The Complete History of My Life Since April 20th
I returned to my home in Oregon after something like 10 hours of driving and one 2-hour roadside nap. My apartment was remarkably clean even though it had been recently partied by a large group consisting of raver kids, stoners, alcoholics, crusties, and acid-heads. They were over-joyed to see me and seemed worried that I might be upset about the party. I wasn't. I only wish I could have made it to the party. Sounds like they had good times. I actually hoped that they would throw one in my absence and even suggested it before I left.
I returned to work on no sleep and after being cramped in my car for 12 hours. The shift was horrible. I was hosting and Rachael was freaking out about how busy it was even though it wasn't very busy at all. She was rude to customers, rude to me, and made my night a living hell. The next day was busy and I washed the dishes happily knowing that I would have a profitable server shift the next day.
Sunday was insane. The day, which was already busy, got crazy busy all at once. Not only that but it stayed busy all day. I picked a double shift and worked dinner too. It was even busier than lunch. Tips were good- and then something amazing happened near the end of the night.
I got a table with about eight people. They were awesome. They were fun and easy and I was at the top of my game. When it came time to pay the bill, which was $86, the woman handed me the check and told me that it was all mine. I thanked her and went off to take care of the ticket. When I opened it I saw not one but two one-hundred dollar bills. I was shocked. She had left me a $114 tip. I don't know it you guys know that about food service but this sort of thing DOES NOT HAPPEN. It happens in movies, and people always hope that it will happen but it just doesn't. None of the other servers had ever received a tip like this before. I went back to the table and candidly asked if she was sure she intended to leave me so much and she smiled, told me that it was no mistake, and made kissy faces at me. I was ecstatic. I showed my manger and told her what happened. She congratulated me and seemed very happy for me.
Then, later that night, she told me that I couldn't wait tables anymore. She said that it had nothing to do with the $100 tip or other specific event. She said that she had simply received too many complaints about me. I was shocked. I know that I had been doing well. I had seen only positive comment cards and no manager had ever told me that I had received a complaint. I still don't know exactly why it happened. She told me that she thinks that I should go to a chain restaurant like Denny's or Olive Garden, get some more experience and then come back. She also said that she did not want to lose me and wanted to keep working for them even while serving at another restaurant.
Fuck them.
This is where Ken gets angry. Up to this point you have read the official, if only surface view of the events. Now things get interesting. If you have the patience and willpower to read on, you will not be disappointed.
Here is what really happened.
My bosses at Standing Stone were pissed that I had taken a vacation, not only that but things fell apart a bit when I left. Friday was hell because I wasn't hosting and they had to rely on other less capable people on one of the busiest nights. Saturday was a nightmare because I wasn't washing dishes (I am second only to Delia at washing dishes) during the busiest 8-hour period of the week (1-9pm- covering both Saturday lunch and dinner). Sunday went smoothly in my absence but Jesus didn't look at the schedule and didn't show up on Monday night to wash dishes. The shit hit the fan that night. Dishes stacked taller than a man.
I roll back into town a week later. A big smile on my face and a slight tan. They are a little jealous and understandably a little mad about my absence. It had been a rough week and I had been off partying instead of working my ass off for them like I usually do. My bosses are upset that they have to rely on me so much and angry that I have the audacity to go off and lie on the beach in the sun. So, they want to punish me even though the know that they still need me. So they take away my tray.
From their dim-witted, plush, upper-class, point of view this makes perfect sense. Keep me in my place, keep my swelling ego in check, and keep making thousands of dollars off my labor every week. Keep me doing what is most profitable for them.
But wait! There's more you see, the 51% owner of the restaurant and his wife have always made me nervous. I know that he expects me to kiss his ass when I am waiting on him. It's only natural. He's rich, and I'm just some peon that works for him. He is God and this is His Kingdom. So I treat him just like I treat everyone else. I figure that he is a reasonable man and will understand that every table is of equal importance. His wife, on the other hand, seems attracted to me and probably thinks that with enough money and pull she might just be able to rope me into bed with her for a quick fling with a peasant boy.
Two more paragraphs and we'll be almost done, so bear with me because we are about to get sexist.
I am one of only two male servers at the restaurant. There are something like 50 servers. I have no doubt that one of the reasons that I was told that I couldn't serve anymore is that I am not a cute twenty-something female with a great body. Rich white male tourists don't want a cute twenty-something male with great body flirting with their wives and daughters. They want hot women waiting on them and flirting with them. And the owners know it.
This brings me to the other servers. They love me because I'm Ken. Helpful, caring, understanding, and a great listener. They hate me because I work faster than they do and take a fat ass slice of the tips every night. I always make good tips. I am ruthless. You have to be- it's part of the game. But, being ruthless has it's downside. I climbed very quickly in the hierarchy of servers. Too quickly, it seems. I started to compete with the servers at the top- the ones who take home more money than anyone else in the restaurant (except the owners, that is). One server in particular has a problem with me. She is at the top of the pyramid- she is the queen, a goddess of food service even. When I told her about my incredible tip -she was green with jealously. She was so angry. I think that she complained about me that night. She has incredible pull at the restaurant. And, at the end of that night, I was cast down.
So, what did I do? I did what any reasonable person would do- I got so sloppy drunk that I lost nearly all sense of rational thought and caution and decided to go take three hits of acid before going into work the next day. Fortunately, I did not follow through on that particular decision.
Instead, I decided to find another server position, or possibly a bartending position at a competing restaurant. I have at least five good references from Standing Stone and they need me a hell of a lot more than I need them.
So, I'm quitting. Fuck the fucking fuckers. They have no idea what they have done.
I returned to work on no sleep and after being cramped in my car for 12 hours. The shift was horrible. I was hosting and Rachael was freaking out about how busy it was even though it wasn't very busy at all. She was rude to customers, rude to me, and made my night a living hell. The next day was busy and I washed the dishes happily knowing that I would have a profitable server shift the next day.
Sunday was insane. The day, which was already busy, got crazy busy all at once. Not only that but it stayed busy all day. I picked a double shift and worked dinner too. It was even busier than lunch. Tips were good- and then something amazing happened near the end of the night.
I got a table with about eight people. They were awesome. They were fun and easy and I was at the top of my game. When it came time to pay the bill, which was $86, the woman handed me the check and told me that it was all mine. I thanked her and went off to take care of the ticket. When I opened it I saw not one but two one-hundred dollar bills. I was shocked. She had left me a $114 tip. I don't know it you guys know that about food service but this sort of thing DOES NOT HAPPEN. It happens in movies, and people always hope that it will happen but it just doesn't. None of the other servers had ever received a tip like this before. I went back to the table and candidly asked if she was sure she intended to leave me so much and she smiled, told me that it was no mistake, and made kissy faces at me. I was ecstatic. I showed my manger and told her what happened. She congratulated me and seemed very happy for me.
Then, later that night, she told me that I couldn't wait tables anymore. She said that it had nothing to do with the $100 tip or other specific event. She said that she had simply received too many complaints about me. I was shocked. I know that I had been doing well. I had seen only positive comment cards and no manager had ever told me that I had received a complaint. I still don't know exactly why it happened. She told me that she thinks that I should go to a chain restaurant like Denny's or Olive Garden, get some more experience and then come back. She also said that she did not want to lose me and wanted to keep working for them even while serving at another restaurant.
Fuck them.
This is where Ken gets angry. Up to this point you have read the official, if only surface view of the events. Now things get interesting. If you have the patience and willpower to read on, you will not be disappointed.
Here is what really happened.
My bosses at Standing Stone were pissed that I had taken a vacation, not only that but things fell apart a bit when I left. Friday was hell because I wasn't hosting and they had to rely on other less capable people on one of the busiest nights. Saturday was a nightmare because I wasn't washing dishes (I am second only to Delia at washing dishes) during the busiest 8-hour period of the week (1-9pm- covering both Saturday lunch and dinner). Sunday went smoothly in my absence but Jesus didn't look at the schedule and didn't show up on Monday night to wash dishes. The shit hit the fan that night. Dishes stacked taller than a man.
I roll back into town a week later. A big smile on my face and a slight tan. They are a little jealous and understandably a little mad about my absence. It had been a rough week and I had been off partying instead of working my ass off for them like I usually do. My bosses are upset that they have to rely on me so much and angry that I have the audacity to go off and lie on the beach in the sun. So, they want to punish me even though the know that they still need me. So they take away my tray.
From their dim-witted, plush, upper-class, point of view this makes perfect sense. Keep me in my place, keep my swelling ego in check, and keep making thousands of dollars off my labor every week. Keep me doing what is most profitable for them.
But wait! There's more you see, the 51% owner of the restaurant and his wife have always made me nervous. I know that he expects me to kiss his ass when I am waiting on him. It's only natural. He's rich, and I'm just some peon that works for him. He is God and this is His Kingdom. So I treat him just like I treat everyone else. I figure that he is a reasonable man and will understand that every table is of equal importance. His wife, on the other hand, seems attracted to me and probably thinks that with enough money and pull she might just be able to rope me into bed with her for a quick fling with a peasant boy.
Two more paragraphs and we'll be almost done, so bear with me because we are about to get sexist.
I am one of only two male servers at the restaurant. There are something like 50 servers. I have no doubt that one of the reasons that I was told that I couldn't serve anymore is that I am not a cute twenty-something female with a great body. Rich white male tourists don't want a cute twenty-something male with great body flirting with their wives and daughters. They want hot women waiting on them and flirting with them. And the owners know it.
This brings me to the other servers. They love me because I'm Ken. Helpful, caring, understanding, and a great listener. They hate me because I work faster than they do and take a fat ass slice of the tips every night. I always make good tips. I am ruthless. You have to be- it's part of the game. But, being ruthless has it's downside. I climbed very quickly in the hierarchy of servers. Too quickly, it seems. I started to compete with the servers at the top- the ones who take home more money than anyone else in the restaurant (except the owners, that is). One server in particular has a problem with me. She is at the top of the pyramid- she is the queen, a goddess of food service even. When I told her about my incredible tip -she was green with jealously. She was so angry. I think that she complained about me that night. She has incredible pull at the restaurant. And, at the end of that night, I was cast down.
So, what did I do? I did what any reasonable person would do- I got so sloppy drunk that I lost nearly all sense of rational thought and caution and decided to go take three hits of acid before going into work the next day. Fortunately, I did not follow through on that particular decision.
Instead, I decided to find another server position, or possibly a bartending position at a competing restaurant. I have at least five good references from Standing Stone and they need me a hell of a lot more than I need them.
So, I'm quitting. Fuck the fucking fuckers. They have no idea what they have done.