Minimum Wagers Beware

Stories like this make me glad I was never a waiter. Pompous aesthete James Lileks dines out with his friends at a restaurant:

So we ate and drank and argued and laughed, and it was grand as ever, marred only by the busperson who came by twice to remove items from the table. There’s an art to whisking away dishes.

Does he realize how snobby that sounds? "An art" to "whisking" dishes off a table at a restaurant? Where does he think he is, the Waldorf-Astoria?

This fellow put his shoulders into it. I had to lean back and away, because his excavation of empty plates apparently meant kinetic space transgression, and after a while I started to take it seriously.

First of all, I don't have a clue what this sentence means. But I do know what "excavation" means, and unless this waiter is digging a hole in the table to get those plates, it's not being used right.

The second time he bruised my latitudes trying to get a water glass I had to ask: “Do you want us to leave? Is that it?” Because I had the feeling someone had said A-8 has been there too long, go lean on ‘em. Despite the fact that we kept ordering drinks and desserts.

"Bruised"? What a wuss. So the waiter makes two courtesy trips to remove table clutter, and heavens! Lileks has to lean back in his chair, so he feels justified in making a smart remark to the guy. And yes, I'm sure it's common practice for John Cheney-esque restaurant managers to send in the goons when patrons linger too long.

It was an annoying end to the evening, and I’ve no desire to go back... getting hockey-checked into the wall by the busboy just isn’t an essential part of the dining experience.

Wow, first he just had to "lean back and away," and now he's getting hockey-checked! This is like one of those fish stories. By next week the guy will be using a blackjack on him. Later in the same post:

Hit Target, had a bitter unfriendly checker.

Lileks hasn't met the trip to Target that he can't find something to complain about.

As I may have stated, I put my goods on the belt according to genre, so there’s a frozen bag, a cold bag, a dry bag. Since there’s always a portion of goods that will go upstairs – medicines, light bulbs, Kleenix, socks – I bracket them off with a belt-bar, and note that I would like them in a separate bag, same transaction. (I’ve learned that “transaction” is the term you have to use.)

I was a bagger once. We were trained to sort items by frozen, cold, raw, etc. So, okay. But to use extra belt-bars to "bracket off" other items? That's just... odd. Fussy. Anal. Meh, meh, same transaction, please.

When I said this to the checker today she gave me a look of hot hate over the top rim of her glasses, and I wanted to say “what? What have I possibly done wrong here? Is this too much to ask?”

Lileks obviously has no idea what it's like to work in customer service. "Don't make me move when you gather my dirty plates! Don't give me 'a look' when I make my absurdly particular demands at the supermarket!" Then look what happens next:

She grabbed the milk from the belt and put it on the counter with the rest of the goods, and I’m thinking, oh, crap, I have to ask now.

“Could I have the milk in a plastic bag?” I said.

Hot hate over the top of her glasses.

“It’s just easier to get everything in the house in one trip,” I said.

Most people wouldn't describe their dream job as "checker at Target." Probably boring as heck, you have to stand all day, the pay is bad. Then here comes Mr. Particular - cold stuff here, frozen stuff there, other items barred off - "Same transaction, different bag." Because that's most critical. It's been a long day, so you can't even fake being cheerful about serving this loser. So you start to bag his first item, and right away he has ANOTHER special instruction for you. Because he doesn't want to make TWO TRIPS TO HIS CAR.

They have a nickname for him at Target. I'm positive of it. They talk about him in the break room: "I had Bald Bagger Guy today." "I just had him yesterday! Did he say 'transaction'?"