From the Beginning

Day 1, Post 1
I guess I should start where it all began. I was fourteen years old and heard about this sleazy little dive seafood "restaurant" that paid five bucks an hour (under the table, obviously, note my age at the time) plus tips. It wasn't even really waitressing or "serving" as it's now, gender-neutrally, known. The people would come in and order their dinner at the counter. They would then get a clam shell with a number painted on it and find their own table. When their food was ready, my job was to walk out to the tables and scream "Number seventeen!" and find the table with the clam shell that had a number seventeen painted on it and drop their plates of food in front of them. Of course, I would have sometimes also served their sodas prior to that, but it was a B.Y.O.B place and, trust me, most people brought their own booze into this joint. When there weren't any tables to wait on, I would be doing food preparation in the back, buttering garlic bread, breading shrimp, stuff like that.

Now I don't want to give away my age but let's just say this was back in the '80's. Now after many, MANY years, at least twelve restaurants, hotels and bars, two colleges, one bachelor's degree, a REAL job (if you call sitting in a cube under flourescent lights a real job - I call it SLAVERY!), a husband and a few kids, I've found that I am still doing what I was doing when I was fourteen (job-wise, I mean, if I was still doing now what I was doing then, I'd probably be in jail --- or dead) and that is: serving food and beverages to people of whom 95 percent feel that 1) they are smarter and better than me, and 2) I exist for the sole purpose of being the person they metaphorically shit on whenever they have the need to feel better about their own pathetic lives.

All I have to say is, thank heavens for the five percent. The ones who treat me as a human being, realize that I am actually a person with her own set of hang-ups and problems and even accomplishments. And especially the select few who pay the electric bill and inadvertently buy new shoes for my children, take me to Tool concerts and let me make an ass of myself. If it weren't for that five percent then, well, I probably would have gone on a shooting rampage ages ago. (Side Note: The Department of Homeland Security has already flagged this blog now hasn't it? And on my first post! Whoo-Hooo).

For about ten years now I've been threating to write a book about how to behave when you are out at a bar or restaurant. To be fair I've wanted to pay equal time to educate those who work in the service industry as to how they should be treating their guests. Cause I go out too. And I get shitty service too. I'm just blessed to have worked for the last several years along side of many true professionals who know what they are doing in this business. I realized that no one reads books anymore. Except for me and, hopefully, the people whom I give books as gifts to. Everyone just reads the internet, so a blog it will be. Here you may be educated, here you may hopefully laugh, here you may disagree and send me nasty comments, here you may learn the secret to the perfect margarita. So, welcome to my blog.

TerriTheBartender

Terri's tip of the day: You know, I wanted to start this out on the right foot by giving an actual tip that would help people as they weave their way through the game that is bar culture. But halfway through lunch today I picked up a credit card slip that had a total bill of $22 and change. The bill was signed for a total of $25 (that's a $2 and change tip) and I thought that really sucked. But my actual worst tip of the day was zero! ZILCH! NADA! Another check of $23.42 with a big slash mark through the tip line. And no cash accompanied it. Gosh --- I hope that lady didn't get into a horrific disfiguring automobile accident after she left the restaurant. I sincerely hope that she doesn't go to the doctor tomorrow and find out she has an aggressively untreatable cancer and won't live to see the new year. I wouldn't wish that on anyone. Not even the worst waitress in the world.