow...but I am sure it was just the beginner's luck.
The next morning, I woke up early, went to buy the newspaper to start one more day of job hunting. I went to the metro station and jumped the turnstile as usual as any desperatly broken guy does, got into the train that was full as hell. Suddenly, an american turist that was in the train with his big boobs wife started to scream: ''Ooohhohohoh, terrorist... terrorist...'' I told myself: ''Fuck what is going on?'' and I look behind me. Some people were already running and smashing other people on the wall to try to get to the next coach. They were trying desperatly to get out of the train as quick as possible. Somehow, I wasn't scared at all. I had nothing to loose. I had no money, no job. I was actually finding pretty funny how people got paranoid about terrorism. The truth was that the american guy was so paranoid about it that he went mental just because two bearded Muslims with turbans, were reading the Coran in the train and saying stuff like ''Allah'' and other words that no one understands. As everyone else, I also tought that it was strange to see those two guys packed with boxes reading the quran and praying, but come on, who would think that those boxes were bombs? Anyway, everybody was panicking but finally, the next station ''cipro musei di vaticani'', was fortunately my destination and I could get the fuck out of that train of madness and concentrate on my own war: find a job.
The place I was going was a restaurant, of course, called Ristorante da Giuliana. Wow! You would think that this is a proper italian restaurant, italian name, in Italia! It must be good! It will be a great experience. I started to get excited about the place. While waiting outiside because nobody was there yet to talk about the job, I noticed that I was the only one waiting to apply for the it. I found it very strange as everywhere I had looked for jobs for the last month it was full of people all the time, waiting in a queue for hours until you would get your turn to be interviewed by the manager who would say: ''Oh sorry, we already found someone.'' Anyway, after ten minutes waiting, I started to walk up and down the street to realise that this restaurant was very well located, just in front of the SISTINE CHAPEL'VATICAN. It was just there in front of me. I had been living in Italy for almost four months already but I couldn't afford to pay the visitor's ticket to the chapel. I just thought let's leave and I waited for another 20 minutes. Someone finally opened the restaurant's doors. I was expecting an italian boss, or some italian lady saying Ciao !!! Come stai? But no, it was a chinese man bending his head down insted to say hi. I was shocked, but what to do? I needed to work. He offered me two jobs at the same time. I was pretty happy. It wasn't good money. It was not enough but better than nothing.
I started to work on the same day just like ''now''. My first job was to to give the restaurant's flyers in front the Sistine Chapel where during the whole year there is a queue all day to get in. It is full of turistis from everywhere you can imagine in the world. My chinese boss wanted me to call himVincenzo but I was sure his name was something like Jim Hung. I don't know maybe he wanted to pretend that he was an italian guy with slit eyes...I actually was speaking italian much better than him and had been living there for just a few months. That was just an insane guy! He told me I was going to get paid as flyers ditributor from 9am until 11am and get paid 30cents of euro for each customer that was going to the restaurant to eat with a flyer in hand. After that, I would work as a waiter form 11am until 5pm. I did my first job well. I got straight away 29 Americans to eat to the restaurant by 11am. It was just perfect. I had finished the flyer job, I got a few euros and now I was going to get changed wear my white shirt, my tie and my apron to serve the american people that I got in the queue outside..:)
When I gave them the menu, they looked at me surprised: ''Is it you again? Or your guys are twins?''
I smiled and said no Madame, I am a multi task man..everyone laughed and they really appreciated my hard work. They gave me good tips. I even received compliments from Vincenzo who couldn't believe that I had done all that on my first day. The only thing was: if, in the first day I managed to do all that, I am going to have to do better tomorrow...but I am sure it was just the beginner's luck.
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