restaurants

Are Tattoos Becoming More Accepted at the Workplace?

October 17, 2010 by Michael Jon Lazar

I have been pondering this aspect for quite some time now, and being a tattoo enthusiast as well as a business minded person, I have always wondered if tattoos are being more accepted at the workplace. While I don’t have time in my day to fully investigate this matter, I can tell you what I have learned from my own eyes by merely venturing out into different places where people who have tattoos happily work without being degraded for sporting tats, and without having to even cover them up. After a few months of taking some mental notes, I have been able to derive a list of places that you could work at where they really could not care less if you have any tattoos on your body.

Obviously: Tattoo parlors – this one just needed to be said, even though it’s assumed.
Most sports bars, pubs and restaurants. I can’t tell you how many of these places that I have been to where people working, be they servers, bartenders or hostesses, are flaunting some pretty noticeable tats. Seems like these places stopped making them cover up their tats. Sweet!
Grocery stores, convenience stores, gas stations and storage units. I have been to all of these enterprises recently, and I have seen many different people that have large tats on their bodies that are not covered up.
Customer service centers and call centers. These places generally don’t care what you wear to work, as you are working the phones and no one can see what you look like. Tats are entirely acceptable.
Casual offices. Some might require you wear shirt to cover them up, but according to an article that I read in Inked Magazine, most of these offices are lightening up on their restrictions. This is found in abundance at offices for information technology companies; such as the one that my best friend works at.

Pearldivers Need Love Too

July 14, 2010 by John Politte

I have written about cooks, chefs, and wait staff, but have given no love to those who wash and scrub the dishes and mop the floors.

So here is an ode to those with dish pan hands.

They come in all different shapes and sizes, all kinds of diverse backgrounds, many don’t stay in one place for a long time, and many use the dish room as a stepping stone onto the cook’s line, but there are individuals who strive to be professional dishwashers.

I know there are some of you out who are unfamiliar with the inner workings of a restaurant (thankfully you have me to enlighten you), but if you can imagine 8 hours of washing plates, bowls, cups and silverware, scrubbing pots and pans, washing everything the cook can find in the kitchen, cleaning the restrooms, bussing tables, spraying down the rubber mats, vacuuming the floor in the dining room, sweeping and mopping the kitchen, climbing up on the stoves to get the grease filters from the vents, and carrying bus tubs full of dishware all day; all for minimum wage; then you just imagined a day that the genius ponders and the insane laments.

They are called by many names-dish dogs, pearl divers, burros, dish rats and sanitation engineers, but whatever moniker we attach to their service, the restaurant, would not run efficiently without them. They are the back bone of the industry, sometimes working harder and making less than everybody else. Ask any self respecting chef about their dishwashers, and they will tell you they feed them well and they treat them with love and esteem, because if they walk out- guess who has to do the dishes?

A Night at Billy’s Burger Barn

June 30, 2010 by John Politte

Recently my wife and I stopped into one of our favorite restaurants (let’s call it Billy’s Burger Barn for now) to enjoy a comforting meal and perhaps a cocktail or two after a rough Monday at the office. As we drove into the parking lot our first thought was “Uh Oh, they look busy tonight” but agreed that we should stay because it was getting to be dinner time and no matter where we went it would probably be as hectic and busy as this.
Not one to like to wait in line, and having been in this environment as a restaurant employee, (it makes me edgy and I feel like I need to help out) I sighed and opened the door for my wife like the gentleman I was raised to be.
Yes indeed, the place was indeed packed to the rafters, but there was only one couple ahead of us and they were being led off to be seated.
“Table for two?” inquired the hostess”
“Yes please, a booth if possible” said the lovely and fetching Mrs. Politte.
“We have one in the back, please follow me” replied the young lady as she gathered our menus and graciously took us to our booth in the corner away from the children who were playing soccer with salt and pepper shakers in the aisle as the wait staff tried not to trip over them and their parent looked on with pride and admiration.
Out of nowhere popped up our server.
“Hello, may name is Debbie and I will be taking care of you tonight. Our specials are gorgonzola stuffed chicken breast with baby red potatoes and grilled asparagus, or a bacon and parmesan cheese frittata served with a Caesar salad. May I get you something from the bar?”
“Why yes please, do you have Sam Adams?” I queried
“Draught or in the bottle?” “We have both”
“A bottle please, and my wife will have an E & J Brady and diet in a chimney.”
“Great, I will be right back with your drinks, and I will let you decide what you would like for dinner.”
As we sipped our drinks and watched the hustling and pandemonium of dinner service, I couldn’t help but think how it is like a perfectly planned military assault. If you are prepared and trained for the battle, you will make a busy dining room hum along as precisely as the New York philharmonic. If you are not, carnage will consume the service. Luckily we were here on a good night.
Our food arrived a little later (a good sign the kitchen was in synch also), and it was fantastic. I had the Osso Bucco with Wild Mushroom Risotto, and the earthiness of the mushrooms in the Bordelaise sauce went perfectly alongside the tender pork shanks that were expertly braised in red wine. My wife had the Chicken and Fettuccine Alfredo that was so rich and velvety you could anchor a cruise ship with it. She usually lets me partake in what she cannot finish, but I received a fork to the back my hand as I tried with no success to take her plate from her.
Being too full for dessert, we order the triple chocolate cake to take home, paid our bill and said goodbye to Debbie and the busboys who were cleaning up the cracker crumbs and straw wrappers from the food fight at table 13.
As I reflected on our drive home, I thought to myself how sometimes we don’t appreciate all the things that have to go right in order for us to get a great meal and exceptional service, and how one little thing can ruin a night out-if you let it.
We should always remember those who take care of us when we do eat out, whether it is breakfast, lunch or dinner, drive through or delivery. They work hard, very hard, and sometimes don’t get the thanks they deserve.
So thank you Debbie, cooks, busboys and bartenders. Thank you hostess, cashiers and managers, we had a great meal and we are glad you made it come to pass. We will definitely be back again.
But right now I am going home to have some cake and put Neosporin and band-aid on the back of my hand.

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