Another blog.. not sure how many exist about the restaurant industry. I am no where near my goal in life: Owning my own eatery. But I guess no one is really ever near their true goal of happiness until they luck out and get there through hard work...
If a goal is meant to be achieved, perhaps first a realistic glance at the industry itself must be considered..
Across America, restaurants are the fasest growing business.. and fastest failing. Across America, the national rate for a tipped employee is $2.83 per hour. In the state of Pennsylvania, where I serve as a full time office worker and part time waiter nights and weekends, the tipped employee rate stays flat at $2.83 per hour even though the state minimum wage rate increased to $6.25 on January 1 of this year.. it goes to $7.15 on July 1 in Pennsylania. Oh, yea... that tipped employee rate stays flat, yet, at $2.83 per hour..
I have worked as a waiter, cook, busboy, whatever, in some form or capacity since I was 15 years old. I strayed only a few times: I was a flower delivery boy (it failed miserably.).. I was a web-team developer at a newspaper (my boss got laid off and I got fired).. and I got a full time working as a prim and proper civil servant in what someone would call the "ritzy" city of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Somehow, though, even through all of the years I had full time employment, that extra "tipped employee" money was necessary.. and for some sick, REALLY sick reason, I enjoy doing it.
I enjoy the harrassment. The snotty customers. I take them as a challenge. I try to make them laugh.. sometimes they feel uncomfortable. But the magic of it all is that they can try to make me their personal slave and servant for the hour or so they are being waited on by me but I can still win. How? They can easily become my captive for the same amount of time. I can annoy them if I want. I can give them great service.. I can give them medicore. I can make lame jokes and watch in disgust their annoyance. It is a magical experience..
When one first joins the ranks of the tipped employee brigade, it can be messy. What restaurant worker doesn't have his or her story of a co worker (or even themselves) walking out in tears from a restaurant on a holiday or being frightened of the cook with a few too many ear rings.. or nose rings. Some kitchens may even have the cook that showed the body ring is a place no one should have one..
But notice through life: the bitter waitress with the bee hive hair.. The angry older man balding man that can't seem to leave the industry. It must be in the blood. The thrill of the fight..
Working in a restaurant is all chance. That table of four or five people may be the nicest most understanding and appreciative people on the face of the earth.. Or the worst and crankiest.
The thrill of the hunt. The thrill of the fight. Like urban warfare.. Go to a tables with guns a blazin'. Or quiver at the thoughts of waiting on the snobby doctor or cranky regular.
It's sick that it's fun. Self-torture.
Ahhh.. yesssss.. the restaurant industry.
A blog with dedication to the industry that has no dedication to its workers..
