Over Easy

My boyfriend and his parents and I had lunch at a diner today ... one of those semi-crappy diners that serves deep-fried cheesecake. They were closing in an hour, or so, and it was well past the lunch rush, so the servers were starting to close up shop while taking the last of their orders. I had major flashbacks to when I've worked the breakfast/lunch shift and you hit that hour of the afternoon where your dogs are barking, your makeup is shiny, your apron is caked with fried egg and syrup and you stink like the dishwasher. God, I felt for them. One woman was refilling the sugars on the tables, another starting to re-stock the croutons and half and half. Their ponytails had expired, along with their shirts ... few of them even bothered to tuck them in at this stage of the day. Then, the dishwasher came out with a 3-tiered cart of bus tubs ... rumbling down the aisle of the dining room collecting dirty dishes. I almost puked. Then I saw right through his white, wet button down shirt to his overhanging gut ... soaked and stained to the bone. I held my breath as he walked by. The smell of restaurant dish washing areas has always made me gag. There's a very distinct stench that rises up out of the sinks and washers and corners where these poor souls have to work. It's not right ... but I admire them for being able to tolerate it. My feet hurt just looking at the workers. Being on the breakfast/lunch shift SUCKS! It's the most work for the least pay. And breakfast people are PICKY motherfuckers. You have to get their eggs just right, bacon has to be "extra cripsy", choices of toast, jam, jelly, butter, ketchup, Tobasco (red and green), honey, warmed syrup ... and don't even get me started on the tea people. By the time you're done serving a table of 4 breakfast, there are literally 30 items to be picked up off the table. And since you're only one person and can only bring so many items to the table at one time, you can count on about a dozen round trips to the table. Then there's the coffee. The tiny, worthless mugs that maybe hold 2 ounces force servers to make coffee runs the equivalent of a half-marathon. And all for about $3 ... if you're lucky.
If I ever have to wait tables again, and believe me, I could be getting close, Mama only works the dinner shift. I look at it this way: I can bring you a plate of food that will cost you $7 or $32 ... it's all the same to my feet ... but you have to tip a percentage of your bill. And when you add cocktails, appetizers, a bottle of wine and dessert ... I'm walking away with a pretty good tip on a fat bill. Of course, you need to act the part ... you have to know what broccoli rabe and quinoa are, what wine will go well with your Chilean sea bass, and memorize detailed specials, but I personally think it's worth it.
So, here's to all you hard, hard working breakfast/lunch shifters: the servers, bussers, cooks, and dishwashers ... getting off at 3pm with $35 in your pocket, an apron that's stuck together, dried syrup under your fingernails, and the wherewithal to do it all over again tomorrow.