Before I can make it into the breakroom, a serving lead for first shift grabs my arm. I flinch a bit, then turn to face her. She is standing with a girl I've never seen before.
"Sorry to scare ya," Ashley says. "This is Celeste, today is her first day."
"Oh," I nod. "I'm Bree. Welcome." I swivel on my heel to walk away, but Ashley grabs my arm.
"Actually, I thought I would have you train her," she says. Oh, hell no. Me? We have three crew trainers for second shift. I am not a person who likes training or really working closely with others. I got offered a crew trainer position, which I declined. I started as a hostess at 15, became a waitress at 16, and once I turn 18 in May I will be promoted to a serving lead. I am a little pissed about having to train her. Crew trainers get paid more, and I shouldn't have to do their jobs for less pay.
"Um, oh," I reply a little flatly. "Okay..."
"Adrienne called off," she explains. "You are definitely the best server in today that could train her." I try not to brag, but she is right. Helga is a major gossip and just sits on her phone half the night, Chris is awkward with customers, Marty has a short temper and sometimes gets into piss-offs with customers, and Sheila is only two months in. Not bad, but too new to train someone yet.
"Okay," I reply.
"Okay?" Ashley says. "All good?"
"Yup."
"'Kay. And you brought your uniform, right? You know you can't break dress code."
"In my bag," I say. "I was just walking into the bathroom to change, actually."
"Oh, okay." As I walk off, I roll my eyes. Ashley is working towards an assistant manager position. She is one of those irritating managers who is up your ass for your entire shift. She tries to bust as many people for as many things as she can so she can show that she means business. Yet whenever she is the only manager in for whatever reason, she sits in the office the whole time and plays on her phone.
I change into my uniform - a black v-neck tee, dark colored jeans, and black shoes. All black, because apparently it's classy or some shit. Personally, I think it is the slimming effect. Now, they don't make you flirt with customers, but the manager can be a little weird. During orientation, he says "The customer? Just make him happy. You know what I mean." There is a girl who would wear lowcut shirts and ripped skinny jeans - I'm talking about gaping holes in the knees and stuff, no write up. The manager even told her how nice she looked. Ashley just tries too hard.
I take one last look in the mirror as I put on a little eyeliner and gloss. Perfect. I have this down to a science. If I was at, say, school, I wouldn't even have on a drop of makeup. But since I wanna make tips and impress my superiors, makeup it is.
"Hey," A girl walks over to me and puts her hand on my shoulder. Why she is touching me, I don't know. It's a little weird and I'm getting uncomfortable.
"Uh, hi," I reply. I put my makeup back into my bookbag and start to leave.
"Should I, uh, meet you out there?" She asks.
"Just meet me by the time clock," I answer.
"Um," she starts to say with a sheepish look on her face.
"What?" I ask. I almost let an exasperated sigh sneak in, but I catch myself. This is why I could never be a crew trainer. These newbies have so many questions. I sure hope I didn't act this way when I was still new.
"I don't know where that is."
"Oh. Come with me, I'll take you."
"Do you mind if I go pee first?"
"Oh. Um.. sure." I check my watch. 3:55 PM. Oh, this bitch. I want so badly to tell her no, but again, I know better. This crew leader position is exactly what I need. Supporting a crackhead mother and a teenaged sister is difficult, but the position comes with a pay raise, and it would be my step up into management. I really need the money and I have a passion that even John, ths owner, told me he doesn't see all too often.
"Girl, you are one of a kind!" He told me.
I know I am. Everybody comes here just for the money. I do absolutely love leaving work every night with a fat stack of cash in my wallet. But I feel a sense of pride when a customer leaves in a good mood, or when they express to my manager that I am the BEST server they have ever had. I love getting through absolute nightmare rushes - the ones that weed the weak from the strongest. That is when yoy start to see true colors. You've got the newer people who get frustrated and walk out, the bad-tempered people who just take out their stress by just screaming at everybody, and the lazy people who are so upset that they actually have to put down the phone and do some work.
There's me, and a few others who anchor this place. Pretty much all of the cooks appear emotionless during rushes. They know that the second you start running around like a chicken with its head cut off, is the second you start to fail. There's a few amazing servers and hostesses who are able to handle their own as well.
I check my watch. 3:58 and she still hasn't left the stall. Are you kidding me right now? She finally comes out and smiles at me. She washes her hands and dries them. Instead of coming over to me so we can leave and go clock in, she pulls makeup out of her pocket and starts fluffing her hair. 3:59:31 PM. Screw it.
"Celeste, I really need to go clock in," I say politely.
"Oh, girl!" She hurriedly puts the makeup back into her pocket and rushes over to the door.
"I'm so sorry!" She follows me over to the time clock. It's 4:00:56 when I officially punch. 222Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIJ2IEbIPid
"This is the time clock," I tell her. "When you first come in-"
"Oh, Ashley already showed me this," she interrupts. "I just didn't want to walk alone."
"Oh," I reply. "Um, okay."
I lead her over to my section.
"So, four o'clock is when what we call changeover happens. Lunchtime switches to dinner. If you work mornings, the breakfast to lunch changeover is a bigger deal, because-"
"Oh my God, Helen!" Celeste squeals ans embraces a girl in a bear bug. "Yeah girl, it's my first night here!"
Vanessa, the server whos shift I'm relieving, shoots a confused look over at me. I shrug. I am impatient as all hell and this girl is really messing up my flow more than she should be. I understand saying hello to a friend really quickly, but they're talking about boys and parties now, she completely ignored me while I was trying to help her, and I need to get going. I don't know if she thought I just wouldn't give a shit, but I do.
"Celeste," I say. "We really need to get going."
"Oh, I'm sorry! I just saw my boo and got excited. I'll catch ya later, Hel!"
Internal cringe at 100.
"So, did you catch any of what I was explaining before?"
She gives me a sheepish grin. "No, I'm sorry. I saw my friend, and-"
"Well, don't get carried away again," I cut her off. "This is what we call changeover. It is now dinner time rather than lunch time. It isn't as big of a changeover as it is breakfast into lunch, but you do need to remember a few things. Make sure you grab all of the 11-4 lunch break drink special signs. If a customer sees the sign, even though it is clearly after four, we have to comp-"
"Are you serious?! That is so fucking dumb!"
"Yep," I reply. "So grab those. Make sure your hostess has dinner menus on top, which Adrienne is really good about, so we're good there. And, finally, it's subtle but important to grab the dinner glasses instead of lunch at the drink stations."
"Why?" She asks.
"I really don't know. I don't make the rules, the manager does," I reply quickly. "Alright, ready? This is Vanessa, she's our 8-4 girl."
"FINALLY," Vanessa says.
"It wasn't my fault, but okay."
"Breanna. I was kidding," she says. I sigh and shake my head. She and Celeste giggle. I know none of them will understand, but my work is the most important thing in my life. I put my all into it and when I come in, I'm all business.
"Sorry," I say. "I'm just... Tired. Anything I need to know?"
"Bree," Vanessa puts her hands on my shoulders. "You need to know how to smile. Lighten up a bit."
I don't budge a single muscle in my body.
She sighs. "No, Breanna, everything is good. I'm out. Bye."
Without missing a beat, I continue showing the new girl around. I feel as if I am talking to a brick wall. When I start explaining stuff like talking to guests, I notice her eyes wandering and her expression shows that she is totally bored.
"Um, are you even listening to me? I feel like I'm totally wasting my time here," I scoff.
"Oh! Yeah, I am! It's just.. I'm new here, but I'm not new to being a server. I've been a server for three years now at the Pancake Barn, it's just, they closed, and-"
"You were a server there, not here," I interrupt. "You need to learn the ways of serving here. I worked at Burger King when I was fifteen for a little bit, but when I came here, I had to be trained still. I couldn't just say, 'oh, I worked at Burger King, so I don't need training. Thanks though', know what I mean?" I never even worked at Burger King. I just wanted to show her that flawed logic. Besides, Pancake Barn? Really? Hardly serving. Grabbing drinks while customers hit the buffet isn't much of anything at all.
She makes a weird face and mumbles, "Um, sure, I guess."
"Okay," I say very solemnly. "A couple just walked in. Tonight, I'm going to have you shadow me. Just.. kind of blend in. You really don't have to say anything at all. Just watch me, listen to my banter, okay?"
She has a look in her eyes that I can't quite read. She doesn't catch my eye, but nods and follows suit as I go to greet the couple that just walked in.
"Good evening!" I bellow. I'm nearly shrieking. My customer service persona is ten-times different than my every day self. "My name is Breanna, I'll be taking care of you, as I'm sure you have figured out by now! Can I get you started with something refreshing?"
"Water," the woman in the booth replies flatly. She doesn't appear to be in the greatest mood. That can mean one of two things - she might just be very hungry and cranky because of that hunger. Or, she's just a pisspot and she's going to do everything she can to get a free meal.
"Um, wow," the man sitting across from her raises his eyebrows. He's a middle aged male, maybe around 40, decked out in business wear. His jet black hair is neatly combed. He just has this uppity look on his face. Like, 'I'm so much better than you and so much better than this place, but yet, for some reason, I'm here and blessing your presence.' He just looks like a jackass, and I would punch him if I wasn't at work. But, I'm customer service Bree, so I am just going to shoot happiness at him from my asshole.
"Yes?" I ask, still in a sugary sweet tone. Maybe my overwhelming sweet and innocent act will make him stop being a jerk.
"Well, first of all, the last time we were here, you TOTALLY effed up our order. We came in the morning for breakfast, and our food was DISGUSTING! Totally cold, and the service was just AWFUL! Are you stupid or are you dumb? After that day, I believe you should be on your knees thanking us for even coming back. And I think it might be in your best interest to comp us graciously if you want more than one star on Yelp."
Excuse me? Wow. Okay, so they're so uppity and above all else, but yet they are in a three-star restaurant trying to get free food. And he's a total tool. If you're going to try and be a hard ass, at least just say the word instead of "effed up". Besidea, I haven't ever worked a breakfast shift. I'm not trained on morning shift. I'm strictly second shift.
"I think you must be mistaken, sir," I say. "I am only a second shift server. I don't work breakfast-" I start to explain.
"ARE YOU CALLING ME A LIAR?" The man shouts.
"No! No, of course not," I assure him.
"Why don't you lose the little 'tude then, shut your mouth, and do your freaking job," he blathers. "Get a real job and then come back to me!"
I've never had a customer be this rude to me, ever. All I did was ask for their drink order. I've never seen them before in my entire life, and they have no problem screaming at me and blatantly disrespecting me. The non-customer service Breanna is really trying so hard to break free of her customer service persona. I remember when I was wee little, I watched my mom beat the snot out of some woman for making a comment about her parenting. I watched in horror, then she leaned in when she decided she was done and told me that was the way to solve all of my problems. I just wanna grab this tight-lipped bitch by her thin, greasy hair and throw her out the door. Then I would like to take an entire pot of coffee and pour it down her entitled, shitty husband's business suit then throw him onto highway 23.
My mind is racing, and before I can even respond, Celeste speaks up. "Who do you think you are?" She demands.
"Um, excuse me?" He cocks an eyebrow. His wife stays silent but keeps her face in a scowl.
"Celeste," I say. Did I not tell her to keep her mouth shut?
"So, you come in here and think that it's okay to blatantly disrespect this woman while she does her job? She asked you what to drink, not your feelings about the restaurant. And, don't you think, that if you had a legitimate complaint about the restaurant that you would have either resolved it at the time, or just not ever came back?"
His jaw drops to his feet. "Th-that is how you speak to a paying customer?"
"You're not a customer. Anyone could see it from a mile away. You just want free food. You're a freeloader, sir. You and your daughter here, are freeloaders."
"I'm his wife!" The woman snaps. Geez, that's what gets her the most riled up out of this entire encounter? Either way, Celeste is stepping way out of line. She seriously needs to calm down before this gets even worse.
"Celeste," I say firmly. "Ma'am, I will get you a glass of water. Sir, what would you like?"
"I want your jobs," he says through clenched teeth. "Get me your manager RIGHT NOW."
I obiediently nod and swivel on my heel. Celeste follows behind.
"Bree, I'm sorry," she says. "I just snapped, you're just doing your job and he-"
"Celeste," I lower my voice and speak to her through clenched teeth as we walk to the office. "My job is very, very important to me. More than you will ever know about. My little sister, she needs me to make this money. I have no choice but to work, and I take pride in my work. You may have a choice to be able to snap on rude customers. I don't. I just gotta deal with it. And if you can't control yourself, then you will not last very long here."
"Sweetie, he wasn't just any old rude customer. He was SCREAMING at you. I saw psycho in his eyes, and I was honestly afraid he was gonna lunge at you."
"DON'T call me sweetie ever again," I reply. We are now standing outside of the office, where Jack, the restaurant owner is sitting and eating crackers. She is so in for it now. "And you better tell him exactly how it happened."
She just nods and doesn't say anything. I knock on the door firmly.
"Whattaya want," he fake groans, then grins devilishly and motions for us to come in. I stay in the doorway and keep a very firm, serious tone as I tell him that there is a disgruntled guest in my section.
"Well, disgruntled how so?" He asks. "Basically, are they fishing for free food? Do they want a refund? Long wait for food...?"
"Um, no, actually," I reply. "Celeste could explain better." Jack leans towards us in his chair and looks at Celeste. She sighs deeply.
"Listen, I may not have reacted appropriately, but I've been a server for three years, I've been taught that if a customer is gettin' too touchy, too drunk and obnoxious, or just acting completely unreasonable and belligerent for no reason, I am allowed to defend myself AND refuse service. I came here because you told me the customer is NOT always right, and if-"
"Hold up," he interrupts and puts up his hand. "Breanna, was this not your customer?"
"Well, yes," I reply.
"Okay, so Celeste, why were you even with her customer?"
"Well, Ashley has me training with her tonight."
"Um, and why?" He asks.
She shrugs. "I was confused, too. I was told that since I have so much experience, I could just start on the floor tonight after my tour, and just find someone if I had a question."
"So, Ash asked you to train her?" He asks me.
"Yeah," I reply flatly.
He nods as he gets up. He asks me to take him to the customer.
"So I understand he had a problem with the food, what?"
"No," Celeste says. "He was screaming at Breanna something about how the last time he was here, his 'whole order was effed up' because of her, how terrible she is, how she needs to comp his order or else he'll bash us on Yelp, and how she needs a real job. All she did was ask what he wanted to drink."
"Seriously?" Jack responds. "Wow. And so, how come you couldn't explain this, Breanna...?"
"Celeste, tell him why they want to speak with him."
"Because I-I intervened and stuck up for her," Celeste admits. "And I wasn't very nice. I told him that he was being disrespectful basically and that he can't talk to her like that, and when he asks if that's how I speak to a paying customer, I told him that he's not a customer, he is just a freeloader."
We are almost in spitting distance of the couple now. I can literally hear the woman talking loudly on the phone about how this is just the worst restaurant ever, and her husband sits pouting in his suit. Jack stops dead in his tracks.
"Seriously?!" He asks.
Uh-oh. She is so in for it now. She should have just kept her little mouth shut.
"Yeah" she replies confidently. He gives her a high five, then points to the couple and asks in a low voice if they're the ones.
"Uh, yep." He strides to the table confidently with Celeste trailing behind, and myself a little further back from the rest of them. Luckily, nobody else has been seated in my section. As he walks up, the woman is whining about how she hasn't even gotten her water yet.
"Don't you think you would have gotten it a little faster if you were a little nicer to your server?" Jack clears his throat and interrupts her conversation. The woman drops her cell phone and her jaw.
"What?!"
"Breanna asked for your drink order," he replies. "I know she did. She is an experienced server and I have never had a problem in the past two and a half years that I've been employing her. Not one complaint, ever. She isn't even trained on the morning shift, so she certainly didn't 'eff up' your order. If you've ever even eaten here before, it definitely wasn't her who served you. So, what is it then? You see a young girl and think you could get away with scamming her? You really thought I'd be some shmuck in a bowtie, begging you to stay and showering you with free shit?"
"Um, no!" She replies. "First of all, we ALWAYS come here for breakfast. So, maybe it wasn't her who messed up the order, but it's still on her to make it right! Second of all, my husband was very calm and polite about the whole thing, merely letting her know that the right thing to do would be to comp our orders. Then, this girl behind you just comes SCREAMING at us! For no reason! I hope you don't care much for this business, all of your employees are incompetent and clearly you are too! Once I get on Yelp, I will have this place SHUT DOWN. I know many important people, and-"
"Shut the hell up," Jack interrupts her. "You have an issue, you go to the manager. Or, even me, the owner. Anyone with even half of a functioning brain cell knows that a young girl can't do anything about their make believe issues, let alone one that apparently happened a while ago. Get the hell out of here, I will not let you disrespect my employees like that, and neither of you are welcome back here."
Business suit pipes in. "SERIOUSLY?! We, as paying customers, give this shit hole a second chance for, like, the millionth time and THIS is how you treat us? You, sir, need a lesson in customer service! You think you can talk to my wife like that?!"
Jack chuckles. "Get out. Leave. Now."
"And what if we don't leave?" Business suit asks boldly.
"Do you really want to find out?" Jack asks, rolling up his sleeves. His marine tattoo is visible on his forearm, making him look like kind of a badass. He's also got at least a foot on Business suit, a stocky body in the general shape of a tree, and an overall "don't fuck with me" look on his face at all times.
Business suit's wife quickly says, "No, we don't. We're going to leave."
"Smart choice," Jack replies. Business Suit turns beet red and doesn't even look at Jack as he passes him on the way out the door. Jack chuckles and rubs his hands together.
"Well, entertainment for today, I guess." I just stand in stunned silence. Celeste giggles.
"Now, I don't like to be that guy," Jack says. "But, sometimes, I have to be. Celeste, I hired you with very high confidence in you. I know that you are very experienced in handling tough situations - now don't make the attitude a habit. You'll get some bitchy old ladies, uppity jackass dudes, but unless they're being blatantly disrespectful, you gotta hold your tongue, capiche?"
"But, Jack, they-" she starts to protest.
"Celeste, I'm on your side and fully back the way you handled that situation. I'm just asking you to be careful."
"Okay," she replies. "Capiche."
"Okay. Cool, cool. Breannana? You okay?"
"Yeah," I reply. "I'm fine. Thanks."
"That was a lot to handle," he says. "Ash is a moron and scheduled all quirky - how bouts I send you home early and Celeste can take over the operation?"
"What? No!" I protest. "I'm fine, seriously, I want to work."
"Breanna, sweets, you've been getting so much overtime lately, illegally must I add, go home and get a break. Besides, I have faith in Celeste. She can do this."
"Jack, I really would prefer to stay. Please."
"Breanna, don't make me get uncool," he says in a warning tone.
"Yes, sir," I mumble and slink back to the locker room trying to fight back my tears. All I want to know is what the hell just happened.
ns 15.158.61.45da2
