It’s 9:00 PM on a slow Wednesday night. The only customers in the restaurant are a stuck-up looking couple who’ve made it clear they “don’t want to be rushed.” As they chatter and slowly munch their grilled calamari, their entrées … Continue reading
It’s Friday night and I’m finishing the wine liturgy for the Yuppies on table 13. The host, a pretentious bald man wearing expensively layered clothes, grilled me about the wine list. Asking questions designed not to gain knowledge but to … Continue reading
Another busy Saturday night at Café Machiavelli is finally winding down. My biggest table of the evening, a clamorous Italian familia of twenty people, are finishing their desserts. “You drop the check on that table yet?” Willem, the manager, asks … Continue reading
It’s been raining heavily all night. Because our wimpy customers are afraid of a little moisture, Café Machiavelli’s been experiencing an abnormally slow Friday night. It’s almost nine o’clock and I haven’t even cleared a hundred bucks. “Oh man,” Paolo, … Continue reading