a change in the wind

Whew, it feels like summer just began and already my girls are back in school. You can’t tell because of the UNBELIEVABLE heat and humidity we’re finally experiencing (which, let’s just be honest, is about dang time), but autumn is quickly arriving and with it a new season. And I don’t just mean climate-wise.

Summer was incredible. Maybe just a bit too short, but wonderful none-the-less. Even with my 50-60 hour workweek, I have been able to do all sorts of things. The Boy came and “lived” up here for three weeks, I visited him for two separate weeks. There was the annual street swing dance in Lexington, and multiple USABDA dances on warm Saturday nights. I visited a zoo and an aquarium, went to considerably less movies than my usual summer haul, and ate more sushi than I care to count. I visited Ellice and my sweet Laurana, drank coffee in the kitchen with PJoe and Janice, and tried my hand at brand new pie and cake recipes. I started teaching my girls to bake.

I discovered a new pinterest interest (although I’ve had an account for years), and am currently on day five of a facebook fast. I’ve taken Jackpot to the dog park enough to make actual friends with other regulars who bring their dogs, and I’ve spent weeks laying out in the sun by a pool where V and K perfected their back dives and front flips. I’ve dressed up for two weddings, both of which were more emotional than I was prepared for. I have traveled so much I currently believe I’m actually living out of my car, rather than at an apartment with Mary Alice, who has been one of my best friends for years. And I’ve watched as our friendship has grown deeper and deeper, especially over the last month.

My love for hammocks has been re-awakened. I helped my mom move some stuff from storage into a moving truck so she could unpack at her brand new house- something she has been waiting on and praying for for at least a decade. I got my hair cut. And colored. And it is AWESOME. I even got a tutorial on how to use hair products and which ones to buy. I perfected the art of the dutch braid, thanks to youtube (and a little assistance from Mary Alice). I have ROCKED learning how to curl my hair.

I’ve gone putt-putting. I’ve juiced. I watched food documentaries and learned stuff. I went hiking A LOT. I’ve taken time on various road trips to pull off and spend time at a river, a lake, a mountain lookout, and a super-cool, slightly-hidden pottery house. I stayed for a weekend in a log cabin with girls who make me feel incredibly special. I reunioned with Sarah and her husband. I celebrated the 5 year birthday/anniversary of the best church on the planet. I walked through an abandoned mall that creeped me out. I’ve seen more deer and fawns than I can count. I paid off my credit card. I bought the perfect flannel shirt.

I got a Netflix account that equally improved and ruined my life. I watched every season of Parks and Rec, and The West Wing (except I still can’t bring myself to view the final episode, knowing it’ll really be over).

I went to an actual running store to buy actual running shoes. I ran 5 miles without stopping one time. And with a few stops another time. I went running more than I wanted to. I did barre workouts less than I wanted to. I did yoga even less than that. I took a lot of naps. I read a lot. I knitted and crocheted more than I ever have in the summer. I’ve celebrated new mamas and babies. I celebrated new friendships. I said goodbye a lot to people heading to the mission field. I welcomed them home.

The Boy gave me a tshirt. We watched lots of sunsets and a few thunderstorms. I told him I loved him for the first time. I kissed him under a bridge at dusk. We ran a 5k and then I covered him in leftover colored corn starch. I kayaked for the first time. I paddle-boated for the first time. I paddle-boarded for the first time. I swam at night for the first time. I pretended to love red wine. I started to love red wine. I threw a surprise birthday party. I said “I love you” some more.

I drank a lot of coffee. I learned to love soy and almond milk, and I started to not love actual milk anymore. I didn’t take vitamins like I should have. I did floss like I should have. I wore sports bras and running shorts far too often. I didn’t wear dresses nearly enough. I did wear heels though- a couple times. I learned to love wildflowers…really and truly love them.

I bought a book about gardening vegetables.

I got the hiccups a lot.

I didn’t spend one weekend at my apartment.

People I barely knew taught me the real meaning of hospitality.

I coached the most amazing girls at a conference.

I only wore chacos.

I introduced V and K to the magic of Harry Potter. No pun intended.

I ordered something online.

I had to buy (and start regularly using) a patellar strap.

I bought things from local farmers.

I re-ignited my love of jigsaw puzzles and hummus. Not together. At least, not very often. I learned to love peanut butter. Especially with apples.

My love for nutella almost ruined my waistline. Again.



It’s been an incredible summer. And now it’s over.

As wonderful as things have been, it feels as if I’ve lived totally in one of two camps: One being that time is simply going by too fast to keep up, and the other being the exact opposite- what’s next and why can’t I figure it out? For the first time in my life (maybe the second, if you count the World Race), I feel totally out of control of my time, my work, my relationships. But in a good way, like I just get to sit back and enjoy what happens as it’s happening. I’m going to stop looking very far in the future, and instead focus my energies on being as fully present as I can, and sopping up every ounce of joy and fulfillment that I can.

It seems like something is missing. Like I’ve been only enjoying half of my time, and the other half is spent just trying to catch up. So I’m making a few conscious changes for this autumn. Most particularly in reference to my job and all the time I spend there. 100% of my time this summer has been spent in workout clothes (so that I can take the pup running, and I can get messy doing projects with the girls). But I don’t want to be that girl who shows up only in yoga pants or running shorts. Not that there is anything wrong with that. But I want, need, to put more effort into my life, to not allow time to just slip by because I’m too busy.

So one thing I’ve decided to do is take one day and dress in actual clothes: shorts made of a fabric other than nylon, jeans, an actual bra. Really anything other than what I’ve lived in. I think it will be good for my psyche (and also my poor workout clothes that haven’t had a dang break in three months) to wear normal clothes once in awhile.

I’m also challenging myself to get out of my house and do something else one night a week. Typically I leave my house around 6 am and return anywhere from 7-8:30 pm. Which means I’m in bed and konked out by 10:30 at the latest. That’s not a lot of time for myself. But I’ve decided it’s important for me, as tiring as it may seem at first, to do something besides come home and work out/read/knit/watch tv or any number of quiet, solitary activities and then pass out.

I actually allowed myself to do something spontaneous yesterday during an afternoon break at work (sometimes I have 3-4 hours off in the middle of the day). I took myself to see a movie at a dollar theatre (it’s typically $3, but on Tuesdays it’s half-off). The theatre was at the back of an almost totally abandoned mall (which kind of felt a little ghost-like). The floor was so sticky that every time I moved my foot, my sole suctioned off and then back onto the floor. The chairs smelled equally like body odor and cat urine, and both were strong. So strong, in fact, that at one point about halfway through the movie I honestly thought about leaving. But I stayed to the end, and it was a really enjoyable film- truly entertaining.

Today I decided would be the day I wore actual clothes. I did show up to work in my normal workout attire, because within 45 minutes of arriving I walk the girls (and two of their neighbors) to school and then go on a run with Jackpot. But afterward I came back home (and since I had a break today, too) I took a shower and changed into cloth shorts and a plaid tank top. It feels weird. But this is the vow I have taken.

I also took myself out for coffee this morning. I went to a coffee shop I’d never heard of (but google swore it was the best in Cincinnati). And it was cute– built into what I’m sure had to have been an old historic home. Good coffee, too. But absolutely ZERO parking and the one place I found had a strict one-hour policy with a tried-and-true history of cars being towed. So I enjoyed my iced hazelnut almond milk latte as quickly as I could and then skedaddled. Thus began a cafe crawl to find a new place with free wifi and free parking.

So now I sit at Panera, typing to you. Because local coffee shops don’t have free parking, or parking without vehicles already parked. I’m not sure what this new season has in store, but I’m really looking forward to it. Autumn has always been my favorite season and, traditionally, it has been very good to me. There are a couple weddings coming up, and some really special birthdays. The Boy will visit me and I will visit him. My sweet Ellice will have her third baby. The leaves will change color and I will hike some tall peaks to better enjoy the view. I’ll unpack the boots and the scarves and the cozy sweaters I pine for all summer long. I’ll try my hand at making hot cider for the first time. I’ll finish my journal and begin a new one. I’ll keep loving coffee. I’ll keep running with Jackpot. I’ll keep trying to keep up with the girls.

And I’ll enjoy every minute of every day, lapping up all the abundance life has to offer, knowing

“The Lord will keep [me] from harm–
He will watch over [my] life;
The Lord will watch over my coming and going
both now and forevermore.”
Psalm 121:7-8

Bring it on, Autumn.


30b30: four. see ya later, debt monster!

prepare yourself for honest confession time

Several years ago, I moved to a small town where the only job I could get was minimum wage… and my rent was not. So I started to buy food and things on the evilest of evils: a credit card. Then I went back to school. Then I was a waitress. Then I was a missionary. None of which are positions of excess, and I found myself deferring payments. UGH. What a terrible idea. (Note to future young-twenties credit card possessors: DON’T).

this is not an example of stuff i used a credit card to buy.

This year, however, I was blessed with a job that I love, making enough money to help me pull myself out of the pit I created, one ten-yard-army-crawl at a time. I’ve been able to pay off three separate medical bills, one random payment on a camera, and any number of various living expenses that anyone with a pulse and a social security card seem to incur. And as of eight o’clock this bright, sunshine-y morning, I made my last payment on my only credit card.


Seriously, I just might throw myself a party! I have been living under the weight of this (relatively small) debt for so long, and there is NO FEELING like having it fall away from my shoulders forever. If I’m perfectly honest, there was a part of me that truly believed I would never get to this point. But I’ve learned some really valuable lessons about finances over the last couple of years, and this feels like a win for everyone in my life who took the time to pour into me in the area of fiscal responsibility and just simply “doing whatever you have to do to pay your dang bills.”

should i save or should i spend? …DUH

No joke.

So here’s to a continued habit of stewarding my finances (and my financial responsibilities) well!


the world is officially my oyster once more

whimsy musings from an unlikely nanny

People have been asking me what I’ve been up to since returning home from the World Race. Other than sleeping a ton, traveling all over the place to visit friends and family (who have all seemed to move far away since my being gone), and resting in the Lord, I’ve not been up to a lot.

Except I got a job!!

It took a minute, but I accepted a job as a nanny for a swanky family in Cincinnati, OH back in February. I’ve been at it for a little over a month, and I’m really enjoying it! I care for the two sweetest (and sassiest) girls on the planet: “K” and “V”, fraternal twins who just moved back from China, and also turned 9. They have a 10-month-old-ish pup whom we’ll call “J” and is the highlight of my mid-mornings.

A typical day will involve leaving my apartment no later than 6:10 am (which means I’m up and at ’em far earlier, attempting to beat the morning rush into and through Cincy. I grab the newspaper from the sidewalk on my way in, greet the pup (who is always awake and waiting for her meal), and wait for the girls to come to the kitchen. Then I make them breakfast, make sure they brush their teeth and hair, and then walk with them and J to the bus stop. Afterwards, the pup and I take a nice long walk, and when we come back I do a load of dishes. Then, depending on the day, it’s off to laundry, sweeping, vacuuming, grocery shopping, dog grooming, and any other random assortment of tasks and errands that may need to be done. I’ll pick the girls up from school, maybe we’ll hit up the public library on our way home, and then have a snack, do some homework together, do some online math together, and have them practice their piano pieces on the days they don’t have piano class. I finish the day by cooking dinner for the fam, and then hop in my car to head home which takes anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour and a half, depending on the ALWAYS TERRIBLE Cincy traffic.

It’s not a bad gig.

I’m really enjoying it.

I’m also beginning to realize what a lonely life nannies ultimately lead. My day begins between 5:30 and 5:45 and ends with getting back to my apartment between 7:30 and 8:30… which is honestly late enough for me to shower, crawl into bed with a book, and drift off to catch as much sleep as I can before it all begins again. My days are spent mostly to myself, which I’m comfortable with, and when I’m surrounded by people, it’s really only two 9-year-olds and a dog. I don’t work in an office or building where I’m having conversations with other adults, I’m not meeting coworkers for coffee or drinks on the way home, I don’t have enough energy to go out with friends once I get home.

I’m realizing how much I miss normal human interaction.

But I’m willing to suck it up and deal with whatever this job has to demand of me. I have the opportunity to pay my bills and drag myself out of debt. I have the opportunity to work unsupervised and to develop a work ethic that encourages my employers to continue placing their trust in me.

And, most beautifully, I have the opportunity to invest in these girls and impress upon them value, identity, and a sense of how special they are.

I read this article a while back about how we as Americans are really missing the ball on connection and communication. For instance, we say, “How are you?” and we are really only expecting a “Fine, thanks” and let’s all move on. God forbid someone actually stop to tell us how they really are and cause us to pause on our way to Somewhere More Important. The article said we should strive to deepen our communication by asking intentional questions seeking intentional answers. I’ve been implementing this in my days with the girls: when I pick them up from school I ask questions like, “Did anything make you feel proud today?” or “Did you feel excited about anything?” And if these prompt no real answers, I ask more basic questions like “Did anything make you feel angry (or sad) today?” The goal is to get them to process how they are feeling and what is creating that emotion within them. For the first several days (up to almost two weeks) they were a little shocked at the questions and didn’t really have a lot to share. After that it become a pretty normal conversation for us to share. I would always have to prompt them, however, before they would offer what happened during their day.

UNTIL this past week when I picked the girls up from school and they both immediately launched into excited monologues about what made them proud that day, and why. I felt like such a proud mama nanny!

Our days are full of laughter and stories and dancing, playing with puppy, practicing piano, and playing games. We make it a very serious point to play Disney songs (of course they love Frozen) every evening as I make dinner. We dance around the kitchen and sing at the top of our lungs and make general fools of ourselves for the love of music and joy. Their hugs goodbye are the best gifts ever, and when they feel bad and need to cuddle, my world is a complete place.

I never would have imagined myself in a role such as this, pouring myself out for the benefit of someone else’s children… but I can’t imagine doing something else in this season. Having this incredible opportunity to impress upon these girls a real sense of their worth and beauty and intellect and value is completing me in a way I didn’t know was incomplete.

This is (hopefully) just a taste of the legacy I want to leave on this planet: a legacy of love and value that I can pour one day into my own children and that they, in turn, can pour into theirs. Isn’t that what life is meant to be? A tabletop full of champagne goblets being filled and then overflowing into the next and the next and the next until the flood reaches beyond the edge of the table and spills over into the Great Wide Somewhere.

Thanks, God, for this season.


monday FUNDday

originally posted at http://andimoore.theworldrace.org

As I experience the terror and stress of my first support deadline hitting me fullforce, I am reminded of the sheer glory of the faithfulness of the Lord. This weekend, days- minutes– away from my deadline, phone calls, text messages, and emails flooded into my life- loved ones sharing their desire to support this new chapter of my life. It was, in a word, overwhelming.

As of this morning, however, I am still a couple hundred dollars below my deadline. My mobilizer is being a little bit wiggly with this deadline, either from compassion and understanding, or from sheer mercy. Either way, I’ve been praying and praying that support will come in, that the amount of money I need will just show up on my door step, easy as A-B-C.

But that’s clearly not what God has in store for me. He, at this point in time, clearly has a plan that includes me blindly, completely, utterly having faith like a child in the Lord, pressing into Him and fully depending on Him for this support every single step of the way.

And that’s okay.

Stressful. But okay.

So as I was praying this morning for deliverance and guidance, I felt a tugging on my heart:

How are YOU living sacrificially?

Wow. AM I living sacrificially? How can I ask people to support me financially if I am not making the same sacrifices?

And so I thought and I thought and I thought and I came up with a plan! It’s a great one.  This is my plan:

Glummy Monday = Monday FUNDday!

FUND Day!! Haha, how wonderful!

Every penny that I make at my job on Mondays from now until I leave in preparation for World Race will all go into my fund.  I know that, as a server and yoga instructor, I make an incredibly low amount of money. I know that I basically live from pay check to pay check.  But in today’s economy, isn’t that what most of us are doing anyway? Again- how can I ask people to be generous and sacrificial if I am not leading by example? If I am not sacrificing to the point of pain?  I need to be following the example of the woman in Mark 12:44:

They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty,
put in everything–all she had to live on.”

This is what God asks of us in reference to His work. I am willing to give of my life for His work, but am I willing to give of my finances? It sounds like that should be an easier leap to take, but honestly- for me- it’s the more difficult “yes” to say.

But “yes” I do say. If I need to pick up an extra shift or two during the week to make up for my Monday Fund-day, I can do it. I can always pick up an extra shift at the end of the week to help pay a bill.  But this is the sacrifice my Lord is asking me to make, and I am…finally…willing to make it.  Here I am, living by example, and as I am encouraged to do in 2 Corinthians 8:11-12:

Now finish the work, so that your eager willingness to do it may be matched
by your completion of it, according to your means. For if the willingness is there,
the gift is acceptable according to what one has, not according to what he does not have.
And also in 2 Corinthians 9:6-7:
Remember this: whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly,
and whoever sows generously will also reap generously.
Each man should give what he has decided in his heart to give,
not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.

So, today’s donation? $82! It’s all Yours, Lord! Just let me do Your work. Let me be a part of bringing Your kingdom and healing and love to earth. Let me touch the face of all those who suffer! I’m Yours, Lord. Yours Alone.

my day was…

originally posted at http://ohdancewithme.blogspot.com

I know, I know. It says I posted this on August 3rd. But it’s only 1 am, and I haven’t been to sleep yet… so it doesn’t count as missing a day.

I had a really, really great day today. I woke up early, had a discipleship meeting, spent some awesome time with the Lord, had great conversations with old friends- I even made it to the gym. And all before work!

But then I went to work.

I really hate working in a restaurant. I used to really enjoy it. See a need, meet a need. That was my goal, and my joy.  But after serving people in the food service industry for over 3 years (6, if you count my time with Starbucks, which was incredibly enjoyable…so I don’t.), I can say from the bottom of my heart that I HATE IT. Every ounce of compassion, of mercy, of love for mankind in general has slowly been chipped away at until I detest humanity as a whole. And with the end goal of full-time ministry, this is not particularly a well-desired quality.  I’m working against this emotion, but I do feel that I am NOT meant to live my life based on the kindness and generosity of others. Because there is none. I mean…there’s an occasional good tip. But it’s more rare than getting struck by lightning. Twice. And being taken advantage of again and again and again really takes its toll on you. I wish everyone could understand that stiffing, or even under-tipping, your server genuinely chips away at her soul- pieces that can never be recovered. I truly wish everyone had to make a living based on tips for a small portion of their lives. They’d be a lot kinder, in general, if that happened.

But this blog is not meant to complain about tips (I mean, do YOU get paid in Jesus tracts? Then stop paying us in them!). It’s meant to tell you how wonderful true friends really are.  After work I stopped by my dear friend Ellice’s house to have our weekly dvr-watching of So You Think You Can Dance. She gave me a margarita and some cheetohs, listened to me complain for a minute, and then sat next to me on the couch, unwinding my ball of yarn so I could work on the blanket I’m currently crocheting. She and her husband then had an hour-long conversation with me about all sorts of fun things- their opinion of The Dark Knight Rises, how amazed they both were that I never saw the Superman SuperSeries starring Dean Cain and Terri Hatcher, and how very manly Scotsmen are. Particularly Ewan McGregor.

After spending a couple hours at their house, with no agenda and with no intentions, I felt really great about my day once more. Just a few hours spent with good friends was all it took to erase the frustration and hurt I felt all night at work.

And that’s what this blog is for. It’s a toast to good friends, and good conversation, and how good the world truly is. Outside of restaurant service. 😉

Andi’s Server Soap Box Vol. 8

originally posted at http://ohdancewithme.blogspot.com

To every person who thinks a restaurant is a drive-thru:

If you want fast food, go to a fast food joint, a diner, or even stay in your car and run through a drive-thru. Or go to the grocery and make food at home for yourself.  If you are in a rush, if you have to get somewhere quickly, it’s probably not the best idea to go to a sit-down restaurant, particularly on a weekend night when the rest of the city is at the same restaurant. I’m sorry if your movie starts in 20 minutes, or if you have a doctor’s visit in half an hour, but most restaurants (particularly of the fine-dining variety) do not offer 20-minute dining sessions.

The solution: you should show up to a restaurant at least an hour and a half prior to any obligations you might have, and if it’s a weekend (day OR night) it would be best to call ahead for reservations or, if no reservations are accepted, call ahead to find out if there is a wait. That’ll give you a much better idea of what time to show up in order to get wherever you need to go whenever you need to get there. Or, you can simply not go to a sit-down restaurant before you HAVE to be somewhere. That way- you won’t be stressed out, your server won’t be stressed out, and no one will get mad or sad.  Sounds like a great plan to me!

This rant is based on past personal experience and/or past experience of other servers in various restaurants. If you think this is about you, you should remember that any resemblance or similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. And you should also probably take a good, long look in the mirror before you go out to eat again. 

Just in case.

Andi’s Server Soap Box Vol. 7

originally posted at http://ohdancewithme.blogspot.com

To the person who walks in on his/her cellphone and continues talking/ignoring the server as the server approaches for a greet/order, etc…


This rant is based on past personal experience and/or past experience of other servers in various restaurants. If you think this is about you, you should remember that any resemblance or similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. And you should also probably take a good, long look in the mirror before you go out to eat again. 

Just in case.

Andi’s Server Soap Box Vol. 6

originally posted at http://ohdancewithme.blogspot.com

To the table who fights over who’s going to pay the check:

We don’t care! It is not our responsibility to make the ultimate decision about who’s going to pay the check. It is awkward, uncomfortable, and rude. We aren’t going to fight with you…or for you. When we drop the check off and four pairs of hands reach for it, accompanied by a chorus of “IIII got it” or “It’s miiiiine,” servers cringe as if you’ve just dropped your recently-presented steaming-hot plate of well-done steak and lobster (which takes twenty minutes at LEAST to re-cook). It’s just AWFUL. Especially when your friends get up from the table one by one, track us down at other tables, and attempt to persuade us that THEY are the one who gets the check.  OR if you (while at the table surrounded by all your friends) say something akin to, “If you don’t give me the check, you ain’t gittin’ paid.” That’s the best.  So…if we don’t give YOU the check, the bill is not getting paid? Or is it just me that isn’t getting paid? Because either result ends poorly for us.

The solution: Decide amongst yourselves, before your server arrives, who will be paying. It really helps us not want to run away from your table, crying. Which is one of the goals of serving.

This rant is based on past personal experience and/or past experience of other servers in various restaurants. If you think this is about you, you should remember that any resemblance or similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. And you should also probably take a good, long look in the mirror before you go out to eat again. 

Just in case.

Andi’s Server Soap Box Vol. 5

originally posted at http://ohdancewithme.blogspot.com

To anyone, for that matter, who stiffs a server for any reason other than not having one:

You have no idea what you’re doing, or how it makes a server feel to literally wait hand and foot on you, only to be stiffed. Are you forgetting that your server is a human being?? Fully capable of having a life and all sorts of normal, everyday human feelings. You have come into his workplace and SPAT in his face. You have basically said, with your neglecting a tip (or perhaps your intentional lack of tipping), that he is dirt, that he is worthless, and that you could care less about whether or not you completely dissolve his entire concept of self-worth.  I’m sure you don’t really care, or never really think about the affects of not tipping, but I guarantee you your server does. Nothing takes the wind out of your sails the way seeing $0 on the tip line after spending an hour of your life catering to every need and whim of the next faceless garbage disposal at your table. Which, of course, is not how we see you.

Seriously if you can’t, or won’t, tip your server, don’t go into a place that requires someone to SERVE YOU. Unless you’re super-cool with modern-day slavery, of course. Ya jerk.

This rant is based on past personal experience and/or past experience of other servers in various restaurants. If you think this is about you, you should remember that any resemblance or similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. And you should also probably take a good, long look in the mirror before you go out to eat again. 

Just in case.

Andi’s Server Soap Box Vol. 4

originally posted at http://ohdancewithme.blogspot.com

To the welfare family who spends $100 on dinner at the beginning of every month, only to not have enough to tip your server:

 I understand that getting a check in the mail can create excitement. It’s money you didn’t have before- it’s almost like Christmas! I understand- you want to celebrate. But when you go to a sit-down restaurant and take up space and time from a server who is probably just as poor as you are, and then not tip them (because you “can’t afford it”), it’s not only rude and hurtful, it’s stealing. It’s basically the equivalent of indentured servitude. Servers work for a ridiculously small wage (in many cases as low as $2 an hour), and we live solely based on tips (as ol’ Uncle Sam gets all our “paycheck”).

Your coming in to make us wait on you without paying us literally is slavery. We HAVE to wait on you while you sit at our table, and if you choose not to tip us, then we DON’T pay our bills. There’s nothing we can do about it.

Solution? Maybe… if you are on welfare and you really depend on that monthly check….just maybe, you don’t go out to a sit down restaurant like clockwork, spend all the “extra” money you have on that celebratory meal, and then stiff your server. If you don’t have enough money left over to pay a server for their work, don’t spend as much. OR go to a fast food joint that sells similarly tasting food and enjoy a server-free environment. Good luck!

This rant is based on past personal experience and/or past experience of other servers in various restaurants. If you think this is about you, you should remember that any resemblance or similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. And you should also probably take a good, long look in the mirror before you go out to eat again. 

Just in case.

Andi’s Server Soap Box Vol. 3

originally posted at http://ohdancewithme.blogspot.com

To the parents who allow their toddler to turn bread/macaroni/mashed potatoes/crayons/etc… into their own personal, nuclear playground:

Do you know how difficult it is to get mashed potatoes out of CARPET? Of course you don’t, you feed your child in the kitchen or dining room which, luckily, has linoleum in it, or wood, or…NOT carpet. Do you know how LONG it takes to rake bread crumbs up from said carpet? A stinking loooooong time. Not only do you allow your child to create world war 3 with his or her food, but you also allow them to color on the table with the crayons we provide (we also provide paper for coloring on), and you allow them to place stickers on the edge of the table that then have to be scraped off with the equivalent of a paint scraper (for reals, though).

On top of this, you don’t tip your server NEARLY enough to clean up after your atomic child. Seriously- shame on you! I would bet a lot of money you don’t let your house look like that. If you don’t allow your child to get cray cray in your own home, why do you allow such misbehavior at a restaurant? It’s senseless. And rude, also. And senseless.

The solution? Keep your child in check, or tip your server extra to clean up all that mess.  It genuinely makes servers want to quit their jobs when they see a family come in with a young child that will inevitably make the biggest mess on the planet. Seriously, the Cuban Missile Crisis is less terrifying to a server facing cleaning up after a toddler.

And thank you for your patronage.

This rant is based on past personal experience and/or past experience of other servers in various restaurants. If you think this is about you, you should remember that any resemblance or similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. And you should also probably take a good, long look in the mirror before you go out to eat again. 

Just in case.

Andi’s Server Soap Box Vol. 2

To the lady who thinks she’s the only guest in the restaurant:

Boy, do we have news for you. Most restaurants give a specific number of tables to each server and it is ALWAYS more than one. We realize that sometimes you’re in a rush, sometimes you’re starving to death (give my regards to the orphans in Somalia), and always people are at their worst when they’re hungry. However, you are not our only focus. We have other tables that are seated with other guests, all of whom have needs just as important as yours. We also have side work that is constantly needing to be updated. You want extra ice in that sweet tea? Where do you think we get that from? Because that ice machine is NOT in the front of the restaurant. For that matter, you want more sweet tea? Living in Kentucky, so does everyone else in this state. Think we have an extra crewmember whose only job is to make sweet tea? Nope. That’s a server responsibility. Want a fresh salad with that meal? That’s made by your server. All while dressing and walking food, re-filling drinks and bread baskets, pre-bussing dirty plates off your table (so you can have room for new plates of food), and bussing and cleaning other tables so more guests can come in and demand attention.

Solution? Have some patience with us. Sometimes there isn’t a bartender working, sometimes a manager is busy and can’t take that cup of soup (that you decided didn’t taste good enough) off of your check, sometimes we are just overwhelmed with the 15 guests we are currently running around taking care of. We promise we’re not ignoring you. 999,999,999,998 out of 999,999,999,999 times we are simply very, very, very busy and don’t have time to take care of ONLY YOU. Patience would be much appreciated, and will result in a more relaxed server who is much better prepared to take care of you, and grateful for your patience, to boot.

This rant is based on past personal experience and/or past experience of other servers in various restaurants. If you think this is about you, you should remember that any resemblance or similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. And you should also probably take a good, long look in the mirror before you go out to eat again. 

Just in case.