Waiter to the Rich and Shameless: Confessions of a Five-Star Beverly Hills Server by Paul Hartford Page B

most
infamous restaurant.  Switching from bartending to waiting tables may not seem
like a promotion, but it was, and the main reason is that tips are much larger
when you wait tables. The checks are larger, thus the tips increase. It’s also
much harder work. And you put up with more crap because while you’re
responsible as a bartender for mixing the drinks, when waiting tables you’re
serving what others have prepared. You are dependent on kitchen staff, bussers,
and runners to help get the job done.
    I
put to work all the training I’d gotten from my managers and all the knowledge
I had absorbed from watching Jens.  He was a master of his vocation; he turned
serving A-listers into sheer poetry.  He knew when and how to party, and when
to serious the hell up and get the job done. He was a class act and I only
hoped I could be halfway as good as him. I just wanted a chance to try.
    Here’s
a little story about Jens:  one evening I watched in awe as Jens served a table
of four (we call it a 4-top) seated on the lush patio. He had taken one young
woman’s order and said, “Excellent choices,” then turned to the other woman in
the party. (It’s always ladies first). He took her order, said thank you, and
turned to take one of the gentlemen’s order.
    The
woman interrupted and said, “Hey, excuse me, is my choice not excellent? You
said her choice was excellent.”
    Instead
of becoming irritated as a normal waiter might, Jens said with a smile, “Madam,
if we might change your loin chop to medium instead of well done, and add
shaved pecorino and some fresh Alba truffle to your risotto, your selections
would also be ‘excellent.’”  She looked a bit startled and unsure about her
meat being cooked medium, but she agreed.
    “Excellent
choice, madam,” Jens replied, and continued taking the orders.
    Not
only had he turned an awkward confrontation into a win (and she would no doubt
love her juicy chop and fragrant risotto), he had boosted his check total by
about fifty bucks. Not just suave demeanor and grace under pressure, but
brilliantly disguised upselling. Did I mention he’s my hero? My porn star drug
using classy waiter hero? What a dichotomy; how does he pull it all off?
    When
I asked to be transferred from daytime bartender to PM-shift waiter, Mr. P
asked me, “Is dis really what jew want?” in his thick accent.  I said that I
had been waiting for a night shift spot to open up behind the bar and we both
agreed that that wouldn’t happen anytime soon.  Once the Spanish Inquisition
(meaning questioning by the other department heads) had decided that this would
work well for the restaurant, there was just some simple paperwork to make the transfer
happen. 
    I
was downgraded to a lower hourly wage of around eight bucks, but the tips were to
be triple what I was getting behind the bar because the checks and the number
of covers were much larger.  Best of all, it was paid out in cash by the
restaurant at the end of each night.  This could fuel my craving for a taste of
the Hollywood night scene for a long time.  If Jens needed another sinner in
his world of debauchery, I could finally pay the tab. Being a player,
babe-banging, chick magnet was expensive especially in LA with all the gorgeous
girls around.  It was an infinite sea of sin.
    I
immediately found myself working with a much bigger team of employees.  Behind
the bar, it had been “My World,” run according to my rules.  Like Frank’s
anthem, it was my way. And I ran it tight, like a German train schedule, consistently
providing my guests the fine experience they deserved and the graceful,
personable service they expected.  People come to a bar to either relax or have
a good time, so tending bar becomes a balancing act between being efficient,
savvy, and competent, and making it look easy. You can’t look stressed or
tense; who wants to leave a bar more uptight than when they came in?
    The
bar isn’t the main attraction at the