What's A Girl Have To Do To Get A Little Service Around Here?

Apparently, the answer is "Call me."

This was my first weekend where I did substantial work on day off. And in the middle of what was a really great day off. I spent three hours calling customers, emailing the restaurant, and rearranging car services for Chef. I set up shop at the bar of a mom & pop chinese food restaurant, nursing a single can of diet coke working from my "virtual office."

Now, the first series of interruptions and phone calls caught me on a 30-block walk with a cute guy I had just had lunch with...but never one to try to impress, I of course took the call, wrote the emails and allowed myself to be interrupted. Fortunately for me, he later told me that he found the whole experience "fun." Score 1 for me.

In The Devil Wears Prada, the friends and lovers in Andy's (Anne Hathaway's) life resent her being on-call, give her grief for interrupting meals to take a phone call, ditching plans to do work for the boss. But to my mind, that's what she was paid for. And if they don't like it, they should offer to pay her rent for her.

And for the three remaining weeks I'm definitely working for this restaurant group, that's what I'm being paid for too. If they call me and I'm physically able to answer the phone, I will take it. I mean, I'm making more than twice what I was a cocktail server for the month, and I appreciate that the money is in exchange for my services. My services these days are no longer a smile and a drink menu, but rather my ability to have time to do things people more important than me don't. And props to my friends who have handled my frazzled interruptions with the same sense of humor I try to bring too.

I was feeling sort of stressed out by the time my phone calls and emails ended. It was sort of a wake-up call that my second attempt to socialize this weekend was thwarted by the blackberry. Friday night there was a big event that Chef was at, along with his first assistant. I had been instructed to be "on call," meaning reachable for the evening. When I finally joined up with my friends for a quiet evening of insobriety and Paul Newman flicks around 10:30, I was still theoretically on the clock. When the berry went off with an email from Chef thanking everyone for a successful evening, a great sigh of relief was exhaled. That was around 11:30 pm.

For the lawyers, paralegals and med students reading this, my plight seems small. Because it is. It's just that I haven't been asked to be so available to my work maybe since my last major collaborative art project in college. I'm getting used to it. Slowly but surely, my new life is making more and more sense to me.

Ode To Kelly Cutrone. Part 1.

OSure, I bought her book hoping for advice about working in a fast paced, diva driven office environment but instead got her general musings about how to learn who I am. Although her description of fashion pr as her yogic ashram falls on deaf ears, Kelly Cutrone has wisdom to offer me. Below are some amazing clips from Bravo's "Kell on Earth." After a busy second day at the office, I have a new found zeal in watching these.

Legit, I have been given speeches at the new office like the one Kelly gives at the end of this clip. Except the part about crying. And her book-title-worthy advice is one I plan on following for the rest of my life.



On why I should be busy and stressed out:





Why it's bad to commit legitimate crimes. Particularly crimes related to or benefiting from my job:



How not to answer phones (this clip takes place at Kelly's company)




The restaurant office I now work in only has 2 male permanent staffers, but is run by a male chef/owner. One of the two men in the office is the only person in the office to not be on the main floor in a semi-private workspace. He's a big deal. But of the worker bees, only one man's in the trenches. I think Kelly would have lots to say about it, including that maybe the reason the women in my office are such type-A stone-faced crazies is because they are fighting a little harder than the men to be taken as seriously in their careers. Plus she mocks Ryan Seacrest to his face. Twice.




Kelly, teach me how to toughen up and work in a legit for profit office environment. And how to look great while doing it.

How's Your Backhand? Good? Good.

Oh, summer time, how I love your promises of lushery, concerts, hanging out on balconies and fire escapes, cute dresses and new haircuts. I have grown accustomed to the fact that I am a mosquito magnet and weirdly proud of being an SPF 55+ wearing body double for any of the pale folks of Twilight.

New Yorkers are weirdly forward, I think because there the odds of seeing some random schmo you had words with in line or on the subway are so damn slim. Still, I've been surprised by the apparent city-wide reaction to my alabastery.

Drugged out man on subway last night, after I had sneezed twice: You must have allergies. Are you allergic to the sun?

Italian man in the East Village: Wow. You're so white. What's your name?


I could go on. But my all time favorite this summer came from a middle aged, leather-skinned customer. She was the gaudy type, who has probably been tanning regularly since the tanning bed was invented in 1978. I was serving her something appalling like virgin cosmos in the mid afternoon while she was with two men having some sort of casual meeting. I was wearing a cute, short, black skirt so I guess she saw this as an invitation to talk about the skin I had exposed.

"I just want to let you know I think it's great that you haven't caved into the pressure to tan. You look fine."

I smiled, holding my tray. "Thanks" I replied, but before my backhand could help itself from continuing the volley I added cheerily, "Getting skin cancer would really suck, you know, and for what, vanity?"

How Much Would This Best Man Have To Pay You?

This morning's daily Craigslist fix had a job posting that makes me hate affianced American men:

Need Cute Topless Female Poker Dealer and Bartender Friday Night (Chelsea)

We are a group of laid back young professionals who are getting together to celebrate an upcoming marriage of one of our closest friends. We are looking for two girls who are willing to be our dealer for our poker game and our bartender while we play. No poker/bartending experience is necessary. The one stipulation is that you are willing to be topless and wear boy shorts or something similar. We are a group of guys in our twenties who are just looking to have fun - nothing creepy. We are willing to pay $70 per hour plus tips from 10:30 - 1:00 on Friday Night. The rate is negotiable. Please send pics or email back if interested and we can talk on the phone.

• Compensation: $70 per hour plus tips, rate is negotiable
• This is a part-time job.

Ugh, everything about this irks me. Don't worry, chickaboo, we're professionals! C'mon pleeeeaaaasse, this is not just a friend but one of our closest!!!!! See- it's just for fun, nothing creepy. But the kicker is for $210 base plus tips you could work a good night shift at a restaurant where you're allowed to keep your clothes on. Funny how that works.

What a bunch of assholes. And without any bartending experience those drinks will taste like crap.

When Customers Flirt I Feel Sorry For Them.

I mean, not always. But I can't say that potential relationships are why I waitress. According to teen shopping catalogue and website mecca Alloy, that's exactly why they rank waitressing as one of the best summer jobs.

Why It Rocks: Tips, tips, tips! Not only is the money good, this is a great job to meet people! Who knows? Maybe you'll nab something more than just extra cash, like a yummy new BF!
Why It Sucks: If a customer wants a burger with everything on separate plates, you've gotta do it. And you gotta do it with a smile on your face. Annoying? Yes. But it's your job to make your customers happy.

HELLO. Separating things onto individual plates is so not the suckiest part of waitressing. How about standing for 8 hours at a time without a real meal? Or, getting cat calls from the dishwashers (fyi, enough women complained so now our dishwashers are on serious probation). Or how about customers who are trolling for something to be angry about? And the money is only good if you are working prime shifts at busy restaurants. And I've yet to meet a male customer I'd want to see outside of work.

But yeah, if all the romanticized notions of waitressing are true, I guess its just like totally the best summer job ever!

I Rock! But Not At Basic Arithmetic and Algebra.

Serving from 2 pm - 9:30 pm, I sold over $1200 today. ON A MONDAY!!!!!!!

Sure paperwork that should have had me out the door no later than 10 kept me till 10:45, but hey, at least I had real numbers to crunch.

What many people are surprised by is that servers are responsible for reconciling what their computer generated sales report tells them they owe with what they have. Sitting in the itty bitty un-windowed office in the basement of the restaurant, we count every credit card receipt to make sure we have the right number of Visa, Amex and Mastercard charges (we take Diner's Club but I've yet to see one come out). The report also tells us how much cash is owed- this figure represents not the total paid to servers in cash, but the cumulative total of cash bills. The hope is that there is left-over. The difference between cash owed and cash had is cash tips. Put those is a seperate envelope. On this envelope, also write the number written on the report as "total service charges." That number represents the charged tips earned. Separate receipts for any comps or voids and put those in the comps and voids file in the office. Wrap the cash owed and all the credit card receipts with the report and put them in a bank envelope for the controller. Ok, the easy part is done.

What I find difficult is the endless arithmetic and calculation to determine the tips. When you work the 2-10 shift, which I often do, it is your responsibility to figure out total tip earning for the daytime staff, daytime staff being defined as all tipped employees who worked between 7 am-5 pm. Today, that meant : 1 Bartender, 1 barback, 2 bussers, 2 servers, 1 food runner, and 1 barista. We are a pooled house which means everyone get a percentage of the tip pool. The way we figure out who get what is by a point system. A server's hour is worth 4 points, a bussers 2 and so on. Dividing the total tips earned in the day by the total points earned gives you the value of a point. Then you just multiply across-

HyperActiveBusser worked 4 hours at 2 pts/hr = 8 total points. 8 X pt. value = daytime tips earned.

You think this should be easy but its not. The totals don't always add up, after the end of a shift its hard to push all the right buttons on the calculator, and I'm pretty sure that I skipped a step in my description seeing as I seem to often have to re-do my math for having skipped or over-looked something. Thankfully, there's usually a supervisor- theoretically there is always a supervisor, but sometimes they leave you alone and just initial your work.

Watching me struggle with figuring out what numbers go in what column, what times what divided by what equals a point, and why my numbers kept not working I shared with my flabbergasted supervisor that this is the part of serving euphemistically "doesn't come naturally."

"Ivy League?" he said. "Proud Arts and Literature double major," I replied.








For those of you who know me, and for those who don't, understand my majors have been generalized to protect my anonymity...from Them. They're Watching.

A Little Pathetic Can Go A Long Way.

Like so many people, m4m is not used to having free time on his hands. And he's looking to fill it commiserating, I mean networking, with other people who no longer work since that's the way to get a new job right?

Check out this ad on the Boston Craigslist Strictly Platonic Board:

Lunch group for unemployed/underemployed - m4m (North shore)

A significant decrease in the demand for my work has left me with a depressingly amount of free time, and I thought that an unemployed/underemployed lunch group would provide a chance to get out of the house and maybe network a little.

My idea is that we would meet at a Chilis/Applebees style place on the northshore every couple of weeks to socialize and network. Folks who are fortunate enough to be working full time but still want to get out of the office would be welcome to join as well.

I additionally would enjoy a STRICTLY PLATONIC buddy or two to visit with on the weekend; I enjoy eating out, movies, long walks, etc.

Please let me know your thoughts and good luck with your job searches.



Aside from his terrible taste in food and ambience, I actually think this man is onto something. I just don't understand why underemployed women can't go eat the shitty food too. I also don't understand why another m would be attracted to a long walk with this obviously fun-hating downer of a guy.

Working As A Waitress In A Cocktail Bar Has Yet To Make Me Famous. I Clearly Need Philip Oakey.

So many fantasies at once, some more realistic than others, some more noble than others:

-Getting discovered on the job.
-Discovering some chick on the job.
-Having an acting career
-Facilitating acting careers
-Walking away from a 5-year relationship obviously built on inequality
-Being the Galatea to his Pygmalion
-Being the Higgins to her Doolittle.

For the record, I haven't been discovered on the job. Yet.

Don't Touch My Tail When I'm Cocktailing!

Through a series of scheduling mishaps that came my way, I got evening cocktailing shifts Saturday and Sunday night. I worked my lil' patootie off. Speaking of posteriority, I have a general rule that all customers, particularly male customers should adhere to which is, namely, don't touch the merchandise.

When cocktailing, I keep the drink menus in my back-pocket. The menus are tall and narrow so they fit nicely and I hate wearing those little cocktail aprons. While talking with a table of middle-aged women that had been drinking for a couple hours Saturday afternoon and thus deserved my attention when they wanted to chat, I felt a menu disappear from my back-pocket. Out of the corner of my eye I see an athletic late 20-something hulk of a man walk away with a menu. The women looked at me scandalized, and I just stood there slack-jawed. "I wouldn't mind if he touched my back-pocket," one of the drunk ladies said to me. Before I could stop myself I blurted, "I'm uncomfortable."

Maybe I should have said something to him when I went to take his order. I mean, he didn't cop a feel, but he definitely didn't respect my bubble (butt? Lame joke). Something like, Now that you violated my personal space, what else can I do for you. But I didn't say anything. I just took his order and avoided him as much as possible.

What's funny is that much later at night as things were really busy, a male supervisor snuck a menu too, since he had cranky guests he needed to appease. Kind of bugged me, but if I were in a pinch and he had menus in his back-pocket I might consider...

Need to get some ass? Put menus in your pants.

Another Creepy Visual.

I have seen some pretty damn creepy stuff in the kitchen. Pig heads, sausage creating, terrine making- none of these pork products are creepy in and of themselves, but like the picture of Padma in the post below, sometimes cooking and eating stuff is just kind of weird.

This ad for sausage is kind of disturbing.




Looking at Jenna Jameson slurping an oyster is kind of disturbing.





This ad for beer is extremely disturbing.

Don't Worry, Just Stop Acting Like A Girl And You'll Be All Better.

Like every other underemployed person, my resume is on monster.com. And I get a ton of advice-giving emails from them. Often they're stupid. This one titled "How Dating Rules Can Help You Get A Job" is just offensive.

You want a job?, it asks its obviously job-hunting readers, stop acting like a girl who can't score a man and you'll be fine!

That's right. The key to getting a job is to: play hard to get, not talk about your ex for fear of current date's self-esteem, remember he won't change but you can, and to not give "it wink wink" away without commitment.

I encourage you all to read the article, but if you don't I will leave you with this quote:

"Business, like dating, has rules of engagement...With the dating game and the job market more cutthroat than ever, I’m up for any advice that helps me get ahead in the hunt. Now if only someone would help me balance my checkbook, I’d be all set."

Excuse me, but if you can't balance your own checkbook you won't be able to keep the job you get anyway because raging morons are expendable these days.

In Which I Get Sad and Sore. Or, Another (Damned Early) Breakfast Event.

Today I was a one-woman special event show. Arriving at 7:30 AM I swept the space and set up the coffee service. Our clients arrived at 8, at which point I started serving and bussing all by my lonesome. Their guests arrived at 9- I was on till noon. The good news? No tip sharing. The bad news? I am really fucking sore. The "tray" I would hold for 15 minute intervals was not a tray but a wooden butcher board, approximately 10 pounds. Now, I'm no weakling, but you try holding ten pounds of circular wood with bite sized treats on it with one arm for a grand total of four hours and see how your wrists and shoulders feel.

The event was fascinating. A fashion PR firm transformed our event space into a store showcasing the sartorial goodies of their client. Buyers, editors, and stylists came in like an open house to view the clothes and get swag from the firm. Dress code was either cute little dress with black tights and black tall heels or slouchy jeans rolled with wedges and a sensibly feminine men's shirt. The whole scene was very "Kell on Earth."

What really effected me though was how these women (and three gay men) ate. The bites we served were in no way light, just little. Some women literally salivated as I described each item, but couldn't bring themselves to lift their hand to my tray. Some women took one item, and nursed it. Others abstained, claiming huge breakfasts. Some would eat, swoon from the long forgotten taste of carbohydrates and fat, and then talk for at least a minute and a half about how large they were getting this month. Others ate happily, and to them I say, Cheers! You need to eat to live so you might as well enjoy it once in a while.

I Talk To You And Give You Food Because That's How I Get Paid. Get Over Yourself.

Like so many men, emerging country singer and former pizza delivery guy Jonathan Byrd knows the simple pleasures of having a woman around. And though he seems to be kidding, his song does hit an anti-feminist nerve. Why is he in love with his waitress? Because she is a pretty woman who calls him sir, because she smiles at him, checks in to see how he's doing, because she listens, and because she will "come back till [he's] had enough."

An Afterthought : Here are some pet names costumers have called me at work. I bet they would never use these inappropriate diminutives with the male servers.

Honey
Sweetie
Dear
Angel
Love