Waitress and Waiter Interview Questions and Answers

I like being busy and I like people, and waiting tables is one of the few jobs where you get both for a whole shift. I worked weekends in a café while I was at college, and the part I enjoyed most was the regulars: remembering how someone takes their coffee, or that a family always wants the table by the window. Small things like that are what make people come back, and I could see they made a difference to the takings as well. I'm applying here because you do a proper lunch and dinner service with a seasonal menu, so I'd learn far more about food and wine than I could in a café, and the ad mentions training on the wine list, which I'd like to get better at. I'm happy to work evenings and weekends, and over time I'd like to move up to a senior or supervisor role.

I'd listen first, without interrupting, and apologise for the experience even before I know what went wrong, because the guest mainly wants to feel heard. Then I'd ask what exactly the problem is: whether it's cold, not what they expected, or has something in it they can't eat, because that changes what I do next. If the dish isn't right, I'd offer to replace it or bring something else, take it straight back to the kitchen and explain the problem calmly to the chef, and let the manager know so they can decide whether to take it off the bill. I'd check back on the table once the new plate arrives. What I'd never do is argue or blame the kitchen in front of the guest. Last summer a guest sent back an overcooked steak, we replaced it within ten minutes, the manager took dessert off the bill, and they left a good review that mentioned how we'd handled it.

I let every table know I've seen them, even if I can't serve them yet. A quick "I'll be with you in two minutes" stops people feeling forgotten, and most guests are happy to wait once they know they've been noticed. Then I prioritise what can't wait: food sitting on the pass goes first because it goes cold, then drinks and orders, then bills, while making sure a table that wants to leave isn't kept waiting too long. I never walk to the kitchen or back empty-handed, so I clear plates on the way past rather than making separate trips. And I ask for help early. If my section is getting away from me, I'd much rather tell a colleague or the supervisor straight away than apologise to four tables twenty minutes later.

Guests should feel looked after without feeling watched. That means being there when they want something, whether it's the menu, another drink or the bill, and leaving them alone when they're deep in conversation. I try to read each table, because a couple on a date wants a different service from a business lunch or a family with two small children. It also means knowing the menu well enough to answer questions properly, what's in a dish, what's popular and what I'd recommend, instead of running to the kitchen every time. And it's the dull things done well: clean tables, the right cutlery down before the food arrives, glasses topped up. People don't notice those when they're right, but they always notice when they're missing.

On a busy Saturday I put the wrong main through for one guest, chicken instead of the vegetarian risotto. I spotted it at the pass before it went out, because I check every plate against the ticket. I told the guest straight away that their dish would be a few minutes behind the others because of my mistake, and asked the kitchen to put the risotto on as a priority. With my manager's agreement I offered the table a round of drinks, and the risotto came out about seven minutes later. The guest was fine about it, mostly because I'd told them before they were left sitting with an empty place while everyone else ate. Since then I read every order back to the table before I put it through, and it's caught a few mistakes already.

A party of twenty-two turned up forty minutes early on a night when we were already fully booked. The kitchen was under a lot of pressure, so before taking the order I went to the head chef and asked how they wanted it sent: all at once, or in two waves. They asked for two waves of eleven, so I took the order in two halves and put the second through fifteen minutes after the first, and I told the table their food would come out in two rounds so nobody was surprised. I also wrote every allergy clearly on the ticket, because a mistake there is the worst thing that can happen in a rush. Everything went out hot, and the chef came out at the end of service to thank the floor team. It taught me that a two-minute chat with the kitchen before a big order saves a lot of trouble later.

In a pub I worked in, a customer had had too much to drink and was getting loud with the group at the next table. I went over calmly, kept my voice low and spoke to him away from his friends, because embarrassing someone in front of their group nearly always makes things worse. I told him I couldn't serve him any more alcohol and offered him water and something to eat. He wasn't happy at first, so I brought in the duty manager, as our policy said, and kept my tone polite the whole time. In the end his friends took him home, and I wrote it up in the incident book at the end of the shift. What I took from it is that staying calm and getting the manager involved early works much better than trying to win the argument on my own.

I take it seriously every time, even when it sounds like a preference. I ask exactly what they can't eat and how serious it is, then check the allergen information for the dishes they're interested in, using the venue's allergen matrix rather than my memory, because recipes and suppliers change. If I'm not certain, I ask the chef rather than guess. When I put the order through, I mark the allergy clearly on the ticket and tell the kitchen in person as well, and I make sure the right plate goes to the right guest. I also think about sauces, garnishes, desserts and drinks, because that's where nuts often turn up. If we can't be sure a dish is safe, I say so plainly and suggest one we can be sure about.

By making suggestions rather than sales pitches. If someone orders a main, I might mention a side that goes well with it, or a wine by the glass that works with the dish, and describe it in one sentence so it sounds tempting rather than scripted. I always give a real recommendation, the dish I'd order myself, because guests can tell when you mean it. Timing matters as well: offering dessert or coffee as I clear the mains, before they've asked for the bill, feels natural, whereas pushing a starter on someone who's said they're in a hurry doesn't. And I take no for an answer the first time. A guest who feels pressured spends less on their next visit, if there is one.

I'd ask for ID, politely and without making a scene, which is the Challenge 25 policy most places I've worked at use. The accepted forms are usually a passport, a photo driving licence or a card with the PASS hologram. If they can't show one, I'd explain that I can't serve them alcohol and offer a soft drink instead, and I wouldn't let myself be talked round even if their friends vouch for them, because the person who makes the sale is the one held responsible. If anyone got aggressive, I'd call the manager. I'd also refuse to serve someone who's clearly drunk, which is against the law in England and Wales too, and I'd note any refusal in the refusals log if the venue keeps one.