Pledging The Restaurant Sorority

In many ways, beginning a new job in a well-known corporate chain such The Restaurant is similar to pledging a sorority in college. After being surviving a selection process that often involves multiple interviews with different managers, math tests and even psychological assessments, new staff members are assigned a date to report for the beginning of orientation and training. Often this date and time will change several times, which the newbie server may or may not be notified of ahead of time, resulting in the server showing up for work and being sent home, only to return again to potentially repeat the process.

In addition to completing all the necessary paperwork and watching the mandatory sexual harassment videos, training is a newbie's first introduction into their new life. New servers are typically taught the ways of their place of employment in groups called training classes. Like the bid and pledge process of any sorority, one can expect that about half the people who enter will not make it. At The Restaurant, two of the five people hired at the same time as me did not even return the second day. By the end of the week, only two of us remained. During training, the trainee's uniform must always be pristine; wrinkles, stains, and dress code violations can result in write up and extended training periods. After about a week of taking classes on everything on the menu and the culture of the company, complete with extensive testing to ensure newbies absorb all the necessary information, the trainees are assigned a senior server to "follow" for further training for several days on the floor.

Similar to the "Big" and "Little" process of sororities, who your trainer is can make all the difference in your experience. During training, the trainee must do whatever their trainer says, whenever, and without complaint, and hand all tips over to their trainer without complaint. It goes without saying that the trainee hopes and prays that they will not make a mistake that will cost their trainer a decent tip, and that the trainee will also do every bit of the trainer's sidework. A decent trainer will give the trainee a small cut or offer to buy them dinner or a drink at the end of the shift, but many won't. The newbie who is stuck with the anal-retentive career who dreams of one day becoming management but somehow after ten years is still only a server, faces an unfortunate experience as he or she will not have an "in" into the clique which dominates the serving staff of every restaurant. One's only recourse here is hope that a sympathetic member of their training class has a "better" trainer who will vouch for you by association because of your friendship with their trainee.

Depending on your bond with your trainer, the follow period can be anywhere from 3 days to 2 weeks. The training during this time is a delicate balance between wanting to do well but not so well that you outshine your trainer, as then you will soon be competition for better sections and shifts. Fortunately, I was assigned to "Special K", a long time but likeable server who manages who got along with everyone. Special K to the management and other veterans that I was "good" and recommended I be allowed to complete training with only three days, the corporate required minimum. Upon completion of your follow training, the newbie server must then take even more tests, and wait on a manager or senior server to prove their worth before being allowed to actually take tables. However, if you trainer vouches for you, even this process can be skipped.

For the first few weeks on the floor, members of a training class receive bad shifts, run everyone's food, and in the rare event they are allowed to take care of their own tables, can often be seen huddled together near the computer trying to navigate the confusing computer system together. They make mistakes, lots of them, but learn from them together. The members of your training class are the first ones you become close with in the restaurant, the first ones you ask when you need a shift covered, and the first to volunteer to help run food to the six-top management finally deemed you worthy of handling. Your training class is there for you as learn the timing and temperament of all the cooks, the proper way to stage your guest orders, and offer much needed support at the end of the night when you have more comps than sales on your check out. The members of the training class are the first you get drinks after work with, the first ones you begin to interact with outside the world of your establishment.

Eventually, the other staff start to notice that the newbie no longer takes too long on the computer, gets weeded easily, and can take care of themselves without bothering others. The first sign of assimilation into the culture of the restaurant is when another server, typically their trainers, tell them where the staff is going for drinks after work. More than a social activity, this is a therapeutic ritual necessary for the psychological survival of the staff members. These drinks out as a group involve a role reversal, where the servers are now being served, and where one can blow off all the stress of being treated like a slave by abrasive guests and bi-polar managers for hours on end. The invitation to the nightly drink signifies that now the servers are accepting the newbie as one of their own, since the mistakes the newbie made which affected everyone else is are no longer one of the main topics of complaint during the group sessions. The newbie server's response to this invitation is crucial, as refusal of the invitation can have negative consequences for the newbie.

If the newbie does not accept the invitation for drinks, one is not likely to be issued again for very long time. During that time, the newbie server's food will not be run, the host may "forget" to seat them or seat them with undesirable tables such as notoriously difficult customers and poor tippers, the expediter will make sure every mistake is rung into be comped, and bar drinks will always be made last no matter what the order of the tickets. The newbie server, if the invitation is refused, will always receive the hardest side work and be checked out using the most stringent criteria, and be tipped out the least.

Upon accepting the invitation for drinks, the newbie servers tend to sit next to the other members of their training class for security and listen and learn the unwritten rules of the interactions of the veteran staff members. As time progresses, the newbies will eventually gain more and more interaction time with other staff members, as venting over an obnoxious 20 top birthday party split with an experienced server gives them enough credibility to contribute to the conversation. Nothing is worse than the newbie server who complains out of turn too soon, about the wrong things. Within a few weeks, the newbie servers will be full-fledged members of the staff, a transition demonstrated by the fact that their uniforms are no longer perfectly clean and starched and they have been taught all the sidework short cuts, maybe even come up with a few of their own, and they will smile knowingly as the next bunch of wide-eyed training class members fluster about trying to find their way.

However, the fellow members of your training class will always hold a special place in your heart. It is not uncommon to hear long-time staff members reminisce about the many others who have come and gone, saying "Oh, you remember, she was in the training class after mine," and joke with other staff members about the days when they were their trainee. Servers always tip out members of their training class or the staff who trained them more than others, and are more likely to give up and table or be generous with section splitting than to those persons than just other "regular" staff members.

It's interesting to me, this innate need we all have to fit into the groups of which find ourselves members, by choice or not, from sororities to waitstaff at a suburban chain restaurant. Humans are social animals, and we all need to feel acceptance and warmth from at least some of our interactions with others. I think about all these things as I complete my sidework at the end of the shift tonight, which seems notably easier than the tasks I have been assigned previous days. As I wipe down the to go counter by the door, Special K walks by and instead of the usual goodnight or see you tomorrow says "We are all going to The Bar tonight, see you there." I look up at Little J, the only remaining member of my training class who is rolling silverware at the bar, and we smile at each other, knowing that perhaps our pledge process is finally nearing an end. Maybe I'll figure out what my needs are tonight over a cold ShockTop, or maybe I won't. Eitherway, I'm one step closer to being "in".