Hi Marjarie! How are you this evening...
Well, I've been better Chantel, the restaurant business is a bitch... but that's why I love it..
I hear ya, I hear ya.. well let's get right to it then..
Chantel and Marjarie get comfortable and start chain smoking cigarettes....
I have a new life as an owner of a diner here in East Nasty, and this bitch keeps me busy 18/7 (the other 6 hours are spent sleeping/drinking copious amounts of alcohol in order to keep the insanity from kicking in all at once) Anyway, tonight was one of those nights. One where we continually ask each other if perhaps it is a full moon. And since LAST Friday was Friday the 13th. I know that wasn't it. Let me begin with Table 1.
Table 1 is the very first table you encounter when entering.. right next to ye old front door. Also known as the Simon and Garfunkel table. ( If you've been to my place, then you know why that is.) I'm in the window Expoing for the rush when one of my servers comes up and says
"The lady at Table 1 is puking, what should I do?"
My first instinct is to cringe, wrinkle my nose, and reply
"OOH. Gross." Then I remember that I actually own this place and probably expected to do something about it. As luck would have it, the very next tray of food slated to leave the kitchen is for Table 2, so I can run their food while simultaneously taking a sneak peek at 1, if for no other reason then to ogle the gross puky lady. I thought "Maybe she was starting to feel sick and any second would make a bee line to the bathroom. Nope." She sat right where she was, vomited in her napkin and approximately 27 other towels my server brought for her for maybe 1o minutes. Then she and her companion hung out for awhile longer, with a pile of vomit/filled rags sitting on the table. No offer to dispose of them, or ritually burn them in the parking lot or anything. Then they paid the tab and left. Three guesses what lucky person got to bus Table 1.
At this point, I am seriously reconsidering my decision to own a place rather that slave away for the man.
Fast forward about 30 minutes. Dinner rush is in full swing. Apps, are flying out the window. New tables are sitting only seconds after they have been bussed from the previous folks. We are busy. Somewhat "in the weeds" if you will. Another server comes up and says,
"Ummmmm. I've had a couple of people tell me there is a problem with the women's bathroom. I think someone put oranges in the toilet."
I'm thinking, "Is this a euphemism for something and I'm just not hip to the lingo?" I certainly have never heard that phrase before. Drop the Cosby Kids off at the pool, choke the brown snake, take the Browns to the superbowl, Yes. Oranges.... Not so much... Of course, I remove my apron and go investigate. Sure enough, deep in the toilet, is what appears to be a whole orange covered with tissue. WTF???? So, I make the server retrieve the litterscoop for cleaning our outside ashcans and fish that puppy out. I mean, I already did my part, by cleaning up 82 vomit rags earlier. It is someone else's turn. Besides, I sign their paychecks?
" Oh, yeah. I would've have hated me too..." Anyway, turns out it is a pair of orange panties wadded up almost flushed.
"Come on, ladies.!!!!!! There is a garbage can in there!!!"
Well, those are the two capers for the night. All in all, it was just one of those filled with odd requests, odder people, and strange occurances all of which I'm sure will be rehashed with increasing hilarity over a few cocktails and cigarettes. And we'll do it all again tomorrow..
Well, thank you Marjarie, for that precious story... that is both disgusting and revolting.. you've got to hand it to those crazy mother fuckers out there...
SO tune in tomorrow for "Your favorite Running duty".... no where else but "in the weeds...."
Signing out,
Chantel Finklestein..
omfg. that reminds me of when I worked at Western Sizzlin back in the early to mid 90's. We had these regulars who used to come in the first Friday of every month (maybe on their welfare check??) and they'd sit as far back in the restaurant as they could. There were always 5-7 of them and it took me 2 months to figure out what was going on...
ReplyDeletethey'd order their dinners, and lots and lots of boxed milks. Luckily I never had the pleasure (?) of waiting on them, but they'd never bother any of the waitresses for anything, no refills were required since all they drank was milk from those little boxes. and they'd be there for at least 2-3 hours just refilling salad plates. At the end of their visit they'd disappear and the unlucky soul who waited on them were greeted with cartons and cartons of vomit. (omg, I'm gaggin just remembering it) I don't know whether they were under the impression it was a Roman food orgy or what...but omg. and the fuckers NEVER left the waitress a tip!!! *shudder*
Kimber p,
ReplyDeleteThat takes the cake for the most disgusting wait experience ever. I am always amazed at just how disgusting people out there really are.. You know, you don't change the sheets for one week and you're like "OMG, I'm so fucking DISGUSTING, I could be on Oprah like one of those pack rat ladies that has shit stacked to the ceiling, and then you meet some of these folks, these milk carton guzzling pukers and you realize, what's a few dust bunnies, at least I don't let dogs eat Kibbles out of the bathtub right??? DISGUST and thanks for sharing...
Chantel
Grossest story ever. The sizzler one, I mean. Making me throw up in my mouth a little just thinking about it.
ReplyDeleteI know right???? EWWWWWWW.....
ReplyDelete