Once upon a time, waiters were kings in this place. Well, sort of. While they once enjoyed one of the highest incomes in the country, deep down restaurant goers hardly gave them the respect due a sovereign. In fact, there was even a standard parental threat – “if you don’t apply yourself at school, you’ll become a janitor or waiter.”
In short, the profession of waiter in the USSR used to be despised and frowned upon. Waiters – even more than other representatives of the Soviet service sector – were notorious for their хамство (boorishness). Plus, not only did they not smile back at you, they could easily cheat the client by fixing the tab (обсчитать), watering down his cognac (разбавить водой) or underweighing (недовешивать), thus saving a hundred-odd grams on each portion of veal, sturgeon or whatever, while replenishing their supposedly meager stocks of food at home.
Veteran travelers to Soviet Russia will also remember the ill-fated швейцар (door man) who would let you negotiate the infamous нет мест (sorry, we’re full) signs for a few rubles.
For Homo Sovieticus, known for his high endurance, the нет мест obstacle was no more daunting than any other obstacle put before him by the inefficient system. You overcame it simply by buttering up the staff. Anyone with a friend among the официанты (waiters) had a key which could open many doors – particularly if you knew all the waiters by their first names.
Anyone who didn’t hold that key had to accept a famous maxim, interpreted the Soviet way: клиент всегда неправ (the customer is always wrong). While the проныра/ прохиндей (fixer) usually knew all waiters by their first names, the average, battered Soviet customer without связи (connections) – ho went to restaurants at best twice a year – idn’t even know how to address waiters.
Back in tsarist times it was so easy. A waiter working in a трактир (a kind of Russian pub serving food) was officially called половой (literally, floor man). Yet clients addressed him simply as человек (man). In translation, a dialogue between customers and waiters in a Russian трактир might sound something like a conversation in a Brooklyn bar –“Two more beers, man!” “Make it fast, man!” “Keep the change, man!”
After October 1917, traktirs slowly disappeared, as did good and affable waiters. Nobody calls them человек anymore.
In Stalin’s time, waiters’ behavior was more or less acceptable – unfriendly service could be easily interpreted as sabotage. So for a while waiters were just called официанты.
But in the 1970s and ‘80s, during the Stagnation Period, the now infamous boorishness of the Soviet waiter appeared. Clients had no recourse against shoddy service but for the virtually ignored жалобная книга (book of complaints), where one could write comments about bad service without having any major effect on it.
In that period, calling a waiter “waiter” earned you no points (this is equally true today). So customers racked their brains to find a good euphemism for the despicable официант. Some would implore the prideful waiter with маэстро (maestro) or браток (little brother). However, the most frequent formulae were the anonymous and beseeching, “Можно Вас на минуточку?” (“Can I speak to you for a second?”) and “Будьте добры”(“Would you be so kind?”)
In today’s consumer society, though, some Russian waiters have actually take to smiling at customers. They bring you the menu (меню), give you clean napkins (салфетки) and even let you take your time in making your choice. When you’re ready, they typically ask you politely, “Вы уже выбрали?” (“Have you chosen already?”). Some even adopt good old phrases from Chekhovian times, like, “Чего желаете?” (“What would you like?”) or “Желаете что-нибудь на десерт?” (“Care for a dessert?”).
Then they patiently note down your order, which will normally include закуски (starters), первое (soups), вторoе (hot meals), and десерт (dessert). What is more, many now speak English, so you may not need to learn the words for various dishes. Still, your waiter will certainly be charmed if you drop a few, key Russian phrases. For example, if you want to order the same meal as your host say, “мне то же самое” (“The same for me”) or something like, “А Вы что рекомендуете?” (“What would you recommend?”) Or, “Я полагаюсь на Ваш вкус”(“I’ll rely on your taste”).
The waiter may respond to your inquiry by offering you their favorite special dish (фирменное блюдо) and что-нибудь из напитков (something to drink). When your meal is served, it is customary for the waiter to wish you приятного аппетита (have a nice meal). Once in a while they might ask to change your ash tray (поменять пепельницу) and as soon as you’re finished they may ask: “Я могу это убрать/ унести?” (“Can I take this away?”).
When the solemn moment of payment comes, take note of the formula: “Счёт, пожалуйста/посчитайте нам пожалуйста” (“Can I have the bill, please?”).
And how do you finesse the everpresent social challenge of deciding who picks up the tab? Well, usually when a Russian asks you “В какой ресторан пойдём?” (“Which restaurant are we going to?”) or says “Я приглашаю Вас в ресторан” (“I’m inviting you”), it’s on him or her. Likewise, when you hear your Russian friends say, “Я плачу” (“I am buying”) or “Я угощаю” (I’m treating you) “Я сегодня гуляю” (“I’m letting my hair down today”), don’t even offer to go Dutch. While you are at it, don’t look for an equivalent to “going Dutch” in Russian. In theory you can say “каждый платит за себя” (“everyone pays for himself”) but in practice nobody either says or does this.
If you invite a Russian out to dinner – especially a lady – you’re buying. If you don’t, your Russian friend may complain the next day to his/her friends that “он меня не понял” (“he didn’t get me”). Your man the waiter may make the same remark if you don’t leave a tip (чаевые). By the way, don’t take the word чаевые (tea money) literally – like the guy from the Russian joke who gave his waiter two pieces of sugar instead of money. By Russian standards, if the service was good, your tip has to be worth more than a cup of tea.
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