Thursday, September 22, 2011

A Joe Sixtop Saturday Night ©2011 by Joe Sixtop all rights reserved

     I was scheduled off Saturday night, but I need money so I picked up. The guy I covered for had scored ducats to something and really wanted to lose the shift. He feels like I did him a favor and I don't think I'll disabuse him of that perception. He usually closes, so I closed. It was my first weekend night closing here.
     I rolled in a couple of minutes before five. The shift change had been approved, but of course it hadn't been put in the computer so it was kind of a big ordeal to get me clocked in and able to ring stuff up.
     After I got that out of the way, I was ready to get sat. In my station. Not somewhere way on the other side of the building. But the hosting professional had seated a ninetop of women way on the other side of the building. In a station assigned to a server who hadn't arrived yet, wasn't even scheduled 'til 5:30.
     My hostess started explaining to me how things work and why she "had" to seat them there. I already know how things work and I don't give a fuck why she had to seat them there. I'm all about taking care of business. I hate rudeness, but I cut off her dissertation mid-sentence. "What do you need me to do?"
     I picked up the nine. The hosting professional said she'd try to not seat my actual station while I had the party if she could help it. My ladies were nice, and surprisingly low-maintenance, so when their food had been delivered and I'd done a checkback, I told the door whore that I could handle a duece or two in my real station if she needed me to. She sat me three twotops in rapid succession.
     That was a little more than I'd volunteered for, but I managed to hang in with it OK. I gave my nine ladies their six separate checks. Cool. I almost had them out of the way and would be able to give my full attention to my actual station. On my way to the register to run the credit cards, I glanced at my station and saw that my sixtop had been sat. FUCK!
     Couldn't the seating co√∂rdinator have consulted me? Couldn't the customers have been held off for five minutes? I asked my "zone buddy" to greet the table and get a drink order. She did. I dropped the vouchers and some inkpens for my ladies, made the bevies for table 28 and was finally caught up.
     About as caught up as possible at this place anyway. Working here is a lot like having a server nightmare while you're awake. I waited on lots of people that night and they all seemed to be at least reasonably happy.
Everybody tipped pretty well. My last table of the evening was a sixtop of young guys, average age about 19. They were pretty nice, so I wasn't expecting real shitty tips from them, but I wasn't anticipating more than 15% either. But they tipped great! I must of gotten at least seven dollars apiece from them. Then I had a lot of closing stuff and cleaning up to do.
     We close at eleven on Saturdays. I clocked out at 12:30 or so. My sales were around $600. I walked with about $110 after tipout. It's the first, and so far only, time I've broken a benjamin at this place. I've worked here about two months.
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     If anybody has any comments, feel free to leave 'em. I'd especially like to know how your Saturday night was, and/or if you think I should of capitalized the word "benjamin." Have a good one everybody!

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Knocked Up and Single c2011 by Joe Sixtop all rights reserved

     Allright, what was I telling y'all about last time? Oh yeah. Your boy Marvin and this pregnant Wendy chick he worked with ("I Want To Guard Your Dreams and Visions" August, 2011).
     Wendy was mostly a daytime server there and Marvin was exclusively nights so their paths didn't cross all that much. Whenever Wendy did work a night, she was probably a double and thus early out. Marvin was usually a closer. They worked together for several months but never shared what could reasonably be deemed a conversation.
     Except for just the one time they did. It was a weeknight and Marvin was closing. Nothing unusual about that. What was unusual was that Wendy was closing too. Marvin can't remember ever seeing her close a night any other time and he's certain it was the only time they ever closed together. Wendy was an early out but stayed for one of the scheduled closers. Apparently she really needed the money.
     The shift was uneventful and went pretty well so most of the sidework was done by 10:15 or so. Marvin got out a broom to sweep his station before clocking out. Wendy had the station next to Marv's and was already sweeping. "How'd ya do tonight?" one of them asked the other. Marvin had done OK and said so.
     Wendy sat down in a chair while Marvin continued sweeping. She allowed as to how her shift had been decent but a little disappointing.
     She looked kind of melancholy when she told that so Marvin said something a little optimistic, like, "Tomorrow'll probably be better," or words to that effect.
     That's when the conversation turned. Marvin can't remember exactly what Wendy said but it was something like, "It's hard to look forward to tomorrow being knocked up and single."
     Wendy wasn't huge yet or anything, but was obviously pregnant. Marvin hadn't known her situation or her relationship with her baby's daddy. "Aww, that's gotta be rough," he said, "I'll try and think some good thoughts for ya," not really knowing the right response for her assertion.
     "Well, it's my own fault," Wendy continued, "I knew he was a bad boy when I met him. That's why I liked him. He had a leather jacket and a motorcycle too."
     Marvin chuckled to himself a little and thought, but did not say, "So you fucked Fonzie from TV's Happy Days. Way to go!" He did remind her that there were plenty of laws regarding her predicament and that if dude wouldn't step up maybe she should consult an attorney.
     Wendy got up and commenced sweeping again. "Yeah, maybe. If I knew where he was."
     Marvin really hated it for her, but had no idea what to say. They finished up and left.
     Over the next few weeks their schedules overlapped occasionally but they never closed together again. When he saw Wendy, Marvin smiled big and asked how it was going, but basically their relationship stayed the same as always; cordial, but pretty much non-existant.
     There were several registers in that restaurant, including two that were next to each other on the Front Of the House side of the line. They sat on a counter with shelves beneath them. A lot of the employees kept their personal effects, like coats, on the bottom shelf. Several of the waitresses stashed their purses there.  This had apparently been going on for years without any problems.
     One afternoon when Marvin came to work the place was abuzz about how some of the purses had been rifled through that morning and stuff was missing. The restaurant was a corporate store but didn't have cameras everywhere or indeed anywhere. Rumors and speculation abounded but nobody knew anything. Law enforcement was contacted.
     Marvin was off the next day and when he returned the following evening, the case had been solved. Even though his restaurant didn't have cameras, a nearby Shell™ station did. They caught Wendy trying to gas up with a credit card she'd swerved from a co-worker's purse.
     One of the women who'd been ripped off was a day-only salad cook who Marvin didn't know, but he was pretty tight with the other three. He'd dated one of them a few times and got along real well with the other two. Of course they all hated Wendy now so Marvin said he hated her too and hoped she went to jail. But secretly he felt real sorry for her.
     A couple of weeks later, it was payday. A lot of servers there didn't care about it, of course, not really giving a shit about a check that would be for maybe five dollars, or even less. Marvin expo'd and hosted a few times a month, so his checks, though rarely even $100.00, were a little more meaningful than most and he tried to pick them up when they came out. The checks were kept in a box in the office. There was another server in front of him at checkout when Marvin requested his paycheck from the manager.
     "You know where it is, just get it," he was told. So Marvin delved into the box. Each check was enclosed in an envelope with its recipient's name and address on it. It took Marvin a couple of minutes to find his envelope and a couple more to make sure he hadn't missed one of his previous ones. During his search he spied a pair of envelopes addressed to Wendy and he took them too. Marvin brought all the checks home. He opened his, but didn't open Wendy's. He put stamps on hers, and dropped them in a mailbox.
     Marvin doesn't know how much Wendy's checks amounted to, if anything. She hosted now and then, so maybe some of those hours were on there. If any of Wendy's victims found out what Marvin had done, they'd be pissed, and justifiably so. Marvin knows that taking those checks was probably a rules violation, maybe a serious one, but oh well. Last Marvin heard, Wendy faced no felonies, but several misdemeanors. She was observed by a former co-worker hostessing at a nearby Chili's™ while awaiting her next court date.
     How do you feel about what Marvin did?