Introduction

Before I launch into what will be, without a doubt, an endless diatribe about the dysfunctional atmosphere I’m forced into every day, let me introduce you to my world of restaurant employment.

It’s a job where you could be on your feet for 15 hours without break or food. It’s where angry Brazilians mumble obscenities at you in Portuguese and laugh at your obliviousness. You’ll injure yourself one way or another (burnt hands, sliced fingers on broken glass, back pain from lifting racks of glasses…) each and every shift. You’ll be degraded and patronized from guests to boss. It’s where you know you’re far smarter than everyone around you but forced to bite your cheek and smile like an idiot.

I’ve worked in a total of 7 different restaurants since I was 15, and in my 10 years of experience I’ve seen things that would horrify their customers. Without too many details to incriminate my colleagues I’ve had through the years I hope you gain some insight into this dark world so many of us are trapped in and you understand exactly what it means to be a server.