Ahh, restaurant life. The only line of work where you can be crying in the bathroom one minute and be jumping for joy the next because of a 20 dollar tip. I have worked in the food industry for four years now, and I worked as a hostess for a year of that time. It was the best and worst job I have ever had. It was the best because I made bank by standing around and drawing pictures half of the time, but was the worst because of how you are treated by customers and fellow staff. Let’s be real, hosting is basically standing around and looking pretty while attempting to direct the traffic of a restaurant. Although it doesn’t seem like a real job, it is. Here are a list of reasons why it’s the worst:
“Can we have a booth?”
First of all, we’re slammed and I didn’t make it an option for you. But yes, allow me to ask this nice family of four over here to leave so that YOU can have a booth. Stop.
“Excuse me, you don’t look busy. Can I get a Diet Coke?”
One thing you learn really quickly from hosting is that you are the first person that customers and waiters ask to do all of their busy work. Let’s face it, your job is to walk people to their tables. It’s not rocket science. However, when that party of five in the corner tells you their drink order because for some reason they think you’re their waitress and three other waiters want you to bus their tables and your manager is yelling at you because you’re not at the host stand where you should be, it can be overwhelming.
“You get paid for this?”
Believe or not, I do get paid to sit here and roll silverware.
“How long is the wait?”
A piece of advice from a former hostess: We don’t know how long the wait is. I can’t see the future. I don’t know when that couple in the corner booth is going to stop making out or when that family reunion is going to FINALLY decide to leave. They’ll tell you 15-20 minutes because that’s what they tell us to say, but honestly we have no idea. #lifetips
Walk-ins on a Friday night at 6pm
Need I say more?
Walk-ins over 6 people any day of the week
There’s no worse feeling than when it’s Sunday at 11AM and the entire church squad decided to have brunch last minute. Did you actually say fifteen people or has my triple shot coffee not kicked in? Where am I going to get tables for you? Is it too late for me to quit?
Overall, I can’t bash on the hosting profession too hard. I mean, where else can you make pretty decent money by walking people to their tables and engaging in awkward small talk? It’s a good gig if you can roll with the punches, but let’s just say I don’t see the words “How many in your party?” coming out of my mouth in the near future.
