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A restaurant is usually perceived as a place expected to
have the right ambience and atmosphere to host a perfect meal, be it a family
dinner, a corporate business meal or a relaxing time spent out with colleagues.
Thus what you as a guest get to see is an elaborate set up adorned with
attentive robotic waiters and stewards trained to please your every whim and
fancy, fill up your glass, serve you the remaining food on the table and in the
end of course all for a tip. It’s all in the system of a fully fledged bustling
restaurant.
What you don’t usually realize as a customer is this same
perception from the eyes of a worker. I manage a homely Chinese and south east
Asian restaurant called Waldorf in the city of Kolkata in India. With the
correct observation one would ultimately reach a deduction that a restaurant
can be a very amusing place to work. For us, customers are a breed of different
pedigrees. Let’s give a few examples.
You get the docile subdued kind who shiver at the thought of
approaching a waiter for even a glass of water (c’mon dopey your paying for it), then there is the Mr. know it all
or as we call them in India ( the sab jante wala). Mr. Confucius
reincarnated when ordering tries to impress me with his knowledge of Chinese
food by insisting on using the Chinese pronunciation of the items listed in the
menu. (Hey c’mon we are on a schedule
here Charlie boy, stop trying to twist your
tongue over a kway tiew shanghai, its
bloody mentioned there ‘bon bon chicken
noodles’ in English, or a chow
faan when you can say fried rice). At one time I had this 20 some odd gal
argue with me for ten whole minutes that chow faan was actually noodles, bloody
hell I’m not a pure blood chink but I definitely know a little Chinese
to know you’re talking crap, lady stick to English pleeeease,.
Then there is the classic family patriarch the Bengali
gentleman over 60. Ohhhh how we love these guys, how we love to strangle their
necks, how their family would love to strangle their necks. He will offer every
member of the family a menu and ask the first question damning their dinner
from the start. KI KHABE? (WHAT DO
YOUR’ LL WANT TO EAT)? Rice or
Chinese? … c’mon what does that mean?
According to you Mr. Bong rice means Indian food right? Is that what your
question is based on? Ok let’s go further…. Again …KI KHABE BOLO KICHU
BOLCCHE NA KENO (say what do you all want to eat, whay
aren’t you all saying anything)’.Now
if one person dares open his mouth to order let’s say ‘DUCK’ then old man here
replies ‘KIIII? (WHAAAT)? NA NA (No No) DUCK FUCK KHABE NA…. (don’t eat Duck fuck and all)….
Now the most embarrassing moment for one of our old timer
stewards Francis, God rest his soul was
when one nice lovely lady asked him…..How
Is Your PORK??? Poor Francis is dumbfounded with a stupid smirk on his
face and doesn’t know what to do, Madam,
you really want to know how the guy pokes??? C’mon can’t you ask in a less
crude way pork meat for instance.
Then we have the ever warring couples, ..oh how we love
spectator sport in our restaurant. Once we actually had this middle aged couple
with two kids come in for Sunday dinner. The guy with a pot bellied paunch and
bald head insisted on ignoring his wife while ordering. All through the waiting period he kept
shrugging her off each time she tried to
attracting his attention for ordering
something she wanted. Ultimately madam gets up fuming,,,she takes hold of the
spoon and BANG…. On BALDYS HEAD. Now that was something.
So this is what I mean when I say that a restaurant is a
circus, I can go on and on amusing you Meanwhile I would just love it if you shared
your restaurant experiences and your experiments with food. As Confucius used
to say…’it is better to light a candle than curse the darkness’’’ unfortunately
he never lived in Kolkata…LOADSHEDDING??? REMEMBER WHEN THE LIGHTS GO OUT IN
SUMMER THEN….$%^#$%%&^&&^…… TAKE CARE ALL.
Sometime in 2001