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

accompany their liquid lunch or early dinner. 
Lola was a tall blonde with no particular body features that worked in her favor. 
Her hair was short, her eyes sky blue and droopy, and she only moved fast if
she was mad.  Then she’d rush around the kitchen with short quick steps,
dropping the F-bomb every other word.  Lola was a classic example of a burnout
and her attitude was one of indifference to nearly everything.  It was always a
battle to get perfect food from her to serve my guests, but I was protective of
them and fought her every time she slapped some shit on a plate that looked
nothing like it was supposed to. Fuck her, my customers were more important than
her apathy and I let her know it. Needless to say, she was not fond of me.
    During
my first six months at the Cricket Room, I became friends with one of the most
original and talented waiters anyone could ever hope to work with.  His name
was Jens, pronounced with a soft J as Yens. Jens was about thirty-five years
old, blonde, slim as a twelve-year-old boy, and Danish.  He spoke French,
German and English as well as Danish, and he had had a thorough culinary
education.  He’d attended schools in Russia, Tokyo and in Denmark to study the
culinary arts and he knew all there was to know about fine food, fine wine, and
the art of five-star food service. 
    Jens
stopped at the bar one day right before the lunch rush and struck up a
conversation with me.  It turned out that we had traveled to many of the same
countries and in light of my having grown up in Denmark, we instantly hit it
off.
    Nowhere
in Los Angeles was there another waiter who could match all of his attributes. 
I used to watch him through the glass that separated the bar dining area from
the main dining room, animatedly describing our signature dishes, or selling
great California cabernets, white burgundies or imported champagne to delighted
patrons.  He always bowed and smiled as he poured. He had a built-in desire to
serve and gave those he served attention far beyond their expectations. He was
quick-witted and charming and there was nothing you could throw at him that
would stick.  The consummate professional, he was skilled at making people feel
comfortable.  No matter who they were, he could relate to them and find
something to say that was appropriate.  There were never any complaints from
the guests as far as his service went, but his fellow wait-staff complained a
lot.  They all grew jealous of his popularity and the many guests who began
asking specifically for him to serve them. 
    The
gay boys who worked the day shift thought they controlled the dining room, but
soon found out that they were being upstaged by Jens, and were in fact losing
some of their regulars to him.  Customers could tell instantly that he was
sincere, really cared about them, and the others were just performing for tips.
It was entertaining to watch the dance play out in silence, through the glass,
like an old silent movie. I’m sure many of those early movie stars drank and
dined here. Maybe their ghosts even haunted the grounds and were at least
partially responsible for luring me behind the walls.
    The
managers all liked Jens because he would come in a bit early and set up the
entire garden area with perfectly-pressed linens and make sure every table had
full salt and pepper shakers and polished stemware for water.  He had
tremendous energy and passion for the business.  The kind you don’t find very
often these days.  Jens’s extensive knowledge and dedication to the culinary
and service arts became an inspiration to me and I found myself constantly learning
lessons about food and table service from him.
    He
made a strange request one morning: he asked me for a Bloody Mary made with
Akvavit to cure his hangover from the previous night.  From that day on, every
morning I had a Danish Mary waiting for him in a white Styrofoam cup.  You
could say it was my tuition for the grand education he was