On the way to famous sex columnist, I’ve been taking a (long) detour in “slashie” land as a waitress-slash-sex writer (thanks, liberal arts degree!).
Lately, between bringing customers bread and interviewing my co-workers about their favorite cunnilingus techniques, I’ve been contemplating this strange, less heroic Clark Kent/Superman dual identity. Somewhere between selling dildos and slinging coffee, I’ve developed the skills to make a mean latte, recommend the perfect lube, pour a pricey bottle of wine and talk about porn stars like they’re my best friends. All in one day.
If I think about it too hard, I could have a mini-identity crisis. Butt plugs and cr?me brulee, fine dining and sex advice:they don’t exactly mesh. Or do they?
If my identities intersect anywhere, it’s at the pairing of the food industry and flirtation (sex starts somewhere, right?). Naturally, I’m a pro. I crush on line cooks like a clove of garlic under a knife. My tips skyrocket with a couple of eyelash bats. I can’t fathom how many server/customer interactions have ended in a little more than dessert for myself and countless foodie friends—hell, I even bagged my own wife from behind a cafe counter.
Having been around the “what can I get for you?” block, I can tell you, we food service employees, from baristas to cooks, are an awfully adorable bunch. You’re bound to crush on us eventually. But because we usually work for tips, we’re a tough group to hit on. It’s hard to tell when we’re into you and when we’re “just working.” Secondly, because there’s an inherent power dynamic built into the customer/server exchange, the food industry flirting field is riddled with landmines threatening to blow up your crush with one common customer misstep. Tread lightly.
The first rule: No touching! My bringing you a plate of food doesn’t burst my personal space bubble. You wouldn’t grab a stranger’s arm in the street and beg them to come out for drinks with you. So why are you doing it to me? Respecting boundaries also includes avoiding inappropriate staring and not trying to feed me bites of your ice cream. I work here. If I want ice cream, I’ll get it myself.
Don’t place high-maintenance orders —especially if it’s busy. Know that we will have a nickname for you. Thanks to the human nature of ritual, nameless regulars quickly become “Triple Shot Espresso” and “House Pinot Noir.” You don’t want to be “Cute But Picky” or “Reeeally Lite on the Dressing.” As a chef so eloquently put it, “You’re not going to get your server’s number with ‘sauce on the side’.”
Ask us how we’re doing and actually care. A refreshing, genuine interaction stands out. If you treat us as more than the blockade between you and your morning coffee, we’ll treat you as more than just another customer.
Choose your timing carefully if you want to chat. Know and avoid lunch and dinner rushes. The precious times before and after the shift’s rush when we’re waiting either for customers or for closing is your perfect opening.
Change is for laundry and parking meters. Dollar bills are for tip jars. Tip well. Aim for 20 percent or higher. For a cheesy but flattering move, slip a cute note in the tip jar or scribble one on the back of your check. Impress by always tipping in cash (even if you paid with plastic), neatly stacking your dirty plates or busing your own table if there’s a bin.
And though you’ve got your eye on the cutest server in the bunch, always be nice to our co-workers. Especially in smaller establishments, customer reputations spread quickly and you want yours to be a good one.
So how do you know your efforts are working? If we linger with you for a while, especially if you notice other customers being forgotten, that’s a good sign. If we send you free food, pour you a generous wine glass or do anything else “on the house,” that’s a good sign. And if we write our number on your to-go container, that’s a really good sign. Just let us pick the restaurant.
