My First Tip
All the training I did lead up to this moment. The manager would finally let me work out on the floor for the first time as a waiter. As nervous as I was, I wasn’t going to let no stupid mistakes get in the way of my very first table. I was ready for anything and everything that came my way.
I came to work a half an hour earlier that day, anxious to do what I was waiting to do for a whole year. Yes a whole year I stayed aside quietly, bussing tables off, watching as the waiters and waitresses smiled at their customers, and grabbed their winning prize after each party had come and gone. At the end of each night I got little two dollar tips from each waiter who I helped with their tables. This was good and all, but this didn’t pay the bills, I wanted more.
Randy, the guy who had been training me for the past three weeks, walked up to me slowly, chewing on some food he snuck from the kitchen. We went over some ground rules one last time, just in case. He had me say my welcome, as though he were the guest himself, and he had me pretend to recommend something to the guest. After much talk and no action, Randy jokingly pushed me off, as though I was the student who just completed the training. As I walked off, Randy was reminding me of the little things I should remember to satisfy the guest, but I wasn’t paying any attention to him anymore.
A little upset that I was doing morning shift, and not night shift where all the magic happens, I sat in the kitchen chatting with one of the cooks, until the restaurant opened. In what seemed like the slowest ten minutes in the world, we were finally open. I seemed like the only excited one their though, because to the other employees this was just another day. After another fifteen minutes of long waiting, a costumer finally walked in. The greeter however sat the guest at a section that wasn’t mine. Disappointed I sat down again, waiting for the next costumer.
I didn’t know how slow morning...