Almost all servers at a restaurant will work at least one 12 hour shift during the weekend, give or take an hour or two. However there’s always the one server who steps into a time zone that only few have entered, and fewer have come back the same person they were before entering.
2)Will have anywhere between 2 to 3 lengthy arguments with the bartender or kitchen manager.
3)Becomes desperate for a bottle of Gold Bond medicated powder (males only)
4)At various points will be on the cusp of being cut, only to have a a table of six to ten people sit in their section.
5)Mind will completely shut down for several minutes while they are at the POS trying to ring in orders, leaving them staring blankly at the screen while other servers are waiting behind them.
6)Drop a tray of drinks.
7)Go for a Cigarette and nearly faint walking back inside because the “smoke rush’ hit them like a ton of bricks.
8)Get off work, have the best tasting cold beer of their lives, then realize they are back in tomorrow morning.
A staple of Canada Day. After a long, arduous day of cooking in a hot kitchen, prepping for the night staff, and bickering with stressed out servers, the Kitchen Manager claims his stool at the bar, and begins pounding them back. One beer, two beer, three beer, four. Onwards this grizzled, weary leader of men pounds back cold suds slowly sending himself into a drunken stupor that spells impending doom for the tired bartender.
If your a fan of drama and confrontation, spend a few hours on a bar stool near the area when bartenders make drinks for servers. You’ll be front and centre for some of the most unusual, dysfunctional, irrational, immature, and belligerent discussions you may ever hear. Chances are good you’ll hear the following comments/arguments.
Bartender: There’s still some limes in the tray.
Server: I know, I’m just letting you know there’s only a few left.
Bartender: The fruit tray is right there, you think I can’t see how many limes are in there?
Server: I’m just trying to help!
Bartender: (Dumping a bucket of limes into fruit tray) There’s your fucking limes.
Bartender: What Caesar
Server: The Caesar I rung in 10 minutes ago.
Bartender: No, I didn’t.
Server: Well I need a Caesar right away.
Bartender: Well I need to know you rang it in before I make it.
Server: I rang it in!
Bartender: I don’t know that.
Server: (sigh of disgust) Fine, I’ll go check my screen.
(Three minutes pass, then a chit comes up on the Bar printer for a Caesar, server slowly approaches bar)
Server: There! Can I get it now.
Bartender: (smugly) Certainly.
Bartender: They’re sitting on top of your chit for 2 Keiths.
Server: I’m just making sure.
Bartender: I think we can assume they are yours.
Server: Jesus Christ, I’m just don’t want to make a mistake (walks away in huff)
Bartender: (yellling) Stab you chit!
“We need more water”
“What garnish do I put on this”
“Do I have to serve Table 25, I had a date with him 3 years ago and he never called me back”
“Who cut these limes?”
“We need more straws”
“I’ve been waiting 10 minutes for these drinks.”
“Can I get an Iced Tea for myself.”
“Can somebody run these drinks”
“Who’s drinking all this water!”“You, whatsyourname, run this for whatshername”
“I’m not making Chocolate Milk”
“It’s a Pepsi, just put a lemon on it for fuck’s sake.”