This is Kyle Smith. Within New York City’s server circles (which is practically everywhere), he’s now privileged to have become Enemy #1 – the dude you never want to see as you roll up to your table or bar. This clown has single-handedly managed to elevate himself into the posterchild victim of all kinds of classic restaurant shenanigans from hawking some loogie action in his French Onion Soup, to “marinating” his T-Bone in murky floor water (not that I’ve ever partaken in, nor advocating any of that, mind you).
Yes, this is the “Enjoy my 11% tip” dude; the one who Rupert Murdoch’s [not] all-too-bright editors saw fit to allow all kinds of unnecessary writing latitude. He had the wherewithal to venture slightly outside of his Film Critic comfort zone into the dining/tipping zone. A couple of weeks ago, he penned what is likely the most idiotic article on serving/tipping ever written in the history of the InterToobs. It’s ever so lovingly followed up with an blurb about how France, and it’s restaurant/serving setup, is far superior to the bullshit he has to “endure” here in The New World.
I won’t go into the absolutely retarded, ignorant and baseless details and analyzation because my fellow bloggers have already descended on this dumbass with much warranted abandon here The Bitchy Waiter and here Stuck Serving. He even managed to get himself immortalized around town – to his dismay – via some lovely posters titled “Wanted for Douchebaggery.”
Suffice it to say here that Mr. Smith, that you know absolutely nothing of serving, and serving in NYC. F.O.H. staff didn’t invent the system, write the rules, nor enforce any of them. In most establishments, we’re forced to comply and act in a certain manner per corporate policy. End of story. You’re extremely bitter, uneducated, inexperienced, un-compassionate, misguided, and – for a professional scribe – don’t even write all that well. You’re entitled to your opinion, just as everyone else is. However, when you’ve confirmed your stupidity in such a public arena, don’t be so surprised at the repercussions both on the field and off. Every action has a reaction.
If you see this dude coming to your restaurant or bar, you’ve been warned. Move to France dude and take Piers Morgan with you - please. In the interim, please stick to your (not so great) movie reviews, constrain your dining experiences to The Post’s cafeteria, and eateries which don’t require you to be tortured by us horrible servers and a requirement to tip. I’m thinking: stick to Taco Bell, yummy 7-Eleven corn dogs, Chipotles and maybe an occasional homemade Swanson Salisbury Steak. Problem solved.