I hung with my besties this weekend: Advil and Epsom salts.
I served three consecutive shifts at Wood. On Friday and Saturday, I went 4pm to midnight. And on Sunday, I did my traditional 9am-3pm. The money was sweet. My body was bitter. I try not to be a complainer but woe is me. My feet, my knee, my back!
Saturday night was particularly brutal. I rang more than I’ve ever rang. I flipped tables multiple times. I even had a party of ten and two parties of eight. I never stopped racing from table to table ensuring everyone had what they needed for an enjoyable experience. I try to be that server that I like to have when dining, attentive but not intrusive. I constantly hoover over my fiefdom. I watch the pace of their eating to fire a course and their drinking capabilities to ensure no one goes thirsty.
I had a solo gentleman on the patio. I kept watching him out of the corner of my eye. He was enjoying the people watching on Halsted which on this particular Saturday included the annual Naked Bike Ride (500 pedaling nudists). As he was sipping on his drink, something kept nagging at me. He had only ordered an entree and it still hadn’t arrived to his table. I finally went to compare the computer time I placed the order to actual time. When I pulled up his table, I realized to my horror no food had been requested.
I checked my notes. I typically don’t write orders down for tables of 1-4 guests. (Anymore than that, I write it down and check it twice.) My regular shtick is to dazzle my guests with memory feats including special requests. When I’m taking consecutive orders like on Saturday, I do write them down to keep all my tables straight. My scribblings are a table number and a cryptic descriptor: chix, no asp, xt m. And I write sideways and all over a piece of paper. For Table 82, I only had written 2Ti which was his drink.
I racked my brain trying to recall his order. I wanted to put it in with the phrase ‘on the fly’ as a request to the kitchen to prioritize it. Unfortunately, I couldn’t remember it. I had to go and ask the guy what he ordered. Humiliation! I was disgusted with myself. He received the news with a ‘no worries’ attitude. He explained to me he used to work at a country club and knew things like this happened. He was so kind. I want to be as gracious as he was to me when I’m in a similar situation. He finally received his roasted chicken dinner. He enjoyed it. And Franco comped it.
After that occurrence, I started writing everything down….well, mostly. I had a momentary brunch blip. I forgot to put food in…again. Luckily, I remembered my meal discussion with the couple. I quickly typed it in. When I went out to check on their mimosa sipping, she greeted me with a spontaneous ‘I’m having a beautiful day.’ So, I decided to not bring her down by announcing a delayed ETA on her lox. They were completely content and delighted with their entire experience.
150 guests over three days was mind jumbling. 22 hours on my feet was physically challenging. The late nights were followed by 4-5 hours of sleep. I awoke to an Epsom salt bath and three Advils. On Saturday, I also worked out with Josh. At the end of a session, he stretches me out. He does a series of pushing, pulling and folding limbs to loosen up my muscles. In the moment, I feel the pain of being stretched to the max. Afterwards, I feel amazing.
This morning I feel only slightly affected by a long working weekend. I’m going to do my sun salutations followed by an Epsom soak. And then I will bike – fully clothed- to work by way of the bank. My body is resilient. And my checking account is a little plumper.