Spartan Daily - Serving San Jose State University since 1934

Issue date: 11/4/09 Section: Opinion

I used to work in a restaurant.

The restaurant was rather popular where I lived, so there was a vast array of customers who entered the restaurant.

I am usually a nice person - well, at least I try to be, but for some reason, as soon as I entered the restaurant I instantly became cynical of my surroundings.

I worked the morning shift on the weekends, and from 7 a.m. to 2 p.m. there was a line out the door.

People were oblivious to the fact that the staff was running around in a constant panic for seven hours, as they were served their food.

I had numerous people complain about how I was neglecting their table, and they felt that I was a disappointment, as I carried a pile of 15 plates to the kitchen.

It wasn't just me who they were complaining about. Staff members were also known for their poor service.

Customers had a hard time understanding that when they went out for a meal, there was an entire restaurant full of other people who needed their food as well.

These nit-picky customers should have cooked for themselves instead of making my shift miserable.

To top off the exciting day, at the end of the shift, when tips were split, it was almost embarrassing to grab the wad of empty gum wrappers and quarters from the tip jar.

One time, a homeless man found his way into the restaurant restroom, where he defecated onto the stall floor, completely missing the porcelain target.

As the man left the restroom, the intense smell of his accident on the stall floor did not agree with his stomach, and he threw up all over the hallway that lead to the restroom.

Unfortunately, none of the staff noticed what had happened until a man holding his sandals in his hand approached with a particular angry look on his face.

The man demanded that we pay for his meal and a new pair of sandals, because he had walked directly into the vomit that was splattered on the floor.

The owner of the restaurant paid for his meal, but not his sandals.

I never saw the man again.

Now that I no longer work at a restaurant, I will always understand the flustered waiter with flushed cheeks and a shaking hand, writing orders down.

Food service industry workers do not receive enough respect from customers whose stomachs are growling and whose urge to knock back alcohol is growing by the second.

It is important to remember that members of food staff are trying their hardest to get food to the table in a timely fashion. Just give them some slack the next time you sit down at a restaurant.

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