Post Vegas Depression part 2: A possible cure
So now about the Moroccan restaurant. It isn't like a normal restaurant, really. When I tell people I'm a waitress I think they get a very different idea than what I actually do. I don't work for tips. I don't play the part of unfortunate liaison between kitchen and consumer. I simply play second fiddle to Said, the owner, which is exactly where I ought to be. I am the hired help, pure and simple. I wipe the tables, fill the water glasses, clean up after people leave, and answer the occasional question or fill in if Said is temporarily indisposed. I'm an extra set of hands on the floor, and sometimes in the kitchen too (while I'm not allowed near the cooking area for fear of burns and knives, I have gotten pretty good at running and emptying the dishwasher without soiling my clothes, which is much more important to their image than having lots of clean plates, apparently). Said usually takes care of the PR, such as explaining the ritual involved in eating at his restaurant, suggesting particular dishes, and asking people what they think of the experience so far. I take a few liberties, lest I play the mute slave girl. I give people my two cents if they ask, and I try my best to answer inquiries instead of constantly falling back on "I'll ask the manager." Frankly I'm there to lighten the load for Said and his wife (who,on a typical night, functions as chef in every sense of the word), so the more trouble I save them without overstepping my bounds, the better. I try to maintain a balance on that note, because really it is Said's restaurant, and I can tell he wants to be the face on it. His word trumps mine, but he'd rather tell someone himself than send me, which is another reason I don't play liason. Whereas many businesses wish to appear large by flaunting their minions, Palais Casablanca is a first-class small business. Honestly, I like the feeling that I'm serving guests in my home, not painting on a smile to win more tips or serving food I don't like in an atmosphere I (and the patrons) feel no connection to. There is a pleasant combination of exoticism (because the entire experience is presented as something new and different) and comfort (because Said is there to walk you through the whole thing, sometimes even to the point of being a bit bossy). I think people like the bossiness, actually. Being told to eat more or to clap for the belly dancer is part of the experience. I think Said enjoys it, because he gets to be a true Moroccan in that sense, rather than the orientalized image of one. Compared to other Moroccan restaurants I've visited, that's the main difference: the ceremony isn't about being a king or a conneseur, it's about being a guest; in Morocco, hospitality is key to social interaction.Perhaps this job signals a calling...I have visions of working in a bed-and-breakfast or a small family-owned cafe, maybe in a little sea-side town somewhere in Europe. It would be peaceful and personable, and the changing faces of the tourists would keep me from going stir-crazy, perhaps... Oh well, that dream will probably fizzle soon enough, but it's good to know that in the meantime I can get such satisfaction from the thing that's taken over my Friday and Saturday nights. :-)
posted by Greta @ 12:32 AM
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