D & D Destiny

Hmm, an interesting weekend for me. Yourself?

Are you familiar with the term 'Chew and Screw'?

My employers have created a brilliantly democratic means of dealing with customers who pull the ol' dine and dash. At the close of each shift, every employee contributes a dollar to what we refer to as the "D & D Fund." In this way, if I get stiffed, I don't get stiffed. Know what I mean?

Every once in a while, a beer or two may be consumed by an individual who does not 'remember' to follow their last sip with a payment. I do loose out (possibly) on a tip, but I am not responsible for covering said unpaid tab because it is covered by our D & D Fund. Technically, I do pay the bills of walk-out-strangers, but a buck a shift for a couple of weeks has far less of an impact upon my budget than forking out a lump sum. I am happy with our system.

Last night, our system saved me $124.97; the largest F-off I've ever personally dealt with.

A table of six. Upstairs. Drinks, appetizers, entrées; a pitcher of water, and a couple of jokes. All was going well... so I thought, until I climbed the flight and a half to do a 'last check' before bringing the check.

There goes my tip. There goes $125 to the pub.

Have you read what I have to say about Karma? Well, I've not been monetarily reimbursed, but I feel that, tonight, I reimbursed someone else with something of far greater value.

After a long shift, I paid out a table using the wrong table number. What that meant was that a couple, paying by credit card, tallied up a rather small tab, and paid a rather large one; the difference being $22.99. They signed the credit receipt handed, by me, to them; saying nothing. I realized my mistake and returned to the table to explain myself and return $23, which did not belong to me.

Keeping the difference between what was owed and what was paid certainly would have compensated for last night's loss. Money, money, money-wise. And that's about all. I felt good about myself, as a human being, for making the choice that I made, and I hope that I passed on a grain of trust in humanity to my customers tonight. They seemed surprised that I owned up to my error; and despite my initial screw-up, they tipped me really well.

As for the six that walked out, my co-workers and I have determined that in the next life they will be 'Lifers' (i.e., servers who by necessity, not choice, never leave the industry) in horribly cheap, roadside stops. They will not have D & D benefits; they will be stiffed frequently. Petty? Maybe. Cathartic to imagine? Absolutely. But I don't really wish such an existence upon anyone... Wilde has taught me that I should be cautious of such fantasies.

Watch your thoughts, for they become words.
Watch your words, for they become actions.
Watch your actions, for they become habits.
Watch your habits, for they become character.
Watch your character, for it becomes your destiny.
- Oscar Wilde

"Hyperculture"

"No man in a hurry is quite civilized."
- Will Durant

I had the privilege, many years ago, of studying under Dr. Stephen Bertman; now retired Professor of Classical and Modern Languages, Literatures, and Civilizations. Dr. Bertman possessed an amazing ability to imbue his students with his deep passion for the Classics.

And he taught us to observe squirrels as they obscurely navigated the hectic University campus; content in the structure of their lives, and immune to human prescriptions of time. The squirrels we watched from the ivied, November windows of Dillon Hall did not seem to 'stress' over chestnut deadlines. Governed by purpose and instinct, they allowed Nature to dictated the pace of their lives.

Proposing that we live in a "nowist culture," in his book, Hyperculture: The Human Cost of Speed, Dr. Bertman explores the erosion of "fundamental values" as a consequence of the "accelerated pace of society."

"A nowist culture [...] does not cultivate patience as a virtue. Its emphasis, instead, is on speed and technical efficiency."

This is an extraordinarily interesting book, and a read I highly recommend.

It is with Dr. Bertman's propositions in mind that I ask you to consider at which point in your life have you encountered a dining experience which was less than favourable, and why? Although inaccurate orders, cranky wait-staff, and/or poor atmosphere may all be valid complaints, the issue I most often confront as a server is irritability with speed of service.

"In our society, speed is celebrated as if it were a virtue in itself."
- Jerry Mander

My chest, hidden beneath my Guinness t-shirt, is not emblazoned with a lightning

bolt. Neither Barry Allen, nor Wally West, am I. I am however, capable of providing efficient and attentive service. Yep, even without superpowers. I am not a slow waitress, but I am human. As such, I do not possess the ability to predict a walk-in of ten, when a keg of beer is going to blow, or when a cook may (god forbid, make a mistake?) overcook an item, thus having to restart an order. The list of reasons why a customer may feel they've waited 'too long' is numerous and varied.

Admittedly biased, I do not ask Why the wait?, but Why the rush?

Here's a novel idea: When dining out, enjoy yourself. Value the time you are spending within the company of family or friends. Waiting on your meal? Have another beer, or, if you're starving, ask for something to nibble on. I don't mind; I'll gladly bring you some rolls or a cup of soup.

Relax.

I feel that impatience over 'wasted' time is counterproductive. Time cannot be lost, but opportunity may be. The opportunity to live as a spiritually fulfilled individual; the opportunity to create pleasant memories, may dissolve if one allows otherwise recreational moments to be overshadowed by the constrictions of schedules and expectations of speed.