Situation Normal. Atmosphere Breathable. Brainstem Injected. Dialogue Engaged.
Wednesday, December 27, 2006

Aprons For Slaves

I was running food out to table 331 last night; about seven or eight shitsmear teenagers sat there; decked out in their new Christmas gift clothes.

One girl in particular decided to test my patience. To see if she could make me lose my temper. To see if she could crack my veneer of professionalism, my ironclad cheer.

"You know what? This looks gross. I don't want any cheese."

It was a basket of potato wedges. To be fair, once the cheddar cools and sets, it looks like a slimy orange blanket of nasty. I could sympathize. I checked with Eric.

"No, she said cheese."

I believed him, but I went and got a basket plain for her anyways. I dropped it off.

"Can I have another Diet Coke?"

Why the hell not? Eric was busy at another table, and it would take a mere moment or two for me to refill her. I did.

"Can I have another ranch?"

I got the ranch.

"Actually, I want some blue cheese."

Jesus Christ on fire. I went and nabbed a cup of queso azul from the order staging station.

"You know what, I need some water, too."

As I placed the water before her, she stared at me, playfully, searching my expression for impatience, for a frown, for pure raging hatred. I displayed none. My perfunctory impersonal polite smile stayed firmly in place. I showed no sign of weakness. I would not be broken by this irritating C student.

"Can I get you anything else?"

She looked around her table, desperate to give me another slave chore. I waited, smiling. She had nothing. She looked back up to me, her smile fading, her mouth a tight unhappy little line.


Until that moment, I was seething inside, a vast cauldron of boiling hatred. When I saw her mischievous grin evaporate, knowing I had won, that hatred disappeared. I realized she's doomed to spend the rest of her life seeking happiness through manipulation and subterfuge. I felt sorry for the sad little bitch. For a second. One flickering second.

I marched off.

Shortly before close, I entered the men's washroom to mop. I saw that some guy had lined the toilet with paper to keep his ass clean and free of microbes. You know, the old makeshift teepee ass gasket maneuver. Perfectly normal.

Problem was, he didn't lay the toilet seat down first. He was so drunk he created his sanitary butt buffer on the toilet rim. The paper was soaked stuck to it. So I guess he got a piss halo on his caboose anyways. Poor drunk bastard.

7:50 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm


December 29, 2006 12:24 AM, Blogger Lostinspace said...

Hi Happy New Year early to you. I could really go for some of those wings in your pic. I'm actually a ranch whore and can't have anything else, ha ha. Finally emerged from my cave and responded to your kind comment from a prior post of mine. Thank you always for letting me bleed and be perfectly comfortable in my perfume and bacteria under the glass lens of your delicate microscope.

January 01, 2007 10:53 PM, Blogger karen gsteiger said...

Happy New Year, Steve! Hope you treated yourself kindly!


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