Tuesday

Service really drags when it's slow.
I know it seems counter intuitive, but it's true. Most of the employees at the Silver Dollar are college students, who have had class all day and work all night. It's Tuesday night, and it's pretty clear that no one will be making very much money, so a gloom hits the whole place. The hostess twirls her hair, the boys hang out by the TV, and any customer that walks in is basically viewed as a two hour, two dollar delay to the hours of homework we all have waiting for us in our cheap apartments. We all whine, we all complain, we all try to be the first out of the place. It's amazing how negativity spreads here.
Tuesday's are kind of weird at the Silver Dollar. The manager, Clarissa (The only female or minority manager we have) is relaxed and not incredibly worried or stressed, which is a refreshing change from the usually uptight family managers.
A co-worker of mine-- Sebastian, is supposed to be closing down the restaurant this evening, but has some how managed to push a table of 15 on to me, leaving me grumpy and tired and pretty sick of the already creepy restaurant.
The table is in a private room, about 11 artists sit around a table. I can't tell the dynamics here-- they are all involved in art at the college, but some look to be no more than colleagues, some look like they are very close friends, a couple can be picked out of the group, some have never met, and there are two girls who very clearly do not get along. Then there's me, bearing chips and salsa. Well, this is going to be weird.

I greet them with my usual script, to paraphrase--"Hi my name is Ella, I'll pretend to be not super pissed to be here and I'll do my best not to bug you too much. Alcohol anyone?"

Most of the party gets something to drink, which is a great relief to me, because with every alcohol purchase I can see their final bill raising. Mostly everyone in the group is vastly more friendly with me than I was expecting. One girl with a friendly smile calls me "Hun" and makes it a point to say thank you and please for everything, which is incredibly nice. A couple of the gentlemen are joking with me and don't seem to mind my presence. One gentlemen, however, is Rude, and simply commands me to bring him a drink. Fine, whatever. I still manage to leave the room much happier than when I went in. It's amazing how positivity spreads here.

I try not to eavesdrop on the group for the sake of my anthropology class too much because they seem pretty cool, but I can't help noticing a few dynamics working here. The couple seems like they're fighting, but trying really hard not to. The guy is outspoken and funny to everyone, while his partner rolls her eyes and seems irritated. All the while they hold hands.

The two girls who seem to have some negativity between them passive aggressively talk to each other. Friendly Smile girl is one of these two. The rude gentleman is trying to flirt with the other girl, and he seems to take her side in antagonizing Friendly Smile. I internally take Friendly Smile's side (totally internally though because that's super weird and I don't know these people)

The group all basically orders the same thing which is a relief, and then informs me that they'll be splitting the tickets in a super confusing way which is less of a relief. I wait for their food to come out and clean the kitchen in the meantime. It's already 945, and I should have been done an hour ago. I think about how I will still need to take away their dishes, clean the tables, re table cloth them, set them all up with new cups and silverware, and try not to hold them all personally accountable for the all nighter ahead of me.
The food comes out, everyone likes their meal. No one wants desert. I get the tickets arranged, trying to remember the happy hour specials, who bought who's drink, who ordered extra onions, blah blah blah. I add an 11% gratuity strictly to cover my ass and make sure I at least make minimum wage for this extra three hours (on tables this large we are legally allowed to add 20%, but I'm kind of fundamentally against adding the gratuity. Something about having great faith in people, and believing I gave them 20% service so they'll take care of me.) I drop the checks, pick up 9 different credit cards and try to keep everything straight.
Friendly Smile comments on how low I put the gratuity. I tell her they seemed cool and I didn't want to put anyone out. I exit the room so they can get their belongings together and say their goodbyes. I wonder vaguely if they'll steal my pens.
Everyone leaves and I start clearing glasses and chip baskets. I pick up all the tickets, and notice as I go that no one added any additional tip. 11% guys? Whatever, times are hard. Starving artists or something. I get to Friendly Smile's signed receipt and see that she added the extra 20%. Bless her. The last check I pick up gave me an additional $13.00 on 30.00 check. To my astonishment it is the Rude Gentleman's receipt.
Tuesdays here are weird.