Phil's Server Tip of the Day.

To my customer on Saturday night who ordered a Patty Melt without the bread,

A Patty Melt with no bread isn't a Patty Melt.  It's just a patty with cheese.

Yours,

Server Phil

Phil's Server Tip Of The Day.

Be honest about your mistakes.

I had a bad night last night.

I've talked about this before, but I'll do it again for the sake of this line of posts.

I was, as it's known in the restaurant community, 'weeded.' A server gets 'weeded' for all kinds of different reasons. The kitchen is 'weeded', causing you to become 'weeded.' Or, your tables just happen to be particular about their orders requiring extra steps to complete. Most of the time you have been given more tables at once than you can competently handle. When this happens, you have been 'slammed' with tables, and 'weeding' occurs. 'Slammed' and 'weeded' are often interchangeable terms.

Last night I got 'slammed' and 'weeded.' Not as fun as it might sound.

I made a number of mistakes I don't normally make. I delivered a beer that a woman had not ordered. I tried to drop off a crab stuffed shrimp appetizer to that same table when they had not ordered it, plus it took me another wrong table before I found the right table. The one I feel worst about was a group of nice regulars came in with a six-year-old and I forgot the straw they had asked for for him. He had a mohawk and was very well behaved. I also took an order for apple pie from them, discovered we were out, and had to go back and disappoint them.

Everyone has a bad day and mine was last night.

When this happens, I find the best way to deal with it is being upfront. Apologize, admit your mistake, correct it, thank them for their patience and work to make it up to them.

You don't want to be presumptuous and give the impression that mistakes are acceptable, but most people have been where you are.

If you have otherwise been polite and thorough, most customers will give you the benefit of the doubt. They understand and want to feel that you are aware, contrite and working on the problem.

Phil's Server Tip Of The Day.

Be generous.

As a server, you are depending on your customers tips for your income. This is hard logic for some to understand. (See Steve Buschemi in Reservoir Dogs.) Often, customers see servers through a haze of suspicion. At best, viewing their every move as some attempt to increase their tip. At worst, they fear we have poisoned them. (See Fight Club.) Sure, I've known some mercenary, customer-hating servers in my day, but most, at the very least, just want you to enjoy your meal.

An excellent way to calm a customer, endear them to you, and help insure they return to give you their business is generosity. Buy them a drink. Whatever they are drinking, or a cup of coffee at the end of the meal. Buy their appetizer and start your relationship off with a sign of goodwill. Buy them a dessert and drop it at the table with a, "Thanks for dining with us, I hope you enjoy this pie. On me." Leaving them with a positive impression at the end of the meal.

Of course, there are restrictions depending on what kind of boss you have. Even if your restaurant has a strict policy against this kind of behavior you can usually find a way to do it. There's a couple things to remember: 1. As a server, you earn the bulk of your income from the tips your customers leave, making them your true "boss." Help them feel that way. 2. Your boss should always be reminded that return business is the best business. Spoiled customers come back, and they tell their friends about your generosity.

There are other ways to exercise generosity. Take your time at the table, indulging them in their questions. Refill drinks without being asked. Welcome them when they arrive. Thank them often for dining with you. Get creative and come up with some on your own.

There are many options, but I think the best way is through free stuff.

That's a "thank you" everyone understands.

Phil's Server Tip Of The Day

Always repeat your customers order back to them.

Quite often as a waiter takes an order, the person ordering has just bit into a bread stick, or perhaps they are just a low talker. Sometimes they are neither, but insist on looking everywhere but the waiter that they are talking to while they are giving their order. This can lead to a misunderstanding and confusion about what they have ordered.

Repeating their order back to them gives you a chance to confirm what you have written down. A chance for them to correct you if you heard them wrong, heading off any mistakes that might happen. Taking this one extra step during the ordering processes can help prevent the appearance of sloppy service, and hopefully, improve your tip.

Phil's Server Tip Of The Day.

If a customer asks you what you like on the menu, mention the items you don't like first.

This gives you credibility in their eyes. They understand that you aren't just a shill for the restaurant. That you are actually interested in them enjoying their meal.

For example, the sangria at our place isn't very good. It comes from a box, and I don't like to serve it. If someone orders it, I tell them it comes from a box, and offer them a taste. If they like it fine, they can have it. But it does my tip no good serving items I don't like.

The Job. Summerteeth.

The weather was beautiful in Chicago this weekend. Summer seems to have finally arrived and I love everything about it...except for one thing, we open up our patio at the restaurant.

We have twelve extra tables on a back patio and four on the sidewalk in front. Our sections grow and usually this means we add another server to the shift to cover the extra tables. Not on Sunday's though. Sundays are a tough day to predict. It could be slow, and a waste of time for that third server. Or insanely busy, to busy for just two servers.

This past Sunday was insanely busy.

Combine that, with the staff adjusting to the increased amount of tables and you can get what we call in the business "weeded," or "slammed."

The level of my service doesn't fall off to much, but I am the type of waiter that asks if you want lemon or lime for your water if that's all you have to drink. I suggest espresso and dessert, I like to go through the menu and describe the various entrees. But when I'm weeded, I can't do very much of that.

My haste almost cost a customer a tooth.

A two-top came in and sat down during this crazy rush and ordered a couple of club sodas. After I delivered them, they asked if they could have some lime wedges with them.

Sure, fine. Lime wedges coming up.

As I said, normally I would have asked if they wanted any citrus, but I was in give-them-what-they-ask-for mode, and not in my mind-reading mode. As a customer, this should tip you off. Be specific with your waiter. Ask questions about the items you might want to eat.

After I dropped off the lime, they ordered two salads. A Cobb with no blue cheese or olives, and a summer salad. The ingredients in the Cobb salad are listed in the menu, the summer salad is only partially listed but ends with a, "...and much more."

This would be my downfall.

The salads came up, I delivered them and asked if there was anything else I could bring. No? Great, enjoy your meal. I went back to running around.

I passed by the table a few minutes later and the summer salad guy stopped me.

"There are olives with pits in here. I almost broke a tooth."

"I'm very sorry, sir, can I get you something else?"

"No. Why didn't you tell me about the olive pits? I almost broke a tooth. I didn't know they were in there."

"There have always been kalamata olives, with pits, in the salad, sir. I'll be happy to get you something else if you don't care for it."

"I don't want anything else. I want to know why you didn't tell me about them. I could have broke a tooth."

I want to say, because I am really fucking busy, and I lost my ability to alter the past in a terrible home-mulching accident, otherwise I would change all this unpleasantness. I want to say, because you didn't ask what else was in the salad beside what is listed in the menu. I want to say, you are the first person to ever complain about it. I want to say, you are a grown man, ordering for yourself and feeding yourself, slow down when you chew and I think you will be alright. I can only be so responsible for what you choose to put in your mouth. Sorry.

But I can't, I'd get fired.

So I do the only thing I can do, smile and offer to bring him a free dessert adding, "Again, I'm sorry, it's never come up before. From now on, I will always mention the olive pits to everyone that orders this salad. Are you sure I can't bring you something else?"

"No. I don't want anything else. I'd like to talk to a manager. I could have broke a tooth."

Fine. Great. I'm beginning to wonder if I had told you, but only said it once, you might not have heard me, given how you seem to repeat yourself.

You talk to our manager. Oh wait, we don't have one.

"On Sundays the bartender is in charge, you can talk to him, or you can fill out a customer comment card which the owner will read when he comes in tomorrow."

"You don't have a manager?"

"No. The bartender is the default manager when the owner is out."

"Fine. We'll take the bill." They pay and tip five on twenty-five.

O.k., decent tip, I take back what I thought about you.

He walks straight for our hostess who is dressed the best out of all of us, so I assume he thinks she might be in charge. From across the room I can see his lips say "tooth" over and over.

Despite the tip, I don't like seeing customers leave unhappy, it reflects poorly on me and I take some pride in my work. But you can't fix every mistake.

He did give us a new bit. Every time we bring something to our mouth, we scream, "My tooth!" and complain of not being told there was (fill in the objects name) in there. It's a pretty good bit.

The Job Part 2

With their bill in my apron, I approach table 8 asking if they enjoyed the desert. As I reach for, what I assume is her finished sundae, my customer swats my hand away. "I'm not done with that," she says in a joking manner.

She didn't injure me, but we aren't such good friends that I find this all that funny. We did just meet about forty-five minutes ago.

"Pardon me," I respond. I guess she likes cold, chocolate soup.

"You know, I just wanted to mention that my wine glass was very dirty," she states, lifting the glass for my inspection. "Some of this is mine, but alot wasn't."

The glass is rather dirty, but I have little sympathy for customers who complain after the fact. After it is too late for me correct the problem. Of course, this was unintentional, but a mistake was made and I want to correct it.

Why would you drink out of a filthy glass?

Smiling, to hide frustration, "I wish you would have told me. I'd have happily gotten you a clean glass."

"That's alright, I just wanted you to know." Great. Now I know. I hope you tell all your friends about it.

"Please Miss, in the future, tell me if there is any problem and we will fix it right away." Because, I would never drink from a dirty glass. I certainly don't expect you too.

"I don't like to waste food, you would have dumped out the wine." Well, that explains the chocolate soup.

"We could have poured it in a clean glass for you."

"That's true."

I've gotten written complaints to bosses for conversations like the one above. I've been described as rude and defensive. I've been trained to return to a table after either two bites of their entray or two minutes after it has been served. When I do I ask if everything is alright. If it isn't, tell me.

Waiting tables will teach you that, sometimes people just want to complain. That if the problem were fixed, they would be less happy for lack of something to complain about.

They did tip well, so maybe they just wanted me to know.

But... Gross.

The Job.

I'm a waiter. Been doing it for years. I'm old enough now to feel no shame in it. I chose it, and I like it. I take pride in doing a good job. I enjoy showing people a good time. It helps pay for the food my kids eat, as well as their saving for college.

At it's most basic, you are providing people the food they live on. At it's best, you are a guide through a beautiful gallery of artworks that nourishes all their senses.

I work in a casual, corner bar in Lincoln Square, Chicago. There are white table clothes and lobster on the menu, but it's still a corner bar. I recommend the steaks and burgers.

Last night as I waited tables, a five top sat down. As I welcome them, they interrupt and order a bottle of Zinfandel. We have a pretty extensive wine list. Some thirty-five bottles. I'm happy to suggest a few things, discuss it with them, because the chances of me picking the right wine are small. On Sunday's it's marked half off on all bottles. I try to point out the discount wine list, adding that they may want to pick one out for themselves rather then have me pick it out. They interrupt again, saying that's all fine just bring the cheapest Zinfandel.

I brought our cheapest Red Zinfandel, showed them the label, opened and poured.

You guessed it. They meant White Zinfandel.

Trying to avoid a, "I told you so" tone, I explain that this can happen sometimes when letting your server choose things for you. That it was was partially my fault really, I should have asked which type of Zin they wanted.

I got lucky, one of the people at the table agreed to drink it and I brought them their White Zin.

Celebrities I've Waited On.

Celebrity: Robert Plant

Date: 1998

Location: Mity Nice Grill, Chicago

Robert Plant came into my restaurant and sat in my section. I was rather excited, this being the first celebrity I had ever waited on and no minor celeb at that. He was curt, but polite, ordering a salad and coke, meeting my gaze with his own. Our mutual respect was obvious.

"Good choice, that's what I had today."
"Great, uh...thanks."

People began to realize who he was, creating an audible stir throughout the restaurant. One of my tables passed me a hundred, ordering me to pay for Robert's meal with it. Taking some pride in my new position as guest artist/collaborator on Robert's lunch; I told him I had to ask Mr. Plant. He rejected the offer out of hand. He seemed to find it silly. I silently agreed with him. This lunch didn't need guys like him, Robert.

After he had finished his meal and paid, I found myself in the bathroom with him. This being before the days of widespread cell phones, he was using the payphone. Later in the day we found he left his glasses resting on the phone. Trying them on I was a little put off by how dirty they were. How could he see out of these, I asked myself. I wear glasses. A single speck of dust on my lens will drive me insane. His had multiple thumbprints, entire areas light would have trouble passing through. How would I ever listen to "Physical Graffiti" again? He had tipped 20%, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd witnessed the dirty side of Rock & Roll.