aims of their former comrades.
I like wide-bodied, highly motivated runners. My runners, particularly in
busy pre-theater operations, where the entire dining room has to be
served during a thirty-to-forty-minute period, are generally whipped into
such a frenzy of enthusiasm, fear and naked aggression that I am
constantly being asked to tell them to refrain from bowling over the
waiters on their missile-like progress to and from the kitchen. It takes
unusual skills to be a runner. Language skills are not important. I want
dedication, speed, the ability to gauge quickly what the hell is going on
in a busy and hectic situation, pick out the next order from a busy array
of outgoing orders, carry multiple plates at one time without dropping
them, remember position numbers and donenesses at the table, and
prioritize sensibly. Runners usually get a full cut of waiters' tips—with
the advantage that they don't have to deal with the general public in
order to get paid. Their job is to shuttle food, in the proper order, out of
the kitchen and to the customer, and to get back to the kitchen quickly.
Their job is also to do the chef's bidding—whatever that might entail.
Other, more nebulous tasks might include intelligence gathering, like a
forward artillery observer, reporting back to the chef/expeditor such
cogent bits of data like the answer to "What's going on on table one? Are
they ready for their food? How's the special going over?" and so on.
Fetching drinks for the chef might be a regular duty as well, or taking his
jacket to the cleaner's, running to the store for emergency supplies,
maintaining a clean "window" and service area, arranging garnishes,
even occasional expediting duties. Most of my runners may not know
how to speak English, but they know every dish on my menu, and how to
pronounce it.
A runner should be able to pick out a medium-rare steak from a group of
other donenesses, read a "board" as well as the chef, and maintain that
rabid, pregame, caged-animal mentality one looks for in a professional
fullback. I want my runners hyperventilating like Marines about to take a
hill before the rush comes. As far as I'm concerned, I am General Patton