Don't do that

There is a place near phoenix called Scottsdale which features bars and restaurants in a place that’s a little nicer than most of the “chrome and glass” slickness of Phoenix. Phoenix is not slick with chrome and glass other than those materials used to create automobiles and the few centers of community among the millions of acres of concrete and particle board, but a book said it was. There is a place in Scottsdale called Tamponi or something that serves wine and food in a striking red environment. This is located behind some white linen curtains next to a Bed and Bath and Beyond (convenient!) in one of the gorgeous strip malls that make up Arizona from Tuscon to the South Rim.

When the staff gets off there (not what it sounds like) they sit on the porch and smoke cigarettes and talk about waiting tables and how much you can make working doubles. In other words, they are conspicuous and annoying when you spot them past the upturned stem of your rapidly emptying $16 glass of Cabernet Franc.

This allowed me to think in a new way (and very quickly) of all the times a business has shackled me in the past and restricted my freedom on the premises. I am thinking of waiting tables, selling bicycles and working on the cruise ship. All of these jobs I had were uncommonly rigid in their rules for our behavior, and all were companies that are smaller than the norm. Back in Scottsdale, I understand fully that it was a slow night at the place and that this may not happen all the time, but these people should not have been there. Alternatively, we should not have been able to identify these people as employees of that establishment. The problem comes from the fact that when you are a customer in the place you work, you are not existing in either the same social sphere as either the staff or the customers. With no restrictions on your whereabouts or dress, you drag the staff into a more casual and potentially slower way as they want so much to be seated with you instead of serving you, their co-worker. Even though you’ve rolled up your apron so tight and stuck it next to your seat and unbuttoned your black shirt a couple buttons since you collected your last tip, you are not in public mode. You lack the poise and subtle reserve of the CK Ones and Egoistes around you. You might as well be at home unwrapping your weed for a night in front of the xbox.

Thus I have understanding of the requirement to wear name tags in public areas on cruise ships and similar employee fraternization rules. I support all these rules now, with the one exception that the more intelligent and discreet employees should be allowed to do as they please incognito, that is, under the radar of critical customers like me. The simple theater of selling glasses of wine for $16 can’t be interrupted by off-duty employees. Someone who moments ago filled my water glass or described the delightful truffles the chef has created shouldn’t be blowing cigarette smoke in my face, or infringing on the cozy quietude that a slow night happens to afford. These few made the slow night seem like a bad thing, because we could dream of a busy night with doting service from them all and their couch occupied by better looking and rich people. I don’t know where you should go, but you can’t stay here.

Also, waiters shouldn’t be too free with questions like “is everything excellent?” and “are your expectations exceeded?” and “how did our chefs prepare your meal?”. I can understand someone saying these things once, but I’ve NEVER heard someone pull these off. On the other hand a quick and quiet “excellent” or “very good” makes me feel good about ordering the Surf and Turf, and not fat.