Chris glides across the floor, bidding farewell to the couple from New York and taking a dessert order from the IBM group. This room is his. The bank president and his wife, who did not drink, leave $22 for a $127 check. That's 17 percent, and the check is on the low side. He tells me he'll make it up between the McLaren and IBM tables.
The McLaren date couple leaves. The check is $385, and the tip is $50. That's less than 13 percent, and Chris is disappointed. So far, the night isn't going his way. But it's still early.
Jen Hsieh
Jen Hsieh
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The IBMers leave $100 on a $500 check. That's good news. The bad news is that an Italian restaurant owner and his wife on vacation leave $5 on a $162 check.
At 11 p.m., the room drops into an abyss. Though the kitchen is still technically open, the night is over. Chris averages out the tips and figures he'll go home with $150. Not too shabby for three hours of hustling. He says he works as many shifts as he can, and on a busy day, he can make double that amount. Add a few high rollers a month, and Chris can make about $50,000 after taxes.
Though the take-home is almost the same as that at the breakfast joint, there are fewer hours and more downtime. Moreover, Chris uses the connections he makes at the restaurant to further his income stream. "I work with the bouncers at the clubs here in South Beach," he confides. "If there's a group of high rollers at one of my tables and they want to go out, I hook them up. In return, I get taken care of, let's just say."
Juan Carlos Lopez, J.C. for short, is a waiter at GreenStreet, a Coconut Grove brunch joint on Main Highway. J.C. came to the United States from Honduras 25 years ago and began bussing tables at diners. He started at GreenStreet in 1993 and has been working the brunch circuit ever since.
Indeed, J.C. is iconic. Many people are willing to wait to sit at one of his tables, even with the promise of immediate seating elsewhere. "I like what I do. I like to serve people," he says as we wait for the server meeting to begin.
J.C. says he has a twin brother who works at another restaurant. They live together in the Grove. "I can walk to work," he says. "I have enough money to go on vacation and buy nice furniture. I just bought a new flat-screen television. There's nothing better."
Waiting tables is in some ways like being a pediatrician or a teacher: "I serve these families. They come to me. They come to J.C. I've seen babies grow up and even get married. This is my family."
Nancy is one of J.C.'s regulars. Wearing a velour tracksuit and in her mid-50s, she explains she used to live in the Grove but recently moved to New York. After asking J.C. for an omelet and some juice, she says she's here just for the weekend but that she visits GreenStreet and J.C. whenever she gets the chance. Nancy eats quickly and leaves a $15 tip on a $30 check.
Paul and Terry live only a few blocks away and come in every Sunday. When they arrive, J.C. delivers coffee and skim milk without bothering to ask what they want. For them, the familiar is comforting. Why frequent the same place each week? "You always know what you're going to get," Paul says. They leave a $7 tip on a $35 check.
J.C. is 50 years old and doesn't look like he's in great shape, but that's deceptive. He moves faster than servers half his age. For him, this job is the American dream. Working five shifts a week and taking into account a good season, J.C. says he can make $70,000 a year.
He has worked hard at this job, making friends and steady customers. For many patrons, it's not the food that draws them to GreenStreet. It's the people.
I spoke with dozens of guests on a recent morning. There was single refrain when I asked folks why they came: "The restaurant and J.C. are like family."
Latin Burger and Taco, where the Russian beauty made a run for the casino after getting her order, was one of the first food trucks on the Miami scene when it opened two years ago. The rolling eateries have advantages over traditional restaurants: They're mobile, so owners don't have to pay high-priced leases, and workers I spoke with are generally paid just a couple of bucks above minimum wage.
When I began work on the truck this fall, I quickly learned it was far smaller than it appeared from the outside — and much hotter. It didn't help that it was about 89 degrees outside. The griddle and fryer made the truck feel like a small metal box heated to about 350 degrees. I was the fourth person onboard. In the back, Juan Carlos, the prep guy (no relation to the GreenStreet waiter), was preparing dozens of meat patties. Michael, the cook, had the grill fired up, and Steve, the expediter, was ready to show me what to do. I would be taking Steve's place.