Waiter to the Rich and Shameless: Confessions of a Five-Star Beverly Hills Server Read Online Free PDF

town who were too stupid to recognize the
celebrities sitting right next to them.  If it wasn’t one of the Jonas brothers
or Justin Bieber, they didn’t give a shit.
    On
the surface, it was the most civilized job I’d ever had, but I wasn’t fooled by
the assortment of white-collar drunks lined up in front of me.   A vice is a
vice, a drunk is a drunk, no matter what the booze costs. You can be a useless
piece of shit drinking high-end Scotch whiskey just as easily as you can
drinking swill at a neighborhood dive. You just feel better about yourself.
    After
the ninety days were up, I really enjoyed being the captain of my bar with no
one looking over my shoulder.   I was inspired by the one-on-one contact with
guests from around the world and the fact that I didn’t have to rely on anyone
else – cooks, bar-backs, etc. – in order to do a great job. I was totally
self-sufficient behind the bar.  It began to feel as if the Cricket Room bar
was my own living room.  I was in complete control. My days were filled with
talk about international issues, politics, and show biz, the main occupation of
this industry town and shaking up fresh-raspberry lemon drop martinis, key lime
martinis with graham cracker rims, mojitos and glasses of fine Champagne for
the ladies.  The men drank an occasional mint julep, vodka martini, or Macallan
18 at twenty-five bucks a pop as if they were just bottled water. I even
started reading more newspapers and trade magazines so I could converse
intelligently.
    One
evening as I was cleaning up, getting ready to go off duty for the day, I looked
around the room. The mirrored wall behind me was lined with sparkling, softly
backlit glass shelves boasting thousand-dollar bottles of cognac and all the
finest liquors of the world.  As I stood behind my intimate, solid oak bar
outfitted with brass rail trim, it was a good feeling.  It dawned on me all
over again that the Cricket Room was truly a unique place.  And not just as a
bar frequented by Hollywood’s elite, but because there was no other place quite
like it in the world. It had history and tradition. This was a rarified
atmosphere that deserved to be treated with damn near reverence.
    It
also demanded a high level of commitment and integrity, two qualities that were
necessary while pursuing my music career.  So it wasn’t too much of a stretch –
I felt up for the challenge. The rocker slouch was gone, replaced by squared
shoulders and prideful chin. I had slid into a long line of tradition and I
felt like I belonged.
    I
took my position as a dignified bartender to heart.  I cleaned up my language,
started paying more attention to the details of service, and brushed up on my
etiquette.  Thanks to the international clientele, I also got in touch with my
European roots more than ever before.  Living in Western Europe where respect
for history, art, and good taste are all ingrained in society, it has a deep,
almost unconscious effect on you.  Their culture of service is more refined and
developed than ours in the US.  Over there, schools for service personnel are
considered gateways to an honorable profession.  I came to believe that the
Cricket Room had been founded on these principles.
    As
time went on, I started to relax enough to get to know some of the staff.  Our
hostess, Ariella, was the real-life embodiment of Jessica Rabbit.  She wore her
skirt short, her heels high, and her blouse bursting with feminine exuberance. 
She was something else. With her thickly but expertly made up eyes and face,
she impressed every man and woman who walked in the door.  Her demeanor was
professional in the dining room but behind the curtains, she could hang with
the guys and handle the raunchiest of conversations.  Though the company openly
discouraged dating colleagues, I’d had my eyes glued to her from the first day.
    Then
there was Lola, the always blasé sous chef whom I had to deal with when my
guests ordered anything solid to