Wednesday, April 26, 2006
by Ospite. 
April 26th, 2006. Secretary's Day.
This is one of the few days a year that we book large amounts of big parties. As I have stated before, we are not a banquet hall, but when every doctor's office and every law firm decide they want to take their secretaries to lunch at our restaurant, we don't decline. The turnover rate is fabulous. The floor is packed solid. Each table orders the most extravagent meals imaginable. Plenty of wine, antipaste, huge entrées, more wine, dessert in excess, coffee... In short, it's heaven and hell all at once.
I was booked to work early today so as to set up the parties in the book. We had extra wait staff on the floor. It promised to be a long lunch.
The interaction between boss and underlings is a rather humorous interchange.
There are the bosses that regularly take out their staff, treating them well as if it was their religion. We like them. They are pleasant, easy to wait on, have no outrageous requests, and tip reasonably, though not with gusto. We have one such lawyer. He comes in with one of his three secretaries once a week. Each woman gets a lunch with us on him once a month. The last week is reserved for his single paralegal.
There are those bosses who you can tell do it because they have to. They are the ones who let everyone else order whatever they want, but they're cheap pricks so they order salad for themselves... these are the ones you assume own the business and are therefore directly paying for the meal out of their pocket. They tip poorly, ask ridiculous favors like "Hi...we're in a bit of a rush, can you put our orders in before your other tables'? We want to get out of here ASAP." Obviously they don't want the staff to order anything but the main course. Sound a tad out of line? I heard that request thrice today.
Following the verbally abusive moronical 'do it cuz I have to' guy, comes the Masked Boss. He's the one who seems like a great guy, takes the secretary out to lunch with a co-worker who also takes his out to lunch. They let the staff order epic meals, and seem happy to make them happy. Then they wander off to the bar from time to time, have bit of Johnnie Black, and complain about how horrible their staff is (this is why I hang out near the bar on SD):
"So Kelly asked me for a new chair, something with lumbar support or some sh*t like that. Apparently her back is 'bothering her.' Woman, I'll give you some advice, 'Stop bringing TWINKIES TO WORK!' God, seriously. She can barely walk to the copier, much less bring me paperwork. Next I'll have to pay for f*cking back surgery or something."
"Well, look at what she's eating! She's a f*cking cow. I can't eat that much food. Man, you gotta fire her and find a hotter one."
"Speaking of, Sharon. HOT today. Workin her new suit...like a glove! MmmMM!"
"Yeah. She loves the attention. Not that I'm going to tell her to stop dressing like a whore."
"How much longer do you think we'll have to hang out here before we get a 'business call?'"
"I say 20-ish minutes."
At least these guys are showing, or pretending to show, some gratitude for the people (mostly women) who run their lives and keep it in order. Like that movie Day Without a Mexican, what would happen if suddenly, all the secretaries, administrative assistants, and the 'little people' just up and vanished...
This is one of the few days a year that we book large amounts of big parties. As I have stated before, we are not a banquet hall, but when every doctor's office and every law firm decide they want to take their secretaries to lunch at our restaurant, we don't decline. The turnover rate is fabulous. The floor is packed solid. Each table orders the most extravagent meals imaginable. Plenty of wine, antipaste, huge entrées, more wine, dessert in excess, coffee... In short, it's heaven and hell all at once.
I was booked to work early today so as to set up the parties in the book. We had extra wait staff on the floor. It promised to be a long lunch.
The interaction between boss and underlings is a rather humorous interchange.
"So Kelly asked me for a new chair, something with lumbar support or some sh*t like that. Apparently her back is 'bothering her.' Woman, I'll give you some advice, 'Stop bringing TWINKIES TO WORK!' God, seriously. She can barely walk to the copier, much less bring me paperwork. Next I'll have to pay for f*cking back surgery or something."
"Well, look at what she's eating! She's a f*cking cow. I can't eat that much food. Man, you gotta fire her and find a hotter one."
"Speaking of, Sharon. HOT today. Workin her new suit...like a glove! MmmMM!"
"Yeah. She loves the attention. Not that I'm going to tell her to stop dressing like a whore."
"How much longer do you think we'll have to hang out here before we get a 'business call?'"
"I say 20-ish minutes."
At least these guys are showing, or pretending to show, some gratitude for the people (mostly women) who run their lives and keep it in order. Like that movie Day Without a Mexican, what would happen if suddenly, all the secretaries, administrative assistants, and the 'little people' just up and vanished...
1 Comments:
thanks, from one of the "little people." ;) I realize you posted this last year, but it's 5:30 and I'm killing time before I go home...love your blog by the way, I haven't done the food thing in awhile, but as someone who didi their time in customer service, I understand. :)
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