Last night Clara, Earl, and I went to dinner at a local restaurant whose name will be Anonymous. Not because the food was bad or the service lacked. But because our server was new, and I don’t want to cite anything that might give her away. This isn’t about embarrassing her.
Rather it’s about how to detect that a server is new and how to cut him or her slack on the occasion when you or I happen to be the first customer that person serves in the restaurant we’ve chosen for a relaxing dinner.
The hostess seated us and immediately the server appeared, eager and anxious. She asked what we’d like to drink from the bar; and, after letting the women he was escorting order, Earl asked for a Kir. The server’s face went blank. It seemed to be a foreign phrase to her.
“I’ll put these drinks in right away; and I don’t believe I mentioned my name is R*******. If you want anything, just ask.” She smiled and steered toward the bar. Shortly she returned saying the bartender couldn’t find, Crиme de Cassis, one of the ingredients for Kir. She apologized profusely, as if the bartender’s inadequacies reflected her own. So Earl asked for something simpler, a glass of white zinfandel, and R******* headed back to the bar.
When the drinks arrived, R******* asked if we were ready to order. We said no, that we wanted to enjoy our cocktail first. “I don’t want to be inattentive,” she said, “but I’ll let you relax. And, in case you need anything, my name is R*******.”
This was the first clue that R******* was new. She continued to ply us with her name all evening. When we finally ordered, she seemed confused about some of the things on the menu and marched off to the kitchen for the right answer. A seasoned server would not have had to do this.
We eventually placed our orders, amid many questions and much checking for answers. Was the walleye prepared to order? Was it pan fried or deep fried? Was the salad bar included on the evening’s special? R******* worked hard to find the right solution, even though it required several more trips to the kitchen. And even though it entailed apologies for having to do so.
Finally, she announced that this was her first evening on the job alone. Earl smiled, as if he had already figured it out. Clara and I were not so savvy, but once R******* described the situation, it became apparent.
Every communication with R******* required an answer on our part. “May I remove this cocktail glass?” “May I take your salad plate?” “Do you need a box for leftovers?” It was as if she needed permission and assurance at every step, in order not to make some faux pas. At the same time, this interrupted the flow of our conversation.
We endured it pretty well, but toward the end when R******* wanted to know if she could take the check, which had Earl’s credit card resting on it, we all looked at each other and almost broke out laughing.
I’ve never been a server, so I can’t really say how jittery I would be on my first night. But I have eaten out enough to know that I would need to appear confident, even when I wasn’t. I would need to do some homework too. I hope R******* realizes this. And soon.
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