Hi, I'm Josh and I'll be Your Server This Evening

During one of my nightly sleeping sessions this week, I had a nightmare.

I've had this nightmare many times, and I call it the "waiter nightmare."

I've been a waiter at two restaurants, about 6 months at each place.

During both times, I'd have this reoccurring dream at night that I was waiting tables and something would happen like I'd have to cover the whole restaurant, and none of the food was being cooked right, and people are yelling at me, and then I'd go into the kitchen to see what was wrong, and the cooks would turn out to be scary circus clowns laughing at me, and then I'd look for the manager, who would be played by some obsure actor that my subconcious held onto, and he would laugh at me, and then I'd end up sprinting out of the restaurant with people chasing me.

I'm sure a Freudian analysis of that reoccurring dream would reveal that the restaurant is symbolic of my mother, and the angry customers represent a fear of intimacy, the circus clowns have something to do with penises, and the laughing manager is really my father. The running away part at the end represents that I understand the importance of exercise.

I think the reason that I randomly had this old dream, even years after I quit being a waiter, is because I had been tossing around the idea of waiting tables once or twice a week, just as a way of changing up my work schedule.

This dream was a little reminder of what it used to be like.

I teach a lot of people to play the guitar nowadays.

I honestly had a "guitar lesson nightmare" once. It was along the same lines as the waiter nightmare, except that instead of having all the hungry customers yelling at me, with scary clowns in the kitchen, I had a bunch of students show up at the same time for guitar lessons, and I kindly apologized and explained that I made a mistake in my booking, and then they all understood and rescheduled.

I'm not sure if that was a nightmare.

Now I'm recollecting on why I should not be a waiter.

These are real things that I did as a waiter. I'm still friends with some of the people I used to work with, and they will verify the facts.

I never ever got comfortable with carrying drinks on a tray.

50 pounds of food was fine, but balancing those cups up there was impossible for me.

When I started, I had two people order two bottled beers and they asked for two glasses with them.

I didn't want to use the drink tray, so I carried the bottles of beer to the table in my hands and then they said, "Oh, and the glasses," to which I gave a sly smile and pulled two chilled glasses out of the pocket of my apron.

The customers had a look on their faces as if to say, "Um, there is lint on these glasses."

There indeed was a respectable amount of lint on those glasses.

I patted myself on the back after yet again cleverly avoiding the drink tray.

I also should not have been allowed to answer the phone at the restaurant.

I happened to be standing by the phone while the hostess was away, and I answered a call for a reservation.

The woman on the other end asked if she could make a reservation for about 6:00pm that Friday night, and I convinced her that there would be plenty of seating available and that it would be unnecessary to make a reservation.

She asked how I knew there would be plenty of seating available and I said, "because it's 5:30 and there's nobody in here." Seemed like the right answer at the time.

But she then got mad at me for some reason and asked to speak to the manager, to which I said, "sure," and then proceeded to put her on hold until she disappeared.

I patted myself on the back after yet again cleverly resolving an upset customer.

Sometimes the best stategy is to offend the customer to the point where they are no longer a customer. Like shooting a wounded horse. She just can't run on three legs.

I also used to eat some of the left over food.

Why?

I don't know. I was hungry I guess.

You see, I'd do a little role playing in my head.

Say a guy would finish half his burger and fries. I'd carry that plate into the dish room, and then a little movie would play in my head.

I'd picture myself as just a dude who happened to meet this guy, and the guy would go, "Hey man, you're welcome to sit here while I eat," and I'd go, "Well, alright, I guess." And then we'd have a conversation, and then then that guy would go,
"Damn, I'm full"
"Do you want the other half of this burger and the rest of these fries?"

And I'd go, "Really?" "Well I guess if you're really not gonna finish it."

Was that story really much different from the reality of me being his waiter and eating the rest of burger and fries in the privacy of the dishroom without him knowing?

Did he not say, "Dude, do you want the rest of this burger and fries?" with his eyes?

I think he did.

It's just kind of implied that when your waiter says, "Are you finished with that?", they are also saying, "Do you mind if I finish that?"

How could you mind?

Would you like me to throw it away or would you like me to enjoy the rest of it?

It's not like you're buying me lunch. You were gonna throw it away.

Ok, it's kind of like you buying me lunch.

But what if at the end of the meal, I came up and said, "Are you finished with that?"

"Yes?"

"Well, would you mind if WE finished that?"

And then out from behind me comes the cutest little homeless boy!



Now how do you feel?

Just let us eat your burger and fries.

I promise I'll let little Lee Roy eat most of it.

'til next time.