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Food

Working in a San Francisco Restaurant Made Me Racist and Sexist

As a restaurant host, I spend considerably less time with our customers than servers do, but even a minute is enough time to get a sense of what kind of diner the person is. And that has made me come to some ugly conclusions
Foto von basheertome via Flickr

Welcome back to Restaurant Confessionals, where we talk to the unheard voices of the restaurant industry from both the front-of-house (FOH) and back-of-house (BOH) about what really goes on behind the scenes at your favorite establishments. For this installment, a host explains how being treated differently by various customers has given her a bias against them.

As a restaurant host, I have the easiest front-of-house job: I organize the seating arrangement, take customers to their tables, and hand them menus, all the while maintaining a smile.

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I spend considerably less time with our customers than servers do, but even a minute is enough time to get a sense of what kind of diner the person is.

Within minutes of arriving, some diners find something to complain about. In my case, it's usually about the table they're spending two hours of their life at. It's surprising how malcontent a table can make diners. It's like picking out shoes—it's too small, it's by the walkway, it's too cold, it's too loud, it's too close to another table, etc. OK, fine, that's my job: to accommodate you.

But some diners have more nerve than others. There are things like turn times and party sizes that I have to consider when seating people. For example, they prohibit me from seating a two-top at a table for four. We lose money if I seat a two-top there, and might have to turn away a party of three or four later because I don't have a big enough table.

Now, in this case, most diners are satisfied with me saying, "Sorry, that's reserved for a party of four." But, from the way some diners talk to me and request things, it's like they've never eaten in a restaurant before.

At first, I figured, This is San Francisco's Financial District. Of course there's gonna be rich assholes with all the young techie money floating around. Our customers are predominantly Asian, Southeast Asian, and white, typically around the same age as myself but making way more money than I ever will. (Given our location, our clientele reflects the makeup of the tech and business scene. We don't see enough Latino or black diners. Sure, there are many Latinos whom I encounter at work every day, but they're back-of-house.)

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But I've realized that it's not them—it's me. As an Asian girl in the restaurant industry, I don't command respect. I don't have a face that demands to be acknowledged. Customers walk past me all the time, then act surprised when they realize I'm the one they need to talk to in order to get seated at their fucking table. If I'm standing next to any of my taller, white middle-aged managers, customers will approach them first, only to be told to talk to me.

I hate to admit that white men are nicer—even if they're drunk happy hour idiots, they're still less likely to talk to me with an air of arrogance—and Asian men do treat Asian women with less respect.

Diners treat us hosts and servers differently according to our race and gender. As a short Asian girl, I know I come off as "cute" to middle-aged white women who tend to be ruder to my white, female, twentysomething coworker. To them, I come off as apologetic, rather than pushy, when I notify them it'll be a little wait for their table, or that we'll be needing their table in an hour and a half for reservations.

In turn, Asian guys are way nicer to that same coworker than they are to me. And of course, they wouldn't dare be rude to our white male servers. From what I can tell, it takes the assholes of assholes to be deliberately rude to our white male servers.

I know Asian diners feel comfortable asking me, another Asian face, if they can move tables, or for their check, or for another round of drinks—even though I, as the host, have no idea what the fuck they were drinking since I don't take food and drink orders. I'm more approachable than my white coworkers; "approachable" meaning that Asian dudes think they can tell me where they're sitting, or Asian girls act like, Oh you work here? Well, let me proceed to talk down to you.

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There's a well-known disconnect between the value of men and that of women in Asian cultures, and this is it in practice. It also plays in to the stereotype of Asian women preferring white men to fellow Asian men.

As a fourth-generation Asian American, my family is pretty "Americanized" and I always took pleasure in bashing Asian stereotypes. But now, I hate to admit that white men are nicer—even if they're drunk happy hour idiots, they're still less likely to talk to me with an air of arrogance—and Asian men do treat Asian women with less respect.

Like myself, many of my Asian customers were probably primed to make six-digit corporate salaries, and not to work in the service industry (which my mom still politely tries to talk to me about). So to them, not only am I a girl, but I also couldn't find a "real" job.

Now, I try to treat everyone equally. If I see three tall white businessmen walk up to me who will probably rack up a hefty tab, I try to treat them with the same respect I would a French family who I know won't tip or an obnoxious group of white girls celebrating a birthday. But by now, I have a grip on a person's dining habits by just looking at them when they first arrive.

So when an Asian couple or an Asian girl and her white boyfriend arrive, I will smile, take them to their table, and count down to the moment she asks for a new table. On the bright side, at least Asian diners tend to have faster turn times, which allows me to seat more people and makes us more money.