Rensselaer Republican, Volume 18, Number 11, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 November 1885 — The Way of the American Waiter. [ARTICLE]

The Way of the American Waiter.

In the true American dining saloon the waiters are not females. A woman is a noble creature, but she cannot give to such an establishment its distinctive style. Neither are they Germans nor Frenchmen, for these think too much of their customers and too little of Frenchmen and Germans may have their strong points, but they give us no true idea of volunteer firemen of the olden time. If an American dining saloon waiter does not strut up and down the passage between the tables as if he were marching proudly down Broadway before his “machine,” or if he does not call for tea and toast as if he were shouting through a trumpet in the midst of the smoke and flames of a conflagration, “Turn on yer water, Big Six!” then he is a counterfeit, an imposter. ' You may, perhaps, be reluctant to proffer your modest request for food to this apparently superior being, who slowly advances toward you and stops, perchance, to rest, leaning upon your table and gazing pensively toward the door. But you need not fear. Ask for what you want, and though he may give no sign of listening, your end will be attained. Even when he leaves you, in silence, and goes to lean on two or three other tables, despair not, for soon you will him see strut proudly down the passage toward the kitchen and hear him shout the trumpet tones: “Once on the leg o’mutten! Two beans! Three times on the roast beef, and one ov’em rare! Pe-e-e-e soup! Tapioca puddin’, both! Boiled apple dumplin’, hard! Plate o’ buckwheat, brown.”

You may little imagine it, but your order is there somewhere, and although there may be half a dozen other waiters all thundering out at the same time equally conglomerate commands', the time will come when your waiter will strut up to your table and deal out to you from a pyramid of dishes he carries, the plates containing your meal,, and then, carelessly chucking a check upon the table, he will strut away without knowing or heeding whether the dirty bit of pasteboard has landed in the butter or the gravy. When he has left you, you will probably find upon the table everything you ordered; and, whether you ordered it or not, you will have a boiled potato. An unordered boiled potato, with the skin on, is the second grand characteristic of an American dining saloon. It matters not what meal it is, the boiled potato will always appear, if the establishment is truly legitimate.—Brooklyn Eagle. —— ——————