Back In The Catering Saddle
I'm back in the catering saddle to earn a little extra 
holiday cash. I truly love it. It's a lot of damn work 
but the people I cater with are hilarious. They are 
writers, actors, dancers and models. Everyone has 
a story. When we see one another again it's like no 
time has passed. We talk about who went on tour 
with Chicago and who had what article published 
where. If you recognize one another only by face 
we say, "Hi! Did you and I work the Gerber bar 
mitzvah together?" while the other says, "Oh my 
god yes! Where we rode in on elephants! Totally! 
How ARE you?!!" 
Mostly we pass the time making fun of the guests. 
Keep in mind people, if you are at a party and you 
are a jerk to the wait staff in any capacity, we may 
be smiling at you while we hand you a steamy plate 
of spaghetti bolognese but trust me when I tell you 
we will make fun of you. Yes you.
Last night's party was for a major furniture design 
company. I enjoy my role as a fly on the wall, dressed 
all in black and hearing bits of people's conversations. 
Mostly I enjoy when people treat me like an idiot at
their holiday party yet they are the ones wearing the 
blinking Santa hat. 
Last night I arrived and checked in with the captain-
the person (often a guy) in charge of the wait staff for 
the night. Ironically, the captain is usually hysterical. He 
runs around saying, "Ok people!!!" many times. He is 
super stressed because while his title is 'captain' his 
boss the catering company owner is there to oversee 
the party. Meanwhile, the head chef in the kitchen can 
also overule the captain's decisions and often does. 
What chef says goes. Our chef and his staff -some 
hard core Dominican boys from Queens- are the hardest 
workers on the planet. Last week someone attempted 
to break into chef's catering truck parked outside a gig 
and it took only one right hook from chef's fist to the 
intruder's face and he was knocked out cold until the 
police arrived.
Last night my assignment slip listed '7th floor buffet'. 
Buffet duty usually means running up and down flights 
of stairs carrying hot, boiling trays of water and dodging 
drunk people that ask you 10,000 times back at the 
buffet station what everything is in each chafing dish. 
The good news was I was assigned to work the station 
with one of my favorite catering pals and we even had 
a 'runner'. In catering terms a runner is like having an 
intern to do all your dirty work. Our runner was a small, 
vacant looking model we nicknamed 'Model Guy' for the 
night. His blonde hair was whipped across his eyes and 
face as if he had just gotten off the windy slopes of 
Telluride.
Overall it was a good night. Currently I am fighting 
a nasty stomach flu and had to cancel tonight's gig. 
I feel horrible. Horrible with guilt more than flu. Poor 
little me. I ate something-prob someone's leftover 
pate-that made my tum tum a little sicky sick. Fifty 
bucks says I am being made fun of in the kitchen or
even worse will not be called back to cater for a while.
I once saw chef get a nasty cut with a sharp knife while
slicing celery root. We were about to serve 540 guests. 
He asked one of the kitchen guys to hand him some silver 
duct tape. He wrapped his bleeding finger several times 
and what do you know-moved on.