When you are a waiter.

Hi, my name is Kate. I work as a waiter in one of the best restaurants in town.

A little text about how we, the waiters, see it when you relax in a restaurant.

“Eh, how good it is that today there is no business lunch” – sighs the chef of the cold shop.

“Saturday, today will be a fun day” – drag on a cigarette in the smoking room in the backyard. The sun is hot, 11:40.

If the sink and kitchen do not swear – then this simply cannot be. Especially if Aunt A is working at the car wash. She doesn’t care what you cook in this pot – if it is dirty – everyone gets around automatically. And if you’re lucky – then damage.

The working day begins with the usual ritual: go around the hall, fix all the forks and napkins, and look at the stop list.

Waiters have three most important sheets: stop, wounds and top-list.

The first one, respectively, is something that is not prepared for various reasons, and nothing can be punched out of it, otherwise it is shooting. A wound sheet is what needs to be sold soon, because the shelf life is about to expire. And the top list: items that no one orders, because they are expensive or too unusual. (Salmon on a honey pillow with spinach and fruit flambé) for which you can get bonuses or desserts.

“Zaraste T.A!” This is our administrator. A woman of about 40, has been working here for the third year, once, having a day off at her once a month. He loves us as his family, although there have been quite a few such families for her work here.


“Hello Sergey! Come in, will you be alone?”

Grab the menu, soot guest for his favorite table. How can you not know the favorite table of a person who eats 360 days a year?

And so all day you swim around the room with a smile and a straight back, take out 5 plates and simultaneously remove dirty napkins.

“Please, me a mojito. And without ice”

“And is there meat in French? And what is meat there?”

“Where do you have the powder room here?”

But that time is coming. Time zapar. From 6 pm, the whole city decides to go to a restaurant.

Table for six people! Table for eight people! A young couple! Meeting old friends!

“Hello. Can I take an order?”

“Yes, we are welcome … So, what did you choose?”

“I’m Caesar with chicken.”

“And we have two salmon steaks.

“We have to eat vegetables, eat mashed potatoes, ratatouille there …”

“And the fries there? Yes? Then I vegetables and mashed him”

“And I do not Caesar, and Olivier”

You run to score order, all of the waiters about Keeper. (This is such a computer, where they drive in an order). The kitchen has been waiting for 10 minutes while you pick up the salads.

“Girl!” I run to the table.

“Bring us ice and one cola.”

Where Yulia is, this is her table.

I take the salads and stand at the table: “bon appetit!”

Hot for the third, take away.

“Where’s the rib-eye?”

“So I didn’t cook, you didn’t knock the roast out

“Punch roast, holey Bosko!”

I run back to the gym.

“Girl, where is cola and ice !?”

“Take the order! Soooo …. What good wine will you advise?”

The waiter knows good wines if they are among the most expensive in our menu. We advise them.

“Well, yes, probably not bad, show the bottle.”

Only not now .. I run to the kitchen for salads, passing the barman to find a bottle of such wine.

“Take your salad with roast beef already, now it is going to go!”

And the washing is right there: “Emae, wash your plates yourself, Krivorukov pigs, how to eat so they are the first bastards!” Salmon steaks after 7 minutes.

“Please, here is the wine, open?”

“No, we have martinis all the same. Or Bacardi, what are we, girls?”

How do you want to smoke. But there is no time to even sitdown, because you need to send waitrose flowers by post.

“And what, you won’t make a discount, it’s my birthday!”

“I will call the administrator, talk to him”

“We don’t need anyone, if you don’t do it – just say! Bring the bill and the book of complaints! You can’t even make a discount”

“We are the same Bacardi, girl!

“Superior, Black or Spicy?”

“Oh, girls. What will we do?”

The fish is ready, I run to the kitchen, pick it up. “Ribeye – 10 minutes”

“Girl, and how long does the chicken get ready?”

“Minute, I’ll take the order and come to you.”

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