Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, you're cool, fuck you, I'm out
That's about how I feel right now.
with an innocent couple of tables promising a good evening. All of the sudden, Bo's yelling for me from downstairs to pull all the water off the tables. Apparently, a water main has broken and the water is contaminated. Nobody's supposed to drink it or use it in any manner whatsoever unless it's been boiled for a good hard long time.
We yank the waters and assuage the fears of the customers, then head in to the long debate about what we are still able to do without using outside water sources. I had never realized how dependant we were on water... No water means:
1. No dishwashing-- the dishwasher runs at over 100 degrees, but the last water that hits the dishes is cold so that nobody burns their hands, defeating the heated water's germ killing action.
2. None of the food we'd washed that afternoon was safe for consumption. This meant no salads, veggies, etc.
3. Nobody in the kitchen could wash their hands. Preparing meals would have had to be done in gloves in case of getting sauc eand sticky and flour, etc. on their hands which woul dhave to be removed with more than just anti bacterial stuffies.
4. No water for the customers (we solved this by buying jugs).
5. No ice for making drinks (we solved this by buying bagged ice).
6. No sodas or anything that comes out of a drink fountain because the CO2 and syrups are mixed with water from the system (we solved this with a 10 for $10 litre sale at Kroger).
7. No hand washing for customers (though we solved this with hand sanitizer).
Because none of this could happen, we shut down the kitchen and made the afformentioned parenthetical adjustments. We lost a lot of business and I made $30. Just when I thought it couldn't get worse than last Friday night.
We were mixing and serving drinks in plastic and styrofoam cups to save having to wash more dishes tomorrow (luckily we found out before Reggie ran the dishwasher) and I spent the entire night making sure Sarah didn't wash her hands. You would think a rag tied around the faucet (as in blocking the faucet head) would keep her from it, but her habit knows no bounds.
pretty much everyone else stayed at the bar, and the night I though culminated when, on their way out, they saw a mouse scamper down the stairs. Now, granted, a mouse is better than many things the could have seen, but still rather embarassing. "We don't have any food because the water's bad." *mouse darts across floor* "I swear, it's not because the mouse ate it all..."
They left and life went on. I wrapped things up, Sarah and I started drinking and ate our Chick'fil'a and had a merry old time with the badn that was playing, Soda Jerk. They were kind of country-y, bluegrassy. They did David Allen Coe, and Stand by Your Man.
Sarah and Matt were like, "OK, there's not even enough for Sarah to do, so head on."
WIth beer in hand. I made sure the extra one that got opened by mistake didn't go to waste (that was beer 2), then I made sure that I had plenty to keep the others company (beers 3 and 4) and then I decided they needed to make new friends (cider 1).
I sat outside and talked with Luke, Santi (Santiago Sheehy-Hampton for you DHS folks), Carrie, and a couple of Sage/Birdi's regulars for a while, quizzed Luke on his beers for Brickstore, and just generally chilled. About 1a, we moved the party inside so we could at least act like we were closed and all of the sudden drama ensues.
He's relatively harmless, helps the restaurants out to earn a few bucks now and again, but tonight... well, tonight he pushed the envelope just a tad. He came in through the back door (which Matt stupidly forgot to lock) and was trying to get a drink. Matt told Michael, the bartender at Sage who was hanging out with us, to go ahead and pour him a drink. Michael tells Marcus that he can't have **that** much burbon and tries to pull a fast one. Maz, our head cook, is completely fucking wretchedly trashed at this point and takes offense at Marcus getting a free drink and tells Michael to cancel the order. Marcus picks a fight with Maz about it right in front of me and Santi and all of the sudden we're in the middle of a barfight between a 110lb cokehead with a MOTHERFUCKING KNIFE and a 200lb drunk cook who really ought to be from Jersey the way he acts and talks.
We pull them apart (as in, me, Matt, Santi, and Michael) long enough for Marcus to drop the knife and run out the back door. Maz gets ridiculously pissed, goes to the kitchen and starts digging around in the utensil drawer and Matt goes in to talk him down from going after Marcus with a very large knife. Maz still goes after Marcus, at which point Michael, Santi and I (and Loud Jen, but I don't really count her) head out to try and prevent jail sentences, Michael leading the way with a food tray from the hallway to the back door.
They're only yelling at each other, thankfully, and we get Maz back to the restaurant where he calls John (the other cook) to come up and have a shot or two and cool off with him. Michael, Santi, Matt, and I break down and clean the bar in 5 minutes to get that bitch closed up.
Me: So, Matt, what have we learned tonight?
Matt: Always lock the back door.
Me: Damn straight.
So there you go. We lose water, have a mouse, and I get to help break up a barfight involving a concealed weapon and a cocaine addict. Rock on.
Most ridiculous night. Ever.
By the way, RiverThing is my "Say What?!" icon
with an innocent couple of tables promising a good evening. All of the sudden, Bo's yelling for me from downstairs to pull all the water off the tables. Apparently, a water main has broken and the water is contaminated. Nobody's supposed to drink it or use it in any manner whatsoever unless it's been boiled for a good hard long time.
We yank the waters and assuage the fears of the customers, then head in to the long debate about what we are still able to do without using outside water sources. I had never realized how dependant we were on water... No water means:
1. No dishwashing-- the dishwasher runs at over 100 degrees, but the last water that hits the dishes is cold so that nobody burns their hands, defeating the heated water's germ killing action.
2. None of the food we'd washed that afternoon was safe for consumption. This meant no salads, veggies, etc.
3. Nobody in the kitchen could wash their hands. Preparing meals would have had to be done in gloves in case of getting sauc eand sticky and flour, etc. on their hands which woul dhave to be removed with more than just anti bacterial stuffies.
4. No water for the customers (we solved this by buying jugs).
5. No ice for making drinks (we solved this by buying bagged ice).
6. No sodas or anything that comes out of a drink fountain because the CO2 and syrups are mixed with water from the system (we solved this with a 10 for $10 litre sale at Kroger).
7. No hand washing for customers (though we solved this with hand sanitizer).
Because none of this could happen, we shut down the kitchen and made the afformentioned parenthetical adjustments. We lost a lot of business and I made $30. Just when I thought it couldn't get worse than last Friday night.
We were mixing and serving drinks in plastic and styrofoam cups to save having to wash more dishes tomorrow (luckily we found out before Reggie ran the dishwasher) and I spent the entire night making sure Sarah didn't wash her hands. You would think a rag tied around the faucet (as in blocking the faucet head) would keep her from it, but her habit knows no bounds.
pretty much everyone else stayed at the bar, and the night I though culminated when, on their way out, they saw a mouse scamper down the stairs. Now, granted, a mouse is better than many things the could have seen, but still rather embarassing. "We don't have any food because the water's bad." *mouse darts across floor* "I swear, it's not because the mouse ate it all..."
They left and life went on. I wrapped things up, Sarah and I started drinking and ate our Chick'fil'a and had a merry old time with the badn that was playing, Soda Jerk. They were kind of country-y, bluegrassy. They did David Allen Coe, and Stand by Your Man.
Sarah and Matt were like, "OK, there's not even enough for Sarah to do, so head on."
WIth beer in hand. I made sure the extra one that got opened by mistake didn't go to waste (that was beer 2), then I made sure that I had plenty to keep the others company (beers 3 and 4) and then I decided they needed to make new friends (cider 1).
I sat outside and talked with Luke, Santi (Santiago Sheehy-Hampton for you DHS folks), Carrie, and a couple of Sage/Birdi's regulars for a while, quizzed Luke on his beers for Brickstore, and just generally chilled. About 1a, we moved the party inside so we could at least act like we were closed and all of the sudden drama ensues.
He's relatively harmless, helps the restaurants out to earn a few bucks now and again, but tonight... well, tonight he pushed the envelope just a tad. He came in through the back door (which Matt stupidly forgot to lock) and was trying to get a drink. Matt told Michael, the bartender at Sage who was hanging out with us, to go ahead and pour him a drink. Michael tells Marcus that he can't have **that** much burbon and tries to pull a fast one. Maz, our head cook, is completely fucking wretchedly trashed at this point and takes offense at Marcus getting a free drink and tells Michael to cancel the order. Marcus picks a fight with Maz about it right in front of me and Santi and all of the sudden we're in the middle of a barfight between a 110lb cokehead with a MOTHERFUCKING KNIFE and a 200lb drunk cook who really ought to be from Jersey the way he acts and talks.
We pull them apart (as in, me, Matt, Santi, and Michael) long enough for Marcus to drop the knife and run out the back door. Maz gets ridiculously pissed, goes to the kitchen and starts digging around in the utensil drawer and Matt goes in to talk him down from going after Marcus with a very large knife. Maz still goes after Marcus, at which point Michael, Santi and I (and Loud Jen, but I don't really count her) head out to try and prevent jail sentences, Michael leading the way with a food tray from the hallway to the back door.
They're only yelling at each other, thankfully, and we get Maz back to the restaurant where he calls John (the other cook) to come up and have a shot or two and cool off with him. Michael, Santi, Matt, and I break down and clean the bar in 5 minutes to get that bitch closed up.
Me: So, Matt, what have we learned tonight?
Matt: Always lock the back door.
Me: Damn straight.
So there you go. We lose water, have a mouse, and I get to help break up a barfight involving a concealed weapon and a cocaine addict. Rock on.
Most ridiculous night. Ever.
By the way, RiverThing is my "Say What?!" icon