Tom Dilello is in his eighth year as a Charlottesville waiter—which makes his career more than twice the average restaurant’s lifespan. He’s worked at Martha’s Café, Northern Exposure (where Dilello says a lot of local restaurant workers got their start), Papagayos ("the guy put a quarter million dollars into it and didn’t know what he was doing—it was a total flop"), Maharaja, Blue Light, Mas and Zocalo. These days he works at Maya and Petit Pois.
 After eight years as a waiter in Charlottesville, Tom Dilello has a mind lit up with many tricks of the trade, and one philosophy: "The criteria for the job is really just liking people." |
Dilello, 51, got an electrical engineering degree at Virginia Tech, but he found after working five years at the Naval Research Lab in Alexandria that he wanted more free time. He moved to Charlottesville in 1986 with friends to do artwork and says he grew pot for money. Not until 2000 was he called to serve. He describes his work in his own words.—Will Goldsmith
"I never waited tables in high school or college. The idea to wait tables came from a lot of my friends who were doing it. My daughter had just come to live with me and I couldn’t be living like a frugal artist any more. And my daughter was waiting tables out of high school at Keswick. She’s the one who showed me how to do a wine opening and all that.
"The criteria for the job is really just liking people. If you don’t like people and you get really bitchy—if you’re sensitive to the way people treat you, you’re not going to make it at all. It’s being able to get down and communicate with everybody, read them—you have to be able to do that. Seeing how they react to your comments and making them feel comfortable, see the kind of service they want. Sometimes people are really Christian Right and I’m not, and you still just have to make them feel good. I just love people.
"Sometimes you talk to them and you can tell, ‘Well, I’m going to be treated like an indentured servant tonight.’ Some come across as really nice and all of the sudden they start treating you really mean. And they get meaner and meaner and they’re just really trying to make you angry, so what I’ve gotten really good at is, ‘Oh, you’re going to play that game with me?’ and just shower them with more kindness and more kindness and just do every little stupid thing that they want you to do—and they end up getting mad. It’s hilarious.
"We had this one family over at Zocalo, must have been 15 people. And they claimed their family owned a restaurant and it was really good. So they all ordered steak and they all wanted it well done. Well done in this town —it’s not going to be cooked dry, it’s still going to be a little pink. Our chefs don’t like to destroy meat. So we brought it that way, just barely pink in there. And they were like, ‘God, you expect me to eat this, I wanted well done.’ So we tried it a second time—a whole table a second time. Put all the meats back on the grill a little bit longer. And it was still good, there was no pink left but it was still tender, and they still go, ‘This is not well done.’ So we take it back a third time and cook it up like dried shoe leather and gave it back to them. It’s hilarious, man.
"There was one time where I did get thrown for a loop. This guy was so mean I couldn’t believe it. This guy goes, ‘Do you expect me to eat this shit?’ And he mentions the owner’s name and he’s just like, ‘This is full of shit,’ blah blah blah blah blah. Everybody in the restaurant literally stopped talking. I couldn’t say a damn thing. He had lobster ravioli, which was really good actually. And his wife is just trying to calm him down. I just stopped dead in my tracks and said, ‘Can I make you something else?’ He’s like, ‘No, just take this shit away from me.’ Later I tiptoed around the table, gave him a check. He gave me a 20 percent tip. But man, I just didn’t have a handle on that.
"I’ve waited on him since too, actually. I don’t think he remembers me, though. I give the guy poor service every time.
"It always seems to happen when it’s the busiest. Actually, waiters are at their worst when it’s really slow and they get bored and they just give bad service. When it’s busy, that’s when you get a better level of service, actually. Everybody sits down at once, it’s such a challenge. That’s what I love about Petit Pois. When it gets really, really busy, what we call ‘bean in the weeds,’ just run run run run run; you’re always a half step behind. That’s the fun part, I think. That’s the challenge, to see how fast you can go.
"Part of what I love about the job is you can make decent enough money so that you can travel at the same time. If you want to take off, if your shifts are covered, you can go. I probably travel a good two and a half, three months a year. I’m really into Mexico and Central America. I used to go a lot to Europe, but I’ll probably never go back there again. It’s so First World. Wal-Marts everywhere.
"The wealth factor here just makes it so you can actually make a good living here waiting on tables, you really can. A lot of shifts you’ll get $150 to $200 a night. Bartenders in this town at good bars make $300 to $500 a night. This town doesn’t seem to get the fluctuations of the economy either.
"It depends which night is the best. I’d probably say Saturday night—but sometimes Tuesdays. Sometimes you get a Paramount show, you can do really well. Friday night you can get the tourists. People will come in here at Petit Pois, ‘Can I get a hamburger?’
"I don’t like tourists at all. But the locals here are awesome, they treat you right. You have a small relationship with them because you know each other and some of them I’m on a first-name basis with, and it’s nice, you know? You don’t really have much of a problem with tipping in this town. The regulars always tip right—unless they’re regular foreigners.
"Chefs can be tense, and some owners, but those sort of people—I just tend to stay away from. I don’t like working with people like that. That’s part of the reason that I choose where I’m going. I like the idea of working somewhere where it’s more of a family scene, as opposed to an authoritarian scene. Mas, Zocalo, Petit Pois, Maya—everybody just sort of knows what to do and they do it. You don’t have these little stupid rules hanging over your head, people bitching at you. Shit like that.
Family-scene places are hard to find. Everybody in the restaurant business knows everybody, so you don’t want to fuck up, you know? If you don’t do the job right, you have a hard time moving on to other places.
"Still, we all have an off day. But when you’re working in a family-style restaurant, people pick up your slack. Your friends will pick it up for you. You’ll do the same for them at some point.
"Good food is a memorable experience. Good food is like good sex, it’s like the second best thing. I totally take pride in being a part of that experience."