Random Stuff (Multifandom)

1. Yeah, rant all you need too. That’s what this is for. Go you, man. This shit ain’t actually crazy easy to do well at.

2. I understand that I’m in a privileged position being in a state where my employer is required to pay the state minimum wage on top of my tips.

2a. But, even with that, I make a gaudy amount of money for what I do. 

3. I’m more than just an order taker. Yeah, I’m there to bring you food and drink, and that’s my primary goal, but I want you to have an experience that makes you want to tip better, come back, and maybe even remember my name to request my section again. Part of that is being an MC for each of my tables.

4. On this pre-apology thing that a lot of people seem to hate…Like…why? They’re letting you know that they have a need (which happens to be your job to fulfill) that requires more attention than average. You’re not going to be surprised, and now you can fucking prepare to accompany it while also streamlining it to make your life a little easier. 

5. We are like, actually getting paid in tips (something people don’t have to do, mind you) to fulfill the needs and wants of the people sitting at your damn table. People are all different with different needs/wants. Part of our job is accompanying those difference needs/wants to ensure that our customers have a good, relaxing time dining at your restaurant. 

6. I get that people take the above point too far, it happens. Y’know what else happens that nobody seems to touch on? The ones who are a bit needier, notify you of it and are genuinely appreciative when you remember and accompany them. I get a lot more of those than I do needy, ungrateful types. 

7. It’s literally all about your attitude. Want to make more money? Want people to not be assholes? Want to have fun and enjoy your job? Go into it with the right attitude. Have fun while you’re working, it’ll go by faster and you’ll have a lot more of a positive outlook if you, oh I dunno, have fun with your tables. Be more than an order taker with a pulse. This ain’t McD’s, shape up, kiddo.

8. On running coworkers’ food/drinks. And this is a big one for me Y’know that line after dropping shit off where you’re like, ‘Is there anything else I can grab for yah right away?’ Well, that’s you opening yourself up for them to ask you for things. They want mas bevy? Take it down and say you’ll go find their server, odds are that server will swing through their section and check on em’ before you even find them and you won’t have to deal with it anyways. They’re out of ketchup? Grab them another fucking ketchup. If you’re so weeded you can’t spare the minute, you shouldn’t be running food, you should be catching up on your own shit. Oh, they need empty plates and glassware removed from the table? Yeah, that’s called pre-bussing, also an aspect of your job. I’m sure you haven’t been the greatest at it at times in your own section, either. This point is getting long so I’ll move on.

9. 90% of my tables appreciate and find it funny when I throw a little bit of sass back their way. If I get my greet interrupted with a drink order or whatever (which is honestly my biggest peeve in this industry) I respond in kind. Typically something along the lines of, “Oh cool, I like getting new nicknames, maybe Diet Coke could use some more work though. Anyways, how are we doing tonight?” and I usually get at least a chuckle while also reminding them that I am in fact a human being and I run this shit. 

10. Remember, they’re guests in your restaurant, in your section, at your table. You’re fuckin’ in charge of this shit, homie. You’re the MC and they’re your crowd. You have complete control of 99.9% of the interactions you have with guests. Take the lead, don’t let them talk down to you, don’t let them control your mood, let alone how you serve them. You have that job for a fucking reason, and it’s because you’re good at it. Take back the control if it starts to slip.

11. I wanted to stop at ten, but this is probably the most important. 

Hello! You may want to bring your dad out to brunch or dinner on Father’s Day. Some things to keep in mind for a great experience for your family and your service staff:

-Sit where the host tells you to, unless it’s a dirty or unsafe table for someone in your party. They put you there for a reason. You’ll get a booth/outdoor/end table another time probably.

-Say hello, how are you to your host and waiter when you start, and thank you when you leave. :) If you say “Four” to a host, they will seat you at a four-top table, but they will not like you. 

-If you don’t know what you want, ask for recommendations! Or tell your waiter you need a few minutes. Don’t hold them up as you decide in front of them.

-Don’t signal at passing waiters to get them to serve you. Yours will come back soon.

-If it’s a long wait, stand or sit where the host tells you to, not in front of any doors or right in the middle of walkways.

-Don’t lie in your Yelp reviews. It doesn’t make the restaurant look good, and it doesn’t make you look good.

-Tip, tip, tip, please. At least 18%. And more for great service, or if your party is huge or difficult. Waiters’ salary at my workplace is under $3 an hour before tips.

NO

B R E A T H E

This post: *exists*

It’s not bread but honestly I’m not sure we’re keeping track anymore

Once a little boy went to school. One morning The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. He liked to make all kinds; Lions and tigers, Chickens and cows, Trains and boats; And he took out his box of crayons And began to draw.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make flowers.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make beautiful ones With his pink and orange and blue crayons. But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And it was red, with a green stem. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at his teacher’s flower Then he looked at his own flower. He liked his flower better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just turned his paper over, And made a flower like the teacher’s. It was red, with a green stem.

On another day The teacher said: “Today we are going to make something with clay.” “Good!” thought the little boy; He liked clay. He could make all kinds of things with clay: Snakes and snowmen, Elephants and mice, Cars and trucks And he began to pull and pinch His ball of clay.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make a dish.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make dishes. And he began to make some That were all shapes and sizes.

But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And she showed everyone how to make One deep dish. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish; Then he looked at his own. He liked his better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just rolled his clay into a big ball again And made a dish like the teacher’s. It was a deep dish.

And pretty soon The little boy learned to wait, And to watch And to make things just like the teacher. And pretty soon He didn’t make things of his own anymore.

Then it happened That the little boy and his family Moved to another house, In another city, And the little boy Had to go to another school.

The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. And he waited for the teacher To tell what to do. But the teacher didn’t say anything. She just walked around the room.

When she came to the little boy She asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?” “Yes,” said the little boy. “What are we going to make?” “I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher. “How shall I make it?” asked the little boy. “Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher. “And any color?” asked the little boy. “Any color,” said the teacher. And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.

All the other kids have one teacher, while I had two, though I was in the same class. I took recess by myself. When the other’s took recess, I was constantly quizzed by my second teacher and shown how to color properly because ‘You don’t want your pictures to look like theirs, do you?’ I just wanted to color. 

When I was allowed to participate with the rest of the class, I felt odd. “How fast does the earth move?” The main teacher asked. “100 miles an hour!” “One bajillion miles a hour!” I raised my hand. “Yes?” I swallowed and smiled. “I think it’s closer to 100,000 kilometers per hour.” I didn’t guess, I stated a fact. I was happy. And proud. Because I knew the answer. But somehow, when the teacher said ‘That’s correct’, it was with a large amount of disappointment and odd looks from the other kids. What had I done wrong? I didn’t answer questions anymore.

When I was in the class with my second teacher, we did reading flash cards. “What does this say?” “Government.” She frowned. “And just how do you know that?” I answered as simply as I could. “It doesn’t sound like it’s spelled. It has ‘Govern’ like the governor, and it has ‘ment’ that rhymes vent which is what’s above us! Government!” “That’s not how you learn words, you need to remember how to spell them. Try the next one.” Why did it matter? I remembered and could read it. So I had to learn the ‘correct’ way to spell and read.

So on and so on until 5th grade, when I was falling behind all the other students and was told to try harder and pay attention. ‘Show your work or it counts against you.’ But I didn’t have any work to show… 45 X 3 just is 135. What work was I supposed to show when something was a fact? So I had to relearn math so my teacher didn’t flunk me out.

This has followed me into adulthood. “Think outside the box.” I can’t. There is a small area outside the box I am allowed and no further. That is what I have been taught. When someone wants something from you in this way, they want to know where it came from and for it to match their ideals… not something they can’t understand or want to consider. And there is always a right answer, even if you are just coming up with ideas.

“Do you have any ideas on this matter?” My boss asks. I shrug. “It’s not something for me weigh in on, that’s beyond my area.”

Your first initial and the last two letters of your last name.

OH MY GOD! YOU SHOULDN’T SKIP THIS WITHOUT WATCHING!!! YOU WILL NOT REGRET IT. THIS IS A MASTERPIECE

FROM YOUR FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD FANFIC CONSUMER

Here’s to the newbies just starting out, the ones discovering their ability to twist and bend plots, characters and places to their will for the first time,

To the old faithfuls, who have kids at home and a full-time job but somehow still find the time to make us forget for a while,  

To the students who publish one-shots and sagas in-between study sessions,

To the ones who posted that one fic years ago and have since moved on, but whose story meant (and still means) so much to so many readers,  

To those of you who publish short, little things that pack the emotional punch of a freight train,

To the ones who update faithfully, and to the ones who don’t,

To the ones who weave lyrics into their stories, and the ones who deal in nothing but angst,

To those who don’t write in their native language, 

To the brave ones who do it despite their fear of rejection or criticism, 

To the ones who like to write with their friends, and the ones who do it alone because their friends wouldn’t understand, 

To the ones who spend hours researching in order to to make their world as real as possible, 

To to the poets and novelists and essayists and dreamers:  

Every single one of you is precious.  

You, along with all the other fandom artists and creators, lift us up and give us hope.  You make us laugh, you make us cry, you make us think and question and wonder.  You help us escape, sometimes, when we need it most.  You bring the unimaginable to life, you translate lofty words into ones we can smell, hear and taste, and you continually encourage and inspire us.  You’re wonderful and powerful and courageous and so, so loved, even if we aren’t always the best at letting you know it.  So this is for those of you with empty comment sections, with a concerning lack of kudos/likes/favs/bookmarks. Your stories make a difference, and they always will.  

So, from all of us to you: