Announcement to the Public on Service

People have often mentioned to me that I should be a comedian. Most of the people who’ve said this don’t really know me and therefore have no idea of the phobia I have of public speaking. “Oh you’re so funny!!! You should really try to do some stand up!” they say. I find the idea of this absurd. It takes balls to stand in front of a group of people and crack a few jokes that you hope are funny enough to get at least a giggle from your audience. Yes, I am witty, but most of that wit comes when no one is around to witness it, or after the moment has passed, so at a time too late. Still, I won’t lie. I have daydreamed of what it would be like to make people laugh using the examples of my either exaggeratedly boring or seemingly hectic life, because for me life is either at one extreme or the other.  I’ve imagined me standing there on my platform, my soapbox, and have thought about some of the topics I would love to cover. My number one topic would be about working with the public, primarily restaurant work.

It’s a war zone out there. A scene from a warrior movie like that of 300 where each warrior has got a million tiny missions to complete, and all of them are going on at the exact same time. Obstacles get in the way, slowing the process of completion down, and yet in this scene instead of suffering physical battle wounds, it’s the spirit of the warrior that gets shot down. So here is a public service announcement:

The server life, it is no joke, especially for those of us who live it on a day to day basis. Some days are minor battles, or maybe even a day of rest. Most days are a fight to the finish, your enemies ranging from being either your customers, to fellow coworkers, to even that of management.

When it comes to the customers, life in the server world can be totally exhausting. From the moment a server clocks in until the very second they clock out, an identity isn’t what they have.  They are service-bots, actors with script changes for each table that is under their care. Each table is different and therefore calls for a case-by-case approach on how to deal with each one. Servers are like pilots navigating a flight, each table being a flight, every destination being that of satisfaction. Servers analyze which best route to take in order to get each and every table to their destination with the least amount of turbulence as possible. For instance for one table I’ve got to play the role of the “at your beck and call” waitress who uses “yes ma’m, no sir” after every question and sentence. I chuckle at your awful white collar jokes as I top off your cucumber lemon water, and continuously kiss your ass while you shower me with compliments like, “Oh you really are great at following directions. Keep it up kiddo..” with a pat on the back, and then tipping me 15%.  Where as the table right next to them, laid back and carefree, I can around joke with and serve them effortlessly without feeling as though I am a slave to their dollar and their dinning experience. I can literally be myself while I work, which at this point it doesn’t even feel like work, and then obtain a 22% tip and minus the back-handed compliments. So can you imagine the emotional and psychological toll serving can at times have on a person? Constantly changing who you are from table to table, for hours at a time, while also being looked down upon by most of your customers. Because, people aren’t kind you know, especially in this industry where most look down upon us thinking that we’re “stupid”, and “lower class” compared to them, even if we DO, for the most part, make more money than they do. I’d like to also take this moment to mention that you, the customer, don’t need to say any of these things. It’s not like you have to say it to our faces that you think we’re incompetent.  After many years of working in the “biz” servers become exceptional people readers. It is in your actions, or lack there of, it is in the inflection of your voice, it is in the way most of you don’t even look at us while speaking. You don’t have to tell us that you think you’re better than us. You show us with every second that ticks by.

Like I described before, waiting tables isn’t for the faint of heart. In a time where we’ve never been so connected to those not only around us but also those millions of miles away, our social skills are, unbelievably almost non-existent, making dealing with the public, simply said, a pain in the ass. The consideration people have for others is limited and manners? Manners are now a rarity. Where before manners were almost a prerequisite in life, now I find myself going out of my way to actually thank those for using them, especially children.

Servers (bartenders, bussers, food runners, ect…) deal with your messes. We clean up after all of you and that means wiping away all the crumbs that have fallen out of your mouth. We pick up the dirty napkins  you’ve wiped your runny nose with. We clean up the puke that spews from your child’s lips. We take care of the pee puddle that your grandfather left behind because he didn’t realize that he had to go. Think about this the next time you decide to tip $5 on a $50 simply because you may have chosen a restaurant that was little bit above your price range, or because the kitchen messed up your unrealistically high expectation to make you something that wasn’t even on the menu to begin with. Let me add, servers aren’t heartless animals. We understand that at times, what you would like to tip us isn’t what you can manage at the time. Maybe it’s an anniversary and you wanted to take your love out to a nice dinner that normally you cannot afford. Fine, but at least don’t work us tooth and bone all the while knowing that you aren’t going to compensate us for our wonderful service. Clean up after yourself a little instead of leaving the table as if 13 unmannerly vikings were feasting before heading out on the water. Or if you’re not going to tidy after yourself because “that’s what servers are for” at least put the damn lid to the ketchup back on the bottle for fucks sake.

Not all servers are great servers. I will say though that the majority are. There is also a small portion of shitty servers who are usually pretty great but just have had a shitty day. It happens every day in the human world, and don’t forget, servers are human too. Remind yourself that the next time you go out to eat. Think of how we servers tend to follow customer cues so if you find yourself in a situation where the service may be a little questionable, ask yourself if maybe, you the customer, set that tone, for some customers have a personality to repel anyone from wanting to deal with them and their crazy antics. Take your blinders off for a second and take a look around you, is your server insanely busy taking care of five other tables and not just yours? If they’re working hard and not just standing around joking with their co-workers, I would excuse them on certain things like timeliness or forgetting to top off your Coke for the third time. There is a difference between good service and bad service. A bad server hasn’t the personality or character to handle all that comes with this job. They simply don’t care and eventually they either leave or get fired. Most times it’s the later. A good server gets the job done. A great server is submissive to their customer, fulfilling their every request, all done with a huge smile painted on their face and with an aura about them that gives off that they care, even if deep down inside they truly don’t.  Which ever the type of server, we are all just trying to make a living. We are all trying to survive, just like you, the customer. So I say, if we aren’t allowed to treat you the way you may deserve to be treated, how about you make our job easier and more pleasant by treating us like… well… like human beings because compassion and love, even in places of work, is a wonderful motivator, and what goes around, comes around.

10541926_290656201122848_106468059_n (2) Photo Credit: Natal Galvan



Effing Hormones

She sprayed me. Right in my face. She took the hose that she uses to spray the crap off of dirty dishes and sprayed me in the face with it.

She’s my work hoe. I love this girl. She washes the dishes at the restaurant I work at and her and I are inseparable. Whenever we have shifts together, usually every Thursday, her and I are fucking around the entire day. We gossip. We play pranks on each other. Whatever needed to make the work day flow with fun that’s what we do.

Work gangsters is how I’d describe us. We’re good at our jobs. We never call out. we go hard and play hard….

Except on this day.

I went to sleep the night before feeling emotional. I woke up the next day with a headache, my boobs hurt, and emotionally sensitive. Yes, if you’re thinking that these are the symptoms of a girl’s menstrual you are correct. I hadn’t gotten it yet but these symptoms always start up a few days prior. I knew it would be a long day at work but I mentally prepared myself for it. On my way into work I repeated my morning affirmations that would allow me to positively get through the day.

But then… I get to work and the mood sets in.

I clock in and look around. The place is empty. It’s that time of year where school is back in session and so the tourists on the island are gone. It’s going to be a slow day and if the rest of the week is looking like this I for sure won’t be able to pay my rent on time…again. Normally, this fact wouldn’t bother me so much. Things get paid when they can get paid, but today is different. My “friend” is coming to visit so therefore I’m suffering of multi-personality disorder. There is happy me and irritated me. Right now I’m irritated me.

There are four servers scheduled to work today so we definitely won’t make money. I’m thinking about talking one of my co-workers into letting me close for them so that I can make every dollar I can make while here, when I walk into the kitchen and my work hoe says, “Mija, what’s wrong?? I can tell you’re not you.” and she pulls one of my curls that dangles by my ear. I inform her about my “friend” arriving in the next few days and she understands. I mean it is the one thing that no matter what kind of girl you are, we can all relate on this one issue. So she got me, or so I thought.

A couple hours pass and although I’ve only had a few tables I am exhausted. Another one of the many crappy symptoms of this desired yet annoying monthly visit. It’s 10:30 am and since I did end up talking my co-worker into letting me close (which really didn’t take much talking) I still had about 5 hours left. No matter which way I looked at it, today was a no win-win situation.

I clear the empty plates off my only table and run them to the overflowing bus tub. I do this of course, while getting their nasty, double-dipped, ketchup all over my fingers. One of my biggest peeves at work. I head back into the kitchen and wash my hands. As I walk back to the trash bin, throw out the paper towel I used to dry my hands and turn around,


I am struck in the face with a steady stream of water. I stand there with my eyes closed for what was probably a millisecond but felt like 5. All I hear are the laughs of my co-workers. My work hoe got me good.

Typically I can appreciate this type of prank. Hell, it’s something I would to her. Today not so much. I opened my eyes and saw her curled against the corner laughing. “Lana!” I yelled half serious half jokingly and as I stormed passed her to grab another paper towel I took the opportunity to slap her hard in the back. I head straight to the ladies room to check on my make-up. I didn’t have much on but I figured my hair already looked a mess, Florida humidity does NOT play, my face should at least look decent. I get to the door, locked. Of fucking course.

I walk back into the kitchen to finish wiping my face. Lana is still back there laughing. “You hit me so hard I think you knocked a lung out!” She says through her giggles. “Good!!” I say “I can’t believe you hosed me in the face! The FACE! I still have the entire day to go and not only do I feel like shit but now I look like shit!” She begins to laugh harder, “Oh shut up. You got me back good with that hit. Plus, you always look like shit.” It took all of my strength to not hurt her. I was so annoyed. It was like my blood was turning into little annoyed rage bubbles that were expanding through my veins. I had to walk away.

I spent the next hour refocusing my energy on cleaning and taking care of what few tables I had coming in. I needed to distract my hormone ridden mind and decompress. I knew what I felt earlier was an over reaction. Normally I wouldn’t have cared. Lana and I had joked around like this every day since the day we met. Today was no different. Yea maybe she ruined my make-up and didn’t feel sorry about it. Who cares!? Isn’t that what friendships are all about??

Guilt started to set in. I felt like a douche for reacting the way I did.

I get sat another table but before I head over to greet them, I run back into the kitchen, head straight towards Lana and give her the biggest hug. I seriously squeeze the shit out of her. I then plant a huge kiss on her cheek and say sorry for being a twat. She laughs, “Will you just get your period already!!” she says. I smile back at her and head out to see what measly tip I can incur from my new table.

For the rest of the day I felt amazing. The restaurant never got busy. I ended up walking out earlier than anticipated and even though I still wasn’t my super cheery self, I still walked out feeling alright. Sure my body was getting ready to bleed for god knows how many days this time around, but one thing was for sure, it felt good having someone in my life like Lana. A person who can hose me in the face when I’m feeling down and even through the rage I still have love for. It’s those small little relationships that people constantly overlook and take for granted. The fact that as human beings we feel a  range of emotions, one of them the feeling of guilt, speaks loudly of human consciousness and once we take the steps, human kindness.

I love my Lana. She taught me a valuable lesson that day, or a lesson I had once been taught but she reinforced. Sometimes just simply saying sorry can be the best spa treatment you could ever give yourself.

Server Life: The Future

My thoughts on the server life and the restaurant industry are tainted. With 16 years of serving under my belt, I have seen and experienced everything. From receiving a $100 tip for serving over-medium eggs and a side of bacon with a smile, to spilling coffee on the lap of an 80 year old man, to being thrown up on by an overheated baby. Working with the public can be very taxing and not just from day to day but from table to table. As a server, you are putting your best acting foot forward. Every table you take, you are playing a different role, molding yourself to the vibes of that table.

I can walk into any restaurant and immediately tell you which person has recently started serving and who’s a veteran. I can also scan the staff and tell you who is the hard working server, who’s the slacker, who’s the one always up management’s ass, who’s on drugs, who calls out most often, who only serves to get through school or are saving up for a particular reason, and who’s going to be making it a career. I can look at staff and see if the place is all about team work or if it’s each man (or woman) for themselves. I am like a blood hound but instead of sniffing out blood and bodies, I sniff out server characters and work ethics. It’s at times blessing but also a curse.

Eating out is one of my favorite things to do, and for many reasons. For one, as a child growing up with a single mother, we could barely ever go out to eat. Financially, it was something we could do only on a special occasion. That was until I started working and took some of the financial burden away from my hardworking mother. At that point, she had this thing where once a week it would be “kitchen closed” and so instead of her cooking dinner we would go out and enjoy something nice. To be able to go out once a week and reward ourselves for a job well done always felt amazing. The fact that we could sit there and be catered to while being able to enjoy one another’s company stress free was an awesome feeling and they’re memories I hold onto till this very day. I no longer live close to my mom or sister. I live states away and although I’ve got no family here, I still enjoy a “kitchen closed” moment, maybe more often than I should. I am one of those people that you’ll meet that has absolutely no problem in going out solo. All I need to keep me company is a good book or paper and a pen, sometimes those items make better companions than people, haha. So I’ll go out and with hardly any distractions I can tune into all that is around me and that is when the curse kicks in. I start observing fellow customers, take in the ambiance around me, and then finally my thoughts and observations land solely on the staff.

More times than not I begin to really watch the servers that I can tell are veterans to the game. I watch the ones who may not have intentionally made serving their career. When I zero in on these particular people, I become sad, almost depressed at the thought of how their working life has been. In one word, exhausting. It’s not easy serving for a living and I have met people who have been caught up in the game for 20, 30, or even more years. None of them truly enjoying what they do but all of them acknowledging how easy it was to get trapped. All of them accepting a fate that in reason did not need to be accepted but for one motive or another they simply just did. They got comfortable. I look at them, I speak to them, and in all sadness I always think to myself of how I do not want to ever end up like them. I refuse to be trapped in this game no matter how much money I can make. Money cannot buy my happiness in this industry. It could buy me time but definitely not happiness.

When I began working at the place that I am currently working, I started off working 5 days a week, then I opted to pick up a sixth day. I was 20 at the time and was making about $250-$350 a shift depending on the time of year. I was banking. I enrolled into school but my education took a backseat to work. I mean hey, what I was making a shift would make me more than an entry level job that I would be getting once I graduated college so why the fuck not? Soon everything came before my education simply because I had the financial means to place everything else first. Ten exhausting years later, I am still trying to finish my schooling, not so much for the career, but more so for the accomplishment factor. I have been at them same restaurant for the duration of the time, minus two years that I took off to go explore bits of the U.S.  Since I have been back I only serve two days a week. By just working those two days I can make my monthly bills without a worry and have incorporated into my life meaningful matters of the heart instead of the wallet. I spend my time now painting and writing (among other hobbies). This, what I am doing right now at this point in time, is my passion. I have finally figured out that this is what I want my life to be like. I want to go out and live out many experiences and then come back to my humble home and write all about it. Whether it’s a blog, a magazine article, a book, it doesn’t matter to me. All that matters is that I am able to produce stories and experiences for others to partake in and do not allow myself to get trapped in the harsh life of fast money. That just isn’t me. That just doesn’t nourish my soul.

I’m thirty years old, well… in a few months.. and I find myself at a cross roads of sorts. I do not know how to get to where I want to be but no matter, because I will eventually find my way there. I may have gotten a bit side tracked with the bribes life has thrown at me but I found my out. Now that I’ve taken off that financial blindfold that life for a moment blinded me with, I can truly see the meaning of my own life. I can imagine the future and I am excited. I thank all my fellow servers for helping me unravel that blindfold because only by viewing them in their past, present, and future, was I able to take notes and study the road that this job would forever take me down.

I tip my hat off to those veteran servers who have done this for longer than I have been alive for it takes a strong person to dedicate their lives catering to people in this way. I encourage the newbies to keep up their enthusiasm but to never let go of what their end goal is. No one ever went into serving saying “this is what I’ve always wanted to do when I grew up.” The server life is something you fall into and it is up to the person to sink or swim. You either get trapped in the life or you use it as a stepping stone to where you want to be. Passion is the key to everything. I’ve got loads of passion and it is what’s keeping me from settling. Hold onto your passion. It’s your life vest.

God Damn The Server Life pt 3. Are You @#$%ing Kidding ME?

The title today explains it all. I felt like it was a phrase that I found myself repeating over and over again, not out loud obviously, but oh how I wished I could.

It’s season here in FL. So what does that mean when it comes to the server life? It means expect your shift to be chaotically busy. Expect short fuses, rude customers, shouting children, bratty teens, exasperated parents, all sprinkled with a few kind people here and there whom are actually enjoying their vacation. God forbid it happens to be a rainy day in the state of sunshine. The sweet lack of sun that mother nature decides to bestow on us makes everyone crabby, everyone excluding me. I see it for what it is, a chance to rejuvenate life around us but like I said no one every really sees it that way.

Today at the restaurant the power went out. It was an hour before closing time so I thank mother nature for doing it when she did. Any earlier and a normally chaotic day in season would have been a day of utter hell. We’re a small cafe. We’ve got ten tables in doors, four counter seats, and eight tables out on the patio. The kitchen is about the size of a living room, not very big at all so space is limited. Many restaurants have generators for moments when the power goes out. Not our place. We’re too small for that. By the time the power went out we were no longer on a wait and had only about 3 tables enjoying their meals and two who had just sat down. The lights are out, obviously, and we only have about 5 mins to quickly put an order in and get the food out before heat from the appliances starts to wither down. For staff, we are used to this. We have a a plan to go by when the power shuts off. First we of course apologize for the inconvenience and for the tables who just sat we offer the options to quickly place an order or they can get their drinks to go, free of charge and try their luck elsewhere. Most of the time people decide to stay. Most of the time people decide to also complain. I’ve discovered that more times than not, people choose to stay in a situation just so they have something to complain about. This shift was no different.

The two tables that sat decided to stay and quickly order. Table one was easy. A two top. A wonderful and adorable elderly couple who ordered without even glancing at the menu. They chose one of our combos, cup of soup and half a sandwich, easy breezy. The second table not as easy. Five out of the six people were ready to order right away. One of the teenagers at the table was not. She was debating over a few items which is understandable considering our menu has quite a selection. I told her I’d give her just a couple mins but I wouldn’t be able to give her more than that because soon our appliances would be powering down. I went off, began closing some of my credit card checks that way once the computers powered out my checks wouldn’t be wiped away. I came back a couple mins later as promised. The girl was still not ready. Her mother, who was sitting directly next to her, says to me “How about you just start with me and by the time we go around she should be ready?” Sure thing, I say to myself, but the look on her daughter’s face told me a different story. I go around, taking my time taking everyone’s order just so this young lady could have a few extra mins to decide. I make jokes and enjoy off topic conversations with everyone else in the family. I now get to her, and what a surprise! She is still not ready. I patiently stand there, staring at her. I’m hoping that my gaze inspires her to just fucking pick something but to no avail. I suggest that maybe I place in everyone’s order to guarantee they get a hot meal, and that once I did, I would be back to get her order. Everyone is in agreement and so off I go and ring in their orders. Once I send it off into the kitchen I tell the cooks that there is still one person at the table that hasn’t ordered yet but that they would be soon. “Well they need to hurry the fuck up because everything is starting to cool off already.” the head cook says to me. It’s the end of the day. It’s our last table. The restaurant is starting to get hot because the air conditioner is now out. We’re all irritated, sweaty, and ready to go home. This girl HAS to order. I walk over to the table. Her menu is closed, a universal sign that signifies she is ready to order. AMEN! “So what have you decided on?” I asked. “Well, What’s good here?” she counters.  Are your fucking kidding me??

I just want to take a moment to explain  a precious point that the regular person who may have never worked in a restaurant  should know. As a server, we loath that question, and for many reasons. For one, we all have different pallets when it comes to food. Things I find delicious, others hate. I can usually gauge a table and I have learned to use this to my advantage. They ask me what’s good, I take a look at who they are and try to figure out what type of person they are. For example, if I can tell your a person who enjoys to work out and “healthy” is just written all over your demeanor I will probably suggest one of our delicious salads, maybe topped with our lemon peppered chicken, or maybe our grilled chicken sandwich with blackened chicken, sauteed spinach and garlic, with roasted red peppers, all grilled on our fresh sour dough bread. Or let’s say they’re good ol’ country folk, I’ll suggest any of our dishes with the homemade sausage gravy, for instance our country friend steak or our homemade biscuit breakfast, maybe even our smoked out pulled pork sandwich with a wonderful side of our homemade coleslaw. Anyhoo- I can usually figure out what people like but still the having to do so is a bit annoying. Also, many people who work in the service industry don’t really give a fuck. All they want is to go into work, make their money, and leave. Most servers could careless about what you as a customer are in the mood for. We just want you to order so we can move onto the next  meaningless point of our job. For you to ask us “What’s good here?”, when in reality you probably won’t follow our suggestion is simply wasting out time.

So here I am presented with the most annoying question a customer could ask, I begin with my standard questioning. “Well are you looking for breakfast or lunch?” She shrugs her shoulders and says, “I don’t really know.” Ok well….that helps. So I go to the second question that usually helps me narrow down the menu to a few options, “How about salty or sweet? What appeals more to you?” Again this girl shrugs her shoulders. I’m getting tired of her shoulders doing the answering. I want to grab her by them, shake her, and yell “JUST FUCKING ORDER SOMETHING!” but I can’t. At this point, tabled one, the cute old couple, have already received their food and are halfway finished with their meals. Out of the corner of my eye I also notice that this table’s food is beginning to slowly come out. The cook is staring at me. I feel his eyes burning into the side of my face. Now I begin to just spew random things from the menu. I don’t care. This server who normally cares is fed up. If she, who is the one that is going to be eating, doesn’t care enough to give me feedback in order to steer her into the right direction, than I don’t care enough to care about whether or not she is going to enjoy what she eats. I spend another minuet going over the menu and another minuet waiting for her to make up her mind. She finally settles on a bacon cheese burger, well done, with fries. Great. All items that need high heat in order to cook and that heat is almost all gone. I quickly go to the kitchen and verbally tell them her order just so they can get it started as quickly as possible. By the time I verbalize the order, go back to the computer and officially ring it in, the table’s food is up. I run it, giving each individual the meal that they ordered, everyone but the girl of course. They all begin to eat. I refill the drinks for those who need it. I notice the elderly couple is finished. After asking them whether or not they’d like dessert or drinks to go, I drop off their check. They’re ready to go, no change needed. As I walk over to table two, I’m in the middles of asking them how everything is when the mom says, “It would be good if my daughter got her food soon.” BITCH! Calm down. I give her a slight look and say, “Ma’m I’m sorry but she ordered a well done burger. It’s going to be a minuet. To be honest it’ll probably take a little longer than normal simply because we are out of power and the heat off the flat top is cooling off.” She doesn’t even look up to acknowledge what I say. She turns to one of the men sitting at the table and says, “How’s your toast? Mine is a little cold.” Her tone has an attitude. She takes a bite out of her toast, stares and it, and drops it back onto her plate. I want to kick her in her shins. “No, My food is really good” he answers as he looks at me and gives me a smile. “Thank you,” he says, “Everything is really good.” I smile back, say “You’re very welcome!” and turn to go.

I begin to start my side work. By the time I’m done restocking the to-go station, the girl’s burger is up. I quickly run her food and as I get to the table mom says, “Honestly, it is about time. The rest of us are pretty much finished and now we have to wait for her.”  In reality, SHE is the only one finished. Literally. Everyone else that is seated at the table is just about halfway done their meals. The guy from earlier just smiles at me and says, “No, I’m still working on mine. It’s Ok there’s no rush.” and he continues on with his meal. I set the plate in front of the girl who is obviously in no rush either for she’s swiping up on  Instagram for minuets before even touching her meal. Whatever. I go back to doing my side work. At this point I begin to roll silverware. I’m standing directly in front of the table at the counter that’s maybe 6 feet from where they are. The table is enthralled in conversation, all except two, the daughter who is still engaged in her phone and hasn’t even looked at her meal yet, and mom, who is beginning to pick at her daughter’s fries. She throws one back on the plate. “These are cold! Honey have you tried these fries?!! They’re cold!” The daughter finally looks up. She stuffs a fry in her mouth and says, “Mom, they’re fine.” and chomps away. The girl begins to work on her burger. I continue on to rolling my silverware. The kitchen is closing up, the little power they had is now completely ran out. Customers try to come in to grab a bite to eat but unfortunately we have to turn them away. One family says, “But it says that you’re open till 3. It’s only 2:20..” says the dad looking at his watch. “Yes sir, but if you haven’t noticed we are out of power.” says my boss. “Yes, but they are still eating.” He says pointing to my table. My boss pauses a few seconds, staring at him in bewilderment, then says, “Sir, that is because when they got here the power had JUST gone out. Our appliances are now completely out of heat. There would be no way to make you anything now.” She continues to calmly stare at him and after a few seconds he mumbles, “This is unbelievable.” and storms off. No sir, YOU’RE unbelievable.

My attention goes back to my table. They should be finishing up soon. The mom catches my glance and waves me over with her finger. She doesn’t look happy, but then again she didn’t look happy the moment she sat down. I walk over to her, “Yes my dear?” I say. “She cannot eat this. The fries are cold. They need to be reheated.” She grabs her daughter’s plate, meanwhile her daughter has her burger halfway to her mouth when she utters, “Mom! Stop, they’re good!” and she snatches her plate back. I try to not let my irritation with this lady seem obvious. I tell her that although I would love to be able to reheat the fries, it would be an impossibility since there is no loner power. I’m also thinking to myself, “If your daughter would have put her phone down and actually ate when the food was brought out to her, it would have been a lot warmer too”. I began to gather any empty dishes that I see on the table, while the entire time listening to this grown lady grumble. Her daughter could careless whether or not her food was cold, and actually seemed to be used to her mother’s antics. As I’m about to turn to take the empty dishes back to the kitchen the mother asks, “Can I get a cup of coffee?” She has GOT to be kidding, right?? WRONG. We hold each other’s gaze for what seems for way too long. I’m thinking that she’ll realize that her request was ridiculous considering I just told her that the power was out, if one couldn’t already tell. She asks me again, “Can I have a cup of coffee?”…. “I heard you ma’m, but the power is still out. There is no coffee.” I counter. She points to the pot that is halfway full of coffee, the one that is sitting on the powerless burner. The pot of coffee that has been sitting there untouched for over an hour. “There’s coffee right there.” She says, as if I was the one being ridiculous. “I’m afraid it wouldn’t be very good. The burner is out of power and that pot has been sitting there for quite a while.” I say slowly. She must not be all there is what my  time spent with her has led me to believe. “So you’re not going to give me a cup of coffee, even though I see a perfectly good pot sitting right there?” I sigh. I’m over her. I want her to leave. She wants coffee… let’s give her coffee, no? “You’re absolutely right. Let me drop these dishes off in the kitchen and I’ll be right back with your cup of coffee, ok?” I said just a little too cheery. She seemed satisfied with my answer. She obviously felt like she won the battle. Inwardly I laugh.

I take the dishes to the kitchen and before I grab her cup of coffee, I print out their check. The quickest way to relieve myself of this thorn in my ass is to just drop off the bill when I drop off the coffee.  I pour her cup and I notice that it’s not even lukewarm. I smile to myself because I know what’s coming…

“Alrighty guys, I’m just leaving this here!! Take your time, just let me know if you need anything else.” I smile as I set the check down as well as her cold coffee. As I’m walking away I hear her say, “Are you serious?” I keep walking. “Excuse me Miss??!” I stop and turn. “Yes?” She’s obviously had a sip of her coffee, her facial expression said it all. “This coffee is cold! And you didn’t even ask us if we wanted dessert!?” This whore… I swear. Keep in mind, the kitchen is now closed up. Food is no longer available. At this point most of the cooks have already left. I take a deep breath and allow myself a Zen moment before answering. I’m really trying to kill her with kindness but her dumbass-ness is making it truly difficult.

“Ma’m I told you that the coffee wouldn’t be very hot. The power is out. That goes for the burner that the coffee pot was on. The reason I didn’t offer you all dessert was because the kitchen is now closed and all food, including dessert, is locked away in the cooler.” I stare at her. She stares back then says, “So what you’re telling me is, if we wanted to order something else to eat we wouldn’t be able to?” as if this was the end of the world. “And I assumed that although the power is out, the coffee sitting on the burner would at least be lukewarm.” She shakes her head as if she was exhausted by having to deal with ME. “That’s correct. If anyone wanted to eat anything else you wouldn’t be able to and to be honest, that pot of coffee has been sitting on that burner for about an hour or so. I tried explaining that to…” She cuts me off. “You’re unbelievable! Serving me a cup of coffee after it’s been sitting there for an hour!” She grabs the bill and takes a look at it. “After all this you couldn’t even give me a discount?! This is ridiculous.” While this is all going on, my boss is standing close by me filling up our jugs of syrups. She’s witnessed the entire thing and when hears the fact that this woman expected a discount she then decides to walk over.

“Ma’m can I help you?” says my boss who doesn’t look like a boss. I’m looking at everyone else at the table. They seem embarrassed. The few that still have their plates have buried their faces in whatever food was left over just to not have to be a witness of what is going on. The others are just staring at the woman like she’s literally jumped off the deep end. “Yes, I’d actually like to speak to the owner if you don’t mind.” The woman doesn’t even look at my boss as if she were a mere peasant. “Well you’re looking right at her. I heard your interaction with the server and wanted to see if there was anything I could help you with?” She says calmly. The lady decided to take this opportunity to let her have it, “What I need help with is understanding is why you all would allow customers into your restaurant while the power is out?! Our food was terrible. All of it was cold. My daughter’s burger didn’t arrive at the same time ours did. Your server served me cold coffee and dropped off the bill as if she was trying to get rid of us,” I was… “and I take a look at the bill at least expecting some sort of discount for all the inconvenience and nothing was done.” Fortunately for me, I have amazing bosses. They’ll defend a server when needed be. This time she was all for it. “Pardon me ma’m, but you were already seated when the power went out. I gave you the choice of whether or not you wanted to stay. I even offered your drinks to-go free of charge if you decided not to. You all chose to stay. Your daughter took a really long time ordering even after the server told your entire party that time was of the essence if you wanted to get a warm meal. She also expressed to you that the coffee had been sitting there for quite a while and after repeating multiple times that the power was out, you decided to still go for the coffee.” With that my boss takes the bill and looks at it and continues on by saying, “Servers are not allowed to discount any checks without my authority. I see that she didn’t charge you for the coffee you decided to order, so I guess that can be considered your discount.” She sets the check back onto the table and looks at the lady who is now digging through her purse. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” My boss stares at her. The lady is avoiding eye contact. Embarrassed are we? No, not enough to keep her snide comments to herself. The lady drops exact cash onto the table and says, “That’s fine. But I am not tipping for this horrible service.” She gets up, and whether the others were finished or not, demands that everyone gets up to leave.

Bye Felicia!

As they all march out of the cafe,  I think to myself, “VICTORY!” because even though this lady didn’t leave me a tip I felt like the rest of her day was completely ruined. That for me was enough of a tip.

As I sit here and write about this one incident, I can’t help but think about all the other “Are you fucking kidding me?” moments as servers we’ve had to endure. I literally have a list going and I cannot wait to write about each and every one ofthem.  With each shift that passes the list grows longer and longer. I wonder if the outrageousness of customers has a cap or if with time it’ll just get worse and worse? I truly believe that now-a-days people go on vacation and forget to pack their common sense as well as their manners and that’s only if they had any of it to begin with. One way I see that I may be able to better the situation is by writing about it. We may not all work in the service industry, but we are all customers at one point or another. It’s time that I start shedding some light on not only customer service from the server’s side but customer etiquette from the customer’s side.

Stay tuned. You’ve already been alerted that there will be more to come 🙂

God Damn the Server Life pt.2

When you work in the “biz”… the restaurant “biz” that is.. there’s a LOT of shit one must endure. It’s not just the dickhead customers with their rude behavior and their cheap tipping abilities. Or their dirty faced, grubby fingered, ill mannered kids. It’s not just the working of nights, weekends, and holidays.  At times your co-workers can be the greater enemy.

Now normally when it comes to serving with the enemy, my nemesis always included either the ladies who have been serving since the 60’s. You know, those old ladies with the “smeared on their teeth” lipsticks. The ones that reek of cheap “old lady” perfume and stale cigarette smoke. The ones that sound of stale cigarette smoke calling all the old guys “toots” and everyone else “sweetie”. These ladies are tough cookies who are set, or shall I say stuck, in their ways. They’re the types to see a new girl come in, specifically young new girls, and have this entire vendetta against them, a drawn out plan to get them out. With all reason. I mean, how’s that saying go? “Out with the old. In with the new”? Usually these ladies, once they start to realize that I too am a tough cookie and that I won’t be going anywhere anytime soon, become civil, one could even say friendly.

The other nemesis that seems to follow me around are the young girls. Young girls meaning either my age or younger, who seem to think that having no moral compass is the “hip” thing to do. Funny thing is, they seem to really try to have that aura that they’re just too “cool” for me while at the same time I can smell the fact they need my acceptance (as well as everyone else’s) desperately.

It typically takes about two weeks for my amazing personality *wink wink* to win over any one that may be hesitant to befriend me. I’ve been used to it all my life and it’s something I actually find pleasure in. It’s almost like a game to me. “Oh you don’t like me?” Muahahaha “We’ll see how long THAT lasts..”  So anyways, When I began working at the latest “supper club” a few months ago I was sorta shocked to find such an easy going crew. The guys loved me. The girls were awesome. Everyone was funny and helped each other out. It was like working for the Brady Bunch if they would have had their own fucking restaurant. I felt like I lucked out really. Until… <— I mean you had to know that was coming right?… The Chef and I had a bit of an altercation on  Valentine’s Day.

If any of you out there reading this have ever worked in the restaurant industry you know how chef personalities can be. I’m not talking about just regular joe shmoe cooks that work in the kitchens of your regular chain restaurants who basically follow a recipe given to them by the higher up. No. I’m talking about those fine dinning chefs that actually create art with their dishes. They’re the ones who don’t follow recipes the make them. They are the ones when it’s slow at work and you’re just shooting the shit, they are amazing individuals. Big old teddy bears. Then once in the weeds, or god forbid they get a picky customer who tweaks their beloved dish, picking it apart to tiny little pieces, it is like the devil unleashed his wrath upon all who crossed its path. I have lots of experience working with these kinds of personalities. Growing up in South Jersey, I was lucky to have had the opportunity to a lot of job shadowing and internships in the casinos of Atlantic City allowing me to work at some of the top restaurants alongside of the cream of the crop when it came to chefs. With that said, I have never, not once, had an altercation or confrontation with any of them. So when Valentine’s Day 2016 rolled around and I found myself in a boarder line shouting match with this guy.. I was at a loss for words.

On this particular night, it had been busy, but for the most part it had all gone easy breezy. I mean to be honest, I was so focused on the shit I had to do to get through the night, that I hadn’t even realized the night had gone by so quick. Before I knew it, it was 8:30 pm and I was on my last reservation. My last table  consisted of a nerdy couple who were approximately in the early thirties. They were both tall, lanky and wore glasses. He was the type that wore grey knitted socks with is strappy Moses sandals, khaki cargo pants that tied in the front, and a Mr.Rogers sweater. She had a scarf on, even though this is Florida and in February it’s still quite warm out. Her hair was shoulder length and sported big white chunks that curled into her intensely black hair. Intellectuals for sure. They asked a million questions about the menu. He was vegan. She had a gluten allergy. what seemed like hours later they both ordered. They settled on a fruit and cheese plate for their appetizer (he ate the fruit, she had the cheese) and then she got a blackened salmon salad, while he ordered the vegetarian dish. All veggies, no butter, just a plate of veggies. I quickly ring in the order. Then within seconds I hear, “A GODDAMN VEGGIE PLATE?? WHO THE FUCK.. RANG THIS IN…. GET HER IN HERE!!!!!!.” I had been summoned.

I walk into the kitchen and I see Chef just glaring at me. “WHO the fuck orders a vegetarian dish on Valentine’s Day?! I made a wonderful god damn specialty menu for tonight and you allow them to order the FUCKING VEGGIE PLATE?!” he’s throwing dishes and banging pans. I made the mistake of actually going ahead and answering his question. I mean how was I supposed to know it was rhetorical?

“Well Chef, a vegetarian does. Everything you put on the special menu for tonight is either meat or fish and…” I was cut off, almost literally. He points his knife at me and says, “I don’t give a FUCK! Do you even know if they can consume butter???” he asks, again I was stupid. “Yea Chef, he’s vega….” I calmly try to say.”Get the fuck out there!!and ask him!!!If he can have butter!!!! NOW!” I already knew the answer to this one…He’s Vegan. No he can’t consume butter. He specifically gave me the run down when we were talking about the menu, but I left the kitchen, made a loop around the dining room as to pretend I actually went over to ask him, came back in. “Chef, no he can’t have butter.” So he replies with “Goddamn cock suckers!!! WHY ARE THEY COMING OUT TO EAT THEN!!!?? WHAT THE FUCK!!” This time I don’t answer. As I’m walking away I hear him say to the expo guy, “She’s a fucking idiot. What’s this her first day? Why would she let him order that?” Now keep in mind that it’s Valentine’s Day. This couple had to make reservations to have dinner at the supper club that night. The menu that Chef created for the night was NOT the only menu that was available that evening. If people wanted to order from the regular menu, they were allowed to do so. The vegetarian dish is on our regular menu therefore they were allowed to order it. I was pissed. No one had ever talked to me that way and just because he didn’t feel like making it, didn’t mean he was allowed to give me shit for having to place the order for it.

Everything that could have gone wrong with that table did. Their fruit and cheese platter came out 45mins after being ordered when in reality it should have taken no longer than 10 and that was pushing it. Her salmon was over cooked and there were no pine nuts on the salad. His veggie plate looked like a pile of mush. It was obvious that Chef didn’t care about the product that he was serving these “cock suckers” and what bothered me even more was the fact that he didn’t care that ultimately it would reflect on my tip.  Needless to say, I did not get a good tip from this couple and you can tell they left quite unhappy. For the rest of the night, I spoke to no one. I was fuming. My manager that night spoke to me. Word had gotten out on Chef’s behavior and she came to see if I was upset. “Of course I’m upset! Who talks to another human being that way? I did NOTHING wrong and I get shitted on? What the hell?! He’s got issues…major issues.” She basically defended him by saying he had been working long hours and he was tired. She didn’t take into account that I too had worked a long week that week. At this point I had two jobs, I served breakfast from 6:30-3pm and then I would rush over to work 4-10pm at the supper club. Those aren’t easy days, especially as a server. You didn’t see ME snapping at anyone. No one deserves to get reamed just because one is tired or cranky. But whatever. He was the Chef none the less and if it came down to it, they would have definitely taken his side over mine any day. So quiet I stayed yet from that day on I was on the fence of whether or not I would stay working there much longer.

Fast forwarding on to a few nights ago. This night was not very different from any other night. It had been exactly a month from Valentine’s Day. It was a Wednesday which is a lot more quieter than a holiday or weekend day for that matter. The night had gone smoothly. It wasn’t too busy. All of my customers had been friendly and easy-going. I had spent the day joking around with my co-workers. In actuality it was one of the best days I had at the supper since I had started working there in December. It was about 9:30 and finally the restaurant had slowed down. I had one table waiting to finish their dessert and so I began doing my side work for the night. During this time it is customary for servers to make themselves a little salad to eat. It was the only thing we didn’t have to pay for so of course it was routine for us to make one. After a six hour shift of serving hungry customers and delicious food what server wouldn’t? Well here I am rolling silverware. I hadn’t eaten all day but hadn’t noticed until the second my stomach spoke to me. I walked into the kitchen, grabbed a small to-go box as I normally would throw my salad in there as to not dirty a plate, and went on to make myself my salad. As I’m adding shredded carrots to the mixed greens, I hear, “I hope that salad that you’re making isn’t for you to take home…That better be for a customer right?” I turn to look and see Chef with a drunken stare  just glaring at me. “No, I’m making it for myself to eat here.” I kinda laugh a little bit for I had no idea what was coming. “Who said you could make a salad?” He raises his voice just a bit. I for some reason think he’s fucking with me so I say, “What do you mean? I can make one if I want to.” I laugh and turn back to finish making my salad. “No YOU CAN’T!” By this point, the bartender had brought him his end of shift beer, which he seemed to have once an hour, but who cares right? I mean he IS Chef. So I turn to him and say, “Yea? and why not?” and that was the trigger that set him off I guess because he slams his precious beer down making most of it spill onto the cutting board, “Because this is MY GOD DAMN KITCHEN THAT’S WHY! I AM THE GOD DAMN CHEF! I SAID SO!!!! WHAT? YOU THINK THIS SHIT IS FUCKING FREE??!!” He is yelling so loud that he’s turning almost purple. His veins are protruding from his neck. Spit is literally foaming in the corners of his mouth. Every server was in the kitchen and every single one of them was standing there wide eyed. They had lucked out, for most of them were about to go on a make a salad too. I guess that day was my day to be the martyr. I stood there frozen. The only thing I said back was, “Since when??! Clara (my boss) has always said that we were allowed to?” “I don’t give a FUCK what she says!! THIS IS MY FUCKING KITCHEN!” I had a million scenarios playing out in my mind for that split second. None of them would have helped the situation any other than allowing me to feel better. At that point Clara, who had been standing there the entire time watching in horror, walks over to me, grabs me by my shoulders, and leads me out into the kitchen. But not before I call out to Chef and when he turns to look, I slowly dump out all the contents of my to-go box in to the trash, just to piss him off. Everyone stayed quiet. No one knew what to do or say. It wasn’t until a few mins later after I come back from cashing out my last table that a few of my fellow servers came by, one by one, to tell me how fucked up that was. Clara had spoken to me saying how disgusted she was with him and to not take it personal. “It’s not you. It’s him.” No shit! She continues on to say, “Have you ever read the Four Agreements?” I want to say yes bitch I have! I read that book my sophomore year of college, of course! but instead I nod because I am just to pissed and drained to say anything. “So then you know about the agreement not to take it personal. Don’t take it personal. He’s had a long week. It wasn’t right what he did but don’t let it get to you…” And with that she walks away to call the owner to let him know what went on.

I went back to rolling my silverware and during that time is when I decided that THAT night was going to be my last night at the supper club. The schedule was up for the entire month but I didn’t care. I refused to be talked to that way. I could care less if I wasn’t the first person this had happened to. I was going to be the first person to actually respect myself enough to not allow to someone to degrade me like that. I didn’t care how much I needed my job, I loved myself more than that. I cherish my peace of mind more than any dollar could give me. From the moment the incident began, I wasn’t taking it personal. I knew I had nothing to do with why he went off on me. But still, I had the right to be upset and I made the conscious decision to never set foot in that place ever again.

I was vocal about it. Whenever anyone came up to me to talk about it, I simply replied, “Hey it’s no problem. I’m just not coming back. Just giving you guys a heads up. You’ll be one man short until Clara gets someone else to work.” It being the middle of our busy season, no one was happy to hear that, yet they all understood. I kept my word and I didn’t return. Its been three days since it happened. Clara sent me a message or two about how sorry she was and how wrong it was for him to have done that. But in all reality I believe that was said just to go through the motions. If any of them really cared they would have at the very least spoken to him. Mike, the owner, would have apologized for what happened. I never heard a word. Not from him and definitely not from Chef. But that’s the god damned server life for you. One thing I know for sure is that this is the Universe’s way of telling me that the supper club was just not right for me. I’ve got bigger and better things heading my way and now I have the available time in order to seize the moment when it comes knocking on my door.

God Damn the Server Life

The frigid mornings I wake up on the days in which I have to work KILL me. I call them “frigid” because there is no other word better to describe them. They’re cold and dark and I shiver as I pull the blankets off of me, even though I live in the sun shiniest state in the U.S. I make sure to set my alarm HOURS before having to go into work because I need my “me” time and it doesn’t matter if I had two days or four days off that week. I can’t seem to find enough “me” time to better prepare myself  to go in to battle.

It is a war out there in the server-life. Between hungry customers ignorant to how the restaurant business actually works, to the incompetent hosts who are usually too young to serve and therefore too dumb to care, and then to the unhappy, unsatisfied, servers who must at every second of their shift put on a facade and switch vibes and characters from table to table to better fit their customer’s needs… One must say we must be insane to work in this type of environment.

Sometimes we luck out and have amazing managers or restaurant owners who make work a little less like “work” but those are too and far in  between and though one may have cool bosses or alright co-workers, a server never really knows what a work shift will bring. It could be a day where it goes smooth like butter. A cake walk one might describe it as. All of your customers are easy going and maybe one could even go as far as saying they’re pleasant. Other days it seems you have waited on every coo-coo that breaths on this planet. Some days you’ll have a barrage of amazing tippers, setting up the trap to disable you from walking away from this job you loath so much. Other days, your self worth dies at every moment you close out a check and realize you have literally slaved yourself for someone else’s pleasure for a measly couple dollars. Cheap fucking bastards.

Many of you may be reading this and are thinking “if you hate it so much why do you do it?! QUIT! Find your true passion! Do what you love!” I say to you, Fuck off. Obviously that’s something to strive for…yet it takes time, no? So until then, am I to not eat? Not maintain a roof over my head or clothes on my back? Am I not to try to finish an education or at least take steps towards achieving my happiness?? Maybe these years of hatred for what I do currently will feed the fire for what I will achieve later on in life. Who knows?! All I know is that I have an opportunity right now to tell it like it is, while also maybe enlighten some people out there. Yes, at times we make good money. Most of the time we are whoring ourselves to our tables, bending over backwards (some may say “over”), eating up all the disrespect you customers dish out, all for a 15- 18% tip…20% if we lucked out.

One myth I would like to bust right here, right now, is the saying, “The customer is always right..” Let me enlighten you folks out there. The customer is not always right. In all honesty, they are hardly ever right. Most of the time we give into your shenanigans because it is easier (and looks better for the restaurant) to take the higher road and walk away peacefully from any sort of confrontation with a customer. The fact that in today’s world with online reviews dictating whether or not a business prospers or fails, one can’t run the risk or arguing or even remotely debating with a customer on whether they are right or wrong. For us people working in the industry, this is the biggest lump of BS we have to swallow, the fact that customers think they’re always right. It’s like saying, “Pedestrians always have the right of way.” Think about it. In a normal situation it is true. There’s someone standing at a cross walk, you yield to them and let them go. Now take someone who is crossing in the middle of a busy intersection, and doesn’t even bother to look both ways, they just walk out in to traffic and assume that because they are a pedestrian all traffic will come to a screeching halt just to let their inconsiderate asses cross. A car hits them… Guess what? You know who gets in trouble?? THE PEDESTRIAN. Each party in any given situation needs to recognize the part they play in whatever altercation or scenario they find themselves in. So let us put this example in a Server-life Vs. Customer prospective.

Scenario #3786- A table sits down. Mom, Dad, their two Kids. In today’s world technology has completely taken over, even those precious family moments that everyone wants to cherish so much. Kid#1 lets say, is a preteen who honestly could care less about spending family time, is on their cell phone checking FB, IG, Tweeting to her Twit friends, they are doing everything possible to stay connected while disconnecting. Kid#2 is a younger sibling who can’t stay still or focused for more than seconds at a time so to keep them calm and quiet are given a tablet in order to keep them occupied. Mom is on the phone speaking to Auntie Sharon telling her all about their awesome vacation, detail to detail, nothing missed, with the exception of telling her how awful of a time she’s having. Dad seems to be the only one focused on settling down and zeroing in on the menu, but in a reality, is back at the office thinking about all the work that needs to get done in order to make the money for next year’s family vacation.  Insert Server Here… “Hey there!! (insert whatever lame introduction they’re told to say..) What can I get for you drink today?!” CRICKETS…

Alright, let’s try this again…

“Can I maybe interest anyone in one of our specialty drinks or maybe you’d like to start with a round of waters while you decide?” Not one person at the table even acknowledges her/him. So now it’s awkward to say the least…

Or we can even switch the scenario and say, Server walks over, “Hey there!…My na….” “We’ll just take some waters with lemons..” says either parent without looking up.

Either scenario has already set the tone for the entire duration for both customer and server. If it’s a seasoned sever they’ll handle it with the utmost professionalism and will slather them in kindness throughout their stay, while inwardly killing them with machetes and machine guns. But for the majority of the servers out there, they will semi-neglect this table and focus on the others who DO treat them like a human being and not some worn out shoes strewn  over a cable wire to be ignored. They will provide this table with the most basic of service which in turn aggravates the customer who sees this server happily and attentively serving other tables around them. Here is where vicious cycle begins because once the the customer becomes aggravated, they will find everything wrong from that point on from the food.. to the atmosphere.. anything and everything will be sub par. They’ll complain to management, which in most cases will fall on deaf ears, for servers are very vocal and would have most likely already mentioned what “douche bags” the people at that table are.  No one likes to be ignored. No one likes rude individuals. So who in their right mind would want to be attentive to such people? People who have proven within the first 15 seconds of interaction don’t care enough about them to even acknowledge them as human beings.

Like I said before, it is a vicious cycle. It’s not just seen in the Server-Life but in all areas of customer service. It’s very difficult to deal with the public especially in an age where values, morals, and respect for one another is almost nonexistent, and technology and disconnect from the real world around you is prominent. If only we took more credit for our own individual actions..owned our “mistakes” or lack of education.. We could all move on, be better people, and make everyone’s life around us just a tee bit better.. and the things we wouldn’t want to do (such as work) could at least be a BIT more enjoyable. There wouldn’t be such a sense of dread when it came to going into work or doing the other countless things in life we may have to do instead of wanting to do.  I mean that’s the way I see it, and for most of whom I speak to.

This is my first official “blog” piece. I’ve been a writer for more than half of my life but today starts a new wave for me and my writing. I will not only speak of my Server-Life.. but of all Life around me, as I see it. My mission is to change an outlook, to give people the opportunity to see things from a different perspective.

Stay tuned for not only more Server-Life stories, but also stories from the day to day encounters of Life around us, as I see it.

My name is Natal Galvan and I am here to write to you.


Photo Credit: Natal Galvan, Location: Vagabond Tap House, A.C, N.J

If you ever find yourself in Atlantic City, NJ make sure to stop by this place!! AMAZING food and a wonderful selection of craft beers, and let me not forget to mention an incredible sunset view 🙂