The DH Hits a Home Run! ©2011 by Joe Sixtop all rights reserved

     "I oughtta write a book!" I'll hear an exasperated coworker exclaim in the kitchen, because of something messed up that happened in the restaurant.
     "You should try reading one first!" is my comeback and it always gets a chuckle from the rest of the crew. I haven't had a specific book to recommend though, but now I do. It's "Tips²: Tips For Improving Your Tips" by David Hayden.
     A lot of you are familiar with David's five (!) blogs (http://hospitalityformula.com/). However, be aware that his book is comprised of all new material, not reprints of previous posts. This well-written volume is derived from David's hard won experience as a 15+-year veteran of our challenging industry. This man knows what he's writing about.
     The book is well organized. Reading it's a lot like watching a really good waiter as he works his shift. Mr. Hayden gives great advice on getting ready to go in and looking sharp when you arrive (early). He's got a checklist of what to bring to work with you and how to get there in a good frame of mind. There are lots of awesome, innovative sales techniques and excellent strategies for getting the most out of every situation. And of course it's all ethical; no underhandedness is promoted here.
     Mr. Hayden has some words of wisdom concerning just about everybody you'll interact with at work; not only guests, but also coworkers, busers, cooks, hosting professionals and managers. David's mentioned in his internet column that he hasn't done a lot of bartending, but you can't tell that from what he says about service bar etiquette. He'll tell you how to help your bartender help you.
     David instructs how to deal with different kinds of customers in different situations; those in a hurry, celebrating their anniversary, "problem" guests, et cetera. What he says about waiting on business people who've just nailed down a big deal will, by itself, net you more Benjamins than if you were a sensimillia dealer at Bonnaroo.
     Everyone involved in the restaurant business can benefit from "Tips²." I've been waiting tables for a couple of decades and I got a lot out of reading it. If you run an independent restaurant, unburdened by the advantage of company-mandated corporate training materials, you should buy several copies of this invaluable resource for your staff. It'll undoubtedly make your store better and everybody more money.
     David's got a little humor for ya too. After describing one particularly clever sales gambit, Mr. Hayden asks, "Don't you wish you had a table to try this out on right now?" And even though my enthusiasm for waiting tables is at kind of a low ebb these days, right then I did wish I had a table to try it out on!
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                        http://www.tips2book.com/
     That's the website to click on to BUY THIS BOOK! Tell him Joe sent ya and he'll give you a fat 20% discount on the book's already reasonable price. And the WAY to tell him that Joe sent you is to type in the
coupon code SIXTOP at check out. Buy. Read. Learn. Enjoy. Make more Money. Hellz to tha Yeah!

Kick Cricket to the Curb ©2011 by Joe Sixtop all rights reserved

     I moved here over five years ago. I needed a phone and I went with Cricket®. I started with them on the seventh of the month, so every month I've been supposed to pay on the seventh.
     I've utilized different payment options over the years, but I usually go to the little bill payment kiosk at On The Run™ by Mobil®. I wait tables at night a lot and sometimes I haven't paid the phone bill until after midnight, technically the eighth. Sometimes I'd pay on the straight-up eighth. No problems.
     Exactly ONE TIME I didn't pay until the ninth. They cut me off and I believe I incurred a small reconnect fee. But it's cool; I was more than one full day late and I wasn't expecting free phone service.
     I've always had caller ID, voicemail and unlimited local calls. I didn't have long distance and I couldn't send texts. A couple of years ago I decided to join the 21st century and get texting capabilities and long distance. Cricket was more than happy to sell me the upgrades.
     About a year later, it came to my attention that I was paying for another service, one that I had not only not requested but that doesn't even work on the phone I have. I was getting ripped off. A lot of people would have raised hell (I figure I'm out about $75.00) but I just went to Cricket's local HQ and politely asked to have the extraneous crap, and it's cost, go away. Since a new month between Cricket and me started on the seventh, I thought it would be a good idea to get this done on the sixth.
     The dude I dealt with wasn't rude or anything, but he was pretty lame. He acted like what I was trying to do was kind of a big deal. After dicking around with his computer for several minutes, he announced that he'd removed the extra feature and heroically managed to allow me to keep my same phone number. Way to go, Jones!
     But somehow this ordeal has made my bill be due on the sixth now instead of the seventh. I went back to Cricket and asked them to fix it and, although the guy this time was way better than the previous johnson skull, he wasn't able to do anything for me.
     Of course I felt ripped off again, but I stayed with Cricket. I guess I didn't want the inconvenience and expense of changing phone companies. I've made sure to always pay on the seventh though, never the sixth. And then on the afternoon of June the seventh, I'd just gotten off work and was on my way to pay the phone bill when Cricket CUT ME OFF! I went back to their little office and got shit up and running 'cause I need me some telecommunications, but give me a month or so and I expect to kick Cricket to the curb. Anyone care to join me?

Just Look Around You ©2011 by Joe Sixtop all rights reserved

     Just look around you. WOAH! I didn't mean right now! You just keep your eyes glued to These American Servers™ for now, ok? After you've enjoyed, or at least consumed, this edition of TAS, then scan the scene. You're going to behold more buttcracks than a toilet seat. Seriously, it seems that everywhere you look, somebody's got their buttcrack exposed. Other than (so far) senior citizens, the buttcrack-revealing contingent contains every demographic you can think of. It used to be you could go months without seeing a buttcrack in public, however in 2011, you see them every day.
     That's not the subject of this edition of These American Servers though. This one's about back in April when I was at the training store. I was mostly working with servers, hosting professionals and to-go 'ho's. Wups! I mean ambulatory-chow coordinators. Yeah, that's better. Anyway, most of the CurveSide™ crew were adequate and a couple of them were real good. We had two of them that were horrible. One of them was so bad I'm not going to tell about him right now because he sucks so bad I don't want to even think about him.
     The registers at this store were exactly five minutes slow. I think it had something to do with happy hour. One girl couldn't handle the time thing. She would constantly quote pickup times that were overly optimistic by five minutes whenever she took a phone-in order. Even though it's against spec, I instructed her to just tell clients with call-in to-go orders "20 minutes" or whatever, instead of, say, "noon." She was unable to grasp the concept. So I tried to get her to add about five minutes to every pickup time she quoted. That was too much for her as well. Finally, I suggested that she buy a watch. I think every restaurant employee ought to be wearing one at work anyway. Even though I hate Wal-Mart, I told her she could purchase a decent time-keeping device there for less than ten dollars. But that just got me a story about how one time she jumped into a swimming pool with a watch on.

All the News That's Filth to Print ©2011 by Joe Sixtop all rights reserved

     I worked a double yesterday. I had a little time between shifts but not enough for a nap. So I relaxed on the couch and read the local newspaper 'til it was time to go back.
     According to one story I read, the high price of gasoline is hurting a lot of Americans but the worst-earning 20% are really getting smacked around. They have to pay more to get to work plus groceries, clothes and like that are starting to go up. And this wasn't in the article I read but I expect rents (as opposed to mortgages) to head higher soon too. Of course, there's some good news, at least if you're a Republican: the top 20% of dollar-harvesters are doing real well; for them it's like the recession never happened.
     Then I read about how the costs of a college education keep rising but, at least for now, the financial benefits are deteriorating. A lot of recent grads can't find work in their chosen field. Some have even resorted to—working in restaurants! Oh, those poor, suffering bastards, right?!
     Then I read something by conservative columnist Thomas Sowell. He seems to think that raising taxes on the big ballers would cause overall tax revenues to drop because financially well-off folks would participate in tax-avoidance schemes and they'd get involved in less economic activity. Of course, Dr. Sowell gets paid a lot of money for seeming to think that.
     Then I saw where a United States senator from Oklahoma (the Thunder should kiss my ass!) threw a petulant little bitch-fit and bailed on five other senators who claimed to be trying to figure out a way to alleviate America's budget deficit. Perhaps somebody had the effrontery to suggest that raising taxes by a couple of per cent on people bringing in superfat cheese might be an idea at least worth discussing.
     Lastly, I looked at the sports section and the funnies and Dear Abby. Then I headed back to work, congratulating myself for managing to have a shitty restaurant job without a college degree

On Account of the Weather ©2011 by Joe Sixtop all rights reserved

     Where was I? Oh yeah. Bad weather knocked out the electricity at my job. The owner decided we weren't going to try and open. Happy about the unexpected day off, I fixed myself a fat-ass cocktail and chugged it. Then the owner called and told me to go to our other location and fill in for their bartender, who was unable to make it in 'cause of the bad weather.
     I couldn't really decline. I had a car. The other location wasn't really all that far away. Most of the major streets were navigable. I was scheduled to work that day. But damn I didn't want to go! But I went, of course. Even though I'd just chugged a stout Jack and Diet on an empty stomach.
     I've been a pretty major consumer of alcohol over the years. But, although I've gone to work with some massive hangovers, I've got a personal rule about never consuming intoxicating substances before or during a restaurant shift. I probably shouldn't of had that drink, but my conscience is clear; when I knocked it out, I honestly thought I wasn't going to have to work the rest of the day.
     It wasn't like I was wasted or anything. I'd consume some gum and mints and nobody'd be able to tell I'd had a drink. I usually have some Certs or Trident with me and in those days I smoked a lot of Marlboro Reds, so the bourbon breath wasn't going to be an issue. But the downtown store was kind of the flagship of the organization. If I was going to work a shift there, I wanted to be at my best.
     Oh well. I got there and they'd already been open for at least half an hour. There was some big ordeal about getting me clocked in. I didn't care about it but you couldn't ring anything in if you weren't clocked in. I got my drawer counted and everything set up as well as I could and I was ready to go.
     Everything at that store was different from my store. The food was the same, but that was it. The bar was different. The cash register was different. The alcohol selection, especially the beer, was different. The ways things were done were different. The coworkers were different. The whole—what's a good word here?—ambience was different. Imagine what it would be like to start a new restaurant gig and be put on the floor solo on your first day, without any instruction or training whatsoever except that you knew the food. It was like that.
     It started out slow, which was good for me; I had a little time to get acclimated to things. But it got progressively busier. A lot of establishments were closed because they were without powers. A few of the barflies from my store made their way to this store. Which turned out good for me; they'd talk about what a good job I was doing under difficult circumstances and word got around that I was just filling in and that seemed to buy me some patience from the clients. Things could have run smoother, but overall I guess they went pretty well.
     Right after I got started, a goateed young man with long hair came to the bar and ordered a bloody mary to go. I politely told him we didn't do that. "Oh yeah you do!" he informed me, before storming off to converse with the manager. They talked pretty animatedly, thought out of my earshot, for a good couple of minutes and then dude left.
     Later that day another bearded white guy with long hair rolled into the bar. He ordered a snack and something to drink. He was pretty cool and it turned out that he and the bloody mary douchetard from that morning were bandmates, recording at a nearby music studio. I'd seen them a couple of years earlier at a club, opening for Bonham, a sort-of-metally band led by drummer Jason Bonham, son of the late Led Zeppelin drummer John Bonham.
     I figured out what was up. These guys recorded their mediocre tunes nearby and came and got mixed drinks to go all the time. The manager was obviously down, she had to be. The Nikki Sixx wannabe just thought he could get a cocktail going to the trailer no matter who was bartending. Some people are incapable of being cool.
     Anyway, the night bartender, probably on account of the weather, was hella late, so I got to work through happy hour by myself. I busted ass and harvested mad cash. I don't think I got a cigarette the whole time I was there, so that first couple of 'Boros I had after work were really good. And there was a liquor store open on the way home.

Damaged Cars and Buildings ©2011 by Joe Sixtop all rights reserved

     There was a big rainstorm in my old hometown one winter's day about 15 years ago. It wasn't all that cold at first but the temperature kept dropping. By the time I left work about 11:30 that evening, the streets were covered with ice. Everything outdoors was covered with ice for a hundred miles.
     I was so concerned with navigating the slickened thoroughfares that I neglected to get drunk after work and I made it home safely. And I made it to work safely the next morning too. By the time I got on the road a lot of your major streets had been salted and driven on sufficiently to make them pretty easy for me to get around on. The day was overcast and cold but at least the precipitation had stopped. I bartended that day and waited tables that night. Business was slow that evening and since I was a double, I was out of there before nine o'clock. The streets were still as slick as a buttered insurance agent so I went straight home for the second night in a row. But I noticed that it had gotten warmer.
     I relaxed at home. I cracked open a quart of Budweiser. I put on a good CD. If I remember correctly, it was something by Led Zeppelin, featuring the late John Henry "Bonzo" Bonham on drums. Over the din of the stereo, I could hear branches snap outside. It had something to do with things warming up quickly, affecting the ice-encrusted trees. I noticed it, but didn't think too much about it.
     I awoke the next morning to a dearth of electricity in my crib. Fortunately, that place had gas heat, so I wasn't cold. I wracked my brain, trying to remember when I'd gotten a cut-off notice. I got ready for work, which took a little longer back then since I still had hair that I had to make look acceptable. I left the shed and got in the car.
     As I drove down my little street, I noticed that no one had electricity as near as I could tell and that lots of tree branches were down. Some of the branches were real big and had damaged cars and buildings. I found out later that because a lot of branches had fallen onto power lines, most of the city was without electricity.
     Including my work. Not everybody showed up, but those of us who did sat there in the dark. The manager told us to just hang out while he awaited instructions from the owner. We were supposed to open at 11:00. The owner called and said that if there were no powers by 11:30 he'd give up on the day and let us go home. We sat around, drank Cokes and smoked cigarettes. At straight up 11:30, the owner called. I answered the phone. He instructed me to send everyone on. And so I did.
     Not a lot of setting up had been done so it wasn't long before we were ready to bail. I fixed myself a stout Jack and Coke, which I intended to ring up on happy hour the next night I worked, and chugged it down. I was about to walk out the door when the phone rang again. Again I answered. It was the owner. "Joe," he said, "Gorman can't make it downtown today, 'cause the weather's got him messed up down there." Gorman was a bartender at our other location and he lived way out in the country. "Being as how they've got powers and y'all aren't going to be open, I need you to go down there and fill in for him today."
     Awww fuck!
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     There's been a lot of devastion in America recently, mostly in the area roughly described as "the South." While you're on the computer anyway, why not check out http://www.redcross.org/ and see if there's anything you can do to help if you're so motivated and able to. Lots of places have been hit pretty hard, just one of which is Tuscaloosa, AL. The phone number to their United Way down there is (205)-248-5045.

High 8 Us ©2011 by Joe Sixtop all rights reserved

     Way back in the fall of 2010 I set out trying to become an influential restaurant blogger, but it hasn't worked out. Hell, I haven't even managed to become a trendy internet columnist. I've garnered a few readers over the months though and I appreciate all of ya. If you like These American Servers™, go ahead and really savor this edition, 'cause it's the last one there's ever going to be.
     Until the next one, that is. It's just that I'm not sure when I'll be able to serve it up. Work's got me going out of town to open a new store. I don't have a laptop or a SmartPhone® and I can't lug this desktop up there with me. What internet access I'll have (if any) probably won't be safe from prying eyes I'd prefer not behold TAS.
     So you can safely abandon your computer until the end of April. You might not need it again before the middle of May. Unless something crazy happens, like, say, if the angry ghost of Snuffy Stirnweiss returns and commences to cockblockin'—and perhaps there's a good reason so few Americans now fear his spectral wrath—I'm sure TAS 'n' I'll be back by then. Cheers!