After my short-lived career detasseling corn, I still hoped to earn some spending money before going back to school in the fall. With 1.5 months remaining in the summer of 1966, I lobbied my parents to allow me to apply for a waitressing job at Arbor Manor, a fancy restaurant in Auburn. Notable for its location on a large piece of property near the outskirts of town, the Queen Anne-style, two-story house was set back among gigantic old elm trees and surrounded by a lush manicured lawn. Its wrap-around porch, towers, and turrets gave it an elegant feel.
Built around 1910, it was the home of well-to-do Auburn residents until it was turned into a steakhouse and lounge in the 1960s. Known for serving high-quality, prime Nebraska beef, it was, at the time, the only “fine dining” establishment in the entire county. It was THE place to celebrate special occasions like birthdays, anniversaries, and graduations, if you could afford it. For our family, “dining out” meant having a noontime “dinner” at the home of one of our grandparents or great-grandparents after church on Sunday.
Once my parents gave me the OK to apply for the job, I was thrilled, when in spite of my lack of waitressing experience, I was hired by the manager, a woman in her 40s named Charlene. Reporting to work the next Friday at 5:00 p.m., I joined two other teenage girls. Because they lived in town and were already in high school, we didn’t have much in common. As a result, I was left to my own devices to figure out anything about waitressing that Charlene did not explain. Fortunately, or not, depending on one’s perspective, because I was a novice at eating out in an actual “restaurant,” I didn’t know what I didn’t know!
Waiting tables during the dinner hours on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights, we were required to wear nice clothes. For me, that meant dresses my mom made that I wore to church, along with patent leather, low-heeled, black shoes. Our first task every evening was to place table cloths, dishes, silverware, ash trays, and condiments, including salt and pepper, on each table. Along with a butterknife, spoon, and fork, the place settings also included salad forks and soup spoons. Steak knives were added later, if needed. Charlene explained the proper utensil placement, since at home, tablespoons substituted for soup spoons and there were no such things as salad forks or steak knives.
In the kitchen, we rinsed any leftover iceberg lettuce from the refrigerator in large wash tubs with ascorbic acid to remove any brown “rust” before opening multiple cans of Campbell soup and pouring them into a large pot to heat on a hot plate placed on a counter. Aside from heating the soup and making individual salads, all other food was prepared by the cook in the adjacent kitchen.
Promptly at 6:00 p.m., the restaurant opened. Charlene–who was dressed to the hilt in high heels, a knee-length, tight-fitting dress with a low-cut neckline accessorized with a matching necklace and earrings, all of which accented her bleached blond hair–welcomed each party, determined if they had a reservation, and asked each of us in turn to escort the guests to a particular table. As waitresses, our objective was to provide excellent service with a smile, which we hoped would result in a generous tip to supplement that $1.00 an hour we received from Charlene for our time at work.
Not surprisingly, my very first guests ordered the mainstay of the restaurant; namely, steak, which was accompanied by their choice of soup or salad in addition to baked, mashed, or fried potatoes. After taking their order, I threaded my way through the tables and past other guests to the kitchen, where I used a clothespin to clip the order onto a line that was pulled by the cook into the kitchen.
As I was making the accompanying salads, the cook, after reading my order, came out of the kitchen to ask me how the steaks were to be prepared. After I responded with a deer-in-the-headlights look, she explained, somewhat incredulously, that when a customer ordered steak, I was expected to then ask how they would like their steak prepared. This could include rare, medium-rare, medium, medium-well, or well done. I had to admit that that was news to me. At home, steaks were always prepared well done!
I would now have to go back to the table to ask for this critical information. To help save face, I accomplished my mission after first serving my guests their respective soup and salad. Fortunately, my oversight did not affect my tip. I did, however, do a double take, when it was time to pick up the steaks in the kitchen, and I saw that they were at least 1.5 inches thick. This was also totally different from my frame of reference. While eating beef at home was common, steaks were a thin, half-inch slab of meat wrapped in white butcher paper that my mom pulled out of the freezer, thawed, and then cooked until they were very well done and chewy, except for any fat that happened to remain on the side. The steaks I served at Arbor Manor opened my eyes and my senses to how delicious steak could really be.
In addition to steak, seafood was also on the menu. My first seafood order was for shrimp, which was breaded and deep fried. Eager to show that I was a quick study, I asked the customer how they would like their shrimp prepared. That question was met with an extremely puzzled look and the question, “What do you mean?” to which I replied, “Would you like your shrimp prepared rare, medium, or well done?” The indignant customer replied in a huff, “Well, well-done, of course!” With that, I slinked back to the kitchen to place the order, embarrassed by what had obviously been another faux pas.
One more sign of my naivety about eating out, was exposed on another evening, when, after I asked the guests if they would prefer soup or salad with their entrée, they asked what kind of soup was available that evening. I was prepared for that question and responded accordingly. However, the next question, “Is the soup fresh tonight?” threw me for a bit of a loop. I responded truthfully, stating the facts. “Yes, the soup is fresh; we just opened the can tonight.” With that, the customer ordered salad. In spite of my faux pas, which I took in stride after my initial embarrassment, my waitressing job afforded me the opportunity to begin learning the intricacies of “fine dining.” I also learned to understand how “the customer is always right,” especially when you are dependent on customers for tips. In addition, I accomplished my goal of earning some spending money, which was the point of the job in the first place.