Adventures in Waitressing, Part II

“Excuse me!” I heard faintly as I left my section, a load of heavy, dirty plates in my arms. I kept going. My arms were full, the voice was coming from a table I wasn’t serving, I figured they could wait till I got back, or their server returned.

“EXCUSE ME!” came a scream from that same table.

I turned, a look of consternation and inconvenience on my face. I didn’t care- it was getting late, I was exhausted and I was also clearly busy. But, I went to the table. “Yes?” I asked, trying to be polite.

“Sorry, but we’ve been trying to get someone here for a while now.” The young woman explained unapolagetically. (Ok folks. Saying sorry only really works if you at least sound like you mean it. Or, if you’re me, it works if you’re dripping with sincerity while you imagine the person you’re apologizing to getting shipped to Albania in a crate.)

“So what can I do for you?” I asked, shrugging my shoulders (as I really couldn’t make any other appeasing gesture.)

The young woman pointed to a page in the menu. “I want to order this drink.”

I looked where she was pointing. It was an advertisement for Absolut Raspberry vodka. “I don’t know what that drink is. That’s an ad for vodka.” I replied.

“But you have it?”

“We have Absolut Raspberry vodka, but I don’t know what that particular mix is in the picture. It’s just an ad.” I didn’t know how to make it more clear.

“Yes, but it’s in your menu! Do you have it or not?” She asked prissily. (Newsflash, Peaches: We also have pictures of people enjoying themselves while working in the menu… do you see any of that going on right now?)

“Like I said, that is an ad for vodka. It’s an ad just for raspberry vodka.” I had no idea how to get through to her, but luckily my fellow server, who was in charge of this particular table, joined me and then took over. I tried to warn her- I tried to somehow, without insulting anyone, convey what the situation was, but she took no heed and assured the young woman that we did, indeed, have the drink she wanted.

The next time I saw the server, the bartender was telling her we don’t carry Mike’s Hard Cranberry. I shook my head and tried to explain to her what the customer wanted. At her baffled look, I simply ended the conversation with, “She’s a moron.”

My co-worker nodded with resignation, setting her face to return to the table empty-handed.

This was thankfully near the end of my shift. Of course, at the start I might have handled the whole thing with more grace, but if you ever find yourself looking at something that is clearly an advertisement (and the drink in question, because it’s an ad, is water and food colouring) please don’t try to order it. If you’re stuck on what you want to drink, ask your server. If she’s me, she’ll give you some lackadaisical suggestions before you finally ignore them all and go with a virgin daiquiri, and if she’s someone who values her work, she’ll talk up the drink special of the day. Either way, you save yourself from appearing to be amazingly dumb and completely obtuse.

My Weekend of Firsts

This adventure took place a couple of weeks ago: That grand first weekend in October! The first of October, the start of a weekend of Firsts for me!

First thing #1: I partook in a meatball & mashed potato dinner at the Ikea restaurant. Oh, you don’t think that’s a big deal? For your information, I love going to Ikea. I’ve been shopping there for years (not really to buy things, though it’s shocking the amount of Ikea stuff I have, but just for the experience of wandering through the displays and hitting up the “Swedish Marketplace” because I love the candy) but I have never once stopped in at the restaurant for a meal and a break from the modern European space-saving furniture. Friday night, it was different. My friends and I stashed the items we planned on purchasing in a nearby container of children’s hangers and set off to peruse the menu.

After some deliberation, I went with my first instinct. I chose the 15 meatball meal with mashed potatoes, gravy, and lindonberry jelly. To drink, I had a veggie cocktail. (I try to strike a balance between healthy and terrible when I go out. Sometimes.)

The verdict? Well, I have to admit, my enjoyment of Ikea has increased. There’s something about a simple, kind of greasy meal of meatballs swimming in that light Swedish gravy that makes you feel much more confident in your ability to navigate the store. Plus: cheap food! The next time I want to go to Ikea, I’ll make it an Event.

First thing #2: Slot machines. As my friends and I departed Ikea (we were forced out because it was closing...), we pondered what to do next. One of us suggested Woodbine. I had never been there and then I admitted I had never played a slot machine before. It was decided: We would go to Woodbine and gamble.

After some confusing turns and a stop to ask for directions, we were there. My ID was inspected suspiciously, but I was let in. The flashing lights, the loud cartoonish noises, people sitting listlessly in front of whirring machines- the slots were everything I imagined them to be! I withdrew some money, allowing myself twenty dollars to play with. We stuck to the quarter slots, except for some nickel and dollar plays. I briefly became addicted to an “Enchanted Unicorn” machine, which was where I ended up losing most of my money. I won approximately $4, so though I started with $20 and left with nothing, I like to think I only really lost $16.

The verdict? Slot machines are a lot of fun. With their bright lights, cheerful noise and overall shininess, they seem to be made especially for me. But as those gambling addiction ads say, know your limit. Because I know I could easily lose all of my precious little money in 25 cent increments.

First thing #3: Korean food in a Korean restaurant, in Koreatown. This came as a surprise even to me. Korean food? I’ve been living in Toronto for the past seven years! Of course I’ve had Korean food! Wait... well, I’ve never had Kimchee, um... what are other Korean dishes, again? ....I am filled with disappointment and shame: I have never eaten in a Korean restaurant. Before this, the last time I was in Koreatown, I went to the Irish pub. And that’s just sad. Because Korean food is DELICIOUS! Beyond what we ate, I was looking at the other tables with envious and greedy eyes. Pork Bone Soup? I’m there. Cooking my meal at the table? Sold! A rice dish that involves cooking an egg after it’s been served? Beyond awesome.

The verdict? I was scrambling to come up with ways to justify going to a Korean restaurant for my family’s Thanksgiving dinner.