What Makes a Good Cook

As I work more in restaurants, and I learn more about how to run one, I see why so many fail.

It's because people are stupid.

Well, to be more accurate, people are stupid about the restaurant industry. All the business instincts that you learned in the classroom, or out in another industry aren't going to apply the same way. A restaurant is a living, breathing thing that needs constant babysitting and adjustments by the minute. There are no set rules, and you will probably find yourself creating many on the fly.

I'm sure a lot of wealthy people are attracted to the accessibility and glamor of a restaurant. Anybody can do it and you don't need a specialized degree. But then they get in to it expecting it to be a cake walk, and they are unpleasantly surprised when the paper goes up over the windows, and the doors are closed for good.

My grievances aside, the point I'm trying to make is that if I have learned a golden rule to a restaurant it is this; fill it with good employees.

It's that easy, and it's that hard. Running a great restaurant is more about filling it with good employees, than with good customers. Everything will fall in place from there if you can hire a team of dedicated, hard-working, passionate people who have a dogmatic sense of integrity, and a fine repertoire of skills.

How many people out there possess those qualities and want to work in restaurants? The answer is very few. And if the restaurant world is already competitive over customers, I think it's even more competitive over employees. Poaching employees is a behavior that could make you a hated outcast very quickly. In the words of Tupac Shakur, "you find someone good, you hold on to them." That means treat your employees well, make them proud and happy to work for you, and the world will be a better place.

And by the way I'm talking every employee in your restaurant, not just the key players. From dishwasher to manager, you need a team of people that adhere to a set of core values. Your core values. And they better be good values.

But let's talk about line cooks. The veritable grunts of the industry, the soldiers slogging it out in the trenches.

What makes a good cook? I've never really summed it up in a list before. I just tried to accumulate a bank of skills and neuroses that would make me a more efficient part of the line. As I try to separate them in to coherent thoughts that non-pandas would understand, I find the list to be inexhaustibly long. But I will try to be concise because I appreciate you guys reading my verbose bullshit anyway.

1) Be obsessively clean.

The most important thing I learned at Oceanique was to have a neurotic sense of cleanliness. I think Chef Mark was ecstatic to have his brand new stage spelunk behind a blazing convection oven to scrub the walls. But as I gave the slightest sigh when he commanded me to do so, his mood changed immediately, and he gave me the first stern look I've ever gotten from him and he said, "A really important part about being a chef is cleaning. Get used to it."

Taken aback by his sudden seriousness and menacing look I obediently climbed behind the oven with my tail between my legs, and a ball of steel wool in hand. Picture this; Chef Mark looks like fucking Santa Claus who survived the 70s but didn't really leave them. His angry face made my balls shrivel.

Kitchens should be cleaner than hospitals. They should be immaculate. Not just because of health concerns, but being organized and clean is the first step to being efficient. And efficiency is the other most important thing to being a cook. When the orders are coming in, dinner rush is punching you in the nuts repeatedly, you can't be bogged down by a messy station. It's sloppy, it's unprofessional, it slows the line down and affects your mindset. If you even need to spend an extra second looking for your chive garnish, or wiping a cutting board to split an order of cheese tarts, all those speed bumps are going to accumulate and put you in the shit.

At Va Pensiero I cleaned my burners constantly, wiping them with hot water and getting the crap out. I like keeping my cutting boards clean, and the lips of my sixth-pans wiped. I sweep the floors after each item I prep (especially onions because the papery skin gets EVERYWHERE), I wipe counters wherever they need wiping, I set everything at right angles as best I can. Since I was slow and messy about cooking, I needed to make sure I was on-point about organization and mise-en-place. Sous chef Chuy would always give me this puzzled look as I scrubbed at my burners during a free moment, and he would gesture towards his own clean burners that didn't need wiping and say, "Maybe if you weren't so fucking messy to begin with you wouldn't have to scrub all the time, guey."

At Lula, they clean the shit out of the kitchen between service, and after dinner. I'm talking everything is scrubbed til shiny. The floors, the walls behind the prep tables, the undersides of counter tops, the little nooks on door handles. The lunch crews and dinner crews find their kitchen perfectly clean every time they show up. On Wednesdays they clean the hood, which is a god-awful, horrifying process that will leave you feeling greasy for days. The hood is that massive roof above the stoves that sucks in all the vaporized grease and smoke from cooking. Cleaning it weekly is pretty bad already. Most restaurants clean it anywhere from once a month, to twice a year. Imagine the horror... the horror.

At Le Bernardin, the legendary fish butcher, Justo Thomas, wraps a whole 8x10 room in plastic film; ceilings, floors, walls, everything, EVERY day as he portions and cleans fish. He throws the film out at the end of his shift, and the room is clean under its makeshift condom. Fish scales fly everywhere and a more careless person would probably have left the corners caked in fishy debris after 20+ years at that restaurant.

Clean, clean, clean.

2) Be efficient.

If you're standing around doing nothing, you're probably doing something wrong.

I've said it before, but I'll say it again, being a cook is often a battle against the clock. Some restaurants have ridiculously high volume and are less about precision, more about prepping massive quantities of produce. We call those "turn-and-burn" joints. Others, like many fine-dining four-stars, have dishes that have 15-20 components and take 5-7 minutes just to plate one dish in a marathon of a tasting menu. That requires prep work of such detail and accuracy it could kill an unorganized cook. Even if your restaurant is somewhere in between, time is a cook's most valuable resource.

There's always something that can and should get done. You sure you're completely caught up on your dupes? You sure your station is prepped? What about for tomorrow? And if by some miracle your station doesn't need any prep work whatsoever, there's always a walk-in refrigerator or two to clean and organize. There's always floors to sweep, there's always containers to wipe. There's most definitely something you can wrap in plastic to minimize air exposure. Keep your mind and eyes open, and there will be an opportunity to make something better. Always.

3) Be a team player.

Many cooks defend and honor "the line" with zeal and loyalty. It is a decidedly dangerous place that belongs to the cooks. But it isn't just a collection of tattooed college dropouts and baller Mexican cooks. It is a unified entity. The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.

At some point or another, if you're cooking professionally, you're going to be in the shit. You're behind on prep, you're behind on orders, something is going wrong. That is when your fellow cooks jump in to save your ass. It happens to all of us, everyone has bad days, just learn how to do it better next time. And just don't let it happen too often, or you may be staring down a firing squad.

So it's important that everyone on the line knows how to work every station. It should be that every cook could step up to any given station, plate nicely, and work it in a pinch if someone calls in sick. And by the way, "sick" for cooks means someone in your immediate family died or you have an illness that literally prevents you from standing. Otherwise, you're not sick. Show up, pussy.

The line does its best work when the cooks on it are helping each other out. Little things here and there, like "Hey, can you pull 6 plates for me?" or "Hey, can you help me sear these scallops?" go a long, long way. On a severely busy night, near the end of my tenure at Va P, I was starting to get pretty reliable on the line. But if we were doing 200-250 covers, I started to slow down around 7 PM, bogged down by orders. I tried my best to fight my way out of it, but Chuy almost always had to come to the rescue. The scallops always fucked me. To perfectly sear 12-15 scallops at once while juggling ravioli and pasta orders was a lot for me. I only had four burners, I hadn't mastered the timing yet. But Chuy, being the saute fucking boss that he is, didn't have hotter burners, but somehow got the scallops done better and faster. It always reminded me how much of a pro he was, and how grateful I was for him saving me from getting crushed.

And the line has to coordinate dishes so that everything comes out hot at the same time. Only amateurish restaurants have plates that go out to diners at different times. If it's on the same course, it goes out together. But obviously a steak and a ravioli dish have different cooking times. It's up to the cooks to get it right. As the steak is 3 minutes from medium rare, the grill chef may tell the pasta cook "Alright, let's do it." That way the ravioli is cooked through, and the steak is rested and beautifully pink-red on the inside as the plates are delivered.

Or you can do what Luis used to do. He would make a motion to "pump the brakes" or simply say "orale, puto!" to let me know if it was time to rock. To this day, "Orale!" is my favorite word in Spanish. I don't think it has an exact definition, something along the lines of "let's go!" but it will forever be associated with some of the crazier adrenaline rushes I've had in my life.

The line has to work together. If you only focus on yourself without helping the cooks around you, you will soon find yourself on the outside, a pariah with deteriorating value.

4) Be humble.

I was watching Tony Hsieh, CEO of the wildly innovative Zappos.com deliver a speech on his interview process. I admire him because I think a lot of his business philosophies apply to restaurants, as well as online shoe companies; take care of your employees, make them happy, customer service comes before profits. Anyhow, one of the core values of his company is "Be humble." But that is something that's quite difficult to assess during an interview. You can't ask someone "Are you humble?" because you're going to get some ridiculous response like "Shit yeah, bitch! I'm the most humble muthafucka there is!"

Being humble is a big problem for a lot of cooks and subsequently a lot of chefs. The kitchen is a pretty macho place. It is not unlike a battlefield in many ways. Surviving and excelling in such an environment is bound to nourish some egos. And a little bit of ego can be good, in the same way that confidence is necessary to succeed. But frankly, I don't think there is room for any serious egos in any serious kitchens. Like in the later half of a season of Top Chef, there are going to be some cocky young guns with the skills, but all the cocky young guns who couldn't back it up are long gone, a forgotten page in reality TV history.

At Thomas Keller's restaurants, all the cooks greet each other with a "Good morning, Chef" and a handshake. It doesn't matter if you just started and you spend the whole day picking herbs and hauling trash, you are "Chef." During prep they all wear blue aprons. In French kitchens, the color blue signifies an apprentice. Only chefs wore white. So blue was a quick way to recognize a commis, or apprentice, who had not ascended to chef-dom yet. So all of Thomas Keller's cooks wear blue aprons to remind themselves that there is always more to learn, to keep your ego in check, to always keep an eye out for improvement and an opportunity to learn.

That's an important part of being a good cook and a good chef. You have to tell yourself you really aren't that sweet nor awesome. There's someone who's right behind you about to be the next big thing, and doing stuff with food you've never even thought of. The dining movement is a collaborative one between all those who would call themselves chefs around the world. It's a big network of people who love food and are constantly pushing the envelope. You can never, at any point, assume you have mastered it all. The day you are too happy with yourself, and let your ego inflate a little too much, is the day you get left in the dust by the next great young chef.

5) Be hungry to learn.

Grant Achatz often cites his natural curiosity as one of the most important factors to his success. A desire to question, and know why something is, how something works, or how something can be better is integral to being a good cook.

A cook's life is the constant pursuit of perfection while knowing that it is an unobtainable goal.

If you think I'm being overly poetic, and/or that sucks a lot of balls, well... it's the truth.

There is no such thing as perfect food, or a perfect dish. Everything can be refined, something can be done better. You could spend a lifetime on one dish and still not have truly mastered it. You have to enjoy the process of striving for perfection. You have to accept mistakes as part of the process, and learn from them, not repeat them. If you read the Momofuku cookbook, it almost seems as if many of David Chang's dishes were happy accidents. Leaving vegetables in the oven too long, dehydrating them. Forgetting about a whole torchon of foie gras in the freezer. Having an ungodly amount of pork fat from making ramen broth. He made something great out of all those little mishaps. If one keeps an open mind, and a constant desire to refine, then mistakes can almost be good things. They can be indicators of how to improve, of what's working and what's not.

I wish Va Pensiero had been open just a bit longer, because the week after we closed I was set to trail Don Manuel through morning prep and pump out stuffed pastas like a boss. Don Manuel works as a dishwasher at night, and he did menial prep in the morning for us. He's never really cooked on the line, and he's definitely an old man. But he makes perfect, perfect stuffed pasta. Just the right thickness (if you ever read of complaints about thick cappeletti at Va P that was probably my bad, not his), completely uniform in shape, organized meticulously. There was a lot to learn just by watching him. He wouldn't be able to explain anything, he spoke no English, I speak remedial Spanish. But just watching him could unearth a wealth of ravioli making technique. The key is an eye for detail and an appetite to learn. The thing about people who are experts at something is that they make it look easy. So easy that you can miss the subtleties that make them experts.

Always question things. Even if you've had a signature dish for 20 years that everybody loves, I'm sure there's something about it that could be done better. Even if you are an ACF Certified Master Chef, there is always something new to learn about handling food. Even if you are a 3-Michelin-star kitchen's entremetier (the vegetable dude) you can still spend your day off working on the meat station, honing your butchering skills.

You're going to create a ceiling for how far your career can go if you keep an attitude that you have learned enough. I don't like ceilings, except when it's raining. I think they are stupid. Ceilings are poopy. I think the most exciting thing about restaurants and cooking is the very fact that there always is something new to learn. No two days are alike, a restaurant is a work-in-progress that doesn't finish until you close the doors, or you die. Revel in it, it's never boring.

I'm wondering if you are surprised that I haven't mentioned anything about actual cooking skills. Like "be ninja with knives" or "be zen with fire" or "be so intimate with a pig, you know its sexual history." The thing about culinary skills is that there is often no one, best way to do something. And even if there was, anybody could learn to do it with the proper attitude.

Unlike sports, you don't really need natural gifts to excel at professional cooking. It's all attitude. The famous maxim from Pixar's Ratatouille, "Anyone Can Cook!" is quite accurate. Anyone can cook, and anyone can succeed in the food industry if they have a big heart, a little luck and thick skin, metaphorically and literally (the hands ... I will never live down the nickname "Bitch Hands"). I mean you may not be the next culinary "Pope," as Bourdain would call it, a position reserved for Keller, but you can be successful in your own right.

So, you cut yourself? Put a band-aid on it, put on a finger-condom, they never stop being funny if you are 11-years-old at heart (Because it's like a condom for someone who has a really small penis?? Like the size of a finger? Get it!? Comic gold!), and start slicing away again.

Burned yourself? Run it under some cold water, use a dry towel next time. Apparently wet towels conduct heat faster or something. I don't know what science is, but that's why they tell me I has boo-boos. Oh, and put some burn gel on it when no one's looking.

This pig kicking your ass even though it's dead? Fun fact, you can use power tools and saws on a dead animal. That'll teach that fucker what's up. In no time you will be a pig carcass destroying machine.

I think my new idol is Frank Crispo. Real working stiff, blue-collar kinda guy who grew up washing dishes in Philly and doing plumbing jobs with his dad. Then he went to the CIA and started cooking like a boss for all the ballers in New York City, including being Daniel Boulud's sous-chef for two years. After decades cooking for other people, and having to get a double-hip replacement for his toils, he buys a space in the West Village and renovates it himself. I'm talking plumbing, furniture, flooring, kitchen, heating, the whole fucking building refurbished and built with his own hands. Nobody has really heard of him, but all the kitchen crews in New York know that Crispo is the real deal. He's not doing anything fancy or new, just very high-quality ingredients, impeccable technique, sagacious business acumen, and good ole' hard work. Not to mention he can fix just about anything. Who needs a repairman?

I think that's my best hopes of success. I am not nearly as handy as Frank Crispo (he welded and fashioned the wrought-iron patio outside of his restaurant ... who does that!?), and I don't think I'll ever be the creative genius that Grant Achatz is, or have the seemingly endless charm and appeal that David Chang has. But if I can focus on being a good cook, then focus on being a good chef, then focus on running a good restaurant, keep my head down, and my heart on the goal ... then maybe I'll be on my way.

EP6

PS - I really need to find a new way to end posts that isn't "inspirational summation for myself." It's like masturbating, I don't think it's doing anyone else any good... I'll work on it.

How Restaurants Can Hate You

I'm going to have to give you a guide on how not to be a douchebag... at restaurants. If you still pop your collar, "make it rain" at the bar to impress girls, or are another of the faceless army of striped, partially unbuttoned shirts at the club ... well, you're on your own. But restaurants, a matter with which I am deeply personal with, is a whole 'nother thing.

I am a firm believer that there will always be three absolute indicators to the character of a man. The kind of company he keeps, the way he treats animals, and the way he treats restaurant staff.

With restaurant staff, you are in a position of power. There is no clearer glimpse into the window of someone's soul than to see them in a position of power. Yes, we as waiters are here to serve you. Yes, we generally are required to meet your every beck and call, and yes, we do want your patronage. But that doesn't give you an excuse to treat us like garbage.

I don't know if it's because Americans have been on the wrong end of a misanthropic Applebee's server or something, but being a waiter is considered a cop-out, bullshit job. We depend on your patronage, your tips to make a living, and the job is unique in the sense that you can pay as much as you think we deserve. If a doctor is an asshole or even bungles up your diagnosis, you've still got to make the co-pay. If for some reason you just didn't like us or you think an extra few bucks would really break your bank, you have the choice in that matter.

This is not meant to be an essay in defense of restaurant workers suggesting that you should always give 20% and think nothing of it. If a server sucks you should let them know that. But there are more constructive ways to go about it.

If a server sucks; is neglectful, poor hygiene, rude, incompetent, etc., then make note of that to their manager. And leave a bad tip. But if you just leave a bad tip, that doesn't tell us anything. If I think I did a good job and you give me 10%, I assume you are a tightwad McScrooge. Also, if you let a manager know, nine times out of ten your next visit will have some sort of comp on it. Constructive criticism will free us all.

So it's important to us that you like us, that you think we are doing a good job. But you may think it's unimportant how we feel about you. And you'd mostly be right. Even if you are the most miserable asshole to be around, we will treat you well regardless. And we won't spit in your food or tamper with anything else you may consume, contrary to popular belief. So it may not be an overstatement to say we are frankly powerless against you. There will be no repercussions for earning our wrath. But I will say there will be rewards for earning our love. So I present to you a brief guide on how to not get restaurant workers to hate you.

1) Don't chat endlessly before ordering.

I know you're real excited and all that Katie just met a new guy, and he's soooo talented and funny, but you came to a restaurant to eat and drink, did you not? Once you finish the Chocolate Lava Cake that you swore you weren't going to eat you can chat as long as you like over coffee about the diet you swear you'll start tomorrow. But just fucking order already. Ask questions if you have them, take your time to peruse the menu, but just order it and we'll get out of your way. On a busy night servers don't have time to come check on you every 5 minutes to wonder if you've started looking at the menu, and we don't want to interrupt your conversation however inane it might be, so just order and get on with it.

2) When you are ready to order, make sure you are actually ready to order.

A good waiter will make rounds on the dining floor to make sure if anyone needs anything. For the most part, you won't need to hold on to us this one time we're at the table because you'll never see us again. We'll be back I promise. So that being the case, take your time to review the menu and be ready to order when you say you are. Nothing is more annoying than when you say you're ready to order and all I'm met with are 3 minutes of "ummms" and "hmmms." You're not ready, you lied to me. You're reading the menu and trying to make a decision on the fly and I'm standing here looking like a jackass and trying my damnedest to not put on my "impatient" face. Then I have to be like "maybe you'd like to take a few more minutes to look at the menu?" and make an excessive return to your table. Oh and if I ask you that, don't be like "wait, wait, I've almost got it!" like you were fiddling in the dark for some poor girl's G-spot or something. In the eternal words of the Governator, I'll ... be... back. Chill.

3) Don't sit there forever and chat about the diet you swear you'll start tomorrow on a very busy night.

Alright, conversation is engaging, you're in your own world, you're having a great time. But are you really oblivious to the line of people and absolute cacophony of the restaurant? It's Saturday, there are people waiting for tables, the restaurant is trying to turn yours for the next guest. I mean I'm not going to kick you out, but maybe you could be polite and move your chit-chat to another venue. And if you're some of the last guests? This is the quickest and easiest way to get a restaurant to hate you. We all want to go home or go out, and see our loved ones who we can't have dinner with on a weekend. Either go make some bartender's night or go home and open a bottle of wine. We've closed the curtains, dimmed the lights, cleaned the dining room, that's a pretty clear sign that we would love for you to go home.

4) If you have diet restrictions, tell us, but realize how much of a pain in the ass it is.

I've been on both sides of the window, cooking plates and bringing plates to customers. It is annoying to customize the menu for you. I'll do it, gladly, so long as you realize this. Don't come up here with your sense of entitlement like we should be so thankful you have a gluten allergy. I know you didn't ask for it and you'd probably prefer to be able to eat pasta, but getting a random vegan, gluten-allergy, shellfish allergy, whatever... that throws a fucking wrench in the plan. A severely busy restaurant only requires one table to take too long, one kitchen mistake to fuck up the whole night for EVERYONE. It is a Butterfly Effect that we avoid at all costs. So show a little gratitude, or be a little apologetic, it goes a long way because it's very difficult for us to accommodate you, and the good restaurants will always want to.

5) Show gratitude when it's deserved.

While we're on the whole gratitude thing, please tip as much as you can afford to. I know not everyone can go out to a fancy restaurant every weekend, and when they do it is a special occasion they saved up for. I'll understand if you saved up $250 to take your girlfriend out and you can't tip 20% on that big of a bill. But seriously, if we do a good job, reward us for it. We do this for a living, if I need to reiterate that any more. And most of us work hard and try hard to earn that living. So like I said, if a waiter is doing a shitty job make that clear, but if we're doing a good job make that clear also. Communication! It's a wonderful thing.

6) Don't split a check a bajillion ways without telling us about it first.

When we take your order and you don't tell us you want it split, it goes in rather haphazardly. That means I only kind of remember who the fuck got what. Okay, fine I do remember, but that's because I know when I see a table of 8 sorority girls to itemize it carefully because they lacked the foresight to tell me they are splitting the check. And also because I have a spectacular short-term memory. So when it comes time to bring the bill, I'm such a sucker, but every time I hope, just pray so hard that you'll just need one bill. But nope, never the case. All of you want it split by order and then charged individually to daddy's Mastercard. Realize that the sheer mechanics and computing time it takes to divvy up your bill takes me at least 10 minutes of haggling with my obsolete computer. You are fucking up my shit. Ten minutes may not seem like a lot, but it's a fucking eternity when I'm not on the floor watching over my customers. So please, if you're going to be annoying, at least warn me about it so I don't go apoplectic in the middle of dinner service. Also, don't be so fucking surprised that there's a flat gratuity charge for your party of greater than 5. Have you ever been to a restaurant? And if I'm not mistaken that is a Prada purse. I know the real shit when I see it.

7) Be clear and polite about what you want, be calm and collected if you don't get what you want.

There's nothing more disgusting than to see a customer rage out at a server. I would say 1/100 times it's actually deserved anger. The other 99% is most likely you, angry man, taking out your frustration on a person who will take it. Yeah, sorry you got fucked by corporate bureaucracy or if your new office isn't on the corner lot, but don't take it out on me, okay? Your girlfriend is not turned on, and if she is? Well you two are sick fucks and I'm glad you found each other to take your sexual depravity out on one another. Seriously, I can't stress how important proper communication is. Just tell us what you need, talk to us like we're five if you really think we're that stupid, whatever, and we'll try our best to meet your needs. If it doesn't come out exactly the way you like it, then please just tell us. If you remain calm, we can do our job and we'll almost always comp you something for the mistake. Any restaurant worth its salt will want your patronage enough that they will be more than happy to try to make amends, you don't have to angrily demand compensation.

8) If we do screw up, realize that it's almost always the kitchen's fault.

Yes, I am a waiter as of now, but my heart is in the kitchen. I am a cook by breed. So I readily admit that if there is a serious error; your food is taking too long, it's under or over seasoned, it's not cooked right, it's cold, etc., it is the kitchen's fault. You just happen to be able to take it out on the waiter only. The waiter is the messenger, don't kill them. Yes, they make errors also, and when they do I get super pissed about it, but generally, it's the kitchen's problem. It's unfortunate there isn't a better way to communicate than to use the waiter as a mediator, but such is the way of restaurants. You leaving a bad tip, without explanation, for an error that was most likely not the waiter's fault seems kind of unfair, doesn't it?

9) Don't shout at me.

You know the scene in As Good As It Gets where an OCD-afflicted Jack Nicholson yells his order from across the restaurant? Yeah, a bit hyperbolic, but you get the point.

Do not whistle, shout or snap at me. This may seem like it should go unsaid, but seriously ... don't do it. I'm a person, not a dog. I know I look Asian on the outside, but believe it or not I am a college-educated American. I speak Engrish, herro prease.

More effective means of communication:

Scanning the dining room for me. Searching heads is a warning sign to us.
Trying to get eye contact from me, and when you do, a polite nod or a raised hand. Don't jump up and down in your seat trying to be a flagpole in the middle of my restaurant.
Once you do get eye contact from me you can also mime a scribble to signify that you'd like the check.

So simple... so simple...

10) The golden rule; treat me like a human being.

All of the above, sarcasm and cynicism abound, is warranted for me because I feel like I honestly try to do a good job. I will be the first to admit that most waiters don't want anything to do with restaurants in the future, but are doing this as a means to an end. I will also admit that there are many lackluster waiters and restaurant staff out there who don't do a very good job. But there are also those like me, who want to do this for a living (in some form), and many more who don't necessarily want to make a living out of restaurants, but work hard anyway.

We are trying, but we are human. We are prone to mistakes and having bad days just as much as you are. Try to see us as equal human beings, rather than less-than-human servants. SerVERS, we are. Not serVANTS. There's a certain degree of respect required of that relationship. And as I said before, your efforts, if we can call them that, can go rewarded.

It's almost a bad thing to be considered a "regular" somewhere. I see nothing wrong with that. I in fact think its terrible that that would ever have a negative association. If you like a place, like the people, have an honest rapport with them and like going there, then why not go there as much as you like? Now you don't have to go somewhere weekly to become a regular, but if you start popping up once a month, or for your special occasions, a restaurant will notice and care for you. If you tip us well, if you've always been such a wonderful person to wait on, you can rest assured that we will do our damnedest to take care of you. That means all the attention you want, comped appetizers and/or desserts, maybe a few drinks on us, generally we promise it'll be a good experience. Regulars are more valuable to us than anything else, and we will make sure you know that.

So if not for just being a better person, confirming for your date that you are a wholesome and decent human being, do it for the rewards. Treat us well, be loyal to us and we will respond in kind.

EP6