alright folks, drum-roll please... you guessed it: it is time for the next installment of "adventures of a rookie waitress"! tonight's excerpt, which i have entitled "the woeful tale of the Tuna Nicoise Salad Lady", is taken from the part wherein our modest but quietly confident heroine makes her first terrifying foray into the unfamiliar territory of waiting on fine dining customers (i.e. not huge parties with lots of other waitstaff). enjoy the show...
"i received word that the host had just seated two customers: my first table ever. my stomach gave a quick shudder as nerves set in; but then, not allowing myself a moment's pause to let every grim possibility of disaster flash before my mind's eye, i hastily grabbed the nearest water jug and proceeded as gracefully as i could through the swinging doors and into the vast dining room. first complication: the couple, who had been seated in the far corner beside the patio door, were in the midst of re-seating themselves at a table nearer the centre of the room, citing the excessive draughtiness near the door as their reason for moving. now, had i been more experienced, i would perhaps have sensed the impending calamity; however, in my zealous attempt at optimism i assumed the best of this older twosome and waited for them to re-arrange and settle themselves before approaching the table. i filled their water glasses without ado, asking in my most proper English if they should like to see a wine list, and even managed to procure a decent glass of wine for the lady. everything went swimmingly, in fact, as i rattled off the daily specials with a few sly glances down at the cheat-sheet i had carefully copied from the board in the kitchen, and soon decisions were made: a sandwich of the day for the gentleman, and, as she put it, a 'Tuna Nissou' for the lady. i, of course, being no expert in the menu items as yet and unable to get a glance at what it was she had pointed out, hadn't the slightest idea what this 'Tuna Nissou' was. complication number two. not wanting to seem the fool, however, i repeated what the woman had said with a knowing look on my face and a confident "of course", and shuffled off to the kitchen to enquire after this mystery dish and enter the order into the computer. with the help of one of the other waiters, i determined that what the lady wanted was a Tuna Nicoise Salad. still having no inkling as to what this exotic-sounding dish might be like, i punched it in and waited to see what materialised from the other side of the counter. it turned out to be a couple of pieces of seared rare tuna, similar to the kind i had eaten once in a Japanese restaurant, served atop various types of greens, some olives and a few other things. it looked less than appetizing to me personally, but i supposed it must be just the sort of thing people were accustomed to eating in a fancy joint like this, so i faithfully ferried it and the pork sandwich to the table and wished the folks an enjoyable meal. when i placed the Tuna Nicoise Salad in front of its requester, however, she looked mildly confused and asked, half to her husband and half to me, "what's this?", looking at the pinkish masses sitting atop her plate. Just as confused, i replied, "i'm sorry? oh, the tuna?", which seemed to clear things up enough that she settled in and started to poke around at it with her knife and fork. it seemed obvious, though, that i wasn't the only one who didn't know what 'Tuna Nissou' was. i decided to leave her to it and hope for the best.
not ten minutes later, taking the customary walk through the dining room lest my customers feel abandoned, i was motioned over by the Tuna Nicoise Salad lady, who promptly announced, "i can't eat this. it just turns my stomach. i'm sorry, but i can't eat it. it's disgusting." PANIC! Immediately attempting damage-control, i apologised profusely to the woman and asked if she would like something else instead. "No," she whimpered, "my stomach is too upset now, i can't eat anything," waving at the plate to indicate that she wanted the offensive stuff removed from her sight immediately. Stupidly, i asked if she would like to take any of it home with her, but was quickly refused with an even more disgusted grimace. "Can i bring you anything to help settle your stomach at all? Perhaps a tea or a ginger ale?" i asked, trying to redeem myself even a little. Hesitantly she agreed to the ginger ale, and i removed the unfortunate salad and set about getting the poor woman her drink. in the meantime, the other waiter had caught wind of the situation and arrived for backup, so he returned to the table with me to see what else could be done to appease our dissatisfied patron. upon our arrival, the woman seemed slightly improved, and had evidently managed to stomach a nibble of her husband's pork sandwich. "You know, I hate to complain and i never have," she said, "but this pork just isn't fresh, if you ask me." i left this one to Mike, the other waiter, who was clearly just as unsure as i was of what to say to this accusation. he stuttered some sort of reply, and seemed even more taken aback when the woman attempted to force him to eat some of the pork off her husband's plate and see for himself (not only is this clearly against all the rules of fine dining, but incidentally, Mike is also Jewish). eventually, it was agreed that we would voice the complaints of our customers to the chef and bring them each a bowl of soup in the hopes that it would prove more enjoyable for them both. as it turned out, the T.N.S. lady was up and down to the bathroom several times and barely even touched her soup.
Upon receiving the bill the unhappy couple was told that unfortunately, since there was nothing wrong with the Tuna Nicoise Salad (and the management was not about to pick up the bill for patron ignorance), we would have to charge them for it. Suffice it to say that the unhappy couple remained quite unhappy. So unhappy, in fact, that they left a tip of exactly negative 44 cents. This was not a promising start to my career as a fine dining waitress."
... and so the adventures continue!
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