I work in a casino restaurant. I am fully aware that the main purpose of the restaurant is to bring people into the casino. The casino loves it when the restaurant has a waiting list, because everyone on the waiting list spends 45 minutes to an hour wandering around the casino floor and spending money. I understand, and I'm ok with that.

But the marketing department is insane. They come up with these wacky restaurant promotions that do indeed draw screaming hordes of people into the building, but at the cost of the restaurant staff's sanity.

Tonight, everyone who can prove they won $1000 at some point in the last six years gets a free meal. There's a lot of different kinds of horror involved in that sentence. I'll run it by you again. Tonight, everyone who can prove they won $1000 at some point in the last six years gets a free meal.

Proof can be either the complimentary "I won at Rainbow Casino!" t-shirt they give the big winners, or the photograph that was taken, or the W-2 form. I bring in my picture, let D. wear my t-shirt, and let Christine borrow my W-2. No one is going to be asking for ID. There won't be time. "Ah, all you have is a photocopy of your W-2? Splendid. It's funny, though. You're the fourth Hiram J. Wzanowitzkovich to come in tonight. I had no idea it was such a common name." We heard about one regular guy who is selling his t-shirts he's accumulated for ten bucks each. Everyone within 40 miles of here could probably obtain enough proof to get a free meal.

The casino has been open for six years. Even if we assume that all the really big winners got the hell out of the area as soon as possible, and won't be able to make it, there's still hundreds of people who won enough to get a t-shirt, but not enough to retire on. And, let's not forget that thay can each bring along at least two friends.

Free meal. A free fucking meal. It's not like a free Happy Meal, or something either. We're talking either prime rib or stuffed chicken breast, with veggie, choice of potato, and soup or salad. Free. No charge. None at all. Everyone is going to come.

The worst part is, they'll complain. The deal does not include a beverage or dessert. They won't like that. Both dinners are only eight ounces. When we serve these things normally, they're about 10-12 ounces. Normally of course, we charge $9.95 for it, but that doesn't matter. Everyone is going to be pissy because the portions look smaller than usual.

Everyone who walks in the door will be given a slip of paper explaing the specifics of the promotion. It will list the details on each meal, and explain why drinks are not included, and recommend tipping your server, even if you end up not buying a drink, and your bill is nothing. But I've served these people. They do not read. They ask questions that are quite clearly printed in the menu. "What all comes on your Taco salad?" (Ana reads over patron's shoulder.) "Beef or Chicken, lettuce, tomato, onion, cheese, black olives, jalepenos, sour cream and guacamole, in a crispy taco shell bowl." "Can I get beef instead of chicken?" They will not read the little slips of paper. They will resent being expected to.

The object of these promotions is to get the patrons fed and back out on the floor as soon as possible. Normally, the cooks wait, and the order is ready to be taken out eight minutes after it is punched in. This gives the waitress time to take out the salad course, and gives most patrons enough time to eat it. Tonight, the orders will appear exactly one minute after being punched in. If the waitress takes out the salad, then comes back to the kitchen and puts in the order, the patron has the illusion that time has passed. The salad is still only half eaten, but the patron might think he just ate slowly. The waitress is yelled at if she is caught trying this, though. On promotion nights, it is far better to enter the order, grab the salad, realize the order is ready now too, and take it all out together. Never mind that the patrons don't like it. They haven't all complained yet, and besides, the object tonight is to make the casino as much money as possible. If your table takes fully 25 minutes to eat, that's 25 minutes they aren't out spending money on the casino floor. Tonight, this allegedly four star restaurant will become, for all practical purposes, just like McDonalds.

There are nine waitresses scheduled to work tonight. Normally, there are nine sections of the restaurant, each with four, maybe five tables (Two sections of four share one fifth table, and the waitresses take turns serving it all night long. Half the time, you only have four tables to worry about. There's one section with four tables, and a fifth that usually isn't seated because it's designed for parties of six or seven. When it's seated, it sucks to be the waitress, but it usually isn't.) There is one section with six tables, but it's right next to the kitchen, and three of the tables are only big enough to seat two people. Tonight, they will add a bunch of folding tables to every section. One section will end up with seven tables. Seven tables. The norm, remember, is four. Life would be so much simpler if they added another waitress or two, and brought the sections back to normal size, but no one ever thinks of this. I won't even get into how hard it is to move around when the tables are all smooshed together to make room for the extra tables in each section.

Also, all your tables will get seated at once. It's not really anybody's fault. The bussers are insanely busy. They visit your section, and notice that you have five empty tables. They clean and set all of them at once. It's easier than running from one end of the dining room to the other, every time a table is empty. The hostesses come back, and notice you have five clean tables. They call the next five names on the waiting list, and seat them. You must bring 10-20 glasses of ice water the next time you visit your section.

It's possible to carry eight or nine salads, or five, maybe six plates of food on a tray at once. Your only hope of surviving the night is to make half of your tables wait, so maybe you won't end up with 15 dinners that all have to go out at the same time. But, then you have to run twice as fast, so that the tables who you made wait don't have to wait too long.

At 2:00, they will start taking names for the waiting list. By 3, when we start serving, the list will be two hours long. It will get up to three hours wait by 4:00, and will stay there until 8 or so, when the hostesses realize we close in two hours and stop adding names. Then, the list will start to go down. Maybe we'll serve the last table at 10:30, and then we start cleaning up.

Of course, this will anger the people who come in at 8:30, and want their free meal. Maybe the marketing department is truly hellspawn, and will force us to keep the waiting list going until no one wants to be put on it anymore. I believe the casino is open till 2:30am. My, that would suck.

Oh, and just to make tonight perfect, I'm working a double shift. I go in at 10:30 am. I'll be there till at least 11pm. Granted, no one will come in before 3, (if you had a choice between a sandwich for $5.95, or prime rib for free, which would you take? My point exactly.) but I'll be there. I'm being punished for something. On the original schedule, it was me and two new waitresses and two doublers on the day shift. I was the only one not working the night shift who could in theory do it. I gloated a lot. Then, one of the scheduled night waitresses got in a car accident. They are insane enough to run with nine girls, but there was no way in hell they'd attempt it with eight. So, they asked me to become a doubler. I have a conscience and a ridiculously Good Work Ethic. I said yes. I am a fool.

You know, every few months, Marketing decides it time to run Steak N Lobster again. For about a month, we offer an 8 oz steak and a 4oz tail for $6.95 on Mondays. It's really a bad scene all the way around, for the reasons listed above. Last February, I was congratulating myself for surviving my last Steak N Lobster ever. They wouldn't try it in the summer, when we're busier than usual in the first place. By next October, I knew I would be long gone.

Instead, I get this lovely thing instead. Isn't it ironic? (Doncha think?) It's only one night, instead of four or five, but that's going to make it worse in a lot of ways. No one is going to realize by the 3rd week that it's really not worth it. (No one seems to realize this anyway. There are more cheap bastids around here than you could possibly imagine. It's worth waiting 3 hours for a teeny little surf and turf, because it's cheap.) They will all come tonight. It will suck most mightily. Yes it will. Oh, yes it will.

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