As I’ve worked at Pine Knob Music Theater’s VIP Lounge, The Ivy, I’ve learned many things whilst I’ve bussed many tables and ran more food than I can imagine.
1. Chefs have the biggest hearts.
Every chef I’ve worked with has always been extremely kind and giving. I’m always met with a variety of nicknames such as “baby,” “dear” and “sweetheart” followed by asking about what I’ve been up to. I regularly engage in long conversations that have provided me with advice I still use to this day. No matter what, I feel looked after in the kitchen. And you can’t forget about the free food; it touches my heart when a chef remembers my dinner order. Even as a picky eater, if a chef makes something off the menu, their own creation, I’ll ALWAYS take a bite. God bless chefs everywhere.
2. Pine Knob has a surplus of drunks.
Due to the fact that The Ivy is located in a concert venue, people pregame before they get there or drink heavily at the venue itself in preparation for the big night; I’ve dealt with more drunk people than I have at prior restaurants ever. I’ve categorized these drunks into two categories: mean and nice (not very original, but true).
The mean customers think they’re special, but in reality, they are just louder and needier than everyone else. I hear intoxicated men try to argue with their wives, and it’s honestly laughable how they try to be harsh and fail. These mean, drunk customers also have no problems flirting with me. It’s quite uncomfortable when a grown man, whose breath reeks of the three Coors Light he drank, decides he wants to hit on the teenager just trying to give him his pretzel bites. But don’t worry, this harassment happens before I even step into the gates of the venue. On a particularly busy show, a group of men, maybe in their mid to late twenties, decided to pre-game in the employee parking lot. Fine, I don’t care. I only started to care when one of them thought I would like to start my shift with being slapped on the a**. Keep your hands and truck out of my parking lot!
But enough with the negatives, there are also nice drunks. I’ve encountered many customers who are just desperate to eat. They’re like big babies, but in a good way. They’re so sweet, and they just want whatever they’re craving. I once encountered a young man, who was crossed, leaned his head back in his chair to say hello, and made small talk with me. He just seemed so happy. Thank you to the sweet, drunk people who spread their smiles and just want good food.
3. Kids should come with a leash and a mop.
Don’t get me wrong, the kids are adorable, I love kids, but please teach your children how to act at a restaurant. As I’m carrying a big platter I’m afraid I’ll spill, I don’t need your child running abruptly in front of me. And, the smushed fries they leave are hard to get out of the crevices of the floors. Don’t forget the sauce spills; our sauces come in cups with lids, use them! Thankfully, children aren’t as common in the lounge.
4. The Ivy wealthy customers are nice.
We have a few regulars at The Ivy who we know are wealthy, but they’re not the snobby kind of wealthy. There’s this one gentleman who knows all the staff, he’s been a frequent customer for years, and he’s always been sweet and generous. Since I’ve only worked one season, he doesn’t know who I am, but when I do make conversation with him, I always leave with a smile.
Another gentleman paid a waitress to bring his drinks down to the pit. The waitress needed some help carrying the drinks, so I followed her. The crowd was huge, more packed than usual, and as a 5’2 woman, this was very inconvenient for me, as I was holding drinks without a lid. Getting past security also proved to be difficult, as they made us pour our canned drinks into cups without a lid. When we finally made it to the pit, I was in awe. I have never been this up close to any performer. They offered for me to stay and sit, but I refrained even though I was on my break. The waitress who ran the drinks with me laughed at my awe, as they had done this numerous times before.
5. I’m out of place.
I don’t mean this in a bad way; we just have a diverse staff. There are three chefs, whom I don’t know their actual names except for their nicknames. I asked some of my coworkers, and they met me with a shrug. They go by Sloth, Twee-dee and Wawa; weird, right? But I enjoy working with them. Our staff ranges from preschool teachers to chefs who’ve cooked for numerous celebrities. I’ve met so many people from so many different backgrounds and I truly enjoy hearing anything they have to share about their lives. I was trapped in my suburban, affluent, bubble for a long time and it’s refreshing to step outside of it.
6. My patience is thin.
I’ve learned that I have less patience than I thought after working this job. After I spill a sauce or basket of fries, listen to the yelling in the kitchen, customers asking me frankly stupid questions and running around trying to buss tables, I’m so done with everyone. I wish I could not be bugged by the small things but, they add up. I’ll collapse in a chair in the back alley and shut up to watch the night sky; two out of five times it helps me recharge… Kind of.
7. My coworkers keep me from a breakdown.
I work with six other runners, only two of which are also girls, and they’re all college aged. I was incredibly nervous and I really struggled to say anything my first shift but they are some of the kindest people I’ve ever met.
It’s quite obvious that high school/college boys don’t have the best reputation of being kind and sweet, but these are some of the first boys I have ever met around my age to be truly considerate and gentle with me. It helped reshape the view that not all teenage boys or men in their twenties are tools. They’ve helped me get through every rush, every creepy customer and every out of the blue moment where I missed my deceased mother (which is particularly difficult in the summertime for me as she died in August) even if they didn’t know it. The amount of terrible days my coworkers have turned around without knowing are impossible to count. I am incredibly grateful to be a part of such a supportive staff.
8. Common courtesy is scarce.
Not to talk big about myself, but I like to think I’m polite. I say “may I please?” and “thank you,” and always try to tip well. Growing up with a mother strict on my manners, and being surrounded by that most of my life, I was shocked after working in restaurants on how simple common courtesy is. It makes my day when I a customer has patience and good manners. A “thank you so much” goes a long way.
I remember after attending a religious service, I went out to dinner with a friend. We were polite and the waiter said “Thank you so much! You guys are the best,”
My friend turned to me shocked, stating “We didn’t do anything,” but believe me, to a customer service worker, it’s more than most do.
9. Crowds are known for certain attitudes.
Generalizing is typically seen as bad, but I know how mean the customers will be and how much litter will be left behind after a show. Country? The absolute worst. Pop? They’re okay, I suppose. The cleanest and kindest has surprisingly been metal. Despite the all black, leather, spike covered clothing, I’ve never had a bad interaction with a metal fan and I see little to no trash after the show as well. Thank you Pine Knob metal fans!
10. I say “Behind!” in my own kitchen.
In kitchens, it’s common to say behind when passing someone that can’t see you due to the hustle and bustle. I can’t stop it anymore, it’s trickled into my own home. I’ll say corner when I’m rounding a corner, and there’s no one in the kitchen. I’m powerless to the fact that I say “Hot plate,” when holding something hot. My dad laughs at me.
I absolutely love my job and I hope you got just as much out of these lessons that I have. After a season at Pine Knob, I can confidently say: metal fans are the nicest, kids are slippery, I hate most drunk people and patience is optional.
