This morning I pooped and forgot to wipe before I pulled my pants back up.
By the time I realized what I had done, it was too late. I had already committed.
Plus I didn’t feel like unbuttoning, unzipping, pulling my pants off, wiping, changing, etc.
That takes way too much effort.
What am I, an athlete?
That is a rare treat.
Unfortunately, I only remember one instance of someone realizing their error and laughing it off/apologizing to me. It was small and not even worth tell you about.
I always get the stupid ones that get instantly angry when they don’t understand something then when they realize they are wrong I get blamed for not “explaining it correctly”.
I respect anyone that can admit their mistakes and laugh at themselves.
So starts the fourth weekend in a row of me closing by myself.
This shit needs to stop.
Thank you! I’m glad I decided to use categories. I’d go crazy trying to keep track of everything had I not.
I sure can:
Rules for Approaching My Register.
Pick of the Litter.
Tales from the Breakroom.
Why I Was Late.
Why My New Job Sucks.
Mornings with Spawn.
No, Because Fuck You.
Conversations with Mikey.
Quickies with Paul.
Those are the categories as of today. I recently went through my blog and deleted, modified, and corrected a LOT of stuff.
Customer: What’s a Deep Dish Pizza?
Me: It’s a pizza that’s made in a pan with sides so that the crust is about an inch and a half high. It’s very thick. Most people use a fork to eat one.
Customer: No..like..WHAT is it?
Me: Umm…a type of pizza?
Customer: No, I mean, does it, like, have a top?
Me: A top crust? Like a pie? No, it doesn’t.
Customer: Then what is it?
Me…It’s a thick pizza. I don’t really know how to better describe it. If you look at our menu online we have pictures of them.
Customer: Pictures of what?
Me:…Of the deep dish pizzas…
Customer: What’s a deep dish pizza?
I sat a family of 3.
They had the most adorable and well-behaved 7 year old boy.
When I bent down to give him his menu and crayons, he looked up at me with a straight face and asked what he seemed to think was the most important, and most serious question one person could ever ask another,
"Do you…like dinosauruses?"
Me *matching his serious tone*: “I LOVE dinosauruses. I’m currently reading Jurassic Park! It’s also my favorite movie! Have you ever seen it?”
Boy: “NO! THERE’S A MOVIE ABOUT A DINOSAUR PARK???!!!”
His parents made a disapproving sound that I assumed was them telling me it’d give him nightmares.
Me: “There is! And everyone gets to watch it when they turn 13.”
Boy: “Can I pretend I’m a dinosaur?”
Me: “You can be whatever you want to be little man!”
Sadly, I had to go back to the front when the phone rang. As I was taking a to-go order, I heard a sound coming from the back of the restaurant and about died when I realized that it was the sound of a dinosaur roaring.
Or, more likely, a little boy pretending to be one for the entertainment of those seated around him.
A party of 5, 4 adults and 1 five year old, walked in.
Me: “Hi, How’re you today?”
The Mom: “5 and we want the patio.”
Me: “Sorry, the patio’s actually full right now. But I can seat you inside or you can wait for the patio.”
The Mom with a look of disgust and shock: “It’s FULL? You can’t find room for just 5 people?”
Me: “I mean unless you want to picnic in the grass or sit with strangers in the middle of their meals then, yes, it’s full.”
The Mom: “This is ridiculous! That’s the only reason we came!”
Me: “Sorry, it’s summer. A lot of people like the patio so it gets filled pretty quickly especially on weekends.”
Just as I was finishing my sentence, I heard a gagging sound and a splash right next to the hostess stand. Thankfully it was on the side opposite from me so I didn’t gain any visual evidence of what my mind already knew.
The bitch’s spawn threw up.
What did the mom do?
She ignored it and continued to bitch to the others in her party about the fact that they couldn’t sit outside.
She didn’t run to her son. She didn’t verbally acknowledge the happening, she didn’t try to clean it or help clean it, she didn’t apologize on behalf of the kid, nothing!
She treated it like it was my job to apologize for her son throwing up and immediately clean it.
Do I pick up your dog’s shit when you take it for a walk?
We had to find a willing employee with a strong enough stomach to clean it up. Were it me, I’d throw up and add to the mess.
A server, who is a mom and used to gross things, volunteered.
Did the family thank her?
Of course they didn’t. They stepped around her as they stormed out pissed that we couldn’t seat them on the patio. I talked to the server and looked down just in time to see the mop slide over full chunks of bacon and eggs.