#99

There actually wasn't one episode that led to my leaving Capital Grille, there were two. I can usually take one act of stupidity and blow it off as an abomination. All the little stuff can be shrugged off, one big blow to the head (figuratively) can be explained away, but when the pile of excuses gets ass-deep, it's time to move on.

The first incident happened late one night when business was on that slow, downward spiral towards the end. Most of the floor had been cut and there was about 4 of us servers left. I got sat with a 3-top, two men and a woman, and I approached them ready to go through my special spiel. They interrupted several times and were very loud and patronizing, not a great start. They ordered drinks, but I knew that they were already 2-1/2 sheets to the wind, so I went to get a Manager to decline alcohol as we were taught. Now, finding a manager is tough enough at this place, and I was at a time-disadvantage, since people expect their drinks to arrive fast. I ended up finding them sitting at a table eating lobster and drinking champagne and explained what was needed. They assured me that they would be right there. Five minutes passed and neither appeared at the table. Wanting to save my tip, I went to the table to let them know that I had to get a manager to OK the drink order.

You would have thought that I had insulted their ugly child. They vociferously let me know that I didn't know what I was talking about. It was one of the guys' birthday and they were out in a limo, so they could drink all they wanted to. I had to explain that the law stated no one could be served if they appeared intoxicated, whether they came by limo, ox-cart, or teleporter. The discussion was, how shall we say, lively. A manager finally showed up, apologized about me, and sent over a bottle of wine on the house. At this point, I asked to be excused from waiting on this table and was refused. I would have to soldier on.

I went back to the table, apologized, and tried to explain that I was just doing my job. They said that I was forgiven, as long as the rest of the night went smoother. I went into ass-kissing mode. When their food was ordered, I went to the Kitchen Manager who I got along well with, explained the situation, and asked him to please make sure extra attention was given their meals. All went well, they left happy. Drunk as shit, but complimentary, anyway. All was forgotten until two days later when a three page letter arrived at the restaurant.

I knew nothing about it until I was called to the side after pre-shift. The GM grabbed the Kitchen Manager and we went for a short walk to a bench in the mall. The GM had me read the letter, which was filled with false-hoods and embellishments. In short, I was called inept and rude and should be fired, poste haste. Luckily, the Kitchen Manager was the one asked to be the witness to my tar-and-feathering and he stuck up for me big time. He told the GM how I had to search for the managers on duty and how I took extra care with the rest of the dinner. It ended up that I was now on probation, and needed to prove that I still warranted a job there. I WAS PISSED, but went along with it, because I needed the job, and actually liked the place. Little did I know, but I had made an enemy with one of the managers from that night. Evidently, I was not the only one now on probation.

Incident #2

A few days later, things appeared back to normal. We set up for dinner, and I was really looking forward to it as I was in a primo section at the back where the booths were. Seating was starting to take place around me as I waited for my first table. The sections on either side of me each had one table sat and were now receiving their second table. Okay, I thought, probably just an inept host at the stand, so I went up to the front to see what was going on. There, one of those lazy bastard managers had taken up position behind the host stand. I tactfully reminded him that my section was empty and the others were receiving their second. He assured me that I would be sat soon, real soon.

I went back and re-polished the wine glasses and silverware and waited for my first table. It was now an hour into dinner service. And the other sections were receiving their third table, while I waited for my first. This was now appearing to be deliberate. I headed to the GM's office and explained what was going on. He got on the intercom to the host desk and asked what was going on, and to seat me next. On the way back through the kitchen to get to my section, I was met by a red-faced manager who proceeded to yell at me at the top of his lungs. Everything had come to a stop in the kitchen, with me getting a lungful in front of everyone. I looked to the side and caught sight of the Kitchen Manager standing there shaking his head back and forth, silently telling me not to yell back. I took the abuse and headed back to my section, where I finally got my first table. A two-top in a booth that would sit eight. My section was sporadically sat while around me the other sections were full.

At the end of the night, I probably had half the sales of those around me. And, I now had a chip on my shoulder the size of a boulder. I continued on for a few days after that working long hours and starting to absolutely hate my job. It took every effort to show up, but I did. Until I could no longer look in the mirror and be proud of what I was doing. I had left a job that I really liked to come here where there was career-advancement opportunities and prestige. I put in my notice, and got other servers to cover all my shifts. I would work no more shifts at Capital Grille. And I would have to see just how badly burned that bridge was at the Country Club.