I am the leader of the server revolution! Taking the power away from the customers and putting it back in the hands of the bartenders and servers. Yelp off!!!
Customers always ask or assume that servers get to eat the food that is served at the restaurant. We don’t. What we get is a much toned down version of the food that is presented on the menu: the staff meal. And when I say “toned down,” I mean that the food is missing all of the elements that make me want to eat it. Things like flavor, health content, and being too far past the expiration date.
A lot of places will whip up a quick meal, like a pasta or something that resembles “Hot Pockets,” to serve to the staff before their shift starts. “Shift Meal,” or “Staff Meal” is what it is formally called, most of us in the biz call it the quickest way to get sent home early, because you’ve come down with diarrhea.
Some places, like where I work, have a staff cafeteria that houses such staff delicacies as mystery meat, salads that have at least 3 onions chopped into them, or fish that comes frozen from a box. It is as if they want us to gain 10 pounds and have a cholesterol count over 200. My co-worker writes a great blog about the struggles of eating good and working at a place that doesn’t support those ideals. Check out her post: (justalittlebitfat)
So no, I don’t eat the food that the customers eat. However, I have seen co-workers in the past eating off of a plate that she bussed from a guest’s table. For some reason, she had a thing for only eating Salmon and drinking Champagne. We called her B.O.B. which stood for Bag Of Bones. What she and many other servers do is called “dumpster diving.” Yes, it’s extremely gross, and some servers justify it by saying that they only eat the pieces that weren’t touched or cut into, but I just call it the quickest way to get Hepatitis. But, who the hell am I to judge? But having Hepatitis and no health insurance is no way to go through life.
Just keep in mind that the food that is on the menu at my restaurant is delicious, plated beautifully, and I don’t eat it. I’m the guy who tells you how delicious it is after having just eaten some type of meatball downstairs in the cafeteria. I would write more, but I have to run to the bathroom.
Until next time… Server’s don’t pay their rent with compliments.
“Bitter. Party of 1? Your table is ready.”