Working For My Mother

(A story by Vanessa)

When I was little I often ‘helped’ at the restaurant. I would take a drink to a customer, run errands for my mom, help with the Christmas baking and (my favourite) colour in the menus! Customers would ooh and aah over whatever I took them, sometimes made fancy with a flower, and the staff kindly helped me feel like I was contributing rather than being underfoot.

One job was taking money to Barclay’s Bank. The money was put into a blue canvas bag (made by my Grampi in his sail loft) and off I would go, walking along the waterfront on my own. It may sound strange to entrust an eight-year-old with lots of money in this way but Bequia was a safe place, and it was a ten-minute walk if I dawdled. Barclay’s was one of the few places where I had to wear shoes (I assume they had a policy), and was the fanciest place on Bequia. It was the only building in the 80’s that had air-conditioning, and I didn’t mind being kept waiting in its cool interior. It was always silent except for the stamps banging on receipts, it seemed to me that everything was done in secretive silence. The clerk would motion me forward and I would slide the back across the counter, saying “Mummy send me” and they would nod, do their secret counting and banging, then slide the bag back to me wordlessly.  I didn’t have to give my mother’s name nor the name of the business, they knew who I was.

As I got older, I was trained in the dining room to be a hostess. This entailed a lot of smiling and handing out of menus, and once everyone had been seated I would help the wait staff clear, then clean tables for the next sitting. Once the second sitting had been seated and orders placed my mother and I could leave for the evening. Sometimes on a Friday or Saturday night I would get a phone call from my mother saying that they were slammed and needed a hand, and I would run down the hill to help for a few hours. Quite often during the busy season (Christmas thru Easter) I would have regular evening shifts to help out on the busiest nights, and at times I was assigned the Garden. Guests loved the Garden; there were large picnic tables close to the sea but it was down two flights of stone steps, which meant a lot of running up and down for the wait staff. Only large parties were seated there, and only if the weather was clear. I was often given the Garden because I was the youngest and also inexperienced – those tables would be my ONLY tables for the night, and staff would help me take down all the food and prepare the bill. By the end of my shift I was pooped!

I loved working at the Pizzeria, and can remember only one bad experience. I had a large table in the Garden, one that had ordered  a lot of food and drink, and I took care of them well; I was a friendly waitress, and being my only table meant that they got my undivided attention. When I began to clear their dinner plates, they asked what happened to uneaten food. I told them they were welcome to take away what they hadn’t eaten, anything else left went into a slop bucket to feed pigs. One of the men sneered at me and said, “Put it all in the slop bucket, that was f***king horrible food”, and continued to say horrible things. I was shocked, I had never been spoken to so rudely by a customer!  I was confused; the food at the restaurant was always good, my service had been impeccable and they had been nice, joking with me all evening as I fetched and carried up and down those steps. They had also eaten most of the food, and had not complained while eating. I went back upstairs shocked and shaking and told my mother what had happened, and she went down to deal with them. I can’t remember what the outcome was, but it was my first glimpse into the unpleasant side of the restaurant business.

I never received a salary for working at the restaurant, the Pizzeria was a family business and it was expected that I help out when needed.  I didn’t mind not being paid, but I was a tad grumpy about my tips! Each of the wait staff had a tip jar with their name written on it and, at the end of the evening, MY tips were always divided amongst their jars! I felt that I deserved to keep my tips after running up and down all those stairs! Stewps!

Sometimes my sister and I got roped into doing office work for Bequia Villa Rentals, and that was my LEAST favourite way to spend a Saturday morning! Rachel liked it, citing not having to smile at people she didn’t know as preferable. My sister also began to help Mummy when the Wind Star and Wind Spirit were in port and we happily separated, with me doing restaurant work and her doing office and organizational work. It seems to have stuck; I still work with the public and she works in the farm office, the only real difference is that now we both get paid!