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Monday, August 02, 2004
My Name? Tip. Tip The Waitress
Bay Street, Toronto The long weekend has been beeeeoootiful. And I've missed it all because I'm stuck indoors at work. My entire household had the Civic Holiday off and I was the only one who had to work. The Entire Weekend. I'm really wondering if I should be complaining though. Work on Saturday wasn't too bad, and today was alright. But Sunday, Sunday was a totally different story. At one point in time, I had 23 customers to look after simultaneously, 9 of which were together for a birthday party, 7 of whom wanted refills for their tea. After Sunday, I realized that I am officially a bonafide waitress. I can take 3 orders without writing it down on a pad (it's more professional of you memorize it I was told) and I don't mess anything up. I can carry 3 plates, cutlery and a pepper grinder. Or 9 plates and a 2-tiered plate of sandwiches (tried that one on Sunday). And all that is without, I repeat, without a tray. Give me a tray and I can carry anything. Including the mess of 3 children and a bag of crisps. At the end of the day, I can barely bend my knees enough to sit down and every joint in my body hurts. Even the parts that aren't joints. And so while I feel like my feet are never going to forgive me, I really wonder if I should complain. The wondering if I should complain part comes when I remember that I made $81.70 in tips that day. Maybe I can use my newfound wealth to buy myself another back and a new set of knees. |
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