Good God, you're not still doing that?

by Medbh

Yes I am, so get used to it. In fact I didn't even do this one. Medbh who blogs at Dante and the Lobster did it. I've got more too from the Anonymous Boxer and someone called Charlie. They made me chuckle. And very few things have made me chuckle this week.

And so the table arrived. I took the advice of the poll and decided it would be better to stay away from them. I had intended to call in to the room and smarm my way around the table with lots of "Oh yes madam, water? Fantastic choice!" and other such merriment. It's a wonderful technique called "Killing with Kindness". But events in the restaurant took over my plans and soon I was knee deep in lovely people and had no time to seek revenge. Probably the best result all round. I left before they did but by all accounts they were having a great time. Bastards. I begrudge them it. I really really do.

How bitter is that?

Don't forget your cameras when you are out stuffing your faces this weekend. Sorry I mean dining and having a lovely time with family and friends. I begrudge you that too....

Don't worry about me, I'll be risking my life for a cancer charity thing I was press-ganged into doing at work on Sunday. Sorry I mean happily volunteered for. Well it's time I gave back to society. A society I have taken so so much from..........

I can has Wayterz?

Ladies and gentlemen may I present LOLWAYTERZ! If yer man from I CAN HAS CHEEZBURGER can get 40 million hits a day or whatever it is with moggies then I should be able to get at least half that with waiters. Honest I'm not chasing the numbers. Not as cute but just as loveable. Next time you go out for dinner bring your camera and try and get the waiter to pull some poses. Remember we will do anything, and I mean anything for 20%, hell I'll do a jig for 10% and a Gin & Tonic.

If you have any LOL!WAYTERZ! you want to share with the group then email them to me. Saves me having to do anything, which is nice. Normal swearing order will be returned soon. Probably very soon...

You can reach me, go on give it a try

Go ahead tardy

make Manuel's day...

[There is more swearing again today. I'm sorry...]

"You can reach me by rail way
You can reach me by trail way
You can reach me on an airplane
You can reach me with your mind

You can reach me by caravan
Across the desert like a Arab man
I dont care how you get here
Just get here if you can

You can reach me by sail boat
Find a tree swing rope to rope
Take a sled and sly down slope
Into these arms of mine

You can jump on a speed boat
Across the border in a blazer role
I dont care how you get here
Just get here if you can

There are hills and mountains between us
Always something to get over
If I had my way surely youd be closer
I need you closer

There are hills and mountains between us
Always something to get over
If I had my way surely youd be closer
I need you closer

You can win something to my like
Take me up on a carpet ride
You can make it in a big balloon
But you better get here soon

You can reach me by caravan
Across the desert like a Arab man
I dont care how you get here
Just get here if you can

I need you right here right now
I need you here by my side
I dont care how you get here
Just get here if you can"
(Anita Baker- You can reach me)

And if you can't get here just bloody phone me. To embarrassed to talk to me? Leave a message. Hell, email me. Send a text message. There are a myriad of ways you can get a message to me, this is the age of communication after all.

JUST DON'T NOT SHOW UP YOU FUCKING FUCK FUCKS.

I hold grudges like mothers hold babies, that is to say very close and forever. I keep a list you know, of repeat offenders. You don't want to be on that list in my little black diary of miscreants and tardy bastards. You cant ever be erased, there is no way back into my heart. Abandon me once shame on you, abandon me twice shame on me, abandon me 3 times and you're on the list and forever. Even bad tippers can win my affection again, but no-show-ers and the repeatedly late are scorned for eternity.

Here are the reasons why I'm so chuffing angry today...

Friday

1. Table x 5 at 8.15pm, no show
2. Table x 6 at 9pm, no show
3. Table x 4 at 7pm, no show

Saturday

1. Table x 20(twenty for fuck sake, on a Saturday night!) at 8pm, no show

Sunday

1. Private party booking for 40 people at 8pm, no show

Tuesday, and this is the one that hurts the most

1. Table x 45 French Pensioners at 1pm, NO FU-CK-ING SHOW, J'espère que vous êtes heureux vous les merdes françaises sales!

All tables were confirmed, all tables told me they would be here, that they were looking forward to being here. Lying, good for nothing, rude bastards...

I'm off work on Wednesday, which is a very good thing. Any more of this sort of nonsense and you will be watching me live on BBC NEWS 24 taking pot shots at passers by from the roof of the restaurant. Oh and thanks to those who voted, and if you haven't yet get a move on...

The more you ignore me, the closer I get

I'll roll em
you call...

I like to start the new working week in a happy and positive frame of mind. I scan the booking sheets for regular customers and bookings of interest. Example being last weeks reservation for 15 girls celebrating a 21st birthday , that's the sort of booking I look forward to (and I wasn't disappointed and neither were they). Large bookings have to be confirmed especially if they weren't taken by a member of the restaurant staff. I am anally retentive when it comes to the booking sheets, all details must be exact and legible. I'm not bitching but "Table for 6 to 20 people at 8ish on Saturday for Smith or was it Brown" is not a fucking booking you muppets! And writing it in Sanskrit doesn't help either. I have a certain Rainman quality when it comes to bookings and availability. It's oh so very sad.

This week though I have a terrible feeling of foreboding. There are lots of fairly run of the mill bookings, nothing to get excited about, certainly nothing worth having a shower for. I mean that with the greatest of respect, I love all my customers! But there is one reservation that has me pulling my hair out in clumps, and as I am bald, I mean my chest hair. This particular table has been booked for about 6 weeks or so. I hadn't dealt with the initial booking so I knew nothing about it. The details on the booking sheet were fairly run of the mill, nothing lead me to believe that there was anything special about it. So with a week to go until the booking I thought I would give the lady, in who's name the table was reserved, a little ring and get confirmation. Standard practice really, we check on numbers, arrival time, menu choice, special dietary requirements etc. It's what a good waiter does. I'm not a fan of surprises.

Well beat me with a service cloth and call me Basil, did I regret that!

"Hello Mrs Cuntish Bastard it's Manuel from [insert restaurant name here] I'm phoning with regard to your booking for next Thursday." I was all sweetness and light, happy at my work if you will.

"Yes, what?" Not a good start I thought...

"I just wanted to confirm some details with you for that night such as time and numbers."

"I don't know why, I SAID I would confirm everything next week."

"Yes madam, (I carried on, ignoring that bit if I left it to customers to confirm their bookings I would be left with a half empty restaurant every Saturday night) if I could just check that you will be bringing 22 in total and at 7pm?"

"It's 23 not 22. I told the other man from the restaurant this when I booked."

"23 madam, I'll change that for you now."

"You shouldn't have to change that, I booked it for 23."

"No problem madam, yes 23 in total then." I was getting a bit fucking cheesed off with her snapping at me.

But like a good little soldier I persevered , "And you will be in the private room madam as you requested and as you are in early you can have that room for about 4 and a half hours or so." I thought this would bring a smile to her voice if not her face. Normally people get the room for 2 maybe 3 hours tops. But alas...

"Sorry excuse me, what's your name again..."

"As I said, Manuel" I was struggling to comprehend what had her so aggressive towards me.

"I have that room booked for the whole of the night, we are having a quiz after our meal and we have arranged to have the room for the whole night."

"Oakie dokie (as all the best professionals say) then madam, my apologies. It's just that those details aren't down on my booking sheets. I'll amend the sheets now.

"Yes please do. I don't know what you people are doing there. I had all this arranged with the other man from the restaurant."

Now this "other man from the restaurant" thing had me very confused. I am the only "man" working in the restaurant. I asked her who she had been talking to but she couldn't remember. She then asked me to name all the men who worked here! Get fucking real. I'm the only male in the restaurant but the bar is full of them. I started with the most most likely culprits and guess what I was right! Some people shouldn't be allowed to talk to people in public let alone over the phone.

Once we had these and some other details ironed out I checked on what menu she had decided upon. Again she gave me the "I've already told the other man" thing again. BUT NO ONE HAS BOTHERED TO TELL ME SO IF YOU WANT TO GET WHAT YOU WANT STOP FUCKING SAYING THAT AND TELL ME WHAT YOU FUCKING WANT BEFORE I REACH DOWN THAT PHONE AND FUCKING STRANGLE YOU WITH THE CORD please. That would be the "other man" who quoted her the wrong price, wrong number of courses, and omitted to tell her about the service charge. So we have to honour the prices etc quoted, the waiters wont get a bean, and I hate her and "the other man" before she has even arrived! Now that's a first even for me.

As I rang off I said "Well, many thanks for confirming those details and I look forward to seeing you next Thursday". I hate to tell lies too. I then went and necked four straight shots of vodka, such is a waiter's want, to calm my nerves. Then I compiled a list of people I needed to kneecap in the back of the head for leaving me out there dangling by my short n curlys with Mrs Cuntish Bastard.

But wait, the story doesn't end there! Oh no, I should be so fucking lucky. She phoned the next day and confirmed it all over again with a manager. The same manager that failed to pass on the details on to the restaurant staff in the first fucking place. She said she didn't want to deal with me! Is that fucking right then? Don't want to deal with me is it? Pissing off the entirety of the waiting staff before you have even sat down is never a smart move Mrs Cuntish Bastard. As you will no doubt discover...

So here is my dilemma dear readers, should I work the table and prove to her that I am the greatest thing to happen to restaurants since Heinz Ketchup or should I keep my nose well out of it and let sleeping dogs and nasty women be served by one of my esteemed colleagues? I said last week that I wouldn't even open the door for them but now it's like I have a point to prove. And I don't like people saying they "don't want to deal with me". That fucking hurts. You've hurt me you cuntish bastard. As Morrissey say's,

"The more you ignore me, the closer I get.
You're wasting your time
Beware !
I bear more grudges
Than lonely high court judges..."

There's a poll in the sidebar. I trust your advice.It's up until I go to work at 2pm on Thursday.

Oh and they are teachers, and you know how much I love them....

I have seen my own death, there'll be brandy....

On Friday I mentioned a report from the Office for National Statistics (ONS) that shows bar workers and those who work in the hospitality industry as a whole are most at risk from suffering an alcohol related death. As the ONS put it,

"The findings largely reinforce earlier research regarding those occupations with the highest indicators of alcohol-related mortality. In particular, it is very clear that those with access to alcohol at work are more likely to die from alcohol-related causes, compared to the population as a whole."

Some lovely graphs...





We are twice as likely to die from liver disease or pancreatitis as the rest of the population. So that's something to look forward to!

There isn't a bar worker, chef, waiter, bar/restaurant manager I know who doesn't enjoy a drink or fifteen. Right now even I am clasping a lovely big mug of Gin*! It used to be chefs who were the worst/best, depending on your view, for drinking. Some would arrive to work drunk, some got smashed during shift. But they all got very nicely marinated after work. You could spot the chef's with the drink problems quite easily. They would ask for 4 brandies from the bar for a brandy sauce that would never materialise. And when they are using a case of Schnapps a week to make fruit salads you have to assume there is more being consumed in the staff toilets than going into the dessert. But chefs aren't as bad with the alcohol now as they were years ago. Now they are stoned most of the time. Still doesn't chill them out though...

Bar staff though, still love a drink. And you can understand why. The hours are hard, the work can be tough. When you finish at 3am on a Sunday morning and all your friends are either drunk or getting it on what else are you going to do? The people you work with become your new family, your new best friends. You go to a colleague's, hopefully a fit and sexy colleague, house with left over wine and a carryout you procured earlier on your break. Parties are always planned during the shift. It's the best way to get things done quicker at the end of the day and it gives you something to look forward to. Most bar staff are young and have the energy and will for late night partying. For the most part it's just young uns being young uns.

Most of them slow the drinking down as they get older or settle down with the fit and sexy colleague. Some don't. Some fill up pint glasses with what looks like water but is actually vodka and lemonade just to get through the night. Some arrive to work with the sweats and the shakes and yet still can't go home without having another drink. Would they be any different if the worked in an office or as a bricklayer? Well if they were a bricklayer they might just get stoned all the time.

Times have changed a lot though from the days when my father worked in a kitchen. Drinking was not only tolerated during shift by the chefs it was sort of expected. But now there are organisations like Hospitality Action who offer help and advice for those in the business who are having problems with alcohol etc. In the olden days (70's) you would have been given a pint of shandy and told to get over yourself! We are surrounded by drink and by people drinking. It is understandable that bar workers etc want a drink at the end of our working day, just like everybody else in society does. It's just unfortunate that we finish at 3 in the morning!

As I was leaving work tonight word reached me via the Glorious Leader (General Manager) of an alcohol related accident in the restaurant were his fiancee was dining. It appears a waiter was heading to a table with a flaming brandy cocktail, you can see were this is going, and tripped on his way. The flaming brandy hit another waiter who's shirt burst into flames. A quick witted customer enjoying a bottle of Champagne saved the day by chucking the contents of his ice bucket at the flambéing waiter. Not sure if this would be covered in a ONS report but definitely another indication that alcohol can kill. Sounds like a scene from a Mr Bean movie. Hope the guy is OK and all that. Thoughts are with you comrade.

So the next time you are in a bar or restaurant be nice to those who are serving you for we are not long for this world....

*actually it's a big mug of tea....

everything is ready for the next staff party...

Whine, wine, and eh tea....

If I had a "proper job", as parents and people who work in offices and those who cant handle a career in catering call it, and I was about to enjoy a long bank holiday weekend then I would be filling my fridge and wine rack full of lovely wine. But I don't and I'm not. But if I had and I was these are what I'd be passing the weekend away with...

The Ned Sauvignon Blanc 2006 Marlborough, New Zealand

Alcohol content: 13.5%
Bottle Top: Screwcap (how easy is that at 3 in the morning?!)
Style: Dry
Grape: Sauvignon Blanc
Flavours: Fruity, gooseberry, fresh
Price: £7.00 to £10.00
Further info: best website ever...

Now I've mentioned this before but never in a proper post. Man this stuff rocks. It's named after the tallest peak on Marlborough, which is interesting. I've always been a bit of a sucker for the New World wine names, put a bottle called Madfish or Black Stump or something equally upsetting to the French in front of me and I'm on it quick as a flash. It is fresh and zingy and very easy drunk (and who doesn't love an easy drunk). There is a sharpness to it that could wake the dead but without being overbearing. It bursts with a flavour that really does have you reaching for yet another glass if not another bottle. This bottle came second in our last wine tasting at work. Second? Are you sure? Are you smoking crack? I was about the only one who rated it ahead of the Chateau Bauduc. The rest were all a flutter as the Chateau Bauduc is Gordon Ramsay's house wine don't you know. The Ned, get it in til ye as they say on the slopes in New Zealand (or maybe not).

Sierra Cantabria 2003, Spain

Alcohol content: 13.5%
Bottle Top: Actual proper cork, how quaint
Style: Light
Grape: Tempranillo
Flavours: Soft, light, berry flavours, oak but not too oaky
Price: £8 to £10.00
Further info: Sierra Cantabria

I love this wine too. It's got a nice light flavour of berries and oak, but not that over bearing oak flavour that makes you want to chop down trees and beat members of Greenpeace. If you aren't really a fan of red wine or a girl this is a great wine to start with. Try it with all meats, if you have to eat with your wine, or even with strong flavoured fish. These chaps have been making wine for about 4000 years or something (you sure it's not since 1870 Mr Hyperbole - LMM) so they know what they are doing. I got absolutely smashed out of my mind on it one night with my cousin. Bottle upon bottle was consumed. This led to the usual 2 day hangover with accompanying wailing, moaning, and even some crying but we both agreed that wine was a great way to do it. Unlike most reds this wine leaves your head on the next day. Which is more important than whether you can taste strawberries or not...

So whilst you are all getting smashed to pieces on my wine selections I'll be working my fat ass off and occasionally enjoying my most favourite tipple of choice...

Tea

Alcohol content: 0%
Bottle Top: eh cup actually
Style: Dry, very dry, 3 bags per cup, no milk
Grape: Marks and Spencer's extra strong tea-bags
Flavours: Dry, tar like,
Price: 10 to 12p per cup depending on number of bags used
Further info: The Tea Council (Honest Ihaven't made this up)

God I love a cuppa. I mean I really love a cup of tea. Sort of makes you want to cry for me eh?

Have a good bank holiday weekend, I hope your head's hurt come Monday....

Small Portions Today...

“There are things you just can't do in life. You can't beat the phone company, you can't make a waiter see you until he's ready to see you, and you can't go home again.” - Bill Bryson

“The age of your children is a key factor in how quickly you are served in a restaurant. We once had a waiter in Canada who said, "Could I get you your check?" and we answered, "How about the menu first?” - Erma Bombeck

“In a restaurant choose a table near a waiter” - Jewish Proverb

Makes you think eh, ...............no?

Maybe Rodney "Plato" Dangerfield will...

“With my wife I don't get no respect. I made a toast on her birthday to 'the best woman a man ever had.' The waiter joined me.”

Genius..

Also in other news the BBC are reporting that alcohol related deaths are highest amongst those that work in bars, catering, and hospitality. I would have thought that was obvious. It's the same as saying "Astronauts most likely to be killed in space" or "Farmers most likely to be killed by tractor".

[Damn blogger and it's broken ass, you're making me look bad...]

proper post later

We all wish Derry didn't exist but come on....

"Fuck it Marsha I don't know where Derry is.
Let's just go to Scotchland instead"

A Canadian tourist who got shafted something shocking by an employee of Translink (bus company) may have something to say about Belfast's ability to deal with tourists. When she asked where the bus to Derry went from she was told Derry "..didn't exist". Sweet Jesus how much of a bigot do you need to be to do something like that? She was told to try the train station instead. The train to Derry takes much much longer than the bus and nobody would ever do it. The guy was being a total dick. Catch a fucking grip will you. And if Derry doesn't exist where the hell is my ex-wife from?

Northern Ireland has no big industry anymore, we don't build new ships anymore, we don't produce clothes in the numbers we used to, we don't build planes in the numbers we used to. We have to look to other ways to build the country in the wake of the new sunny disposition we find ourselves in. Tourism is the way forward if you ask me. We have a lot to offer. Tourists now make up a very high percentage of my customers at work now. Awh, they make me laugh with their funny ways and funny languages....

"Hello, do you have reservations this evening?" I ask in my convivial and if I may add, welcoming manner. (This is made up then - LMM)

The man in the expensive waterproof mac, proper walking boots, newly purchased Aran sweater, and clutching his wife in one hand and Lonely Planet Guide (They love us!) in the other replies with,

"We are two"

"Two?" I say whilst fingering the booking sheets for no real reason and playing dumb. No need by the way, no need at all. Save for amusement purposes.

"Two for foods and some things to drink" he replies, pointing at the menu.

"No res-er-va-tions then? No?"

"Ah!.." he gets what I'm on about "...no, no reservations, we just came here from today. We arrive on bus from Dundalk." He pronounced the "l" in Dundalk and this made me smile which the chap mistook for approval.

I stopped messing about and got them seated beside the window. The rest of the meal was as amusing as the start. It's the mispronouncing of everyday things that makes me laugh. For example SmithWicks is popular with the tourists (The "w" isn't pronounced). As is the champs instead of champ and we have all read my story of the Bish visky man. I try were possible to correct them, without coming across cheeky. I even had an elderly lady ask me when should she eat her champs, with her lamb or after. I nearly choked, I thought she was taking the hand out of me.

I enjoy serving tourists at work. Bloody good job too as there are so many of them coming to Belfast now. Belfast is still finding it's feet when it comes to handling tourists. So we still find them as an oddity. Odd why they would come here and odd in their ways and mannerisms. Europeans like bread with everything, if they were having bread as a main course they would ask for some bread on the side. Honestly they seem incapable of eating any meal with out 20 or 30 slices of bread to accompany it. But we know that now and raise the price of bread when they come in. Only joking. We give them less so they have to buy another portion, only joking or am I?

Americans are fucking great. My God I love them and their uber-tastic tipping. Now you have to work for the money but by Jesus it's worth it. 20, 30% AND MORE SOMETIMES! The only draw back to serving Americans is the amount of questions they ask. They ask questions that no local would even dare, "Where you from? What religion are you? Have you been or do you know anyone involved in terrorism? Do you know John Joe McFarmer, he's from Cork? It's like they are all CIA agents or something. And only the brightest amongst them get my jokes and little asides. I hear them as I walk away from the table laughing to myself at some witty line I have just delivered with their entrees, "What did he say? What did he mean? I dunno?" Then they ask you what you meant and the life is sucked out of you.

Americans, as you will be aware, get a bad rap in the media and well everywhere, but I like them. They are almost always warm and friendly. The introducing themselves thing still takes a bit of getting used to, "Hi I'm Bob and this is Barbara and we are form Maine and we just love it here in Ireland..." Americans are for the most part good fun and like I say the greatest tippers of all. God bless you and your long dead Irish Granny...

The worst, and I'm sorry to say this I mean no offence eh you know who you are, are the Canadians. They are very pleasant to serve and cause you no grief in that respect. But for 2 hours or so you thought you were serving big tipping Yanks but when the bill comes you find out it was cheap ass Canucks! They are happy to display their Maple leaf badges etc when they are going through airports and what have you but it's oh so different when they walk into a restaurant. Get it sorted eh. The same goes for Australians. Another cheap ass bunch of tight fisted sods. They have their opposite in the good people from New Zealand. The Kiwi's tip well and have better manners than their near neighbours.

We have always had tourists coming to Belfast. But they were only here for two reasons, to track down or visit family and to "survive" a visit to war torn Belfast. They got their photo taken outside of Europe's most bombed hotel and beside some mural glorifying some terrorist or other. It was as if nothing else had ever happened in the North of Ireland, that history only started in the late 60's. But those days are essentially over. Now the tourists have money. Most have no connection to the country at all. Sure they still get their photo's taken beside murals and we shouldn't try to hide the events of the last 30 years. But we must show them that the history of the country is more than Ian Paisley and Gerry Adams and yer man from the buses.

Two customers, 5 waiters, 40 wasted pounds - Lunch at Deanes Deli

the seal knows...
...and isn't very happy

Review: Restaurant

I went to: Deanes Deli

On the: 6Th August

For: Lunch with Little Miss Manuel

We ordered: Bread and black olive tapenade to start followed by Portavogie Haddock and Chips with Hilden Ale Batter with mushy peas and tartare sauce for Little Miss Manuel and Sea Bass in a fish broth served with baby boiled potatoes, olives, and tomatoes for me. Sounds great eh?

And it was: Wow, anger and disappointment really are the most apt words for this meal. But then again the Seal of anger and disappointment (S.A.D) gave the game away there. LMM's fish & chips, let's call a spade a spade shall we, was damn poor. The batter was wet and soggy and the fish itself tasteless. Freezer fish would have been preferable. My Sea Bass wasn't as bad but the broth lacked any real discernable flavour but the potatoes, both of them, were nice enough. It was all just very dull....

The service was: Not great. No one asked if everything was OK during our meal. No one asked us if we enjoyed our meal when we finished and sat there with our faces tripping us. Seriously LMM's face was all over the table and half way out the door such was her disappointment. The thing is they never ask you if you enjoyed your food in Deanes. I'm not sure if this is arrogance or just bad service. Nobody engages you in even a snippet of conversation. Hey I don't want to discuss the current situation in the Middle East but hell gimme something! And we never saw the same waiter twice during our meal. This drives me to distraction. It's as if they are saying, "Hey fuck you, we don't care enough to assign a waiter to your table and anyone can do it". And the service charge is included for my convenience, which is thoughtful.

It cost me: £45 or there about' plus the cost of a better lunch the next day...

And I'll be going back: in no hurry. I work hard for the money, so hard for the money and I wont be giving it away cheaply. I probably will go back, one day when the wounds of this lunch have healed*, but no time soon.

And so it gets: 1/5 and that's not good no matter what way you look at it. And it gets that 1 point for the young lady that seated us who was very nice and the bread. But if I wanted nice bread and a nicer lady I could have just stayed at home....

Other words: My meal wasn't that bad and if I had been on my own then this review wouldn't have been half as bad. But the when you go out to eat the "experience" of the meal isn't just whether you enjoyed your meal but whether the table as a whole enjoyed their meal. This is a point I try to make to managers at work when a guest complains. It's not just the complainants experience that is ruined but the people they are dining with thus when we review the bill we should do this for the entire table not just the individual.

I hate being served by numerous different waiters. I want to know that someone is looking after my table. It inevitably leads to a lack of care and that's what allows good customers with good cash to leave unhappy, angry, and disappointed. Michael Deane is one of our leading chefs and has done so much to raise the quality of food served in Belfast and as a result expectations have been raised as well. Needs sorted Mr Deane before your very hard earned reputation suffers any further.


* a little touch of drama there, I'm entitled to it seeing as I have to put up with enough of it at work...

It's just too easy...

You will of course remember this post from a few weeks ago...

...on the inside.
Face like a foot on the outside.
(this image was in no way altered)

Now it seems Sarah Jessica Parker was in Belfast a week or so ago. She must have been here to pull me up on my savage but witty assault or her charming features or of course she could have been on holiday. She has a holiday home in Donegal, which must be nice I'm sure. But whilst in Belfast she visited one of our better restaurants. She didn't go to Cayenne, she didn't go to Roscoff's or Deanes. No, Sarah Jessica Parker, the woman with a face like a foot, went to and I'm not making this up, this is 100% true, God strike me down if I'm lying, Lisburn Road's finest eatery...

...SHU!

You cant make this stuff up! Brilliant....

Karma's a bitch, my bitch

beware
the waiter casts another karma spell

It was the usual Friday night in mid-priced restaurant land. The place was full. Friday night is primarily "work night out". They leave their cubicles early and rush home, get changed and rush back into town again so that they can be late for their restaurant booking. Booking times are nothing more than suggestions to these people. The really organised amongst them bring a change of clothes with them to work. But they will be late for their booking too. It, as you can imagine, gets on my tits something shocking. I rarely let it slide either, "8 o'clock wasn't it sir?" I ask whilst checking my watch or "I don't have a table for 4 booked for half 7 sir.....oh it was for 7, riiiiightttt". I can be a surly little shite when it suits, and it always suits.

Customers are always drunker on a Friday than any other day. Their work is done for another week and they rightly relax and let themselves go. But this is no excuse for tardiness and acting like a buffoon. Work outings are the adult equivalent of the school trip. People seem to loose self control in the worst way. And it seems the further you are up the corporate ladder the more likely you are to spend the night as giddy as a 14 year old teenager.

Tonight was no different. We had a table of nurses booked along with 2 tables from 2 different banks, a table of civil servants, and a table of Scottish accountants as well as the a few tables of 2 and a family celebrating a birthday party. The table of 17 nurses were loud and bit rude, but they were amusing and didn't upset or disturb other customers, or me, which is important, obviously. The civil servants got off to a rocky start by increasing their numbers without notice. This was a problem as I didn't have any room for the add on's, but as usual I got them in. But the add on's and a couple of others on the table decided they didn't want to eat! So let me get this straight, you are adding on to the table but less than what you originally had booked for are eating. Nice. But they were nice people and left me a good tip for the hassle.

Then things got interesting. The bank tables were pricks. Sorry that's not fair to pricks. They were less than pricks, they were idiots, loud, screeching, "oh my God I wanna beat you so hard with my bare fists until you are nothing but a bloody pulped mess on the floor" sort of idiots. They wouldn't shut the fuck up, even when they were politely asked to tone it down a bit. They carried on when they were asked to knock it off with a bit more force. It didn't help that one of the bank tables seemed to have engaged the Scottish accountants in a game of "Who can piss the waiter off the most". It's a fun game by all accounts, but let me assure you there can only ever be one winner, and that's the little fat chap with your food in his hand.

The accountants took umbrage with me. They didn't like they way I was chastising them and not the ladies from the bank. After a short conversation with one of them that involved a lot of "but they were shouting first" and "they are louder than us" and even some "but yeah but no but yeah" sort of stuff he was left in no doubt that he and his group needed to grow the fuck up and start acting their age. This is what happens when middle aged men are allowed out in public without their wives. After a while both tables did indeed settle down. I assume the combination of rich food and wine had taken it's toll. I still had to rush around and apologise to the other tables assuring them that it's not normally like this. All the annoying tables paid their bills and service charges without fuss. Which is my goal with every table. EAT PAY TIP LEAVE if you will.

My family birthday table had arrived. All the generations were present. The grandmother and grandfather were just lovely, and even their little fight about whether he should have a spicy salad to start was quite sweet. They ordered good food, they ordered good wine, they were polite, and amusing. They laughed and had a very jolly time. We engaged in conversation and they complimented me on how professional I was and all that. When I brought out their sweets I saved the birthday girl's to then end. I bobbed a couple of candles into her chocolate cake and started the table singing "Happy birthday". The parents were delighted, the father shook my hand as I walked away from the table. Perfect service. It was a scene worthy of a Hallmark card.

This table was the antidote to the hell earlier. They asked for the bill and as I presented it I asked them if they enjoyed their night to which they all responded with lot's of fantastic', and head nodding. They paid the bill, shook my hand, told me what a great fella I was and left. They left leaving me nothing.

I swear to God, as long as I live, as long as I am waiting tables they will never be served by me again. If they have the balls to come back I will terrorise their table. I will ensure every waiter knows that they are cheap ass sons of bitches. Their orders will get lost. Their food will be cold. Drinks will be spilled. Soup will drip on to their laps. Drinks will have added extras. Karma's a bitch you motherfuckers, my bitch. You will get yours tenfold. You might think me harsh but I hope they crashed their car on the way home....

Give me drunk accountants any day. As Dad says, "You cant get drunk on compliments...."

karma
should have tipped you cunt...

Give the big lad a hand or you're a...

you know the drill...
...early and often.

...well you know what you are. Ironbed from Bonaparte's Retreat has managed to get himself into the final ten for the FuelMyBlog/MyBowlAd competition. The prize is a trip to Hollywood. Which is nice. So click on the link and get voting. Anyone from the North of Ireland should be used to voting as we seem to have to do it every 6 months or so depending on the collapse and recreation of Assemblies and Governments. And when you consider the absolute shower of shite we vote for well this should be a breeze as it's worth it. So get it done. Oh and much like Northern Ireland you can vote over and over again, but not on the same day.

Ironbed's entry (giggle)

Think of it as friends helping friends.

Which reminds me. Talk about friends helping friends. Check this story out. It's got nothing to do with restaurants or food or even me so I'm saying nothing. Vatican, Gerry Adams, bomb, Wikipedia...got to be a good story. Paisley must be like the cat that got the cream....

Get voting....

There you go Pierre....

Amelie couldn't wait for lunch in Belfast...

France, the land of fine wine and even finer food.

From the humble baguette and croissant to Bouillabaisse and Chateaubriand the French have been the unrivalled masters of modern cuisine. Their ideas and techniques have permeated our lives and are now taken for granted. They realised that you could eat frogs (you have to wonder how that conversation went when Pierre walked into the kitchen with half a frog hanging out of his mouth) and that you could do more with snails than torture them with salt. The French care not a jot if the world thinks they are savages for forcing food down the necks of ducks and geese just so that we may gorge ourselves on Fois Gras. They take to the streets in protest and rebellion if they think their food culture is threatened in any way. Armed militia make threats if their wine making lives are threatened by cheap imports.

France gave birth to Marie-Antoine Carême and Georges Auguste Escoffier the Godfathers of modern cooking who begat the brothers Roux, who begat Marco Pierre White, who begat Gordon Ramsay. The influence of the French on modern cooking, wine, and service is almost unquantifiable.

So when you have 40 French pensioners in your Belfast restaurant on a wet and cold Tuesday lunchtime what should you give them?

Ham, cabbage, mash, and parsley sauce. Get it in til ye Pierre. There's more if you want seconds too. Honestly! I'm surprised the management didn't ask me to wear a leprechaun outfit and run around saying "t'be sure t'be sure".

Welcome to Belfast, Bon Appétit as we say on the Lisburn Road. (Actually they probably do on the Lisburn Road)

I don't have a persecution complex but this is taking the piss

paranoid?
who said I was paranoid?

I am, essentially, a good person, save for the odd foible and idiosyncrasy. Having a mental temper and being super quick to over react just make me a zany character! Much like Roy Keane. I try to avoid annoying the gods. I am kind to old ladies, well I don't mug them which is the best you can hope for with this generation. I keep the cat kicking down to two or three a week and I haven't baited a badger in years. Like the bottle of bleach says, I keep out of reach of children. I worry about my carbon footprint. Well I worry about it, I don't do a lot about it, which puts me on a par with the rest of the population. I donate to charity, a football team is charity right? When I am truly motivated I sign the odd petition or two. I like to think I balance my bad shit out with my good shit. My shit is balanced if you will.

So why oh why do bad things keep happening to me?

Sunday was LMM's birthday. I, like a good boyfriend should, had a plan. The little muffin didn't want to go out so I planned a sumptuous feast to celebrate her 25th birthday. Leg of lamb with a minted jus served with mash and roast potatoes, caramelised carrots and parsnips, and asparagus. Nice eh? Those are all LMM's favourites (is that right? - LMM). But before I could even peel a potato disaster struck. The fucking radiator in the kitchen went all suicidal and launched itself from it's moorings and fell on the floor! Not the first time either. But the timing was unbelievably bad. The next hour was spent in the company of towels and mops and swearing. There was water everywhere. But LMM was doing the family thing so I had time to get it all sorted. Well my version of sorted that is. The radiator is still on the kitchen floor, but isn't leaking water any more.

I composed myself, had a smoke and a cup of tea and started to prepare dinner. Vegetables peeled, meat seasoned and ready for roasting, I was feeling fairly relaxed again. I switched the oven on and waited for it to reach temperature. Time for another smoke. But no sooner had I sat down than there was an almighty bang from the kitchen. I sat rigid in my seat for a moment. The oven had gone bye bye, I fucking knew it. I finished my smoke and then threw a Grade A, World Class, Shit Flinging, Vein Popping hissy fit.

Your oven isn't meant to break on the same day your radiator falls off the wall, and neither is meant to happen when you are cooking dinner for your girlfriend's birthday. For fuck sake ! Gimme a break!

The rest of the evening was spent with me over compensating for the disasters.

"MMMMM this Chinese food is really lovely isn't it?"

"It's just so lovely just the two of us, we don't need fancy food.."

And so on. So if this is what you get for being a good citizen then I'm going to give it all up and start dealing drugs. Just after I burn the house down that is....

You wouldn't even think about doing it...

Awh so sweet...

I had this lovely table of 2 the other night, Mother and daughter. They were out to celebrate their birthdays. The mother's had been a few days earlier and the daughter's was coming up over the weekend. I thought it was very sweet. The mother looked quite proud, almost as if she had been looking forward to this "rite of passage" moment. They ordered well, crab claws, steaks, wine and all the sides you could want.

We weren't very busy and I put a bit of effort in for them. Well you have to some time, it's normally very difficult to motivate me when it's quiet. But I thought the picture of a mother and teenage daughter out together for dinner was, like I say, very sweet. Let's be honest most teenagers spend their time moping about their bedroom's waiting for other mopes to text them or indulging in that other teenage past time of self harming. Ask them if they want to go out for a family dinner and you will be met with a "For Gawd's sake leave me alone maaaaaaannnn".

I fussed around them topping up their wine and smiling sweetly. I had a plan to get them some of our very indulgent chocolate fondant cake resplendent with two birthday candles. I wasn't going to sing happy birthday though. I do for large parties when you can be sure they are going to join in and I can fade my screech out. But not with a table for two. It would be as embarrassing for them as it would be for me. I had a vision of tears and upset, "Mummy make the man stop, please make him stop..." as the daughter rocked her self into psychotic state. It's happened a few times in the past.

As it happened my silky tones were not going to be heard. In fact the indulgent chocolate fondant cake wasn't going to get and outing either. I was on my way down to clear the main course when the young birthday girl walked passed me. I assumed she was heading to the bathroom. Turns out she had spotted some of her friends loitering with intent outside the bar and wanted to go say hello. No big deal I thought. But 5 minutes turned into 10 minutes which turned into 20 minutes. I made small talk with the abandoned mother. Thankfully the daughter returned but...

But only to collect her bag and coat. She got a better offer from her friends so she dumped her mother and split. I watched from a distance. The mother was gob smacked to say the least. I was fucking gob smacked. Given the chance I know who I would have smacked in the gob. She wasn't angry, she didn't shout, she was just left sitting there in a state of disbelief on her own in a quiet restaurant. I moved in. The woman was distraught. Distraught women are a speciality of mine. Tears were welling in her eyes. She explained the situation and ordered a coffee. I offered sympathy and a liqueur coffee to ease the pain. Five minutes later she asked for the bill. If I could have I would have comp'd the lot for her but my powers are limited, that is to say I have no powers. Thankfully she remembered to tip in the midst of this emotional family crisis. There would have been more than her in tears otherwise.

But what a selfish, nasty, horrible thing to do to your mother. You just wouldn't do it would you?

Would you?

If that was my daughter she would be dead to me now. God I hope they turfed her out on her ass the next day.

Shove it mummy,
I'm going on the lash with the lads...

"I'm a minor player in my own life story"

Tony Wilson
RIP


"I am not a piece of hash. I'm in charge of Factory Records. I think."

I have a mate who reminds me a lot of the late Tony Wilson. He runs a number of club nights, manages bands, promotes, gets "stuff", plays in about 197 bands (or there about') drinks hard and is the hardest working man in rock n roll. Think on Joe, think on. Tony Wilson was only 57.....

Unknown Pleasures I think....

Giants Causeway - Quality, but needs a ski lift, non-slip mats, free helmets, etc etc

*with a few minor alterations that is...

Review: World Heritage Site

I went to: The Giants Causeway. A natural pavement of huge rocks projecting into the Atlantic Ocean/A Causeway linking Ireland and Scotland created by Finn MacCool (local giant, deceased).

On the: 25th of July

For: An afternoon of walking around peculiar shaped rocks and all that sort of thing. I had never been before which is a bit of a disgrace so I thought I better make an appearance.

I discovered: Peculiar shaped rocks and all that sort of thing, tourists from all over the world, that I am much more of a city person than I thought, and that I am not as fit as I used to be. (When were you that fit? - LMM)

death rocks...

And it was: Whacky! It really does look strange. The rocks are so geometrically similar you would swear they were made by hand.

The amenities were: From the 1980's, I swear I saw Limahl from 80's poopergroup Kajagoogoo, in the toilets. The gift shop had some nice overpriced "stuff" but there was also an audio visual display section which gives you the history and mythology of the rocks. Or you could just go down to the rocks.

It cost me: Very little it has to be said. They get you with the car park charges £5.00 and a quid for the audio/visual tour, and another £1.00 for the bus back again. Let's be honest I would have paid ten times that to get back up the hill. LMM packed a picnic which all came from Marks & Spencer's so that was the dearest part of the day. The gift shop do know how to charge, but I still got a jar of jam, raspberry and rhubarb, for £2.50. (Worth it)

And I'll be going back: Eh um when I have to take American visitors. Or when they get the escalator put in. I am a city person, this outing confirmed that. But it was worth going to, it is quite fascinating, if a litter dangerous.

Other words: "The Causeway formed 60 Million years ago as a result of volcanic eruptions. The lava cooled and hardened, it formed layers of basalt rock to become the Giant’s Causeway. You can see approximately 40,000 columns of basalt rock today." That's the scientific view.

OR...

"Long ago, an Irish giant named Finn MacCool roamed the north coast, where he could look across the narrow sea of Moyle to Scotland. A Scottish giant, Benandonner, was Finn’s greatest rival, challenging his strength and reputation.

As the two giants had never met, Finn decided to invite Benandonner to Ireland, to engage in a decisive battle. There was no boat large enough to carry giants, so Finn built a causeway of huge stones across the water so that the Scottish giant could travel on dry land; thus he would have no excuse to avoid the confrontation.

However, as big Ben approached, Finn realised to his horror that his opponent was a larger and more fearsome rival than he anticipated. He fled to his home in the nearby hills, and like any sensible man, asked his wife for advice. Oonagh, a practical woman, disguised Finn as a baby, complete with large night gown and bonnet. She placed him in a huge, hastily made cradle, telling him to keep quiet and pretend to sleep, as Benandonner’s great shadow darkened the door. Oonagh brought the Scottish giant in for tea, pleading with him not to waken Finn’s child, Looking at the massive ‘baby’ lying in the cradle, Benandonner took fright, saying that if this was the child, he had no wish to meet the father. He fled back to Scotland, ripping up the Causeway behind him, terrified that the awful Finn might follow him home." That's the Creationist/Tourist Board interpretation. And it's a great story.

And who am I to complain about it? It's been round for millions of years and huge numbers of people from all over the world have visited the rock formations. The walk down to the rocks is lovely, walking hand in hand with your love. The wind blowing your hair, or where your hair used to be. But I cant be the only one to notice that it is as dangerous as rock climbing in bare feet. Let me tell you if you slip on the rocks you are in danger of loosing a mouthful of teeth, an eye, and having your shins smashed into a thousand pieces. I shit you not. It's slippy, the stones are sharp, and the wind coming off the Atlantic does it's bit to mess with your stability.

Now these problems are solvable. Here is the WellDoneFillet solution:

1. A ski lift/Escalator would help the more rotund visitor access the Causeway. This is a good investment for the future as we are all gonna get lovely and fat(ter).
2. Bean bags, scatter cushions, soft padding everywhere thus protecting those of us who cant walk ten paces without falling down.
3. If this is a move too far then I suggest knee and shin pads with matching elbow pads and helmets. Oh and a mouth guard to protect your pearly yellows, sorry I mean pearly whites.
   
4. Offer helicopter/balloon rides over the rocks. Now that would save all sorts of "man" energy.
5. Or I could get fit and lose some weight. Ha ha ha ha that's just daft, God I crack me up, lose some weight... brilliant.
   

And so it gets: Oh it gets a 5 out of 5 for the rocks, quality rocks. They really are impressive. The visitor centre etc needs a total overhaul and a decent coffee offering, not Starbucks, but something decent all the same. They should look at my suggestions for improvement because let's be honest I ain't gonna be running marathons anytime soon.

stunning but deadly much like the ex-wife...

Are you suing me? I guess you're suing me...

you got my coffee, boy?
I got your tips (allegedly)

Two former employees of the Nobu restaurant chain, Alisa Agofonova and Aaron Pou, are suing the upscale chain, which is part owned by Bobby "You talking to me?" De Niro, for offences such as pilfering their tips. Nobu has 15 restaurants around the world all located in glamorous locations from Honolulu to Hong Kong. There are no plans to open in Lisburn just yet. De Niro is part owner of the New York restaurants, the ones getting sued.

It's the same old same old. The restaurant chain's management is accused of forcing staff to share tips with them and of not paying overtime. This comes on the back of a similar story at the Mr Chow restaurant chain. And then there was the Hippidy Hopper, Jay-Z, who was up to the same craic at his Manhattan club.

De Niro probably has very little to do with the operation of the restaurants and is not named on the writ. But imagine if Mr De Niro was running your Monday night shift [wavy dream lines]

"Yo you fucking mook"

Me?

"Yeah you you fucking mook. Is that were we put the starter cutlery?"

Eh, no Bob, sorry.

"Bob? What the fuck you just call me? You call me Bob?"

Sorry Mr De Niro sir, sorry.

"Sorry I'll give you fucking sorry you fucking mook" Bob says this whilst thrown notes from his wallet at me.

"Get d'fuck out....call me Bob... you fucking mook"

Or something like that...

But what is it with these people. They have more money than they will ever need but they still think it's more than cool to rob their employees. And what gets on my tits the most is that these restaurants are just play things for them, tax dodges and so on. Actors/celebrities shouldn't be involved in restaurants. It's not like waiters ever want to be actors......


Bob have a word, give them their money back eh.

To wait or not to wait, that is the real question

Old Uncle Manuel Shakespeare
Unquiet meals make ill digestions

I received an email the other day from a chap, actually it could have been from a woman, not sure, but not that important in the context of the email. They were seeking guidance on whether a career in hospitality is the way to go. Here is the email in full:

"Hi,
I am thinking of doing a 13 week course in Restaurant Skills - Is this a
waste of time? How long does it take to learn to take orders and set up
tables?

Do you enjoy the work?
What are the hours like?

I am working in a dull boring office job at the moment & I'd like a
change. I have an interest in the hotels and restaurants. Most people
would prefer a crap job like this than waiting. Waiting seems to be
looked down upon. I said it to my friends & they think I am mad. They
think I'll end up as a Manuel being bossed around.

Are there possibilities for promotion etc?

I have gone to college - but I just think I'll give it a go.

I am in my mid 30s and would love the challenge of a new career.


Anyway Good Blog,

Regards"

These are all good questions. Let's take them one by one.

"I am thinking of doing a 13 week course in Restaurant Skills - Is this a waste of time? How long does it take to learn to take orders and set up tables?"

All jobs require training and being a waiter is no different. If you have no experience what so ever then sure go for it! But each restaurant has it's own style of service and it's own way of doing things. For example some set tables with both starter and main course cutlery. Some just set with mains and add cutlery as required and so on. A course like the one mentioned will provide you with all the technical knowledge you need. It will give you confidence which is very important. Customers can smell fear and will use it against you. They can be bullying bastards if you let them walk over you. Plus the customer needs to be confident that the waiter knows what they are doing and what they are talking about.

I would suggest a wine course as well. Wine knowledge is very important and the better restaurants will require a good level of wine knowledge. Pizza Hut don't, but then again the Hut's customers don't tip well. You may think you know how to open a bottle of wine but try it in front of 12 drunk businessmen when the cork has gone dry and is starting to crumble. Let me tell you the sweat from your brow hits the glass before the wine does! Knowledge is key. If a customer asks you what the difference is between a jus and a reduction or which wine compliments the Sea Bass best you need to be able to answer it straight away. You can be taught all these things.

You cant be taught how to talk though. And alongside knowledge it's the talk that will earn you the money.

Do you enjoy the work?
What are the hours like?

I love my job. You get to meet such interesting and lovely people. You get to escape the routine of 9 to 5. And no 2 days are the same.

BOLLOCKS! Cant believe I was going to write that!

I do love my job, but it's all about the money honey. There are easier ways to make a living but very few that allow you to go home with undeclared cash in your pocket. Short in your rent? Need cash to get your darling something nice? Pick up an extra shift and you should be quids in. If you are any good you should be able to double your wages with tax free* ease.

As for the hours, the hours are rough. If you love going out every Saturday night and spend your Friday evenings as pished as a high court judge then don't even think about this job. When the rest of the world stops working we start. You don't get St Valentine's day off, you get the 15Th. You wont be getting hammered on St Patrick's day again, no you will be working until 3am. You will have to beg, bribe, and lie to get New Years eve off. You will work every bank holiday forever. I'm not exaggerating. Friends outside of the business will become but distant memories and you will form a new circle of friends who you will drink with until dawn, on a very regular basis.

I have an interest in the hotels and restaurants.

Don't we all! I love staying in a good hotel, but wouldn't want to work in one. Hotels are a 24/7 environment. Thus your shifts will be based around that. Plus tips in hotels are piss poor. Most guests just put everything on their bill and pay with a card as they leave. Thus you get stiffed. Personally I would recommend restaurants over hotels on that basis. The type of restaurant you choose is up to you. But it isn't always the case that the very best restaurants pay the best or allow you to earn the best tips. I would recommend avoiding restaurants that use a point system to pay tips. They are as corrupt as fuck and every shite from the General Manger and Head Chef down to the kitchen porter gets a cut of your wonga. Restaurants were you tip out to the bar, KP etc are better. You control your own cash then.

Are there possibilities for promotion etc?

Always! The best mangers are those that worked their way through the system. You know every aspect of the job as you have done it a thousand times before. I've been there, done that. It wasn't for me. I would rather talk about the quality of this seasons new lamb with a table of 2 than worry about the labour cost or the missing bottle of Vodka.

Anyway Good Blog

Clearly an intelligent and well read individual.

Would I recommend the job? Sure, hell yes! But you need to have a genuine passion for food and wine. You need to be able to judge people (and not just so you can look down on them and make up stories about them) so you can make a decision on how to approach them. You have to have an ability to small talk and be able to put up with oodles and oodles of crap. This is a skill I am starting to lose. I you have a love of daytime TV and don't mind not seeing your old friends any more then go for it.

Oh and you need to be cool with standing about, waiting. That's what we do, we wait....

There are books that might be of help to you here. Further Well Done Fillet Advice here. I'll leave you with this....

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all customers doubt you
But make no allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, but deal in bigger lies,
Or being hated, and give way to hating,
And yet look good, and talk so wise:
Yours is the restaurant and everything that is in it,
And, which is more, you'll be a waiter, my son!

Rudyard Kipling/Manuel Waiter

*I'll deny it if asked by the taxman....