Waiter Rant: Thanks for the Tip-Confessions of a Cynical Waiter

The world's a big place. You can't do or be everything, nor should you. Life is bigger than any one man. But when you read about other people's lives, when you read their stories, you catch a glimpse of a world bigger than your own. You may never travel a hundred miles from where you were born, but if you read stories, you'll get to see the entire world.

Everyone, no matter what kind of job he or she has, fantasizes about freaking out at work. How many corporate drones, stuck in a boring staff meeting, have had the sudden urge to jump on top of the conference table and start screaming obscenities? Strip off their clothes? Kiss the woman or man next to them? We all have. How many employees joke about shooting the boss or blowing the place up? I’m not suggesting we do any of these things, mind you, but let’s not kid ourselves; we all have a little murder in our heart.

People say you have to travel to see the world. Sometimes I think that if you just stay in one place and keep your eyes open, you're going to see just about all that you can handle.

When the Italian poet Dante described the center of hell in his poem The Divine Comedy, he got it wrong. The epicenter of Hades isn't Satan trapped in a block of ice munching on Judas Iscariot like an everlasting carrot stick. The center of hell is a restaurant on Mother's Day.

If you read stories, you get to see the entire world. And not just the stories you find in books and film, but the stories of strangers sitting next to you on the subway or in an ordinary restaurant. You can find the world in your own story, too - you just have to keep your eyes open.

When a man gets older, if he’s smart, he likes his women older, too.

Waiters have one of the few jobs where their compensation depends on the whims of their customers.

You may be the strongest and survive—only to win a life not fit for living.

...reading literature could teach you about the "universal human experience". Maybe you'll never hunt another man through the jungle. Maybe you won't climb Mount Kilimanjaro or watch a bullfight in the afternoon - you don't have to. The world's a big place. You can't do or be everything, nor should you. Life is bigger than any one man. But when you read about other people's lives, when you read their stories, you catch a glimpse of a world bigger than your own. You maay never travel a hundred miles from where you were born, but if you read great stories, you'll get to see the entire world. You'll enter into the Great Mystery.

Americans love cooking shows. Come to think of it, how many of us are eating when we watch a cooking show? As we watch the chef perform his or her magic, the humble ham sandwich we're gnawing on briefly transubstantiates into whatever the chef's preparing. There's always a small communion between viewer and chef, only you don't get to eat what they're making. It's like watching a Catholic mass on TV.

Mother’s Day has evolved into a Yom Kippur for guilty children everywhere. Taking Mom out to brunch used to be an appreciative gesture. Now it’s a guilt-expiation liturgy.

Savvy customers avoid eating out on busy restaurant days, namely holidays and Saturday nights. Hey, the greatest meals I’ve ever had in a restaurant were on a quiet Tuesday or Wednesday evening.

You can find the world in your own story, too—you just have to keep your eyes open.

A famous chef once observed that the restaurant business is a haven for people who don’t fit in anywhere else.

A restaurant gets the customers it deserves.

And Sartre? I chuckle to myself. He was only half right. Heaven can be other people, too.

40. If you can’t afford to leave a tip, you can’t afford to eat in the restaurant. Stay home.

I’ve found that most people are cravenly indifferent to what happens in the back alleys of affluence—whether it’s behind a restaurant or a Wal-Mart.

I came to the conclusion that everybody, and I mean everybody, narcotizes their pain somehow. I don’t care if you think the pain comes from insufficient parenting, frustrated dreams, the human condition, or the wages of Original Sin. Everyone tries to deaden it somehow.

When you don’t care, when you’re wrapped up in your own selfishness, man’s inhumanity to man becomes that much easier to ignore.

Hell is other people. I say quoting Jean Paul Sartre. And Sartre? I chuckle to myself. He was only half right. Heaven can be other people too.

I learned that love is only one ingredient among many in relationship.

Life is bigger than any one man. But when you read about other people’s lives, when you read their stories, you catch a glimpse of a world bigger than your own. You may never travel a hundred miles from where you were born, but if you read stories, you’ll get to see the entire world. You’ll enter into the Great Mystery.

We are, in the end, responsible for all our actions and the pain and joy it brings to others. The older I get, the more sense that belief system makes to me.

I am beginning to think yuppie parents lie to their offspring, telling them they’re suffering from food allergies when they’re actually not, hoping to con their hypercompetitive children into eating whatever trendy diet promises to help them grow into big, strong, overly self-esteemed junk bond traders.

quality flows from the top down.

When happiness and peace are scarce, people will turn to artificial means to shut off the jabbering in their brains.

the computer while they were in the middle of placing

Servers don’t always remember good tippers, but we sure as hell remember the bad ones. The emotional pain and embarrassment of getting a bad tip burns that customer’s face into our brains—much the same way a trauma fuses the most trivial details surrounding an accident into a victim’s memory.

When you stiff servers on the tip, you’re really screwing them over. Waiters in the United States, with few exceptions, are not paid a salary. We don’t even make minimum wage. In the state of New York, tipped workers are paid $4.60 an hour. That’s below the state’s minimum wage of $7.15 per hour.