I dislike my job as a server. I cringe when customers who walk through the door, and I resent the company who treats its employees as expendable human bearings to lubricate its giant machine. It is not fun cleaning other people's filth, getting it spashed in my eyes when dumping out their unused, backwash-laden sweet tea, and any day of having to say "yes" to every ludicrous, self-obsessed request made of me tends to bring mood down a bit. I resent being held accountable for situations that are not my responsibilty, and I hate being treated as a lower class of human being by people with no concept of human dignity, ethics, or even common manners. Most of all I resent being paid according to how good people felt about their dining experience, subjetive to their whims and moods, which are beyond my control.

The whole concept of being a server is absurd. Something about it feels wrong. It does, however, pay the bills while I'm at school, and the schedule is flexible enough so as to allow me to "better myself" by getting a college degree. So, while many of you may say, "If you hate it so much, then you should quit," I completely agree.

Two points to be made on this matter, however. The scheduling issue is very relevant. They are willing to work with me as my class load changes. Few other jobs do that, which is why you see so many college students carrying food around. Also, the people I work with, for the most part, are good people who, for some reason or another, found themselves working at this job which is universally hated by the people who work it. We look out for each other in that restaurant, keeping each other sane against the onslaught of the juggernaut which is "The Public."

To remain sane, we complain to each other. "I can't believe what my table just did," or "At this rate, with my tips, I may even be able to afford the gas to get home." In that vein, this is being written to soothe some concerns of mine that are making me a bitter, resentful human being.

Nobody works in a restaurant, especially as a server, because they love the job. They do it because the qualifications are not demanding, the schedule is flexible, and they need the money.

That said, nobody is really happy to be there, to put a smile on their face all day and answer to every single human being who walks through the door as if they were higher beings.

In a way, though, that is the situation we are put in. Everyone who sits at our tables are our employers. It is true, as far as the IRS is concerned, I am an employee of Restaurant X. But, at $2.13 an hour, I could give a pair of dingo's kidneys about what the restaurant says. After taxes and Social Security we only keep about fifty cents of that pay, anyway. Weekly paychecks of about twelve dollars are my average. It is often said that payment is a way of showing the appreciation an employer has for its workers, a way of saying, "Thanks for your time and effort, we hope you come back tomorrow." If $2.13 an hour is exactly how much the company appreciates us, you can easily see why not only am I apathetic toward the company itself, but downright resentful. How dare they?

That said, the customers are our real employers. They pay more. This may sound mercenary, but bills have to be paid.

And thus, for the 45 minutes they sit at our tables, we are their slaves, no matter how crazy their request, no matter how rude, inconsiderate, insulting, or condescending they may be. If we fight back, retaliate, or even look back at them in a way they didn't want us to, they complain. They complain, we get fired. It's that simple. Honestly, I'm amazed I've lasted this long.

I am more than willing to help people out. If someone at my table needs something fixed, or they have a special request, I am happy to help. However, to assume that it is granted that they may treat me as a lower form of life, or that it is my privilege to be in their vicinity, this is folly. Yes, I will do everything within reason to make sure the customers' stay is pleasant, and that they enjoy their overpriced food. But I am not an outlet for their sorrows.

There are people who's profession is to listen to your life's problems and help you fix them. They are called psychologists, and cost upwards of $150 an hour for their services. Unless you are prepared to leave as much in the way of gratuity, keep your requests specific and relevant to the problem at hand. For example, if your steak is not done properly, it is entirely within your rights to request it to be cooked up a bit or replaced. Servers are more than happy to accomodate you in this regard, as you are paying for a meal and should get it the way you want. However, do your server a favor and just make the request. Spare him or her the tragic narrative about how you suffered through a whole three bites of undercooked steak and how that will ruin your already lowsy day.

Often people come into the restaurant, looking like vultures for something to go wrong. They love to complain. They love to bitch and whine until they get their food for free. Who do they complain to? Us, the servers, who are as far removed from the chain of command as possible. While we have nothing to do with the menu prices, selections on the menu, or even how the food is cooked, we are still held accountable for these things by the public.

Another universally hated patron of the restaurant business is the kind of person who, perhaps, sees having a server as the only time in their lives that they can tell someone else to do whatever they want and get away with it. These people, typically devoid of class and unconcerned with common manners, do not ask for assistance with an issue but instead demand it. "Give me diet soda. I need another chair. Move us to another table. Re-cook my steak, it is not done properly." And so on. Furthermore, these people will not look you in the eye.

Early on, I learned that a customer who does not look you in the eye is very unlikely to leave an adequate tip, if indeed one is left at all.

Perhaps this is in ignorance. Perhaps they do not know that the only pay we really get is from tips. Perhaps they feel as if they are owed something.

Servers do not owe you anything. In fact, it is the customers who owe us. As I said, during that time you are our guest, you are an employer. We work for you. We are paid servers. Not servants. Treat us how you would treat a respected employee. Request or ask that a job be done for you in a respectful manner. This is common courtesy. Keep in mind that 45 minutes you take to eat your dinner, we are working for you. We are not volunteers. We expect payment.

Managing the orders, requests, and comfort of multiple guests at once is not an easy job. It requires a mental capacity to be able to do many things at once, and, for that short time, get to know the people sitting in a section which can contain as many as 20 to 30 people at once. Rest assured that if you are experiencing problems at your table, the other 19 guests assigned to your server are likely experiencing similar ones. This takes time and effort to remedy. Be patient.

It is common that if a table has a problem of some sort, the server has to work doubly hard to remedy this problem while keeping the rest of the workload up to speed as well. This is draining not only of the server's effort, but of the time that can be spent attending to the other guests. When you make a complaint or special request at a restaurant, however legitimate it may be, you create lots of extra work for your server and the rest of the staff. This should not stop you from getting what you want from the experience. But, higher work loads should be compensated with higher wages.

I find that the harder I have to work to make a table happy, the lower the tip. It is all I can do, when confronted with complaints and special requests, to keep from blowing them off. Why work harder for less pay? Would you?

For those of you who are not familiar with gratuity, or how much you should leave, here is a good scale.

For decent service, nothing special, but no problems, you should leave between 10 and 15 percent. Here's the math. For a $20.00 ticket, you should leave at least two dollars, preferably 3 or 4.

For good service, where the server went out of the way to help you, or if you have unusual requests, or leave a big mess, or take lots of time, you should leave at least 20 percent. Take your total ticket and divide the number by five to get the tip.

If the server is amazing, leave at least 25 percent. That's 1/4. Also, no server will complain if you leave more than 1/4. In fact, it can make an otherwise fruitless day at work seem worthwhile if even one table seems to appreciate our work.

It is very important to recognize that leaving merely 10 percent or even less, especially on large-ticket tables, should only be reserved for the worst service. If you leave less than this amount, you should be prepared to be sending the server a message. Either you are telling him or her that they did a bad job, or you are trying to insult them. The "insult" effect is much more likely on large tickets, say, over 40 dollars worth of food and drink.

This is often the case with the type of person who will work the daylights out of you, making demands instead of asking for help, and who will not look you in the eye. This type of person is keen on ordering expensive food, say, $70.00 for three or four people, paying with large bills, and leaving less than five dollars as tip. To me, this can only be left in the meanest spirit of contempt for my services.

Servers are employees who's job it is to make sure you get the food you want and enjoy your stay at a restaurant. We are not your whipping boys, outlets for your frustration, or your servants. Serving is not the most demanding or skillful job in the world, but, nonetheless, we work for you, and we expect to be treated with courtesy. We also expect compensation for our time and effort.

If you cannot treat your server well, perhaps you would benefit from a basic etiquette course. If you cannot afford to tip, you should stay at home and cook. Perhaps you need the extra money more than we servers do.