WHAT SHOULD I BE DOING INSTEAD OF THIS?
 
Home · Articles · Columns · Living Out Loud · Living Out Loud: : Manners for an Appetizer

Living Out Loud: : Manners for an Appetizer

"Smile, William"

By William Johnson · January 3rd, 2007 · Living Out Loud
0 Comments
     
Tags:
Let me make one point very clear: Because you have money doesn't mean you have class. No sooner than I started the job, I ended it, couldn't give the customary two weeks' notice before I said my goodbye. I can't take a lot. When I'm good at something, I tend to do whatever it is very well. When I'm not good at it, I suck. Give me 39 cents, and I can biggie size that for you. My former employer is a well-respected name I had the pleasure of working for -- well, tried to work for. My former co-workers are an eclectic group of men and women I'm sure will wow the public. This was one hell of a sociology lesson. Can this transfer with my other credits to U.C.?

More than half of me wants to blast the "guests" that I encountered and the shit I experienced and observed. "Be responsible with your writing," I keep hearing over and over in my head. I will. Cincinnati, you are rude. Do you realize it's a tedious task to wake up everyday to greet you cocky Alfani suit-wearing farts to your table? To come to your table and listen to you ask dumbass questions about the menu that could be answered if you would just read? To hear you whine about your man/woman problems over your umpteenth alcoholic beverage, knowing you should head straight to the Betty Ford clinic? To accommodate you in every which way to appease your ungrateful asses until the check comes so you can get the fuck out? And then you have the nerve to be cheap? I wasn't good enough to greet you with a "Good afternoon" or a "Good evening"; you walked right past me. Entitlement by Queen City was the unisex scent I smelled on a majority of you everyday I worked there and it made me absolutely sick. The sun does not rise and set in any of your asses, just in case no one taught you that. Work badges are examples of the caste system in Hamilton County. "I can buzz myself in and out my place of employment," your expressions say to me while others, like me, are staunch members of the unwashed masses. Your wives, girlfriends and whores by mail order sit around and try to outshine the next. Beautiful jewels against a Florida sunburned chest and a neck with more rings than a California redwood. Back away from the apple martinis, sweetheart. Am I speaking of white male privilege? Absolutely. Because your skin is a different hue than mine and you have a penis does not give you the key to any and all things Cincinnati. I can count on both hands how many people I came across, black or white, who were nice people. Rudeness is universal. It crosses all language barriers, all races and of course all economic classes.

I felt really disheartened when someone who looked like me would come in and totally brush me off. "Oh," I say to myself, "he has never seen braids," or "This must be the first time he didn't have to go to the window to get his order for him and his female companion." I love it. "Smile, William" were two words I heard often. Yes, I look like I could commit capital murder on any given day, but what in the hell did I have to smile for? There's only so much fake smiling I can do. I could care less how much new stuff is coming to Cincinnati.

If you can't change the hearts and minds of the people, then what good is it?

The next time you dine out or stay in a hotel, remember how you would want someone to talk to you. Sure, your job comes with corporate accounts, frequent flyer miles, clothing allowances (if you're lucky) and the like. I take my hat off to the men and women of the hospitality industry. To grin when people, as I clearly know, can be so-shittable in Cincinnati takes a good person. I ever was a rude, obnoxious guest in any establishment but after this experience, I have a new admiration for those in this industry and will be an even better patron.

Now after you read this, the next time you go out to eat, when someone greets you, let him or her finish their lines for God's sake. When you are told your table will be ready momentarily, instead of huffing and puffing like someone really gives a shit, sit your "I want to be so important" ass down and wait. And most important, when it's time to tip your server, tip him or her well. Tips are a server's livelihood. Just like being an asshole is yours.

Let's be a little nicer to each other in 2007. There is no such thing as job security in the word we live in now. In the blink of an eye, you can go from that corner office on the 25th floor to waiting in a line for unemployment. Now I'm smiling.



Check out the Living Out Loud Blog at

More than half of me wants to blast the "guests" that I encountered and the shit I experienced and observed. "Be responsible with your writing," I keep hearing over and over in my head. I will. Cincinnati, you are rude. Do you realize it's a tedious task to wake up everyday to greet you cocky Alfani suit-wearing farts to your table? To come to your table and listen to you ask dumbass questions about the menu that could be answered if you would just read? To hear you whine about your man/woman problems over your umpteenth alcoholic beverage, knowing you should head straight to the Betty Ford clinic? To accommodate you in every which way to appease your ungrateful asses until the check comes so you can get the fuck out? And then you have the nerve to be cheap? I wasn't good enough to greet you with a "Good afternoon" or a "Good evening"; you walked right past me. Entitlement by Queen City was the unisex scent I smelled on a majority of you everyday I worked there and it made me absolutely sick. The sun does not rise and set in any of your asses, just in case no one taught you that. Work badges are examples of the caste system in Hamilton County. "I can buzz myself in and out my place of employment," your expressions say to me while others, like me, are staunch members of the unwashed masses. Your wives, girlfriends and whores by mail order sit around and try to outshine the next. Beautiful jewels against a Florida sunburned chest and a neck with more rings than a California redwood. Back away from the apple martinis, sweetheart. Am I speaking of white male privilege? Absolutely. Because your skin is a different hue than mine and you have a penis does not give you the key to any and all things Cincinnati. I can count on both hands how many people I came across, black or white, who were nice people. Rudeness is universal. It crosses all language barriers, all races and of course all economic classes.

I felt really disheartened when someone who looked like me would come in and totally brush me off. "Oh," I say to myself, "he has never seen braids," or "This must be the first time he didn't have to go to the window to get his order for him and his female companion." I love it. "Smile, William" were two words I heard often. Yes, I look like I could commit capital murder on any given day, but what in the hell did I have to smile for? There's only so much fake smiling I can do. I could care less how much new stuff is coming to Cincinnati. If you can't change the hearts and minds of the people, then what good is it?

The next time you dine out or stay in a hotel, remember how you would want someone to talk to you. Sure, your job comes with corporate accounts, frequent flyer miles, clothing allowances (if you're lucky) and the like. I take my hat off to the men and women of the hospitality industry. To grin when people, as I clearly know, can be so-shittable in Cincinnati takes a good person. I ever was a rude, obnoxious guest in any establishment but after this experience, I have a new admiration for those in this industry and will be an even better patron.

Now after you read this, the next time you go out to eat, when someone greets you, let him or her finish their lines for God's sake. When you are told your table will be ready momentarily, instead of huffing and puffing like someone really gives a shit, sit your "I want to be so important" ass down and wait. And most important, when it's time to tip your server, tip him or her well. Tips are a server's livelihood. Just like being an asshole is yours.

Let's be a little nicer to each other in 2007. There is no such thing as job security in the word we live in now. In the blink of an eye, you can go from that corner office on the 25th floor to waiting in a line for unemployment. Now I'm smiling.



Check out the Living Out Loud Blog at http://theoutloudblog.wordpress.com/.
 
 
 
 

 

 
 
 
Close
Close
Close