Shark Week



Welcome back to reality, Servers of the Realm.

I hope Santa has treated you well. And I hope that your bank accounts and credit card balances are back to a level that can justify your financial responsibility. But, lets talk in real time.  As the Jackson Hole Airport nearly fell apart due to record- breaking delays shipping people back to the East Coast, there is a new wave of immigrants rummaging through the trails of JHMR.

Are you suddenly asking yourself, “ What the f*ck does ‘keen’ mean? Or, “Why are people referring to their winter hats as ‘beanies?’ ”

And most importantly,  “Was that my third 14 percent tip in a row?”

Yes, that was your third crappy tip in a row. But it is not your fault. As our winter comes in strong, the summers down under are doing the same.  I call this time of year SHARK WEEK.


“That dingo ate your tips bro!”

Aussies are an interesting group of people and make for an even more interesting patron.  If you live or have lived in Jackson Hole, you have fantasized, visited or blasted your way through the Aussie coasts and countryside. So when these Aussies make their way stateside to your table, one can only melt at their accents and relive those fantasies of surfing the Gold Coast.

It took me years to realize, but waiting on people from down under is one of the most intriguing dilemmas I, as a server, have ever encountered.  Usually, upon receiving a less then 15% tip I could be found building that patron’s voodoo doll with computer paper and masking tape in the walk-in. But with my Wallabie friends, it’s a different case, and I almost turn into a schizophrenic trying to justify it. It’s a true love-hate relationship.  I have never, and I mean never, had an Aussie table that I truly disliked. Sure, the tip sucked, but these people are awesome, and I just slayed it for the past two weeks. My bucket is still overflowing.

But, if you feel like playing your best Rob Scheider (the badass who takes down Jaws), there is only one defense you can take.  The hook, line and sinker: auto-grat! When you approach a table of six-plus, it doesn’t matter where they are from, all bets are off. It’s time to really appreciate your boss, and your boss’s boss for putting this in place to save your ski bum ass. The auto- grat is the golden harpoon, and you are the slayer of beasts.

My fellow servers appreciate the successful holiday season, and swim safely in the waters of your respected restaurants. Because there are SHARKS EVERYWHERE!

With Love,

Your Secret Server.


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