Voices
“I asked for salami, not pepperoni! How the HELL do you confuse salami for pepperoni?”
Suffering the preceding comment, smiling and apologizing is one of the joys of being a waiter. This past year I have been a server at a gourmet pizzeria, a Chinese bistro and an American “neighborhood-style” restaurant. Each had its own training system, tip-out schedule and scripted table greeting. After a year of mindlessly asking strangers if they would “care to start off with something to drink,” I’m out of patience.
By
Kent Elliott
September 13, 2007