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  •    We get off to a poor start. The couple stands impatiently at the door. “I just need to check to see if there’s anyone on the wait list,” I say. The woman glares at me. I drop a pen. The hostess arrives to save me.
        “These people are waiting to be seated,” I say, and rush off to busy myself making coffees or waters or picking up a napkin that has fallen on the floor. Anything to get away from the heavily mouth-breathing  man and the woman with the accusatory stare.

  • Boisterous, done-up middle-age men wearing collared shirts and women in flowing maxi dresses dripping with bling. Six of them. For the most part all drinking vodka. Then this guy on the end of the table wearing flip-flops, jeans, and a T-shirt, asks for a beer.
  • A common refrain in my restaurant is, “Tipping isn’t required. They don’t have to leave you anything.” The implication being that I should shut up and be grateful for what I do get.
  • As we rush into the height of the season, it would be good if more people remember the old saying that goes, “A person who is not nice to their waitress is not a nice person.”
  • Here’s the thing: Things happen. We’re all human. We all make mistakes. Yes, even you. Going out to eat is a gamble. It shouldn’t be, but it is.
  • Two parents. Five children under the age of 8. Luminous screens reflect their slack faces back at them.
  • There was Rose, black apron tied around her waist, blond hair pulled into a bun, pencil pushed behind her ear. I called out to her, “Rose! Hey!” and hugged her with inebriated familiarity.
  • You go to a restaurant and sit for a while then you order and after you’re finished you can stay for as long as you want. No one rushes you.
  • You’re in the Hamptons for the summer! Awesome, right? Except you need to get a job and your options are retail or restaurants. You choose food service because you have a masochistic streak as well as a stunning lack of common sense. Welcome to the family.
  • Into the void and other tales of a Hamptons waitress