I really do think it is a disease like PTSD. Waiting tables can be very traumatic and stressful. I have woken up with running feet kicking my wife as I “run” it scared her at first.

I think the Waiter’s Nightmare is a mild form of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The fast pace, the tension of needing to get everything right, mixed with the physicality of the events leaves an indelible imprint on the psyche.

So, folks, DRINKS ARE ON ME!

Anne, I share a very similar philosophy. There is something very special about the server-cook or server-busser relationship.

I’m about to earn my master’s degree and currently work for a public University – but every Friday and Saturday my social and professional status drops as soon as I tie on my apron. There are times when I want to scream, “Look me in the eye, you self-entitled bastard!” Seems that many people automatically assume that my IQ is not as high as theirs because I have a second job which involves food, drinks and comfortable shoes. Well, watch out, cause I’ll kill ya with kindness, throw in a polysyllabic word you don’t understand, and eventually make you feel bad for being so shallow. Oh yeah, I’ve got it down.

Thanks again, Dr. Denny. Maybe you’ll be the saving grace in my next waitressing nightmare!

That, and a summer of working temp jobs cutting beer labels second shift at Coors’ printer and 10-hour days in 120 degree heat inside making rollerblade wheels gave me the motivation to get through college and boost my GPA significantly.

Our hat is off to you.

As a customer i find it easy to be understanding. And i know that a super-sized tip has the ability to make a server’s day, so i do it when i can.

Dawn’s right, kindness goes a very long way.

Sometimes, too, though, certain dreams are just repeats for no apparent reason, and there’s nothing that says the repeats are of the good dreams. I’ve had those; it’s frustrating. It must be exponentially worse when those dreams ruin your REM patterns and leave you feeling more tired than when you went to sleep (though, I suspect those are the dreams we need to analyze).

I’ve worked in a kitchen for most of the past 8 or 9 years and know the kind of nightmares you’re talking about (mine usually involve being the only person in the back with piles and piles of orders and a manager who is yelling at me instead of helping).

One thing a lot of people don’t realize is that regardless of how much we’re getting paid, whether it’s to prepare your food or bring it to you or clean up after you leave, our job sucks. It is stressful, extremely repetitive work, usually involving anywhere from 5-12 hours of standing on quarry tile floors, and before you leave, you still have to clean everything up (just so that you can come back tomorrow and do it all over again).

She appreciated having reasonable people who didn’t want to jump down her throat and rip out her colon in reverse that a) she ignored the fact that one of our bags was well over the weight limit due to several bottle of wine packed within and b) she gave us vouchers for free food that, according to my wife and IIRC, the rest of the attendants around us were not giving out.

It pays to be polite and patient and to treat people who’s job it is to help you with a little kindness and courtesy.

Jeff