PART 3: HIGH ON THE JOB
Not getting paid when you're supposed to, or not getting the correct amount: This has happened to me at many places and for me this is un-acceptable and in-excusable. I work hard for my money, and don't mind waiting for it, if that is the system of the place I'm working at. If you tell me I get paid every Friday, that's when I want my money. If you tell me that the tips are paid the next day, which is understandable (because restaurants don't like to keep alot of cash on hand late at night). O.K., no problem, but the next day I want my money. Owners and managers seem to conveniently forget that my landlord, electric co., cable co., phone co., Internet co., so forth, and so on- don't accept excuses- they except payments...of cash.
Mistakes I've Made: I'm going to relate to many of the mistakes I've made because to go through and tell you about all of them, well I'd have to write two more books. The list is literally that long. The restaurant business is not unlike any other workplace. Just like any other job you have: ass-kissers, back-stabbers, 100% company people, lazy-people, gossipers, shit-heads, and bad-attitudes. Every restaurant has it's own complexion, and some are a whole lot worse than others. When you find a restaurant that has very little of those types of people, or less of those situations, and can make the kind of money you're wanting to make or close to it- you better dam well hold on to it, because those restaurants are hard to find. This brings me to one of the biggest mistakes I've made in this business, and that is letting people know your personal business. The more they know about you, the more they can hurt you (with your status at work). People will pretend to want to be friendly with you, and then turn on you- like a snake. So, my best advice is to separate your work life from your personal life. No one needs to know anything about you, as long as you show up for work and do what you were hired to do- to the best of your abilities.
Next up is substance abuse:
Which I've been guilty of most- if not all of my server-career. Whether it be drinking or drugs- neither one mixes well with work. The service industry is a very stressful business. First of all, nothing is guaranteed. At most places, not all, you never know what you're going to make- so if you're not conservative with your money, you have the constant pressure to make more. Then there are the managers or owners' bullshit (usually on a daily basis), 'do this, don't do that'. Nothing makes me happier than a stable work environment, like I can count on making a certain amount of money, my schedule stays the same, the manager or owner stays off my ass and lets me do what I know best (but all that is hard to find), so there's stress around every corner. Can't get my drinks made quickly, cause the fucking bartender wants to talk to their customers, or the kitchen is screwed-up and manager poorly- so my food comes out wrong or cold or not at all. The hostess is playing favorites and fucking-over, everytime a good party walks through the door. The bus boy is out back smoking a cigarette, and you can't get your table bussed or re-set. You made a mistake in ordering, and messed yourself up. Then on top of all of this, you have to deal with the customer- and you never know what you are walking into- until you start dealing with them. You have to remember that they are hungry, thirsty, could have had a bad day, (an argument five minutes before they sat at your table), which means if anything goes wrong- it's always a big deal, it gets amplified worst than it is (because their patience is worn). So you, the server, catches all the blame- if something is wrong.
Server's are under constant pressure to perform and perform perfectly. With all this type of pressure, is it any wonder there are so many alcoholics and drug-addicts-- in this industry. I'm not saying that drinking and drugging is O.K., but if you are going to participate in either one, I highly recommend not doing either while working- and here's why: It's hard for me still to work at a restaurant where I have access to alcohol, and not be tempted to slam a double-vodka on the rocks' down, and get a buzz. Here's where the problem begins. I never just have one. Which means a few things #1 The boss might detect a change in me, and figure out what I'm doing, and could cost my job; or I get rude or sarcastic- with an equally rude customer, and get a complaint, which also could cost me my job (it has happen several times).
I have a good friend that is part owner of a very nice restaurant- close to the river by the New Orleans Convention Center. And he was nice enough to give me a job, and everything was going great; then I came in the night of the BCS championship game between LSU and Oklahoma (GO TIGERS), and we were just slammed busy. During the course of the night the bartenders couldn't keep up with making drinks, based on the tickets, so we just started verbally ordering drinks- so I started drinking and drinking, and wouldn't stop. Not only did I drink all night from the restaurant, but Harrah's Casino had bars set-up outside the restaurant next to the hotel- to serve all the people outside. So it's the end of the night, I'm drinking straight vodka all night, and handling it until I decide to go to one of the Harrah's bars outside- and buy another drink. I order what I had been drinking all night, and this girl poured me a drink so big, it had to be six to eight shots of vodka (when I tell you it was big, I'm under estimating). So I slam the whole thing down, and go back to finish my last table, which were local LSU fans (GO TIGERS), that loved my service- but by the end I could tell I was having trouble speaking and or making sense. So somehow I get through it, and I'm at the computer trying to close out tickets and run my report. I said I was trying and not very successful. The alcohol was taking me over second by second, to the point that I was holding on to the computer for dear life, so I wouldn't pass out and collapse. I couldn't for the life of me figure out how to run the report I needed to run, which sober- I knew perfectly well how to do. So I'm holding on to the computer for dear life, trying to figure out what to do, falling asleep- when my friend the owner comes by and bust me. No doubt some other server ratted me out. So he comes by and says, "Raymond, what the fucks going on". Needless to say he was very pissed, and I was very fired. Good job down the drain. I made over five-hundred dollars that night on the floor. All because I can't keep my priorities straight. That's an alcohol story of which I have many, lets move onto a different substance, prescription-pills.
My first job was at Bozo's (which I bring-up in the beginning of this book), and I abused and worked under the influence of almost everything, probably except L.S.D. I'm talking about drugs I have used. I actually have never done methamphetamine or heroin. One day I'm getting ready to go to work at Bozo's, and decide I'm going to eat a Quaalude' before I go into work, (for those who don't know what those are) they were prescribed through the 60's, 70's, and 80's- for sleep, and give you a feeling of drunkenness when taken (lower your inhibitions and make you over-friendly). So I get dressed, at the time we wore black pants and white shirts. I get dressed, and get to work- only to discover: I have dark-green pants on :) O.K. probably could have made the mistake sober, but the pill probably helped me make the mistake. Then I'm waiting on tables, and I can feel myself getting really loaded. So I'm trying my best not to let on to co-workers, and especially customers- that I'm very fucked-up. I get some checks added-up by the cashier, who happens to be the owners wife, so one of the owners and I take one of the checks I just got, added it up- and I put it on a table, and told the people in a very slurred tone, "thank you, I hope ya'll enjoyed everything". That would have been fine had the table actually eaten, already. That's right, I was so loaded, I gave a check to someone who hadn't even gotten their food yet. Didn't get fired for this one, but anywhere else, and I would have. Actually, the people didn't even complain, probably pitied me and felt sorry.
So on we go to the worst one- that runs neck and neck with alcohol, cocaine. This drug has cost me more jobs through my career than I can count. Now, I actually still struggle with drinking or not drinking on the job (a ton of servers do), but my cocaine and pill-popping days are behind me. Most of the jobs I lost do to my coke-abuse, was just not going to work [no call- no show].
However, I do have a nightmare of a shift, that I had at the second place I worked at, and of all the places I've worked at my favorite- Randall's Restaurant. Randall's was a small place, and only had two servers for lunch. So I'm up all night doing coke at my apartment, I get ready to go in, and I'm petrified to go in- because with cocaine use comes extreme-paranoia. I get ready anyway, and show-up for work (because the others that work there all do drugs), especially the guy I'm serving tables with, Tim, whom I was great friends with. So just before I leave the apartment, I decide to do a Scarface-line (which if you saw the movie, you know is a huge pile of coke). So by the time I get to work, I'm flying higher than a kite. I really shouldn't be at work, but I had to try and cover my shift- which happen to be Sunday-lunch. So I get to work and struggle to help set-up, and the whole time in my head- I'm building paranoia about actually having to wait on people- because I'm not myself. It was so obvious that I was fucked-up, and that amplifies the paranoia' by the power of ten. So, I tell Tim whats going on (like I really had to say anything), that bitch was laughing , he thought it was funny (because he knew exactly what I was going through). So the people start coming in, and I was petrified stiff; I stayed hiding behind the register in the kitchen, and made him struggle keeping up with the tables (couldn't help at all), and of course it got busy. But, Tim managed to work most of the tables by himself. That is all but one.
Close to the end of the shift, I actually tried waiting on one table- of two two older ladies. I was a nervous wreck, but managed to get their order, and serve their food. Then I disappear into the kitchen. When I finally went back to the table, and check on them- I asked how everything was, and they responded, "could you just wrap our food to go, because we're too nervous to enjoy our food". Lucky for me the owner was home enjoying his Sunday, and not at work, because more likely than not- I would have been fired, and rightfully so.
Not getting paid when you're supposed to, or not getting the correct amount: This has happened to me at many places and for me this is un-acceptable and in-excusable. I work hard for my money, and don't mind waiting for it, if that is the system of the place I'm working at. If you tell me I get paid every Friday, that's when I want my money. If you tell me that the tips are paid the next day, which is understandable (because restaurants don't like to keep alot of cash on hand late at night). O.K., no problem, but the next day I want my money. Owners and managers seem to conveniently forget that my landlord, electric co., cable co., phone co., Internet co., so forth, and so on- don't accept excuses- they except payments...of cash.
Mistakes I've Made: I'm going to relate to many of the mistakes I've made because to go through and tell you about all of them, well I'd have to write two more books. The list is literally that long. The restaurant business is not unlike any other workplace. Just like any other job you have: ass-kissers, back-stabbers, 100% company people, lazy-people, gossipers, shit-heads, and bad-attitudes. Every restaurant has it's own complexion, and some are a whole lot worse than others. When you find a restaurant that has very little of those types of people, or less of those situations, and can make the kind of money you're wanting to make or close to it- you better dam well hold on to it, because those restaurants are hard to find. This brings me to one of the biggest mistakes I've made in this business, and that is letting people know your personal business. The more they know about you, the more they can hurt you (with your status at work). People will pretend to want to be friendly with you, and then turn on you- like a snake. So, my best advice is to separate your work life from your personal life. No one needs to know anything about you, as long as you show up for work and do what you were hired to do- to the best of your abilities.
Next up is substance abuse:
Which I've been guilty of most- if not all of my server-career. Whether it be drinking or drugs- neither one mixes well with work. The service industry is a very stressful business. First of all, nothing is guaranteed. At most places, not all, you never know what you're going to make- so if you're not conservative with your money, you have the constant pressure to make more. Then there are the managers or owners' bullshit (usually on a daily basis), 'do this, don't do that'. Nothing makes me happier than a stable work environment, like I can count on making a certain amount of money, my schedule stays the same, the manager or owner stays off my ass and lets me do what I know best (but all that is hard to find), so there's stress around every corner. Can't get my drinks made quickly, cause the fucking bartender wants to talk to their customers, or the kitchen is screwed-up and manager poorly- so my food comes out wrong or cold or not at all. The hostess is playing favorites and fucking-over, everytime a good party walks through the door. The bus boy is out back smoking a cigarette, and you can't get your table bussed or re-set. You made a mistake in ordering, and messed yourself up. Then on top of all of this, you have to deal with the customer- and you never know what you are walking into- until you start dealing with them. You have to remember that they are hungry, thirsty, could have had a bad day, (an argument five minutes before they sat at your table), which means if anything goes wrong- it's always a big deal, it gets amplified worst than it is (because their patience is worn). So you, the server, catches all the blame- if something is wrong.
Server's are under constant pressure to perform and perform perfectly. With all this type of pressure, is it any wonder there are so many alcoholics and drug-addicts-- in this industry. I'm not saying that drinking and drugging is O.K., but if you are going to participate in either one, I highly recommend not doing either while working- and here's why: It's hard for me still to work at a restaurant where I have access to alcohol, and not be tempted to slam a double-vodka on the rocks' down, and get a buzz. Here's where the problem begins. I never just have one. Which means a few things #1 The boss might detect a change in me, and figure out what I'm doing, and could cost my job; or I get rude or sarcastic- with an equally rude customer, and get a complaint, which also could cost me my job (it has happen several times).
I have a good friend that is part owner of a very nice restaurant- close to the river by the New Orleans Convention Center. And he was nice enough to give me a job, and everything was going great; then I came in the night of the BCS championship game between LSU and Oklahoma (GO TIGERS), and we were just slammed busy. During the course of the night the bartenders couldn't keep up with making drinks, based on the tickets, so we just started verbally ordering drinks- so I started drinking and drinking, and wouldn't stop. Not only did I drink all night from the restaurant, but Harrah's Casino had bars set-up outside the restaurant next to the hotel- to serve all the people outside. So it's the end of the night, I'm drinking straight vodka all night, and handling it until I decide to go to one of the Harrah's bars outside- and buy another drink. I order what I had been drinking all night, and this girl poured me a drink so big, it had to be six to eight shots of vodka (when I tell you it was big, I'm under estimating). So I slam the whole thing down, and go back to finish my last table, which were local LSU fans (GO TIGERS), that loved my service- but by the end I could tell I was having trouble speaking and or making sense. So somehow I get through it, and I'm at the computer trying to close out tickets and run my report. I said I was trying and not very successful. The alcohol was taking me over second by second, to the point that I was holding on to the computer for dear life, so I wouldn't pass out and collapse. I couldn't for the life of me figure out how to run the report I needed to run, which sober- I knew perfectly well how to do. So I'm holding on to the computer for dear life, trying to figure out what to do, falling asleep- when my friend the owner comes by and bust me. No doubt some other server ratted me out. So he comes by and says, "Raymond, what the fucks going on". Needless to say he was very pissed, and I was very fired. Good job down the drain. I made over five-hundred dollars that night on the floor. All because I can't keep my priorities straight. That's an alcohol story of which I have many, lets move onto a different substance, prescription-pills.
My first job was at Bozo's (which I bring-up in the beginning of this book), and I abused and worked under the influence of almost everything, probably except L.S.D. I'm talking about drugs I have used. I actually have never done methamphetamine or heroin. One day I'm getting ready to go to work at Bozo's, and decide I'm going to eat a Quaalude' before I go into work, (for those who don't know what those are) they were prescribed through the 60's, 70's, and 80's- for sleep, and give you a feeling of drunkenness when taken (lower your inhibitions and make you over-friendly). So I get dressed, at the time we wore black pants and white shirts. I get dressed, and get to work- only to discover: I have dark-green pants on :) O.K. probably could have made the mistake sober, but the pill probably helped me make the mistake. Then I'm waiting on tables, and I can feel myself getting really loaded. So I'm trying my best not to let on to co-workers, and especially customers- that I'm very fucked-up. I get some checks added-up by the cashier, who happens to be the owners wife, so one of the owners and I take one of the checks I just got, added it up- and I put it on a table, and told the people in a very slurred tone, "thank you, I hope ya'll enjoyed everything". That would have been fine had the table actually eaten, already. That's right, I was so loaded, I gave a check to someone who hadn't even gotten their food yet. Didn't get fired for this one, but anywhere else, and I would have. Actually, the people didn't even complain, probably pitied me and felt sorry.
So on we go to the worst one- that runs neck and neck with alcohol, cocaine. This drug has cost me more jobs through my career than I can count. Now, I actually still struggle with drinking or not drinking on the job (a ton of servers do), but my cocaine and pill-popping days are behind me. Most of the jobs I lost do to my coke-abuse, was just not going to work [no call- no show].
However, I do have a nightmare of a shift, that I had at the second place I worked at, and of all the places I've worked at my favorite- Randall's Restaurant. Randall's was a small place, and only had two servers for lunch. So I'm up all night doing coke at my apartment, I get ready to go in, and I'm petrified to go in- because with cocaine use comes extreme-paranoia. I get ready anyway, and show-up for work (because the others that work there all do drugs), especially the guy I'm serving tables with, Tim, whom I was great friends with. So just before I leave the apartment, I decide to do a Scarface-line (which if you saw the movie, you know is a huge pile of coke). So by the time I get to work, I'm flying higher than a kite. I really shouldn't be at work, but I had to try and cover my shift- which happen to be Sunday-lunch. So I get to work and struggle to help set-up, and the whole time in my head- I'm building paranoia about actually having to wait on people- because I'm not myself. It was so obvious that I was fucked-up, and that amplifies the paranoia' by the power of ten. So, I tell Tim whats going on (like I really had to say anything), that bitch was laughing , he thought it was funny (because he knew exactly what I was going through). So the people start coming in, and I was petrified stiff; I stayed hiding behind the register in the kitchen, and made him struggle keeping up with the tables (couldn't help at all), and of course it got busy. But, Tim managed to work most of the tables by himself. That is all but one.
Close to the end of the shift, I actually tried waiting on one table- of two two older ladies. I was a nervous wreck, but managed to get their order, and serve their food. Then I disappear into the kitchen. When I finally went back to the table, and check on them- I asked how everything was, and they responded, "could you just wrap our food to go, because we're too nervous to enjoy our food". Lucky for me the owner was home enjoying his Sunday, and not at work, because more likely than not- I would have been fired, and rightfully so.