THE WAITING ART.

Hawera & Normanby Star, Volume LXI, Issue LXI, 28 January 1911, Page 10

THE WAITING ART.

(By Clarence Rook, in the London

Daily Chronicle.)

The Prof essor • stood vp —a man with a wide waistcoat and a genial eye. Opposite him a dozen boys lined up rather breathless but expectant, and observant of the green baize table behind which ; the Professor stood. The table was; strewn, heaped and almost running \ over with the appurtenances of the i entertainment, things in linen and i jglass and silver, and the Professor looed like the ancient conjurer behind his array of deceits, .but the boys were interested as the Professor said: ; "No then! What is-this?" ; The Professor plunged ; a hand into \ the mass of things,, held up . one of • i them, and the boys- guessed it; at once, j |A 'dozen voices convicted it of being \ a. plate—dinner plate. "And this?" asked the Professor. He was caught at once. "And this —and this?" was the question as the Professor held up 3ne article after another, and the boys guessed right. The Professor could not deceive them with his soup plate and his coffee cup,, and. -was,. one thinks,. a little nettled at, his failure.; The boys r-clean^ well-collared, observant boys— watched the conjurer behind-thft table, who picked up an- object. "This?" guessed right. "Well,1 this?" "Wine glass!" came the answer. "What Wine!" was the question. And the Conjurer looked like winning until one boy said it was a liqueur glass. I The conjurer had a bad time with his tumblerb and claret glasses and finger f>owki, but the audience caught him out 4ach time, and knew the difference. And . then the . conjurer picked... up . a bottle and threw it> as it were/ at the audience; One ■• of r the collection of fcottles onnthe table. "What's that?" There were a doaen bottles on the table, of various shapes and sixes, and the puzrie went to the boys—in up-and-dowri collars—who watched the Professor waving his bottle. ; "Not quite right! There v is an 'H' in Hook>" said the-Professor genially, when the reply came. And he;was encouraged. And' then the' Professor played with forks and spoons and soup ladles and mustard spoons and pepper casters, and fish Knives and' fruit knives, and nutcrackers, before the eyes of the attentive boys. And they generally.guessed right. Until the Professor picked his object from the pile, and won a point with the production of a teaspoon which was greeted as a saltspoon at long, range. Thus encouraged the .Professor played his last card which.-he >had- jup-his sleeve, or> rather, under the table. ""Now, what is this?" he asked, holding it up by the handle.

"Slop-pail I" shouted one youth. "No! Wine-cooler!' came with a laugh from the others.

The -r Professor explained that this youth had been in the school only for two evening!.

And then a deep shame fell upon me. For I was watching,.the methods of a sohool for waiters* which has-been organised by the : Loyal British. Waiters'' Society, and I was.isitting.,at an imaginary lunch (at 5.80 in the evening) in the- basement- of a restaurant■> in Surrey street, London, W.C. It was a: simple lunch, and nothing was eaten. But the prospective waiters had served me— and an imaginary company of a dozen or so—with-the simple lunch the waiter.,has to serve in : an ordinary, restaurant. These youths-had taught me something. For they had given me a ltinch with only the framework of it. They had " hurried through the whole business from the dusting of the chairs to the laying of the tablecloth, the folding of the serviettes, the arrangement of, the cutlery,, the spread of glass and crockery, the set of cruote, and; all the time there was nothing to eat. Only the mere appurtenances of eating. And the shame fell upon me when I contemplated the heap, of implements upon the baize-covered table. ; iThat huge pile, of glass, orockery, cutlery, knives, forks, spoons, serviettes, tablecloths, bottles, fruit knives, fish knives. . . . I had eaten nothinjgj but here was the bare framework of. things that stand between you and the consumption of tood, the lir.en, the gljass, the knives and forks, th< crockery; when you go through an imaginary meal served by a school of waiters, and see only the framework of your food, when you see the whole apparatus piled on the baize table, you will look ats it in wonder and shame. For looking at that pile of flummery I remembered that the best lunches jl had ever | enjoyed were cut with a clasp knife from chunks of bread (with something between) and, washed down with the contents of a pocket flask. It takes all that pile of stuff yob reflect ac you contemplate the baize table, to induce, you to perform thp simplest and most common function of humanity—to eat your lunch. Just an ordinary lunch for which you mfty pay a shilling or two—why—the reflection comes—the very simplest meal means a whole array of paraphernalia, designed tn deceive you into the belief that you are not a cave man Packing flesh with fingew, designed to j put a barrier between your -natural defire of food and drink and the bald facto that you are drinking and eating. For the profession of the waiter is a skilled one (at its best). Just as that of j the engineer, though you scarcely notice him. You complain only when the train i«-late,-.or. the bridge-breaks do^Vn. And,the man who sits down to | lunch and has to shout for a mustard I poij is on a level with the man who ; curjses the lateness of his train They both forget that behind, their usual conveniences is a whole army of servitors, who have to study detoift, and

bring the splendid result quietly before them.

You do not notice the waiter until he makes a mistake. But see him, ac a boy of sixteen, learning the names and sights of dishes and bottles, things he has never heard of before, at the waiters' school in the side street That school has been started by the Loyal British Waiters' Society, and the Professor is Mr Collins, who has been a waiter himself } and risen from spittoon boy to a professorship of waiting. There is no reason, thinks the School of Waiters, why the young EnglishI man should not achieve the triumph ot the Swiss, the Italian, the German, the French, as a waiter. And at the school I found « dwelt yowaj Baglua» \ men —with observant eyes, md clean 'collars—laying the table from tablei cloth to coifee cup> and • a Professor, | who averred that the waiting profession was a paying one, and—only wanted to be learned.

He had sent out Ms pupils to many hotels and restaurants—pupils who had begun the search of the mysteries of the glass, the bottles, the language, and even knew what au gratia means. "There is no reason," said the Professor, "why any of these boys shouldn't be a first-class waiter. The demand for English waiters is greater than the : supply, and if they only learn their trade they are sure of a job. I can't get boys enough for the demand." "Learn their trade!" I exclaimed, as the boys went off. "It's a pretty complicated onel" For I was reflecting on the fearful complications of my imaginary, lunch. "Exactly," said the: Professor, as he began packing up the silver from the baize table. "After a fortnight's training—and we give it almost free to the British boy—he'll be able to genre a chop decently." Now, have you ever counted the things that the waiter must know before he serves you ■■ with a chop?