June 12, 2012
Somewhere between being double sat and extra drink refills, I was officially initiated into the greater restaurant worker community. I broke a plate. And it wasn't even like I was trying to do a balancing or juggling act with these plates; I was just wiping them dry before presenting them alongside an appetizer to my party of five. The app had been sitting in the expo window (meaning that it was done) for at least five minutes while I had been running around, stuffing the faces of my two other tables. So when one of my co-workers gave me my appetizer to deliver to my third table, I wanted to get it out there as quickly as possible. Cue the awkwardly wet plates and my compulsive need to clean them. I had tried, my first few days working there, to deliver wet plates alongside apps, hoping no one would notice. Inevitably, they did, forcing me to scurry back to the kitchen, extolling apologies and "I had no idea"s all the way. Therefore, I had learned that to save time (and increase my tip), it was better to bring them out dry in the first place. Simple logic, I know, but not everyone at my place of work subscribes to it.
At any rate, this is what I was frantically doing when on the VERY LAST PLATE, I dropped it mid-wipe. The sound of the crash was, to me, deafening. I think I might have said a half-hearted "Opa!" to take the edge off the situation, but I was freaking humiliated. The new girl messed up...again. I'm pretty sure that everyone is getting tired of my ridiculous ineptness, and not even my little girl charm can make up for my lack of coordination. One of the bussers and the manager (kill me) quickly took care of the fragile situation, but their efficient cleanup did not make me feel any better about my newly deflated sense of self worth. Still, there was no time to waste worrying about spilled porcelain. I retrieved another plate, successfully polished it to a bone dry shine, and whisked it, its friends, and the appetizer to my eagerly awaiting table. We were received with cheers, huzzahs, and a petition to make me queen. (I preferred the role of princess so nothing ever came of the proposition.) After gingerly placing the plates on the table, each customer quickly grabbed one, almost fighting each other for the chance to caress the silky smooth surface first. Well, maybe they weren't that ecstatic over the plates. They barely even acknowledged their presence. However, it is my opinion that the silent heros often do the most good. It's a reckless, thankless job being a plate, but someone's gotta do it.
These dirty plates aren't the only thing that's a hot mess. #servergirlstruggz
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