Last year when I was living in Belfast
for the first time in nearly four years I would often find myself
running into people who I had not seen since my school days. While
this was perfectly pleasant, I treaded carefully through each of
these conversations, fearfully awaiting whatever variation of the
inevitable “What are you up to these days?” that was going to
come up. I did not want to admit the reality of my situation to
myself never mind acquaintances from what felt like another lifetime;
I was unemployed, living with my mother, completely broke, with no
postgraduate place waiting on me in September. So I decided to dwell
on my recent accomplishments and always came out with my carefully
crafted catchphrase, “Well I'm just back from south east Asia...” I would then promptly launch into a brief description of my days
back in 'Nam making it seem like Belfast was nothing more than a
leisurely sojourn in my fabulous jet setting lifestyle. But even
months later when I had found employment in a cafe, I was still “JUST
back”. Some part of me was embarrassed that my life was lacking
direction for the first time in as long as I could remember and that
my only fall back was the hospitality industry – with four years
experience it was all I was qualified to do. It took coming to
Australia for me to remember that although hospitality can at times
be difficult, thankless work where you get yelled at by mental people
and have to take it, it can also be a lot of fun and it is certainly
nothing to be embarrassed about.
I remember my first restaurant job was
running in The Morning Star over the busy Christmas period - minimal
responsibility, all I had to do was bring customers drinks from the
bar and food from the kitchen. But I struggled to balance a tray,
forgot what number each table was and failed to recognise the orders
I was carrying. By the end of the Christmas season, not only had I
became fully comfortable covered in strangers' food remains but
I mostly knew what I was doing. I felt like I had survived some sort of
festive war as a heroic civilian who had taken up arms to help the
brave, tired wait staff do battle with the drunken, well fed
customers. (Who exactly had won remains unclear). For my dedicated
service to the cause I was promoted to section waitress, decorated
with a full length apron and like any veteran worth their salt, I
headed back into battle.
Since those early days I have been able
to experience different facets of the hospitality industry from
being a barista in Manchester, a bartender in Hanoi, a deli worker in
Belfast and now having returned to my waitressing roots in Melbourne.
I have much more confidence in what I am doing these days,
recommending wines with a smile on my face, pen in my hair and plates
piled up my arms like a pro. More importantly, I am really enjoying
my job and how many people can say that? I am certainly not
embarrassed to say I work in a restaurant, especially considering
that Melbourne is a sort of foodie epicentre where hospitality is a
thriving, competitive industry and compared to home, the “do you
want fries with that?” jokes are surprisingly scarce.
However, no amount of experience makes
it easier to accept customers who treat you like shit. You hear a lot
of people moan about bad customer service, but I can assure you that
bad customers are much more of a rampant problem. And I do not mean
those fussy customers with insanely specific requests. I mean yes,
asking for a mushroom risotto with no mushrooms is crazy, and
requesting a pasta sauce that is pink regardless of the flavour is
rather nutty and OK, so you want a parma and chips but want to make
sure the parma does not touch the chips on the plate and that is
pretty loopy but as long as you are not downright rude about it and
preferably make some sort of acknowledgement that you are being
awkward, the wait staff will make it happen. Under no circumstances
act like you are being reasonable, tut or roll your eyes when we try
to clarify your request or mutter “how hard is it to take an
order?”
My 'favourite' customers are those who
assume that you are a complete idiot purely on the basis of you being
a waitress. Sometimes this boils to the surface if you have made a
mistake (however minor) but some customers feel the need to make it
clear that this is their feeling regardless of the standard of your
service. It is insulting, nasty, certainly not going to help you get
what you want and in those darker moments definitely makes me
question my life decisions – not being a waitress, but why I let
customers talk to me that way. There have been so many times when
I've asked myself what in the world I am doing covered in various
food substances, letting some irrational customer talk to me like
I've only recently crawled out of the primordial ooze when what I
actually want to do is dunk her face in a vat of coleslaw screaming
“I've a first class BSc with honours you obnoxious fart maggot!”
But then I take a deep breath and remind myself that this display
would be counterproductive to coming across as a sophisticated, well
educated woman of the world (and most likely would result in a swift
and brutal firing).
Chances are, that moments after you have
composed yourself, you will go to a table to greet them or take an
order and be wholly ignored, often with someone eventually dismissing
you with a wave of their hand, not even bothering to look at you. Or
someone will snap their fingers or whistle at you to gain your
attention, making you feel simultaneously like a dog and embarking on
a murderous rampage. Or a family will inform you their kid has vomited
over one of the restaurant's high chairs and tell you to clean it up,
or if you are really lucky, someone will have changed their baby's
nappy on the table and hand you the dirty diaper to dispose of. And
yes, all of these things happened. More than once.
These moments are hard to take and probably prove that hospitality is not for everyone. I often
wonder how much of a coincidence it is that the word hospital
features in hospitality. These positions definitely carry physical
and mental liability, possibly enough to warrant a warning label.
Side
effects of the industry may include:
- headache, backache, aching feet and pains in your arms/wrists
- burns
- extreme fatigue
- depression including diminished self esteem
- psychosis
- increased appetite
- rage blackouts
- fantasies about punching people
I read a great phrase the other day
'server not servant' and I think there should be signs reminding
customers of this in every restaurant. What gives people the right to
treat hospitality staff like the dirt on their shoes baffles me. Yes,
there are a lot of bad waiters out there, but remaining calm and
polite is much more likely to get your problem resolved than being
rude and derogatory. I guess the the job would not be the same
without the crazy customers but the rude ones can definitely go. I
cannot imagine a day without being asked if the risotto comes with
rice or if we could make a carbonara without egg yolk and in all
honesty, I would not want to. The silly stories are a major benefit
of hospitality and help you put up with all the shit. I enjoy my job and have always loved the social aspect of hospitality and how your fellow staff become a little community against the customers of the world. So please, just think how happy I could be if you all stopped
being such douchebags!
