"service" news and stories

We'd like to second Saturday Night Live 'Weekend Update' correspondent Seth Meyers from last Saturday -- "Because that's what the Chinese should be working on, ways to make their ten-trillion people unnecessary." -- and add that every rising actor, writer, artist and second-job-er in America would appreciate if those little electronic workers stayed right where they are.

According to the AP, "More than a dozen robots operate in the restaurant" -- Dalu Robot, billed as the first robot-staffed eatery in the country -- "as entertainers, servers, greeters and receptionists. Each robot has a motion sensor that tells it to stop when someone is in its path so customers can reach for dishes they want."

First-time patron Li Xiaomei told the AP: "They have a better service attitude than humans," who can be "temperamental or impatient, but they don't feel tired, they just keep working and moving round and round the restaurant all night." That may be true, but there's no chip for witty comebacks to the customers. Or flirting back. Not that we do that sort of thing.

Photo: wwarby, Flickr

Hanna Raskin's first waitressing job was at a small Greek diner in Michigan. In the 15 years since, she's worked at a chop suey joint in Mississippi, an exclusive Arizonan country club, a vegetarian eatery and an Irish pub. She currently picks up odd shifts at a seafood eatery in the North Carolina mountains, where she cracks crab legs for helpless tourists. This is the seventh in a series of posts.

At my restaurant, each server is issued a service-station style workshirt with his or her name neatly scripted above the left breast pocket. It's a homey touch (albeit one that's largely subverted by my colleagues' propensity to wear someone else's shirt.)

Most servers aren't all that eager to reveal their names to their customers, since there's nothing more irritating than hearing someone repeatedly shriek your name when you're standing 20 yards away. The most undignified aspects of serving seem somehow even more demeaning when paired with one's own name (as in: "Hanna, will you clean up this mess my son made?" or "Hanna, I want you to cut the crusts off my sandwich.")

Worse still, a name is just a gateway drug for prying patrons, who figure that once they're on a first-name basis with you, they're welcome to inquire after your education, age and marital status.

A receipt. Photo: Rick, Flickr

Hanna Raskin's first waitressing job was at a small Greek diner in Michigan. In the 15 years since, she's worked at a chop suey joint in Mississippi, an exclusive Arizonan country club, a vegetarian eatery and an Irish pub. She currently picks up odd shifts at a seafood eatery in the North Carolina mountains, where she cracks crab legs for helpless tourists. This is the fourth in a series of posts.

"Writers of almost all the nations in the world have denounced the custom, but there will never be any change, for the reason that there is not enough profit in the restaurant business to allow paying the waiters good living wages," wrote bartender extraordinaire Harry Johnson in 1882.

In the eyes of many, the practice of tipping is inequitable but unavoidable. Some even find the custom downright strange: Outside of restaurants, it's pretty much impossible to procure any goods or services without first committing to pay a certain price. For example, try paying for your next movie ticket after the film.

If a restaurant patron bolts without paying his bill, he's committed a crime. Even if he thinks his steak was overcooked and his salad was soggy, protocol calls for him to ante up for whatever he ordered (unless he's sent it back). But if he stiffs his server, he's exercised his prerogative.

So here's a radical suggestion: Why not make service a menu item?

Pepsi-Cola. Photo: Dalton Rowe, Flickr

Hanna Raskin's first waitressing job was at a small Greek diner in Michigan. In the 15 years since, she's worked at a chop suey joint in Mississippi, an exclusive Arizonan country club, a vegetarian eatery and an Irish pub. She currently picks up odd shifts at a seafood eatery in the North Carolina mountains, where she cracks crab legs for helpless tourists. This is the third in a series of posts.

Here's a confounding bit of restaurant math:

If you and your three friends sit at my table and order a bottle of wine, all I'm expected to do is pick up the bottle from the bar, pour four perfectly measured glasses and toss the bottle in the recycling bin. On average, that particular routine earns me about $10.

But say your table contains three teetotalers who ask for soda instead. Inevitably, you'll slurp down your Sprite quicker than your tablemate polishes off his Coke, which means I'll have to make multiple visits to your table, each time sweeping up different glasses, carting them across the dining room and returning them freshly filled. All that work is usually worth about 80 cents.

McDonald's Korea and a poll after the jump.

Photo: Jason Reidy/Flickr

Hanna Raskin's first waitressing job was at a small Greek diner in Michigan. In the 15 years since, she's worked at a chop suey joint in Mississippi, an exclusive Arizonan country club, a vegetarian eatery and an Irish pub. She currently picks up odd shifts at a seafood eatery in the North Carolina mountains, where she cracks crab legs for helpless tourists. This is the first in a series of posts.

The first time I saw a fellow server settle into a booth with her customers while taking orders, I was seriously concerned.

I was a veteran of both high- and low-end cuisine, but had never seen such a thing. I immediately assumed she was too tired to carry on, and never suspected she was angling for a better tip.

As folks who ate out in the early 1990s may recall, researchers discovered in 1993 that sitting down with customers -- like drawing a smiley face on the bill or wearing a flower in one's hair -- was a sure route to a bigger tip.

Read on, plus a poll, after the jump.