Waiting: The True Confessions of a Waitress
Debra Ginsberg
Language: English
Pages: 320
ISBN: 0060932813
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
A veteran waitress dishes up a spicy and robust account of life as it really exists behind kitchen doors.
Part memoir, part social commentary, part guide to how to behave when dining out, Debra Ginsberg's book takes readers on her twentyyear journey as a waitress at a soap-operatic Italian restaurant, an exclusive five-star dining club, the dingiest of diners, and more. While chronicling her evolution as a writer, Ginsberg takes a behind-the-scenes look at restaurant life-revealing that yes, when pushed, a server will spit in food, and, no, that's not really decaf you're getting-and how most people in this business are in a constant state of waiting to do something else.
was due to character flaws (mine or theirs), unrealistic expectations, or just plain bad luck. Whatever the reason, the end result was the same. As it was, Blaze had only one parent. It was clearly my responsibility to ensure that this parent didn’t fall apart and become emotionally unavailable over some man. Those days were definitely over. And what of my career, such as it was? It had been ten years since I’d taken a “temporary” job waiting tables in the Dining Room. I was a fledgling writer,
taking all those tables and for always closing so that I could go home before it was too late. About the Author DEBRA GINSBERG is the author of Waiting: The True Confessions of a Waitress and Raising Blaze: Bringing Up an Extraordinary Son in an Ordinary World. She is a graduate of Reed College and a contributor to NPR’s “All Things Considered” and the San Diego Union-Tribune Books section. Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author. Praise for
leather shoes. He was built like a very squat brick house and plowed through the dining room arms akimbo, mowing down just about everybody in sight. Marcello once slammed into me as I was carrying two mixed salads. He hit me so hard that the salads went flying, smashing on the tile in an explosion of glass, lettuce, and tomatoes, and knocked the wind out of me so completely it took ten minutes for me to catch my breath. At the time of Marcello’s fall from grace in the restaurant, he claimed to be
inherent in youthful romances. In fact, we were in the process of an ugly, drawn-out breakup. His letter arrived first, a thin missive thanking him for applying but stating that they were unable to hire him. His keen disappointment deepened a few days later when I received a thick packet from Yellowstone welcoming me to the summer team and listing my assignment. “Kitchen Prep,” it said. “Well, maybe I won’t go,” I told Ray. “I don’t really want to work in a kitchen.” “You have to go,” he said
through the swinging doors that led into the kitchen with a baby in tow. Wes was standing behind the line contemplating a recipe when I walked in and it took him a minute to look up. He went a little pale at the sight of me and Blaze together. “How are you doing?” I asked him. “Pretty well,” he responded. “You?” “Well,” I said and gestured to Blaze, “I’ve been busy.” “Yes, well…and how’s, er, John? That’s his name, right?” “I don’t know,” I said. “He’s not around.” “Oh?” “Long story,” I