Seis de Mayo Mayhem
As if you needed more reasons to consider me the most awesomely hilarious person in the world.
On Seis de Mayo, after a night of drinking and possibly making out with the most awkward person ever (DEFINITELY the most awkward person, DEFINITELY kissed him, and I POSSIBLY don't want to think about it anymore), I was rudely awoken by my ringing phone at 11:40am. By whom? My coworker at Macadam's, Grace.
I answer the phone with "Uh-oh, New Girl didn't show up?" I have GOT TO not answer the phone when it rings early in the AM on a Sat or Sun, because it's ALWAYS work calling me in. Anyway, Grace said "no, she didn't show up," and then launched into a tirade about how her total body was itchy and she wanted me to bring her some hydrocortisone cream. I said I'd be there in 30 minutes, and jumped in the shower. Actually, it was more like gingerly stepped in the shower. For all the beer and tequila I'd had the night before, I wanted to take it easy. Plus, there's a good chance that, having stopped drinking at 3:00am, I was still drunk.
So I get to work and I TOTALLY don't want to be there. My first table is a two-top: the man is blind, and the woman is neurotic. Great. My eyes aren't open all the way, and neither are Grace's, and she keeps stamping her leg, because it feels just as good as scratching but is more (are we sure about this?) discreet.
Grace slathers her body in the cream, and I go about my business.
Who would have thought the Seis de Mayo lunch crowd would come out in such full force? I guess 7 tables is not full force, but I certainly was overwhelmed.
My second table was a man in a wheelchair and his attendant/wife/daughter. He only grunted, and she was of West Indies descent. Anyway, when I told her we didn't have the Reuben anymore, the man poked me in the stomach and smiled. Sir, I know you're old and handicapped, but DON'T YOU FUCKING TOUCH ME AGAIN. Please.
Thank you.
My third table ordered beers. On my way to bring them their drinks, I ask another table what I can get for THEM to drink. BIIIG mistake. The first one, obviously hungover, asks me what we have on tap. I run through the list, and then he looks at my very heavy-for-a-hungover-server tray and says, "What do you have there?" I go through the drinks (Stella, Mirror Pond, and Drop Top), and he says, "I'll have a Mirror Pond."
The next guy is going through the list of bottled beers and he says, "What's a Dunkel?" I say "Warsteiner Dunkel? I don't know, it's German." He says "What's it like?" I say "I don't know, but I spilled one on the floor one time." He says, "But, what does it TASTE like?"
I'm in no mood, my arm is starting to hurt, and I'm tempted to spill the contents of my tray on his head. "I DON'T KNOW," I flatly reply. "I've never had it before."
"Well, it sounds good, I'll have one of those."
Ugh, fine.
I drop off the 4-ton tray of beers at the rightful table, and I say to them "Thank GOD you're better functioning than that table over there." They look at one another and chuckle. One says, "Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that."
They give me one of the more high maintenance orders of the day and that's strangely okay with me because AT LEAST THEY'RE NOT FUNCTIONALLY RETARDED like my homeys at Table Dunkel.
Other weird moments that happen before hilarity actually ensues:
1. Neurotic lady tells me she has an upset stomach, and wants to know if we use teriyaki in the BBQ sauce. No, Ma'am, We don't.
2. West Indies lady insists I gave her the wrong change, not telling me how much I gave her. I run back and get her a $10, and she blissfully peaces out. Whoops! I realize, I just gave her $19.50 and her bill was $10.55. She insists she never got a $5, so maybe I gave her $14.50, but that's still too much. Anyway, after chasing her down the street, I think we reached a semi-amicable solution. If only her cripple hadn't touched my stomach fat I would have spent more time being accurate and less time avoiding them.
3. A family has sat down, and one of the small children shrieks.
Okay, Hilarity: I go and see if I can get the third table anything else (they've got their beers and their high maintenance food). In reference to the child that just shrieked, one lady says, "Yeah... Can you make sure THAT doesn't happen again?"
Saucy. I like her. I'm going to run with this one. I muster as much regret in my face as possible and I say:
"Ooh, I don't know... It's been a really long time since I shot a baby."
The table erupts in laughter, and I pray the family didn't hear me. But at least I'm hilarious, right?
More Hilarity: Obviously I don't want to be there, right? What should happen next but I drop an entire 1/4 eaten Cobb salad on the floor. That makes sense, right? Ugh. The worst was it happened in front of the annoying Table Dunkel (which has gotten less annoying with time/beer). I get embarrassed and pick up the broken plates and mutter something about drinking too much last night and how today isn't my day, and they offer me some of their beer. I regretfully decline, for if it weren't illegal, I would have plopped down and had a beer with them right there.
I come back with the intention of cleaning the floor, but instead, I glare angrily at the salad, look up at the boys and roll my eyes, and walk away. This was moderately hilarious.
On my return, I say, "I really DON'T want to deal with that salad." The boys suggest I take one of last night's decorative sombreros and place it on the salad pile, thereby concealing the evidence of my crime.
Best idea I've heard in a long time. So down the hat goes, on the floor, and it stays there for the next 15 minutes. Kind of like a Wet Floor sign, but more festive.
NOT my day.
It got better after that. Mostly because customers stopped coming in. And my tables generally thought I was charming and hilarious considering I was working a shift I wasn't scheduled to work. Fucking New Girl.
After promises that New Girl would be fired for her no-call/no-show, and after my coworker Jamey was reluctantly called in to close for me on his day off, I plopped myself down at the bar and had my classic Vodka Strawberry Lemonade.
Delicious end to a ridiculous day.
On Seis de Mayo, after a night of drinking and possibly making out with the most awkward person ever (DEFINITELY the most awkward person, DEFINITELY kissed him, and I POSSIBLY don't want to think about it anymore), I was rudely awoken by my ringing phone at 11:40am. By whom? My coworker at Macadam's, Grace.
I answer the phone with "Uh-oh, New Girl didn't show up?" I have GOT TO not answer the phone when it rings early in the AM on a Sat or Sun, because it's ALWAYS work calling me in. Anyway, Grace said "no, she didn't show up," and then launched into a tirade about how her total body was itchy and she wanted me to bring her some hydrocortisone cream. I said I'd be there in 30 minutes, and jumped in the shower. Actually, it was more like gingerly stepped in the shower. For all the beer and tequila I'd had the night before, I wanted to take it easy. Plus, there's a good chance that, having stopped drinking at 3:00am, I was still drunk.
So I get to work and I TOTALLY don't want to be there. My first table is a two-top: the man is blind, and the woman is neurotic. Great. My eyes aren't open all the way, and neither are Grace's, and she keeps stamping her leg, because it feels just as good as scratching but is more (are we sure about this?) discreet.
Grace slathers her body in the cream, and I go about my business.
Who would have thought the Seis de Mayo lunch crowd would come out in such full force? I guess 7 tables is not full force, but I certainly was overwhelmed.
My second table was a man in a wheelchair and his attendant/wife/daughter. He only grunted, and she was of West Indies descent. Anyway, when I told her we didn't have the Reuben anymore, the man poked me in the stomach and smiled. Sir, I know you're old and handicapped, but DON'T YOU FUCKING TOUCH ME AGAIN. Please.
Thank you.
My third table ordered beers. On my way to bring them their drinks, I ask another table what I can get for THEM to drink. BIIIG mistake. The first one, obviously hungover, asks me what we have on tap. I run through the list, and then he looks at my very heavy-for-a-hungover-server tray and says, "What do you have there?" I go through the drinks (Stella, Mirror Pond, and Drop Top), and he says, "I'll have a Mirror Pond."
The next guy is going through the list of bottled beers and he says, "What's a Dunkel?" I say "Warsteiner Dunkel? I don't know, it's German." He says "What's it like?" I say "I don't know, but I spilled one on the floor one time." He says, "But, what does it TASTE like?"
I'm in no mood, my arm is starting to hurt, and I'm tempted to spill the contents of my tray on his head. "I DON'T KNOW," I flatly reply. "I've never had it before."
"Well, it sounds good, I'll have one of those."
Ugh, fine.
I drop off the 4-ton tray of beers at the rightful table, and I say to them "Thank GOD you're better functioning than that table over there." They look at one another and chuckle. One says, "Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that."
They give me one of the more high maintenance orders of the day and that's strangely okay with me because AT LEAST THEY'RE NOT FUNCTIONALLY RETARDED like my homeys at Table Dunkel.
Other weird moments that happen before hilarity actually ensues:
1. Neurotic lady tells me she has an upset stomach, and wants to know if we use teriyaki in the BBQ sauce. No, Ma'am, We don't.
2. West Indies lady insists I gave her the wrong change, not telling me how much I gave her. I run back and get her a $10, and she blissfully peaces out. Whoops! I realize, I just gave her $19.50 and her bill was $10.55. She insists she never got a $5, so maybe I gave her $14.50, but that's still too much. Anyway, after chasing her down the street, I think we reached a semi-amicable solution. If only her cripple hadn't touched my stomach fat I would have spent more time being accurate and less time avoiding them.
3. A family has sat down, and one of the small children shrieks.
Okay, Hilarity: I go and see if I can get the third table anything else (they've got their beers and their high maintenance food). In reference to the child that just shrieked, one lady says, "Yeah... Can you make sure THAT doesn't happen again?"
Saucy. I like her. I'm going to run with this one. I muster as much regret in my face as possible and I say:
"Ooh, I don't know... It's been a really long time since I shot a baby."
The table erupts in laughter, and I pray the family didn't hear me. But at least I'm hilarious, right?
More Hilarity: Obviously I don't want to be there, right? What should happen next but I drop an entire 1/4 eaten Cobb salad on the floor. That makes sense, right? Ugh. The worst was it happened in front of the annoying Table Dunkel (which has gotten less annoying with time/beer). I get embarrassed and pick up the broken plates and mutter something about drinking too much last night and how today isn't my day, and they offer me some of their beer. I regretfully decline, for if it weren't illegal, I would have plopped down and had a beer with them right there.
I come back with the intention of cleaning the floor, but instead, I glare angrily at the salad, look up at the boys and roll my eyes, and walk away. This was moderately hilarious.
On my return, I say, "I really DON'T want to deal with that salad." The boys suggest I take one of last night's decorative sombreros and place it on the salad pile, thereby concealing the evidence of my crime.
Best idea I've heard in a long time. So down the hat goes, on the floor, and it stays there for the next 15 minutes. Kind of like a Wet Floor sign, but more festive.
NOT my day.
It got better after that. Mostly because customers stopped coming in. And my tables generally thought I was charming and hilarious considering I was working a shift I wasn't scheduled to work. Fucking New Girl.
After promises that New Girl would be fired for her no-call/no-show, and after my coworker Jamey was reluctantly called in to close for me on his day off, I plopped myself down at the bar and had my classic Vodka Strawberry Lemonade.
Delicious end to a ridiculous day.