Nothing good can come from answering the phone.
Phone calls at a restaurant are the most annoying, gut wrenching, and irritating of daily rituals that servers are forced to endure that cause head shaking bewilderment and pure unadulterated anger.
I work with a bunch of kids half my age who spend every free moment texting, sending “BBM’s”, sneaking out back to check their messages, and walking around downtown Halifax with their cell phones literally glued to their heads.
But when the phone rings at the restaurant, they run away likes it’s a bomb about to explode.
Not that I can blame them.
It could be a Dalhousie frosh calling from the residence hall.
“ Hi! (yelling) I’d like to make, like, a reservation for a bunch of us.”
Certainly, how many all people all together.?
(yelling down the residence hallway but with the mouth piece close enough that is shatters your eardrums) “Hailey!!! How many of us is there? WHAT? Like, is Kaylie going? What about, like, Bailey?? Like, ten?”
Now returning to you as your hearing slowly returns, “There will be, like, ten of us.”
Perfect, and for what time?
“Hailey!”
You get the idea. Fifteen minutes later you have a reservation for ten nineteen year old girls from Ontario all with names that begin with an H or K and finish with a ley, lie, or la.
Meanwhile your five table section has completely gone to hell in a hand basket as a family is waiting for their sundaes, a douche bag is wants his Coors Light, and the real estate agent is trying to pay her bill.
Reservation phone calls generally are painful, especially from a woman.
When a man makes a reservation, it takes about fifteen seconds.
Man: “I want to make a reservation. Smith, four people, tonight at seven, my phone number is 956-9078.
A woman?
“Hi there how are you today. I have a silly request and I am not sure if you can fulfil it but i was just wondering if I could make a reservation at your restaurant. I have several friends coming into town, we all went to college together, and I’m hoping to reserve a table for six on Friday night.”
Server: (not sure if it’s your turn to start talking) Um..,yes for sure, six for Friday night, perfect. What time?”
Woman: Well they fly in at two o’clock and then were going shopping on Spring Garden Road and stopping for coffee at Steve O Renos, you know the one by the Fireside.”
Server: Um…yes.
Woman: So hopefully we’ll be finished after a few hours and I might take them up to show Citadel Hill, then I thought it would be nice if we walked down from there, assuming the weather is nice, I think it’s calling for sun, but you never know in Halifax, ha ha ha.”
Server: So….what time?
Woman: “Well I think six o’ clock should be good.”
Server: Okay, so six it is! I just need a name.
Woman; “ Well let’s see, as I said there are six of us, but I guess I can put it under my name. I’ll give you my first name, it’s Kelly. No wait, I’ll give you my last name, Smith. Actually, you know what, make it for Kelly Smith.”
Server: (leaning over host stand in exasperation) I’m really afraid to ask, but, your phone number please.”
Sadly, the above illustration is neither hyperbole or exaggeration, nor am I smart enough to know if they mean the same thing. But I do know this, you tip percentage on the tables you are supposed to be serving, instead of listening to a woman’s plans for the day, just dropped about five percent.
This is just an example from the never ending assortment of phone calls you can receive that can drive you completely insane.
There’s the bored housewife who wants you to describe the entire menu. The stressed out secretary ordering delivery for the office. The patio zombies wanting to know if the deck is open and hoping you can envision the future to determine if they’ll be able to get a table.
There’s the call to see when you close, to see when you open, the call to see if you are open, the call to find out where you’re located, the enquiry as to whether the menu has gluten free options, and of course the call to see if a missing pair of sunglasses has been found.
If you work in an authentic restaurant you’ll get a call asking for step by step directions on how to make Souvlaki, or Tacos, or Bangers and Mash. If you work in a sports bar, a call to see if you are showing the big game.
Since the dawn of the cell phone there has been the emergence of the Excuse to use the cell phone call. These people call with the most trivial little matters such as letting you know they will be two minutes late for their 3:00 reservation, or to check to see if it’s looking like rain on your side of town, or to find out what your specials are even though they are coming to the restaurant anyway.
The list of examples just goes on and on and on. And that’s just from customers.
There are the calls from your own people. Remember, servers have no life skills, so every day your bombarded with calls from staff asking if they work today, or if you can sign them out from last night, or if anyone is looking to work because they want to go to the Seahorse.
Next thing you know you’ve spent thirty minutes trying to see if you can get Carlie, Jenny, or Suzie to work for Laura because she wants to go see Three Sheet.
Next it’s a call from your owner, or a contractor looking for the owner.
“Is Rick the owner there?” No. “When do you expect him back.” I don’t know. “Well I’ll tell you why I’m calling…” and so forth, always finishing with “ and what’s your name?”
This is a favourite of business people and administrative assistants. The idea here is that if any thing goes wrong, the person calling can hold you responsible. It doesn’t matter that any combination of one hundred things can happen that will keep the owner from getting a message. If he doesn’t, it’s on your ass.
Over the years I’ve used a bevy of different alias’s when answering this question. Sometimes I’ll use the name of a fellow employee I don’t like, or the name I always wished I had. Other times, I’ll pause for several seconds while my mind slowly tries to come up with one.
One time I actually asked a secretary why she needed to know my name. To her credit, she honestly quipped, “So I know who to blame if something goes wrong.”
“My name is Gunther”.
The preferred trick of most servers of alleviating themselves of an annoying phone call is to answer the phone, put it on hold, then tell another server the phone is for them.
The unknowing server then answers the phone anticipating the voice of a friend, only to end up with a customer looking to place an order for delivery but needing help with the menu because their five year old has a dairy allergy.
Cold.
But it’s the servers own fault, they forgot the cardinal rule of serving; nothing good can come from answering the phone.
Halifax Server lives on the Peninsula and loves Halifax. Follow him on twitter @halifaxserver, and on Facebook. Email Server at halifaxserver@gmail.com.
