Welcome to the weeds, my home away from home.
I'm lucky enough to work in a restaurant that gets busy. Our old manager used to periodically remind us that it's a blessing to have customers beating down the door, and not to take it for granted. I didn't agree with all of his advice, but in this case he was spot-on. There are nights when I feel swamped at 10:00 P.M. and I'll cast a weary eye toward the hostess stand and think to myself, "OMG ARE PEOPLE STILL WAITING FOR A TABLE?!" But, that's a wonderful "problem" to have. More guests equal more money, of course, but they also present the challenge and thrill of this line of work. The pressure of catering to multiple tables with different demands keeps me on my toes, and often elicits the best performance from me and my co-workers.
But there's a thin line between being efficiently busy and being utterly overwhelmed. When people in a restaurant are in over their heads, they are "in the weeds," or "weeded." The kitchen is weeded when they can't keep up with the amount of food being ordered by the customers. The entire team could be lost, or one cook could be bringing everyone down.
THIS IMAGE IS MY NIGHTMARE. It means the kitchen is so far behind that they have taken a pause from even pulling tickets out of the printer. Which means my table's food is going to take forever, which means I have to stall. If your server has ever become particularly chatty with you before your entrees arrived, she may have been buying time for the kitchen. I can shoot the shit with the best of them. "So, where are y'all from? Really? No way! Tell me about your childhood. Every detail. We have time, trust me."
As a server, I keep a running list of "to-do's" in my head, in order of priority. "Greet 35, then open wine for 22, then print check for 23 and take 34's order. Shit, that girl still didn't get her ranch. Get ranch first, proceed with everything else." My to-do list is ever-rotating as the evening progresses, and I consider myself weeded when that list either becomes too much for me to remember, or too much for me to accomplish within about ten minutes. Of course, a huge amount of customers is likely to put me in the weeds, but so is a small table of high-maintenance guests. Mrs. Goldberg, I get it, you're sensitive to gluten. The history of your gastrointestinal tract was particularly interesting. Can I move on with my job?
If they've told me once, they've told me at least 15 other times at various points throughout their meal.
In this industry, we will all be in the weeds at some point or another. Some nights, I feel like I live in them. The best restaurants foster an environment of teamwork where one person can lean on another when they are weeded and hopefully, they can slowly whack their way out of the brush. Last night my co-workers and I even stayed late to help the stewards who were desperately lost behind a mountain of dirty dishes. The weeds are a place that's no fun to visit, but at least it means people are coming to your restaurant. If I had to pick between the images below, I'd choose the weeds on the left.
