i just want you to know, sir i just want you to know sir, that when you waited for me to come back to the table after i handed you the bill…this bill is soaking wet, now…. and then you personally apologized, and personally handed me what you thought would somehow compensate me, and then left, i just want you to know, all your worst fears were true, i did hate having you there, i hated you the whole time, and however much you compensated me, i dont know, i never even looked, because it wasnt enough, and years and years later, i know how right i am about that because i’m still traumatized by the mess you made…. iiiiii made? what do you mean by that? well, let me ask you a question…how angry and hostile were you when i told you that i was sorry there wasnt a kids menu, because first of all, i dont make that decision, you know who does? that big greek woman who was fawning all over your baby when you came in, thats who, anyway how mad were you that there was no kids menu and where did aaaaaall your full-grown-men-friends go because i know a mess like this was not made by your baby…or your wife! and you parents were both so happy and grateful when i came over with the straw, you even gave me a knowing look, you said something like, maybe she knows, maybe she has kids too…they never gave us a straw before…well i dont know what its like to have kids, i dont know if ill ever want to after this experience and why is the straw now floating, half wet, half dry, twisted wrapper and all, mocking me, on the top of this disaster zone, like a cherry on top of an icecream sundae thats upsidedown?! when i said it was really nothing, and i had seen a lot worse and then you all of a sudden werent ashamed anymore, and, even a little proud that your baby wasnt as bad as maybe the others…let me ask you….just because someone else punched me in the stomach harder yesterday than the punch in the stomach you gave me today, doesnt make it right. maple syrup, cut pieces of french fries, wet salt shakers with bloated rice in them (wasnt that rice there to keep the salt dry?), how am i gonna clean all this and replace all this, oh, that huge refillable ketchup bottle that was full; empty now too? is this table ever gonna be back the way it was because theres a line by the door of people glaring at me, waiting to finally sit down and make a huge mess with their babies. we dont even cook rice here, how am i gonna find it. did you say, look next to the salt. and, does your baby ever eat or drink anything at all, anything at all because i dont know a lot about physics, but theres more shredded pieces of food and liquid in a big wet pile on my table…. and now dripping down the sides…not to mention the slop around your smiling baby’s face and hands than i ever, ever served you! were there other waitresses here serving you the piles and piles of additional food and liquids thats now all over the table because i should know about that, because then ill have to split up the tip you just personally gave me, and then, maybe then i’d have to look at how its not enough. the straw was always the biggest problem, the owner was i guess a little thrifty, she’d give us a glare anytime we brought over a straw without the people actually asking for it, and, like for major clearings, all the slop could go in a bucket and then the contents could go down the drain but if the straw or even worse, the straw wrapper went down the drain, it was aaaallllllllll over. you ask, did that ever really happen? i imagine, it had happened long ago, before i worked there and, like some things, it was so horrible that it never happened again and everyone associated with that incident, except the boss are long long gone…and holding the straw, separate, while youre contending with the table, its like you almost want to put it in your mouth, or behind your ear because you need both hands but its too disgusting for that. for major disasters, young kid, sergio would help, he made it look like magic when he bussed my table, i always was so incredibly overwhelmed, but sergio or julie, aka red (big red hair, big red heart, and best waitress ever) would wave their hand a few times and it would all, all that horrible mess, would magically be gone, like it never happened, the way you are, sir, like it never happened, when you come back next time. and, this time, at the end of the day, just when youre starting to forget, its like a miracle, a whole greasy, disgusting hamburger paddy, completely clean of all the gloppy stuff we put on it, on a long diagonal, farthest away from where the baby was sitting, and way under the radiator, where only a little tiny hand could go, but i never saw the baby leave the highchair…cant get it up with the hand sweeper, it smears into the carpet, might get clogged up in the vacuum, i guess ill have to crawl in there and really use my hands and interrupt all the sweeping and vacuuming i’m supposed to be doing, dont want to be the last one finished while everyone else is waiting to lock up and leave…. just to make a special trip to the garbage and personally throw this out… it could have been there forever, but no, its still moist, i know it was you…but how? why? the straw floating on top up your mess wasnt hostile and rude enough? are you at home laughing? thinking about me finding this later, as a another reminder that you were here, making me miserable? and, maybe instead of apologizing to me and compensating me for all the trouble, what about the trouble you have now that you didnt even acknowledge your wife!, who worked even harder than i’m about to work, cleaning your table, she made a lot of sacrifice plays and saves during the meal, saving everything that is now on the table from going on that bald man’s head, he was sitting just behind your baby (he did look a little tense and jumpy, like he wished that wasnt his seat anymore, but wanted to try and finish his meal anyway), anyway, she made her saves and her sacrifice plays, cut up the food while her food got cold while you were busy eating and complaining about how there wasnt a cheaper menu for you at this little greasy spoon…and now like youre the manager of the team and not an actual player, youre apologizing to me for not winning the game and youll try to do better next time when she couldnt be working any harder. was this supposed to be a little break for me? your wife is wondering, like did you think like, i’ll be a good husband, i’ll do something nice for you, you wont have to cook and clean for two hours, we’ll go out to a cheap greasy spoon, and they’ll cook and clean for you. because you said it would also be our time to talk and, ok i guess you did talk about how the place wasnt cheap enough for you, and, you did talk to the waitress about how sorry you were, were you talking to me too? or was i too busy cutting up food and avoiding complete catastrophies? **** youtube/watch?v=7Hep289_7Y8 something in red - angela kaset
Posted on: Sat, 08 Jun 2013 17:04:12 +0000