Entries tagged with 'Served'
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I blog by day and wait tables in a New York City restaurant by night. I'm excited to bring you Served, dispatches from the front of the house. Enjoy! More than a year ago, I professed in my first Served that I have the best job in the world. A few weeks ago, I told my boss I was leaving that best job in the world. Then I told my friends, my coworkers, and my family. Telling you guys and saying goodbye to “Served” is emotional. I’m sitting here all teary. That job may no longer feel like the best job in the world, but there are still awesome moments—when people fall in love with our Matchbook Tinto Ray, or...
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I blog by day and wait tables in a New York City restaurant by night. I'm excited to bring you Served, dispatches from the front of the house. Enjoy! Almost a year ago, I wrote about some of the lessons I learned while waiting tables. Since then, I like to think I’ve acquired some more waiterly wisdom. Ask for Help Maybe I am running to fill up Table 6’s empty water glasses, but there is no water in the pitchers and Table 9 needs some bread and a crowd rushes through the door. When I walk by Table 6 a few minutes later, their glasses are miraculously full. I’ve thanked my fellow waiters a million times for saving my ass....
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I blog by day and wait tables in a New York City restaurant by night. I'm excited to bring you Served, dispatches from the front of the house. Enjoy! My friend U. and I were drinking sangria on a midtown rooftop, standing under an umbrella too small to shield the two of us from the rain. Dinner had been midnight street cart fare: 53rd Street and 6th Avenue, Halal Chicken and Rice. Or at least, that’s what we had intended. Halfway through our chicken and lamb with white sauce, we got nervous. “This isn’t like last time,” U. said, “It’s not as spicy and the meat is in such huge chunks. And where’s the line?” “Wait,” I craned my neck...
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I blog by day and wait tables in a New York City restaurant by night. I'm excited to bring you Served, dispatches from the front of the house. Enjoy! One of the best parts of working in the New York restaurant biz is getting to visit my friends at work. I’ve met wonderful people, seen great new (and old) restaurants, and been inspired by creative dishes and badass cocktails. Having a complimentary arctic char tartare with basil and trout caviar or a glass of champagne sent your way is never not awesome. I always feel like the cool kid at school when I get to tour the kitchen or when the chef pulls up a chair and chats. And once...
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I blog by day and wait tables in a New York City restaurant by night. I'm excited to bring you Served, dispatches from the front of the house. Enjoy! I hate being yelled at. Everyone hates being yelled at. But I am a people pleaser, and when the scolding starts, clearly I have failed to please. Sunday night was ridiculously slow, in part because of the Tonys. The theaters were dark, and many of our customers are theater people. It was one of those evenings where we folded a whole lot of napkins for lack of people to actually wait on. We listened to nostalgic music and sang along. We nibbled on the new dishes the chef had put up...
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I blog by day and wait tables in a New York City restaurant by night. I'm excited to bring you Served, dispatches from the front of the house. Enjoy! The couple had been there for hours, savoring two bottles of wine, some cheeses, white anchovies with pickled fennel, another round of cheese. Then, check please. They wanted me to split the bill on their two cards. Done. “Thank you,” I said, and handed them their credit cards and receipts. The place was rocking, and I was trying not to look like a madwoman as I ran back and forth, wiping tables and taking orders. I noticed the couple was there a few minutes later, still mulling over their receipts. “Is...
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I blog by day and wait tables in a New York City restaurant by night. I'm excited to bring you Served, dispatches from the front of the house. Enjoy! Last year, we barely paused to commemorate our restaurant’s one year anniversary. We were collectively too exhausted to celebrate. It was like we just pulled an epic string of all-nighters. The test was over, our cramming had paid off, but we were more inclined to fall into bed than paint the town. Our relief overshadowed our pride. In the early days, I had arrived a few times at work to find we were without a cook for the night. “Call anyone you know,” T., the fromager would plead. I'd look through...
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I blog by day and wait tables in a New York City restaurant by night. I'm excited to bring you Served, dispatches from the front of the house. Enjoy! Shaky Start I picked up a shift for a coworker yesterday, and was running early to work. Or so I thought. My phone beeped on my way out of the subway. I had a text and a voicemail from my boss: where are you? Oops. I had thought I was working at five. On most days, three servers with staggered shifts start working at four, five, and six. The first sets up the dining room for service, cuts bread, and lights candles. The last one closes up at the wee hours...
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I blog by day and wait tables in a New York City restaurant by night. I'm excited to bring you Served, dispatches from the front of the house. Enjoy! On Friday, I got up early, sat in front of my computer, and banged out the conclusion to my last college paper ever. I handed it in with a big smile on my face. Feeling triumphant, I took a shower and went to work. “Are you going out to celebrate tonight?’ a customer asked when I shared the news: I was officially finished with college. “Maybe,” I said, stifling a yawn. After my shift, I hailed a cab, dragged myself up four flights of stairs to my place, and crawled right...
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I blog by day and wait tables in a New York City restaurant by night. I'm excited to bring you Served, dispatches from the front of the house. Enjoy! I read poetry last Thursday night at Columbia to celebrate the release of a publication that included a few of my poems. It was fun to listen to people read stories, poems, and nonfiction. So much of the work was so good. After, we went out for drinks and snacks at a restaurant nearby. “I loved your piece,” I said to a very tall guy who had read a nonfiction piece that included “high-carb grammatical carnage.” “I loved yours,” he told me. Over beers and calamari, we got to talking. Turns...
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