WW welcomes letters to the editor via mail, e-mail or fax. Letters must be signed by the author and include the author's street address and phone number for verification. Preference will be given to letters of 250 words or less. WELL DONE Just a quick note to say what a great article this was ["The Poisoned Well," WW, Jan. 6, 1998]. Incredibly tragic and full of unanswered questions. I read A Civil Action years ago while working in a lab doing TCE bioremediation work. It made me think even harder about the true health effects of chlorinated solvents as well as the problems associated with synergistic effects of multiple pollutants on humans and the environment. Keep up the good work. Christina Noftsker Exponent Environmental Group Bellevue, Wash. WORD UP H.V. Claytor's claim that the Portland Police Department is an example of Oregon's supposed "hostility" towards black people was lame and even stupid ["Portland, What's the Dilly, Yo?" WW, Jan. 6, 1998]. Claytor seems to forget that the Portland Police Department is headed by an African American, Charles Moose, who has people of color in every level of his department. The real racists are people like Claytor who perpetuate racial stereotypes, half-truths and lies. Word up. D. Gray Southeast 121st Avenue BEYOND THE CALL OF DUTY I'm sick of petty, peevish, peewee food critics who scapegoat waiters for so-called dining disasters ["Stand and Deliver," WW, Dec. 29, 1998]. What kind of a food critic pretends to "get to the heart of what makes a good (and bad) waiter" without including the correlation of good and bad clientele and restaurants? Serving in this town can be utterly impossible, so we don't need pseudosophisticated backwater hacks carelessly making our jobs worse. What server wouldn't love to work at the RingSide with its ample and adept floor and kitchen staff, appreciative clientele and those sweet country-club perks? Most of us servers bust our asses for chintzy ignoramus malcontents, in an understaffed you're-always-to-blame atmosphere, with periodic perks that consist of paychecks that don't bounce. Shamefully critics don't write about the other side of the dining experience, so there's enough untold ground to fill volumes. The three main aspects are: customers from hell, sociopathic cooks and clueless management. As important as minimum wage is, it's really an ever-present condition, like a disease or not knowing how to tip. Customers from hell: Not all customers but quite a few, depending on the night or maybe even the moon, are simply a pain in the ass. Most of the time it's not what they do, it's what they don't do or don't know that makes them such a pain. It's hard to believe, but people go out, especially in large parties, without planning anything except showing up. What do you do with a group that doesn't know how many will be joining them, if they have a reservation or who's name it would be under, if they smoke, if they're eating, drinking, both or neither? People don't communicate, don't know how to order, how to tip or comprehend the existence and ramifications of other people. When are customers from hell at their painful best? When they pay the bill. It's amazing how people will be friendly enough to break bread together but will not spend one cent of their money on anyone else's meal. Separate checks 'til death do they part. On a busy night it can take up to 10 minutes for one credit card transaction. Keep that in mind when you hand your server five of those babies. And if watching a large party try to pool their money isn't excrutiating enough, some people don't realize that the extra money they shoved in their pocket was your tip. News flash: Tipping is not a rebellion in China; customers pay for their service, not employers, and servers pay taxes on tips whether we get them or not. For excellent service tip as much over 20 percent as you can. For good service, 20 percent. For OK service, 15 percent. If you want to slap your server's face, 10 percent or less, and never go back. When you plan to dine out, plan for a tip. Sociopathic cooks: You inform the cook that the steak you ordered rare was cooked well, so the cook takes the plate while screaming and throws it against the dishwasher wall. Clueless management: The boss yells at you for upsetting the cook. I implore all fellow food and beverage servers to respond to Roger Porter's cheap shots on servers. Let's end our silence to critics who blame all dining disasters on us. Let's sophisticate our diners, defy the critics and make serving in Portland a livable occupation. Tell me, Roger, was I aloof, intrusive or did I already (horrors) bring the dessert tray around? Excuse me, but my "sixth sense" tells me your partner wants some room to relax while you finish eating your pile of shit, so I'll just grab his plate and be off, enjoy. Robert Christian Northeast Weidler Street - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Willamette Week | originally published January 13, 1999