Serving Days of Yore

Back in the heady times of 2004, I was a waiter at a start up French Bistro.

I figured I had experienced a part of life which I could add to that list I carry around in my head of things that I have done to be a Well Rounded Person. I think this is my way of justifying an adventure which I could only describe as a precursor to hell.

I'm probably not the only one who does this. In fact, I've read studies confirming it: even poor bastards who get thrown in jail for 20 years for a crime they didn't commit can justify the experience in their minds as something beneficial to them. Its a survival trait. Here, see for yourself:



So anyway, I'll get beyond the brain tricks and be logical, cold and hard.

Looking back, having been a waiter might, rather than being a beneficial experience, actually be costing me in the long run. I realized this after having left my 10,000th too generous tip one Sunday morning at a local diner, where the air conditioner had died, the food was on that margin between lukewarm and cold, and late. Having had the aforementioned hellish experience that is food service, I, as so many times before, feel sorry for the plight of the waiter. Good or bad, I without fail leave generous tips.

Over time, this habit will probably even out, then surpass my meager wages at the old restaurant where I was employed (thus making it a wash economically). That, coupled with the horrid mix of Celine Dion and Usher I was subjected to over a 6 month period by the most obnoxious head waiter to exist, makes for a depressing thought indeed.