The Good Automaton

7/14/06

Yesterday I brought you some dramatic anecdotes from my days as a server at Fat Harry’s Country Club.* What inspired this whole thing was Hanni going through my room in a frenzy of irritated cleaning, wherein we came across an old training manual for the club. In reading this hilarious tome, I noticed several interesting points that I’d like to share with you, dear readers.

Despite the fact that this document was supposedly updated in 1995, a good portion of it reads as if taken from How to Be Subservient, circa 1956. That, and it seems whoever wrote this instruction book thought themselves a much more clever scribbler than they actually were. My theory is that it was commissioned by the management to a waiter who was majoring in Creative Writing. Alright, let’s light this candle…

The Fine Art of Member Relations
This section is supposed to be a general guideline as to how to speak and interact with the club members, because there are probably some of you out there who operate under the delusion that this will be one human speaking to another. Tsk, tsk, you fool. This will be one person (the member) conversing with a trained monkey (you).

 Except for a courteous greeting such as “Good morning or good evening, Mr. or Mrs. ____” never attempt to converse with a member unless the member speaks to you first.

Servers should be seen and not heard, in other words. Members are busy people contemplating things you couldn’t possibly understand, and trying to dumb-down their conversation for you causes them physical pain. I’ll not bother to point out that the author here has actually put “good morning OR good evening,” in quotes, thereby implying that you would actually say it verbatim.

 Never mention a member’s last visit to the Club unless he or she brings it up first.

I’m guessing this is meant to protect those members who have lost their fucking minds and decided that bringing a mistress to the club while the little woman is out of town would be a really smashing idea.

 While you are busy serving a party, take the time to periodically glance around your station being alert for those members that may require your attention. Simply nod in recognition to the member’s signal. In this way the member can relax knowing that you will be there in a moment.

Uh-huh. Right. Some of the members would take the nod as what is illustrated above, but the ones who actually take the initiative to flag you down from across a crowded room don’t want a nod. No, for these whistling, finger-snapping hog-fuckers you better high-tail it their way if you so much as make eye contact, regardless of the fact that you’re carrying seven dirty plates, a coffee pot, ashtrays and a leg afire from the buffet sterno. A nod? A nod?! Good God; who knows what a nod could mean? They’re like dogs; whenever you’re out of sight they think you’re gone forever.

 Should you need a member’s attention, and they are engaged in conversation, do not approach them until you are acknowledged. Position yourself out of earshot, in full view of the member and wait for his or her signal before approaching.

Okay this is just ri-goddamn-diculous. This never happened. I mean, none of these things ever happened, but this one really didn’t happen. Sweet fancy Jesus we’re busy working here, we don’t have time to hover about “out of earshot” (down the hall in the bathroom?) and wait for Johnny Gabs-a-lot to glance up from his drunken ranting about how successful the Club has been at keeping out those pesky Jews.

I should point out here that the members at FHCC aren’t exactly the crème de la crème of high society. For the most part it’s upper middle-class folks who like to appear more important than they are. They drink well liquor, haggle over the bill, and prefer Cashew Chicken or Country Fried Steak to lobster and caviar. Sure, there were some very wealthy folk; one cat was worth somewhere in the neighborhood of $23 million, but he was a retired 40-something man with gin-blossoms who spent 16 hours a day playing golf, cards and just generally trying to empty the world of Absolut vodka.

At this point in the manual the author spends 2 pages drawing out this lengthy example of how to treat a member by comparing food service with the way you would host a house guest. Keeping with the theme of the 1950s, he paints a portrait of your boss coming over to your house, meeting your muzzled children and pearl-wearing wife (stay in the goddamn kitchen!) eating “your wife’s dinner creation…at the peak of serving perfection”, and then retiring “to the comfortable chair for coffee, brandy and a cigar”.
What are we, on the Titanic? Maybe I’m young and naïve, but does this kind of shit still happen on the planet? Do people still invite their pig of a boss home to watch his family play-act as if they’re happy and show off their impressive domesticity? Seriously, I’m asking…
Finally, in a shocking turn-around of hypocrisy in the “Teamwork” section, this shows up:

 Listen up!! From time to time you will hear members make comment about everything from the food service to the condition of the golf courses. This information has great value to the management. Remarks made to you, or within your hearing should be reported to your room supervisor immediately. A guest’s praise, as well as his or her criticism, should be passed along.

Seemingly aware of how violently this is at odds with the “out of earshot” thing and the idea of discretion above all else, the author tacks this onto the end of the page:

“IN NO WAY DOES THIS GIVE YOU A LICENSE TO EAVESDROP!!”

You can tell he really means it, what with the capitals and dual exclamation points and all.



*The name has been changed to protect my white ass.