The next place I worked in was much better. It was the "Starbird Steak and Grill House" which was in Panorama Ski Resort, right up at the top of the Rockies, on the border between British Columbia and Alberta. Now this was a nice place. I worked there for the ski season 1999/2000 and had a fantastic time. Some of my fondest memories of Canada are from that time. I was living with a great bunch of people, down in the town of Invermere.
For many of us, it was our first Christmas away from home, so we had an Orphan Christmas Feast on Christmas Day which was amazing (lots of great food, unlimited alcohol and drunken Twister). We had a wicked New Years Eve party up on the mountain, which started about midday and went on until about 7am. We watched the tv coverage of the new millennium being rung in all across the globe, and everyone joined in in the Dublin celebrations (I was the only Irish person on the resort, so a bit of a novelty). Then we stole a load of champagne from the guests "Traditional NYE Feast" and drank it on the slopes whilst shooting fireworks at each other.
My going away party was one of the best I've ever been too. About a hundred and fifty people piled into our house and we partied until the Mounties were called (apparently there were naked people running around in the snow outside, frightening the elderly neighbours), and then we partied some more.
Precious memories!
Anyway, getting back to the waitressing thing. In this place, we were properly trained in waitressing, bar tending, making fancy coffees, dealing with dickhead chefs, etc. We had two lovely lady restaurant managers, Fiona and I forget the other girls name. While they were strict at work, about once a week after work they'd bring us to the pub next door and buy us shots all night - nice girls! The other waitresses were great craic. Howard, the head chef, used to try to make the girls cry, but was nice to me cause I'm Irish. Our bartender was a lunatic snowboarder who was always coming in to work with black eyes and broken limbs, but was one of the best bartenders I've ever known.
Anyway...
One day, four guys from New York came in after lunch and were seated in my area. I went over and told them about the specials, etc., and they said "Honey, we're not that interested in the food. Just bring us four steak sandwiches and a wine list." Initially, I thought they were going to be assholes, but I figured they were from New York so if I Irish it up a bit, I'd get by. I brought over the wine list and they proceeded to quiz me on it.
Now, we had to take a brief wine course as part of our training, so I knew a little bit, but it became pretty evident that I didn't actually know that much about the wine. Nonetheless, I threw in the occasional "begosh" and "begorrah" and the guys were putty in my hands! They stayed for five hours, and got through about ten bottles of fairly expensive wine, plus numerous beers. I think the bill at the end came to about $400, and they left me an $80 tip. Now, don't get me wrong, I worked my butt of for those four hours. I made sure they didn't once run out of food, wine or witty Irish banter for the entire time, so I earned my tip, but I still have to say that was pretty sweet!
As we were the only restaurant in the resort that served breakfast from 06:00 (meaning I had to get up at 5am every day, which was nice), most of the resort staff ate in our joint. And, even though these were people that we lived, skied and played with, and even though we knew how badly they were paid (i.e., as badly as us), they still tipped us every day. Admittedly, it wasnt 20%, but the thought still counts.
Of course, it wasn't all hearts and flowers. I remember a certain group of people from a country that shall remain nameless (*cough* I'm living in it right now *cough*). Sorry, I swallowed a fly. Anyway, this group of people had obviously been told that you tip 10% no more, no less. After every damn meal, they would count out the tip, to the last penny. So, on a bill that came to $72.30, they would leave exactly $7.23 as a tip. That's almost offensive, because you know they're tipping because they feel they have to, not because they felt that the service was worth it. Why be so stingy? Why not just leave eight dollars? Tight bastards.
Next door to our restaurant was a bar, where the guests and staff used to drink, and where one of my housemates, Christine, used to work. Chris used to give me a lift home most evenings, so I'd usually stop by for a beer after work whilst waiting for her. One evening, when I had finished, I went next door for a drink and couldn't help but notice that Chris was absolutely fuming. When I asked what was wrong, she told me the following:
A group of five Canadian guys rolled into the bar about 3pm that afternoon, having spent the day snowboarding. For the next six hours or so, they ordered beers and nachos, which Chris promptly served with a smile and bum-wiggle (she was gorgeous, and a bit of a flirt). She made sure they never had an empty pitcher on their table, laughed at their crappy crude jokes, etc. all day long. Now, on the 1st January 2000, BC brought in a smoking ban in public places, which included bars. So customers had to go outside for a smoke, which these boys did all afternoon. They never once complained about it. Whenever they wanted a cigarette, they would go outside and stand under the heated gas lamps, smoke to their hearts content, and then come back inside to their table, where Chris would top up their beers and flash them another flirty smile. All was good in that little bar.
When they finally asked for the bill, it had come to something like $300. Chris reckoned she'd get a pretty good tip from it, as she'd worked damn hard all afternoon. The guys charged the bill to one of their rooms, and, instead of filling in the little box where you can add your tip, they wrote: "No smoking, no tip". They were punishing Christine for a law that their own government brought it, and yet they hadnt complained about it once all afternoon.
Dickheads.
And morons...
...Because, you see, they left their room number on the bill, when they charged it to the room. So we went and found out who they were, and what rooms the rest of them were staying in. For the remainder of the week, whenever they tried to book a table in our restaurant they were told that we had no tables available. If they came into the bar, they got the worst service possible - always served last, beers slammed down on the table in front of them with as much spillage as possible, and I'm not even going to speculate on the sour cream on their nachos...
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