On waitressing

After five years, I find myself busing tables again. Previously, I worked as a waitress for ten long days in a quaint English-style cafe in Penang. Of course I didn't take it seriously, I didn't really need the money. Plus it was World Cup season, and in the end I decided to quit the job to sit down in the pub next door to watch football instead. World Cup > Waitressing.

I wasn't a very good waitress, I must admit. I lacked the dedication. Not to say I was unenthusiastic for work or anything -- I received an RM15 tip once. Unfortunately it had to go to the tip pot. I just got lazy, decided it wasn't worth it, and quit. 22 men chasing after a ball, hey.

This time around, I actually need to money? So I really need to go to work even if I just feel like experimenting with growing fungi on my head in the darkness of my room. I need to walk the half hour trek to work even if it's -10 degrees Celsius.

And waitressing here is a whole different ball game from Penang. Back home, you give the customer the menu, wait for them to signal to you (sometimes they have to signal manically, especially if they are dining at Dome), take their orders, don't bother repeating it, send it to the kitchen, bring the food out, and if they're seated outdoors, bring them the bill as well. When they're ready to pay, they will begin the signalling process again, and will be lucky if they get their bill before the second coming of Christ.

And if you get a Bangla or Indon waiter, be ready to perform some hand signals. 'No spring onions' would be a tough one.