It'll probably be a good thing. I'm particularly happy for (now-former) co-worker Sweetie, who I have been, OK, I admit it, BEGGING to go out with me. She's way too nice to tell me to fuck off and now she won't have to. I didn't ask to like her but I may as well have. I'm also embarrassed to tell ya that not ever seeing her again is BY FAR my biggest regret about losing this job. I hope her life goes great and she manages to stop being geeked out on that shit all the time. Oh well, not my business or my problem, hunh? O yeah. This here episode is the first-ever one where there was no rough draft or anything and I'm just thinking it and typing. You thought previous installments were lame? Stick around for this one!
The age mentioned and the (in actuality non-Mexican) restaurant named are inaccurate. The rest is true.
Here's a joke for ya: What was the old definition of a pathetic loser?
A 53-year old man who's been a waiter at El Chico for nine years.
What's the new definition of a pathetic loser?
A 53-year old man who used to be a waiter at El Chico for nine years until yesterday when he got fired!
Not bad, hunh? No brag, just fact: I made that up! Although it is based on true events.
I'm trying to tell the story correctly and succinctly. I'm sure I'll fail miserably on both counts but here goes: I felt like shit all the time for years and it sucked. After lots of trial and error and research and a little effort on my part, I finally have a handle on that. I consume only healthy foods. If it's something I like, I can't have it. Plus I get a lot of exercise, mostly jogging and lifting some weights. They're not that heavy but if you lift 'em a lot, it feels like they are. It seems to be working pretty well too, 'cause right now I've never felt better.
I've always been a kind of a high-stress server (only because I care so much!) and that's how I roll but here lately it's gotten a little out of hand. I smile out front at the clients but I've been kind of a (seemingly but not actually) speed-addled dickhead to work with here lately. Like, I rang up something with honey mustard on the side the other day. It was run to the table by someone without the honey mustard. The table was a young couple who were very nice. They politely asked me for some honey mustard as though they'd just now thought of it instead of like we'd fucked up and God bless them for that. I freaked and SCREAMED at the kitchen crew something about thanks for ruining my goddam life and if I didn't get my honey mustard immediately I was going to come back there and skullfuck somebody. Recently I totally went off on my nice co-workers because of some very minor procedural disagreement about how they were rolling their silverware. I apologized later and they were all kind enough to forgive me and I'm very grateful for that. I've been freaking out in the BOH but managing to seem pretty chill in the FOH. Except the other night at the service well, I'm about to have a heart attack because some beverages have taken too long when the bartender informs me that some crucial ingredient is unavailable. "Ya know," I told her in a voice just a little too loud for such convo and that may have been heard by some of the bar regulars, "I used to think I was a pretty good waiter but now I realize I suck and it's all because I work at El Chico!"
So last night I was special guest fill-in bartender. I'd been on shift for about two hours and things were going well (I've been REALLY TRYING to chill and I believe I was finally getting somewhere with that) when GM Brenda B (a great manager and a better person) called me aside. "It's been alleged that you were observed huffing from a whip cream container last night. Would you please write your version of events on this here piece of paper please?"
My version of events was, and I wrote, "Thank you for a great nine years! Good-bye," and signed my name. I told Brenda B I was truly sorry for putting her in the unpleasant situation and told her so long. I obviously have been very hyper lately and I promised her I was not on any recreational intoxicants and, while I swear to God that's true, if you'd of seen my recent behavior, you might have a hard time believing me. I really don't know what's wrong. I mostly feel great but work stresses me out more than ever. Could kale and store-brand V-8 juice from a blender really be that powerful?
Brenda advised me that I wasn't fired yet. I was to show up for a meeting the following afternoon with the (Area Director) Shane, a good guy I've known for years. "Don't be so pessimistic," Brenda said. She's smart but she doesn't get it. I'll show up this afternoon as a courtesy but I feel as though I'm being treated shabbily and can't imagine a scenario where I'd ever condescend to work for that lousy company ever again.
Oh yeah. Did I woof N²o out of an empty (I'd never do it if the can still contained saleable product; that would be theft!) whip cream can? Between you and me, yes. Usually I'm very discreet about such things but I was kind of showing off for a pretty girl. I can't remember who. I also told Brenda the truth. I don't know what I'll tell Shane this afternoon but I absolutely won't cop to the charges. The shit that charges the whip cream can will get you pretty fucked up but it goes away in like two minutes. It's not like I was smoking blunts on the back dock or doing lines off of Sweetie's ass in the parking lot (Sweetie and her lovely ass and me in the parking lot?! Hell yeah! If I got all that going on, I can personally do without the coke! ). I have a lot of regret and guilt about my life but not about some lousy whip cream deal, the only recreational intoxicant I've allowed myself for years. I want to thank my erstwhile co-workers ( who I pray to God never read this) for their patience, kindness and friendship. Whether or not this is the last installment of These American Servers™ ( and it probably isn't) I want to thank everybody who ever commented, LIKED, followed, read or just accidentally clicked to this cause they thought "servers" was computer-related, thank you so much and God bless you.
Cheers, ______-Joe
The age mentioned and the (in actuality non-Mexican) restaurant named are inaccurate. The rest is true.
Here's a joke for ya: What was the old definition of a pathetic loser?
A 53-year old man who's been a waiter at El Chico for nine years.
What's the new definition of a pathetic loser?
A 53-year old man who used to be a waiter at El Chico for nine years until yesterday when he got fired!
Not bad, hunh? No brag, just fact: I made that up! Although it is based on true events.
I'm trying to tell the story correctly and succinctly. I'm sure I'll fail miserably on both counts but here goes: I felt like shit all the time for years and it sucked. After lots of trial and error and research and a little effort on my part, I finally have a handle on that. I consume only healthy foods. If it's something I like, I can't have it. Plus I get a lot of exercise, mostly jogging and lifting some weights. They're not that heavy but if you lift 'em a lot, it feels like they are. It seems to be working pretty well too, 'cause right now I've never felt better.
I've always been a kind of a high-stress server (only because I care so much!) and that's how I roll but here lately it's gotten a little out of hand. I smile out front at the clients but I've been kind of a (seemingly but not actually) speed-addled dickhead to work with here lately. Like, I rang up something with honey mustard on the side the other day. It was run to the table by someone without the honey mustard. The table was a young couple who were very nice. They politely asked me for some honey mustard as though they'd just now thought of it instead of like we'd fucked up and God bless them for that. I freaked and SCREAMED at the kitchen crew something about thanks for ruining my goddam life and if I didn't get my honey mustard immediately I was going to come back there and skullfuck somebody. Recently I totally went off on my nice co-workers because of some very minor procedural disagreement about how they were rolling their silverware. I apologized later and they were all kind enough to forgive me and I'm very grateful for that. I've been freaking out in the BOH but managing to seem pretty chill in the FOH. Except the other night at the service well, I'm about to have a heart attack because some beverages have taken too long when the bartender informs me that some crucial ingredient is unavailable. "Ya know," I told her in a voice just a little too loud for such convo and that may have been heard by some of the bar regulars, "I used to think I was a pretty good waiter but now I realize I suck and it's all because I work at El Chico!"
So last night I was special guest fill-in bartender. I'd been on shift for about two hours and things were going well (I've been REALLY TRYING to chill and I believe I was finally getting somewhere with that) when GM Brenda B (a great manager and a better person) called me aside. "It's been alleged that you were observed huffing from a whip cream container last night. Would you please write your version of events on this here piece of paper please?"
My version of events was, and I wrote, "Thank you for a great nine years! Good-bye," and signed my name. I told Brenda B I was truly sorry for putting her in the unpleasant situation and told her so long. I obviously have been very hyper lately and I promised her I was not on any recreational intoxicants and, while I swear to God that's true, if you'd of seen my recent behavior, you might have a hard time believing me. I really don't know what's wrong. I mostly feel great but work stresses me out more than ever. Could kale and store-brand V-8 juice from a blender really be that powerful?
Brenda advised me that I wasn't fired yet. I was to show up for a meeting the following afternoon with the (Area Director) Shane, a good guy I've known for years. "Don't be so pessimistic," Brenda said. She's smart but she doesn't get it. I'll show up this afternoon as a courtesy but I feel as though I'm being treated shabbily and can't imagine a scenario where I'd ever condescend to work for that lousy company ever again.
Oh yeah. Did I woof N²o out of an empty (I'd never do it if the can still contained saleable product; that would be theft!) whip cream can? Between you and me, yes. Usually I'm very discreet about such things but I was kind of showing off for a pretty girl. I can't remember who. I also told Brenda the truth. I don't know what I'll tell Shane this afternoon but I absolutely won't cop to the charges. The shit that charges the whip cream can will get you pretty fucked up but it goes away in like two minutes. It's not like I was smoking blunts on the back dock or doing lines off of Sweetie's ass in the parking lot (Sweetie and her lovely ass and me in the parking lot?! Hell yeah! If I got all that going on, I can personally do without the coke! ). I have a lot of regret and guilt about my life but not about some lousy whip cream deal, the only recreational intoxicant I've allowed myself for years. I want to thank my erstwhile co-workers ( who I pray to God never read this) for their patience, kindness and friendship. Whether or not this is the last installment of These American Servers™ ( and it probably isn't) I want to thank everybody who ever commented, LIKED, followed, read or just accidentally clicked to this cause they thought "servers" was computer-related, thank you so much and God bless you.
Cheers, ______-Joe
Oh Joe. Now I get it.
ReplyDeleteAnd where the hell was I? I am so sorry my friend.
Sigh. I don't know what to say. I will email you.
I do know to say this - you are a wonderful, caring man. A man who has pulled me out of a dark hole on more than one occasion, made me smile and brought a light to some days that otherwise were going to suck out loud.
All through these silly interwebz. My Tadpole.
I KNOW the people that surround you, know you, care for you, in real life feel as I do. How can they not? If you can get love, caring and gentleness across a screen to a SAHM living in VA - then those closest to you MUST feel it on a daily basis [no small jealousy on my part mind you. :)]
Take care my friend. I am an email away - and a phone call if you ask. I am right here, as you have always been for me.
xo Skip
I'm an IHOP waiter and I understand. I'm a 30 something year old Man who speaks three languges and the best I can fucking do is IHOP! I've been the one empty whipcream can in hand! And and screw sweetie If that didn't impress her! next time drag another bitch to the walk in and let sweetie see you doing coke off of the other bitch's ass! Fuck sweetie She probably turned you in For the no2!
ReplyDelete