Part Two (and final chapter) of the Early Years: The Wild, the Innocent and the Cocktail Shuffle

My Grandparents in their restaurant in Wisconsin.

Waitressing Taught Me (Almost) Everything I Needed to Know About Managing

So, after returning from Colorado, Rebel Girl and I sadly parted ways. She to California and I back to a large city in the Midwest.  A friend of mine worked at a Greek steak house, The Golden Calf (TGC) on the outskirts of a nearby industrial park and suggested I give waitressing a go. 

Walking through somewhat worn ornate gold leafed grapevine motif doors you were greeted by a study in black and red. The heavy velvet blood red drapes over the windows nicely accented the tables with the thick blood red tablecloths. The chairs upholstered with gold studs in the center of puckered black pleather let you know you were home.

I worked there for the next six years.

This was before the merger of  waitressing and used car sales practices. Customers were not yet greeted with "Hello, my name is Lulu and I'll be your server today. Can I tell you about our specials?... Bleckitty blah blah..."  There were no pre-opening pep talks or tastings . The waitress had not yet become full handmaiden to the chef,  forced to describe every ingredient and technique used to prepare a meal. (My own thoughts are that food is like art. If someone needs to tell you why it's good...)

Caste was absolute.  The owner/ host, Demitri Popolonis; his wife/hostess, Mrs. Popolonis; the brother-of-the-owner/bartender, Mr. George; and the chef, Mr. Grand Pompous Asshole were to be addressed as 'Mr.' and 'Mrs.' They were royalty and to be treated with a parental level of deference and avoidance. The waitresses were the face of TGC and the busboys were the invisibles.

The consciousness raising of civil rights and women's liberation had not hit TGC yet. Regardless of age, all the waitresses were "girls"  and all the table bussers were "boys."  Like,  "Your girl will be with you in a minute" or  "Just a minute while the boy cleans off your table." 

Our mission was simple. 

1. Take drink/appetizer order. 

2. Take lunch order. 

3. Ask about dessert or another drink. 

4. Collect payment. 

If you were lucky, your table turned over, thus allowing for a mission repeat.

The soup and lunch specials followed a weekly schedule. Mondays: lentil soup and chicken livers. Tuesday: chicken rosemary soup and lemon chicken. Wednesday: tomato bisque and spaghetti and meatballs. Thursday: split pea soup and liver and onions. Friday: Italian wedding soup (basically a melange of the weeks leftovers) and chicken and beef potpies (another melange of the weeks leftovers in a tasty, flaky crust). 

Men+Alcohol=Pathetic Sexual Advances

While we were expected to be clean and keep our hair off our face and out of the food, we weren't expected to smile, wear make-up, happy pins or name tags. We weren't expected to be chatty, vivacious, or sexy.  Despite the utility of our uniforms (polyester red -to match the tablecloths and drapes) and practical white nursing shoes, the 3 martini lunch clientele required some oversight. 

Typical Romeo at the Restaurant moves:

1. Telling really filthy jokes.
2. Lifting our dresses up when we walked by.
3. Offering to pay for sex in their car.
4. If they deemed you hard to get, offer to pay for sex at the motel down the street.
5. Telling you their tale of woe and then repeating 3 or 4.

So, this job should have been pure misery, forced submission and endless soul-crushing sexual harassment, right? 

Well, it wasn't and here's why...

1. While unenlightened by today's standards, the paternalistic atmosphere worked both ways.  If customers pushed too hard, the bosses stepped in. If the customers crossed the line into scary drunken weirdness, the bosses asked the them to leave. In other words, we felt protected.
2. The waitresses were like sisters. We were allowed to congregate by the soups and salads. The older waitresses yelled back at the chef when he was out of control. 
3. If generous with the busboys, they made sure your uncollected tips weren't stolen and they cleared your table quicker, resulting in catching those end of shift customers.
4. Everyday was different.
5. Tips were good.

So, in the end, waitressing not only helped me afford to get through college, it provided hardline training for my future management pursuits. 

The Big Teach:

1. It's helpful to learn how to simultaneously carry and balance multiple plates.
2. People appreciate getting things on time and beautifully presented.
3. Be generous with the 'invisibles.' Generosity leads to loyalty. They watch your back.  My best allies throughout the years have been secretaries, office managers, building engineers, security guards and drivers. Take care of  and nurture these folks. They are often the backbone of any organization and often very, very invisible to everyone else. Also, if you can score an invite-they have the best parties. 
4. The more booze, the bigger tips (and donations and access to information). 
5. Learning to take shit with humor is not a bad thing.
6. Flirting and provocative sweetness (with men and women) results in bigger tips (and contracts, fundraising dollars and clout).
7. Sisterhood must be encouraged and allowed to flourish. It's a survival mechanism for all of the above.