Day 1 Of Really Long Week: Not So Bad!
Apr. 4th, 2005 09:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7So. 8 hours in Torture Bar.
Opening bartender was Evan, an English major in his final year at UB. He's funny. I like him. We had a good time all morning, doing the crossword and flinging things around behind the bar while nobody was there.
It was dead. No customers. So, the tables are really clean. (I scrubbed them with one of those green scouring pads and this black gunk came off them. Ugh.)
I'm not sure how to count out my tips, since one customer (seeing my interest in his fascinating collection of foreign loose change) tipped me 2 Estonian Kroons and I don't know how much those are worth. I'll stick them in my collection of coins from places I've been and mark it down as somewhere to go... (He was Swiss, by the way.)
I also got secret-shoppered. The corporate headquarters sends in people to test us and see how we rate. This one sat at a table, asked about a sort of item not at all on the menu (I helpfully directed her to another company-owned location that offered those sorts of items, meanwhile noting that she had a) no luggage, and b) a notebook with a piece of paper in it that bore one of the company's logos and had what looked like a questionnaire). She then ordered a cookie and a Diet Coke, and took her receipt and wrote on it before filing it away. She also tipped me $2 on a $3 tab. And didn't drink her Coke or eat her cookie. I don't know if she noticed that I had to go through the security door and scrounge for the cookie, which wasn't stocked in the cooler as it ought to have been. I did give her what she ordered, and suggested alternatives. Shrug.
Meanwhile, the company owner's son was visiting, and at least two other secret shoppers were reported (dude at Landmark looking the place over as if he were planning on buying it, had no luggage, not drinking alcohol... lady in the corner "reading a book" she wasn't turning the pages of, also no luggage, ordering strange things...)
The supervisors and cash office people were very interested to hear all our impressions of it. The supervisor on the floor was quite pleased-- it was a good day to get shoppered because we were totally dead and thus overstaffed and thus could spare the attention to be Oh So Very Good. I was disappointed that they weren't more subtle, though. Still and all, I was already being ultra-conscientious and counting change back out loud and the like, so I got no worries. (I even had a nametag, despite mine going missing: Sue made me a new one.)
Oh, I was psyched to discover, upon my arrival at my bartending station, that one of the other cocktail waitresses had left her apron in the under-counter compartment. I immediately put it on and filled the pockets with things, and then realized I was unused to pockets and kept losing things in them. Still and all, it was immensely helpful to have napkins and straws and menus and the like with me at all times. Also: I scored a pad-upon-which-to-write-down-orders, which totally psyched me up. So, color me psyched. Job = much easier.
I have to confess, it was dead and yet I still made $70 all-inclusive (cash and credit). That is, for me, still a pretty good day. I wouldn't mind at all if it was largely dead all week, because I'm tired enough as it is.
Other benefit of cocktailing: almost no setup or takedown and minimal cleanup. It's backbreaking work, but at least the peripherals are at a minimum. I totally understand why the most senior employee chooses to cocktail: if you're physically sound, it's good work. But man, oh man, it's tiring.
Opening bartender was Evan, an English major in his final year at UB. He's funny. I like him. We had a good time all morning, doing the crossword and flinging things around behind the bar while nobody was there.
It was dead. No customers. So, the tables are really clean. (I scrubbed them with one of those green scouring pads and this black gunk came off them. Ugh.)
I'm not sure how to count out my tips, since one customer (seeing my interest in his fascinating collection of foreign loose change) tipped me 2 Estonian Kroons and I don't know how much those are worth. I'll stick them in my collection of coins from places I've been and mark it down as somewhere to go... (He was Swiss, by the way.)
I also got secret-shoppered. The corporate headquarters sends in people to test us and see how we rate. This one sat at a table, asked about a sort of item not at all on the menu (I helpfully directed her to another company-owned location that offered those sorts of items, meanwhile noting that she had a) no luggage, and b) a notebook with a piece of paper in it that bore one of the company's logos and had what looked like a questionnaire). She then ordered a cookie and a Diet Coke, and took her receipt and wrote on it before filing it away. She also tipped me $2 on a $3 tab. And didn't drink her Coke or eat her cookie. I don't know if she noticed that I had to go through the security door and scrounge for the cookie, which wasn't stocked in the cooler as it ought to have been. I did give her what she ordered, and suggested alternatives. Shrug.
Meanwhile, the company owner's son was visiting, and at least two other secret shoppers were reported (dude at Landmark looking the place over as if he were planning on buying it, had no luggage, not drinking alcohol... lady in the corner "reading a book" she wasn't turning the pages of, also no luggage, ordering strange things...)
The supervisors and cash office people were very interested to hear all our impressions of it. The supervisor on the floor was quite pleased-- it was a good day to get shoppered because we were totally dead and thus overstaffed and thus could spare the attention to be Oh So Very Good. I was disappointed that they weren't more subtle, though. Still and all, I was already being ultra-conscientious and counting change back out loud and the like, so I got no worries. (I even had a nametag, despite mine going missing: Sue made me a new one.)
Oh, I was psyched to discover, upon my arrival at my bartending station, that one of the other cocktail waitresses had left her apron in the under-counter compartment. I immediately put it on and filled the pockets with things, and then realized I was unused to pockets and kept losing things in them. Still and all, it was immensely helpful to have napkins and straws and menus and the like with me at all times. Also: I scored a pad-upon-which-to-write-down-orders, which totally psyched me up. So, color me psyched. Job = much easier.
I have to confess, it was dead and yet I still made $70 all-inclusive (cash and credit). That is, for me, still a pretty good day. I wouldn't mind at all if it was largely dead all week, because I'm tired enough as it is.
Other benefit of cocktailing: almost no setup or takedown and minimal cleanup. It's backbreaking work, but at least the peripherals are at a minimum. I totally understand why the most senior employee chooses to cocktail: if you're physically sound, it's good work. But man, oh man, it's tiring.
