Honest Answers from Our Favorite Server

1. Does it mean anything when I order my fries well done?

It definitely means I’m going to roll my eyes at you. I currently work at a place that serves shoestring fries that are very similar to Burger King’s. It most likely means that you’re going to get your fries either the same as everyone else’s or so overcooked there’s no actual potato left – just a hollow, crispy coating of near-char. If that’s how you like it, then good for you. But have you ever considered that if that’s how you like your french fries then maybe you don’t actually like french fries? Maybe you should look into a new side dish.

2. If you’re having a bad day, what are some things I can do to keep you from hating me as your customer, and how do I make requests (like “more pickles please!”) without you spitting on them?

I have no problem with fulfilling requests as long as you’re respectful about making them. It’s my job. Servers don’t just go around spitting into people’s dinners all willy-nilly. The only time I get irritated is if you:
a) Make a new request each time I come back to the table to fulfill the last one. For instance, if you ask for a side of pickles and I ask, “Does anyone else need anything?” everyone should sit for minute and think, “what do I need?” and not send me back to the kitchen 8-10 times.
b) Act like a total bitch for sport. For example, one woman sent me away from her table when I asked if she’d like dessert, only to complain to the manager seconds later that she wanted dessert and I was nowhere to be found. Then, as I went back to her table to get the order, she shredded napkins onto the table and requested that I clean up the mess. She received a very special beverage that night.
c) Regularly come in and ask for everything you can get for nothing or next to nothing and then tip less than 15%.

3. I feel required to tip 20%, so if I want to show the waitress I disapproved of her service, what’s the best way? Tipping less may just indicate I’m a bad customer, if she’s clueless.

First you should try to sort out if the service was bad because of the server, or because of circumstances out of her control. Did the drinks take too long? The bartender could have been chatting with customers and ignoring her while she waited for your rum and coke. Was the food cooked improperly? If you saw her write down your order, it’s most likely that it was the fault of the kitchen. Give your server the benefit of the doubt and gauge how well/poorly she dealt with remedying the problems (keeping in mind that, if you don’t like the food, a) she didn’t cook it, and b) if you eat half of it or more, there’s nothing she can do to help you. Complain right away.)

If you determine that she is indeed an incompetent server, don’t feel compelled to tip 20%. She didn’t earn it. But don’t stiff her, either. I generally leave 15% for poor service (I suppose if you generally tip 15% then you could leave 10%) and then either fill out a restaurant-supplied comment card, or casually mention the problems with my dining experience to a manager or hostess as I leave. Just keep in mind that if you start demanding free things as compensation for your poor experience, no one is going to take you seriously.

4. I know non-hygienic practices such as unwashed hands, old food, and roaches are probably an issue in every restaurant. What can I do to get the least-gross dining experience possible?

Bugs and Vermin: If you see any signs, leave immediately.

Manhandling: Your side salad was probably taken out of a bin by your busy sever’s hand and tossed onto a plate. Don’t order that. If you send back your food because it has an ingredient on it that you didn’t want, I’m just going to pick it off, wait around for a few minutes, and bring it back to you. Just pick it off yourself.

Freshness: If you walk into a restaurant and smell fish, the fish is starting to get old. Don’t order that. If you’re going to order some kind of sliced deli-meat sandwich at a place that doesn’t look particularly busy, it was probably sliced a day or so prior. Also, a slow restaurant’s soup of the day, in reality, is probably the soup of the week. Keep in mind that the server should be trying to push all items that are near expiration, so asking me what to get probably isn’t your best bet.

5. Why must you always ask me how the food is when my mouth is full?
That’s not actually my intention. Ever stop to think that if you weren’t shoveling food into your face at the pace of a hungry prisoner, I might actually have an opening to ask you while your mouth wasn’t full?

6. The day’s specials: a fancy ploy to get rid of stuff in the kitchen, or actually worth ordering?

That’s a tricky question. It’s both. Sometimes we have somewhat regular specials which the chef is really proud of and is considering adding to the menu. Sometimes it’s a way to get rid of a surplus. The food can be delicious either way. Use your judgment and if you have an honest server, they’ll tell you what’s what.

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Stupid Things Customers Say

Do I have to tip you?

No, sir. This is actually just a hobby of mine. I love staying up until the wee hours of the morning getting beer sloshed onto my shirts and listening to poorly sung karaoke music just so that I might have the pleasure of saving your lazy ass a trip from your table to the bar – located about 4 feet away. It’s okay. You keep your quarter.

I don’t want the check. I just want to know how much I owe you.

Guess what, genius… all that information is found right on the CHECK. If you think I know how much every menu item costs with tax, you clearly overestimate my math skills. Furthermore, if you’re going to irritate me and then trust me to tell you how much your bill came to without proof – you’re going to get seriously overcharged for that decaf tea you ordered.

Should I get the Turkey Club or the Filet Mignon?

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We here at GoOutJersey have decided to use this van and the help of Xzibit to form the new A-Team. Ali, solely because she always kind of had a thing for George Peppard, will take on the role of Hannibal in his honor. Donna, our muscle, will be a beaded jewelry version of B.A. Baracus. The mysterious John Busco will take on the role of Face and the sometimes wacky Alex Simon will be sort of an intoxicated version of Murdock.

Xzibit - we don’t need any fancy carpet or fish tanks in our van, but we would appreciate some crime fighting equipment, and the boys would like a flat screen and a Wii.

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I have heard this refrain countless times since Sunday night’s limpid Sopranos’ finale, but I said it first so I’m holding onto it.

As someone who has spent wayyyy too much of his 20’s watching, following, speculating on and obsessing over “The Sopranos”, my first reaction after seeing the screen go blank and silent was that the fans (especially this fan) deserved more.

David Chase, the creator of “The Sopranos” has said in interviews that he doesn’t feel that art should give answers to people. Instead, it should raise questions and let us come to our own conclusions. While I believe in giving the viewer or listener room to think in music, television, film, art etc., I find this to be somewhat of a cop-out when faced with the question of “The Finale”.

It’s incumbent upon the people who created this show, and who shaped the characters and devised the plots, to resolve for us the fate of its main character. Simply leaving it to interpretation is not giving credit to the audience, it’s an insult. Make a decision, any decision about what happens to Tony and stick with it.

To me, the blank screen smacked of David Chase not trusting himself, flinching at the most important of moments. To leave room open for more episodes or a movie is further insult. We were told countless times that the show was through, that they had said everything that was going to be said.

In the end, though, while I’m angry about the non-ending, I’m grateful for the show, which while flawed, was infinitely more entertaining and compelling than 99.9% of what’s on television. The final nine episode go-around was a valiant final statement. And despite my friend Busco’s arguments on this site, I’m happy that Phil, the world’s most passive-aggressive mob boss got what he so richly deserved.

But in the end, the show, and the fans deserved much more than a blank screen.

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One of the greatest things about working in a restaurant is all of the interesting characters you can work with. If your experiences are anything like mine, they will become like a little family. But in every family there are always some black sheep. Here are a few of the co-workers you may not invite out with you after your shift for drinks – but the job just wouldn’t be the same without them.

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An Editor’s Journey to the GoOutJersey Launch Party

Author’s Note: On Friday, April 20th, GoOutJersey.com celebrated its official launch with a party at Rogo’s in Hoboken. As Assistant Editor of the site, I was invited. The party was a gathering of staff, contributors, and friends of the site. We chose Rogo’s because it was a spot that represents what the site is about — it’s for real Jerseyites (present company excluded), and it’s cheap.

The following is a very approximate timeline of my evening…

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As a newly-married person trying to figure out where I’m going to —ugh— “nest” permanently, I often find myself arguing with my husband about the kind of town we’d choose. This might not be unusual —newlyweds bickering? No!— it was rather unexpected for us. We had spent the last several years living in NYC and were in-synch about the kind of area we wanted to live: ethnically- and culturally-diverse; considerable nightlife (the kind where you’re grateful there are people out on the street at 3AM as you walk home); good public transportation; restaurants; a general liveliness and “neighborhoodness” without the persnickety, pesky neighbors — basically, a city.

I’m a suburb-born, Brooklyn-bred gal, and he’s a Third World-city-born, NYC-bred guy so, of course, we agree on… nothing.

Initially, we both had wanted to buy in NYC (Brooklyn, Queens, or the Bronx), but after you’ve spent 10 years living over such people as a violent-sex-crazed couple (even their dogs would howl out of concern), a “clothes-designer for strippers”, and sundry drug dealers, arsonists and snide-snippy-scowling elderly, you appreciate the extra padding between neighbors a house with a yard can provide. And since I’d rather shoot myself in a treasured artery than live in Staten or Long Island, never mind Upstate, Jersey here we are! But where in this diverse state of garden?

Imagine my horror when my husband told me his ideal neighborhood is none other than the small, homogeneous, movie-theater-less hometown I spent years trying to escape. And where would I like to be?

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This is a brief post to say goodbye to a woman who used to work with some of us (not on this website), and to send our deepest condolences to her family and friends.

Julia Campbell - R.I.P.

You didn’t deserve this.

I never worked side-by-side with you, and it took me seeing your face on the news websites before your name rang with familiarity. But the recognition of your smile was instantaneous. I had no idea you had joined the Peace Corps and decided to do so much more with your life than pushing pen to paper. I admire that. You decided to give so much and, for that, your death weighs so heavily. When we heard you were missing, we were so hopeful that maybe, maybe, you were “just kidnapped” and would return to your friends soon. For our line of work, I guess we should have known better.

A passionate, funny woman who clearly had a huge heart and who was supposed to return home soon; instead, left in a shallow grave so many miles away. It completely breaks my heart. A woman should be able to travel anywhere in the world safely — especially when she’s devoting herself to helping its people.

A life lived with purpose, bettering the lives of people around the world, creates a vacuum when it’s gone, and the pain of it reaches beyond those closest to you. A lot of people talk about changing the world or doing something “more” with their lives — you did that and probably without realizing the impact you’d have. I don’t know the proper way to make a tribute to you but I think it’ll be found through people being inspired by your example and following your lead.

Read Julia’s own words about her time in the Philippines here. More about her here and here.

A friend and fellow volunteer writes about her here.

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I was sort of a late-comer to The Sopranos; I didn’t really start watching until the second season. I couldn’t really see how yet another movie or series about the mob could possibly breathe new air into this long-since decapitated horse’s mouth. Oooo fancy suits, naked women and manicotti-stuffed men getting capped in the ass. How new.

I can still remember my first episode, when Janice killed Richie Aprile, unraveling the themes of family and Family. Then I understood the magic of The Sopranos - it worked at the sore joints of mobster cliches making them work and introduced the undercurrents of patriarchy, power, violence, privilege and mothers, in new and even daringly comical ways. You didn’t have to be Italian to relate to these characters. Only now we saw all these in a new light, with new, much more dramatic consequences. And it was funny. Christopher’s intervention in Season 4 (my favorite season, actually) or Paulie Walnuts saying, “He jumped out of the tree and then came at me with the chainsaw!”.

I both agree and disagree—with fervor—with aspects of what John Busco and Alex Simon wrote this week. But I can’t help loving the read. I’m sure you will, too. And that’s part of the initial draw of The Sopranos—like it or not, it does its thing (or did, depending on your take) with verve.

After years of watching this quintessential Jersey series, it is now, finally, coming to an end. For some of us, the finale is bitter sweet closure, while others can’t wait to piss on its grave. So, as a tribute, GoOutJersey’s Take The Cannoli Column will appear on Fridays, giving just enough time to have had a thousand debates over last Sunday’s episode as we gear up for the next and eventually last one.

But enough from me. Read John Busco’s charged rant, A Nail In The Coffin and Alex Simon’s more hopeful farewell, Just A Little More Sopranos, Please.

And then tell us —are you glad to see it go, or wishing it would last forever?

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I approached this last mini-season of The Sopranos with some trepidation, I must admit. The sixth season (of which this mini-season is technically an extension), disappointed me to no end (which John Busco would agree with). I even found myself changing the channel during the finale; I was that certain that I wouldn’t see anything worthy of holding onto during the seemingly endless wait between seasons that Sopranos fans have learned to endure. As the press buzz regarding the show’s end gained momentum, I remained steadfast in my ambivalence. I declared to friends and family alike that I would no longer be an “appointment viewer” of the show. Nevertheless, as 9pm on Sunday rolled around, I felt compelled to take a peek.

What I found was what had drawn me to the show as a college student in the first place. It was not perfect television, and yes, a soap opera about a mafia family is not the most contemporary forum for modern day angst, but it was still better and more intelligently written and directed than almost anything else out there. Over the years, the show has suffered greatly from the writer’s belief in their own hype, and from momentum lost by the outrageously long layovers between seasons. And while it will never regain the glory of seasons 1-3, The Sopranos, even in it’s dark days, had a unique and fascinating take on relationships, family, violence and power.

So it was, with all of this in mind, that I was pleasantly surprised by the first episode of this last go-round. The show, which centered around Tony and Carmela’s celebration of his 47th birthday at the summer house of in-laws Bobby and Janice, was a return to what connected it to the audience in the first place. The pain and sensitivity of family and relationships, in this case the blistering sibling rivalry and resentment between Tony and Janice, spilled over into a fistfight of all things, between Bobby and Tony, the man to whom Bobby swears his allegiance, and to whose wrath he fears above all else.

As the events at the lake house unfolded, we were filled with dread. The themes of the show: family pain, loyalty, and Tony’s coming to grips with his age and physical limitations, are ones that don’t need the backdrop of organized crime to resonate with people. That’s what extended the show’s reach far beyond hard core mob movie fans and pushed The Sopranos to its legendary status.

So while I’m not yet ready to fully jump back on the bandwagon, I was happy that I was able to watch an episode that reminded me why I began watching The Sopranos so many years ago. And now I’m actually excited for the final eight episodes.

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