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 Literary Itinerary

Book Recommendation      

Waiter Rant: Thanks for the Tip--

Confessions of a Cynical Waiter

by The Waiter   Reviewed by Carole Flynn     HarperCollins 2008

Who is this writer who calls himself The Waiter?  When I first started reading Waiter Rant, I didn't know, but his voice was immediately addictive.  Laughing so hard, I woke my husband up mid-sleep while I was reading this self-proclaimed rant (maybe it was his explanation of "crop dusting tables"--that is, the waiterly art of releasing flatulence  near a table full of annoying patrons).  After finishing the book in one night, the only downside was that it left me famished to devour another course of The Waiter's astute rantings. 

The Waiter writes with David Sedaris's amusing, sarcastic, and self-deprecating wit, while giving the reader an incredibly revealing insight into the restaurant industry.  Anthony Bourdain, author of Kitchen Confidential, hails this book as "a painfully funny, excruciatingly true account of the waiter's life."   

From the onset it becomes clear--this is more than a memoir rant.  To begin with, his waitering gig doesn't jibe with his background.  He's a former divinity student whose childhood ideal was to become a Catholic priest.  He becomes jaded by what he calls the "hypocrisy" of the Church and resentful of his fellow seminarians (both gay and straight) who disobey the celibacy precept.  However, when he develops a crush on a girl named Gwen, he realizes that the arcane notion of celibacy isn't going to be a "viable lifestyle choice" for him either.  He graduates the seminary but decides not to pursue the priesthood.

He instead lands a job at a psychiatric and drug-rehab facility as "the guy in the proverbial white coat." Despite the creepy label he attaches to himself, he enjoys the camaraderie of his fellow staffers and hitting on the female nurses.  He refers to himself as a "frat-boy" during this phase of his life, that is, when he isn't "hog-tying patients or escorting them to electroshock therapy."  His sense of self paradoxically broadens in this strange environment.

The hospital becomes embroiled in scandal over a patient who commits suicide.  Shortly thereafter the facility is exposed by Diane Sawyer on Prime Time Live.  Finally, one day he arrives at work to find the FBI hauling out files.  Not surprisingly, the patient census drops to a quarter of its capacity.  Between the arrests of those in management and the litigation against it, the facility lays off most of its staff including him. 

In the midst of trying to rebound from that experience (which he feels has tarnished what little career opportunities he has), he loses one of his best friends to cancer, ends his first long-term love relationship, and is "downsized" after a new clinic that hires him is acquired by another company.

This is the path that leads him to "temporarily" wait tables.  His brother, also a waiter, gets him a job at "Amici's."  Seven years later, several restaurants later, and several thousand tables later, The Waiter realizes that being a waiter is a lot like being a gambler.  Both are only intermittently financially rewarded, and that can be a seductive and addictive trap.

"Waiting tables can be like playing slot machines," says The Waiter. "Each table is the luck of the draw.  Sometimes you make zilch; sometimes you hit the jackpot." Because of this phenomenon, he theorizes that waiters get addicted to the inherent all-or-nothing reward system, are prone to impetuously spend the sometimes large sums of cash in their pockets (as opposed to the majority of career professionals who have their paychecks directly deposited into checking or savings accounts).  As a result, many waiters flounder financially. 

In an industry where long hours, double shifts, and living out of sync with the traditional 9-5 weekday schedule are the norm, The Waiter forges abnormal relationships: short-lived romances, mismatched friendships, and faces cutthroat competition from work colleagues who jeopardize his very livelihood.  His only long-term relationship is with his dog, and even that is less than ideal, since he shares custody of the canine with his ex-girlfriend.

Through it all, his gift as a waiter and writer is in exposing his own culpability and shortcomings--his oftentimes volatile temper, his penchant for profanity (a proclivity not uncommon to those in the upscale restaurant business apparently), his habit of intentionally overbooking his seating section as he advances to the role of waiter/restaurant manager, and his increasing recognition that, unlike some of his co-workers, he's hiding out as a waiter. 

The Waiter introduces us to all sorts of customers, people like ourselves: the 80% of "nice people looking for something to eat" (or at least we hope we fall into that category).  And then there's the rest: the 20% who "are socially maladjusted psychopaths."  They appear in all shapes and forms: cheapskates, bill cheaters, gourmand-wannabes, just to name a few.  They demand the impossible, send food back to the kitchen routinely, and try to brazenly flaunt their quasi-culinary knowledge.  (The Waiter's theory: too much exposure to the Food Network).  Above all, they treat waiters like servants instead of servers.  It becomes clear how he and other waiters become jaded.  Its a workplace survival mechanism. 

Beware if you tip in the single digit range.  The Waiter instructs us how waiters quickly become astute at sizing up customers.  In a three page list, he articulates all the nuances of tipping and how that reflects upon character and personality.  Some restaurants even keep databases on cheapskates.

The Waiter provides other useful information amidst his anecdotes.  New Year's Eve, Valentine's Day, and Mother's Day are the worst days to be a customer.  Prices are inflated.  Menu choices are limited.  Portions are down-sized.  Service is admittedly bad.  The waitstaff dreads these holidays where they become targets of heightened verbal abuse and ultra cheapskate tipping.

As if laid out on a silver platter, the waiter serves us all the dysfunctional delicacies that can be found in an upscale New York restaurant.  One New Year's Eve, mid-shift, he's forced to break up an illicit sex act in the restroom.  A couple of patrons are high as kites and going at it while a long line of impatient customers is forming outside the restroom. 

After he breaks up that tryst and makes sure the sink is still attached to the wall, The Waiter seats an inebriated investment banker and his date, who is obviously a prostitute.  We applaud the waiter's audacity when he refuses the first tip the vulgar and demeaning snob tries to leave him: $250 (a 17% tip on his bill, which under normal circumstances would be fair).  With a crushing glare, when this pompous drunk asks The Waiter what he thinks of his tip, The Waiter replies, "I don't like it."  Whether he is utterly shocked or is trying to impress his hooker, the customer scratches out the old tip and writes in a new one: $500.  At times like this, waiting tables seems more like playing psychological chess. To succeed, The Waiter must stay at least one move ahead of his customer.  At this point in the book, I just wanted The Waiter to yell what I was thinking, "Checkmate!"

At another table, The Waiter is sent out on roach reconnaissance to exterminate one such roach without bringing undue attention to the situation.  He suavely tops off the wine in his customers' glasses.  Gripping the wine bottle by a white napkin elegantly shrouding the bottle top, he coyly refills the glasses.  Then he deftly places the napkin behind his back to grab the cockroach off the wall.  His customers are clueless that the roach was just crawling inches above their expensive meals. 

On a more serious note, The Waiter's compassion becomes apparent when he helps a stroke victim.  Just moments later, a pushy group wants a table near where the paramedics are trying to help her.  Infuriated by their insensitivity, The Waiter denies this impertinent and selfish bunch their coveted table.  He proves that he can dish out more than what is on the menu.  It seems at this point in the book his former ideals of the goodness of the priesthood arise and spontaneously collide with the edginess he's developed as a waiter.  The combination of the two result in a kind act toward the victim and a necessary affront to the enemy--a bit of waiterly heroism.

The Waiter has an epiphany of sorts realizing why he seeks out dark, womb-like settings like seminaries, psychiatric facilities, and restaurants.  This striking insight is handled deftly, rather than with the predictable sentimentality that would taint a lesser memoir.  The tone and voice The Waiter strikes in this book is unflinchingly honest.  Even when he behaves badly, because he  readily admits his flaws, we want The Waiter to succeed.  Maybe it's because he's shown us that being a waiter requires sacrifice, self-control, a sense of humor, and a seemingly-at-odds combination of compassion and ruthlessness.

For anyone who has ever waited tables (as I did on my semester breaks from college) this book will hit home.  I remembered the customer who threw his cold french fries at me in the crowded Friendly's restaurant where I waitressed.  My seventeen-year-old humiliated self ran into the break room to cry.  The manager barred the customer from the restaurant.  I also remembered the elderly widower, one of my regular customers, who brought me yellow roses on my birthday.  Waitressing was like that: every customer, every table was a gamble.

For anyone who aspires to wait tables, this book is a front row seat into your future.  Waiting tables can be the best of jobs; it can be the worst of jobs.  Some shifts are a bust; others are a windfall of cash.  You'll never be the same person having relied on the generosity (or lack thereof) of customers for the majority of your income.  You'll never view people--the 80% who are good and the 20% who push you to the brink of insanity--in quite the same way.

For those who dine out, hopefully after reading this confessional, you'll have more compassion for the person behind the uniform who serves you.  Hopefully you won't exploit the skewed power dynamic that exists, but instead after learning from this educational "rant," you'll tip your average waiter or waitress more generously.

In the end, The Waiter's story is about all the people behind the scenes in a restaurant and the slight of hand every good waiter must pull off in the midst of overbooked tables, bad management, unruly customers, under-staffed kitchens, and yes, pests and rodents including, in one case for The Waiter, a squirrel.  And although he doesn't overtly state it, perhaps studying to be a priest and working at a mental health facility were suitable training for his job waiting on saints, sinners, and lunatics.

In 2004, The Waiter (who has since officially been outted as Steven Dublanica), started an anonymous blog about the anonymous restaurant in New York he called The Bistro.  In 2006, he won the "Best Writing in a Weblog" Bloggie Award. 

All I can say to Steve Dublanica, The Waiter and author is, "Thanks for the tips."

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