I wrote an column earlier this summer about working, but if you do the math and add up the percentage of my life that has been spent at work recently, you'd agreed that it was hardly sufficient. Considering there have been somewhere around 12 weeks of summer so far, thus 12 articles, divided up among the topics that have occupied my attention, you'd get a ratio of like 5 columns about work, 3 columns about writing, 2 columns about not being able to see my friends, and 1 column about how what topics my columns should cover (that's this one).
The problem is that work takes up the time needed to write those columns, hence why i have been sporadic and flaky. Here's more about my job:
I work at Fuddruckers. I'm an almost waiter, in much the same way that people should almost tip me. About one in ten tables leaves a few dollars for me, and even then half of those are probably people unsure of the proper etiquette and erring on the side of “No spit in their food” on their next visit. If they were observant, they'd notice that i never touch their food, preventing me from exacting unjust revenge. Besides i don't think i have enough spit to ruin the orders of all the people who don't tip. People order at a register, sit down, I bug them, they get their food, I bug them, and then right as they are contently full and on their way out, I bug them one last time. If people knew that I've gathered up 600 dollars this summer, they'd probably take their nickel with them.
A major part of my job is being cheery and shmoozing with the “Guests.” It's fun when I get a table that will joke back with me and at least break the monotony, but it's a rare few that actually have original comebacks to my cheesy help. I've found that you can't tell people “If you need anything, just ask,” because this mischievous grin will spread across their face as they cheekily request some exhorbitant favor. The most common is of course “How about a million bucks?!” Oh, You guys… I'm going to have to watch this table, ya'll are trouble. I feel like the waiter from Office Space. Here's the other requests in ranked order:
– how about a baby sitter?
– a winning lotto ticket?
– could you wash my car?
– could you stop staring at me like that.
– could you please stop beating me with that high chair i asked for? (i have limits)
The Fudd's I'm at is corporately owned, meaning it has all the bureaucracy and standards you'd expect. They even attempt to control our vocabulary. We don't have Rags we have towels, We don't have customers we have guests, and we don't have employees we have associates. Actually we have neither because they all quit after dealing with their bs policy.
Now for a word with the Kiddies, WHAT THE FUCK!? I'm usually the type to get along with kids. But work in a restaurant long enough and you'll start to hate them. even if they behave themselves, they still don't know how to find their mouth half the time. They also don't finish food, leave crayons and paper out, and order the most revolting ice cream flavor of all time: Bubble gum. And babies, aww babies are cute. Every time I walk by them they stare at me in confusion/fear/amazement because of my beard. Then I do my cute little “Hi!” but still just blank expression. The the parents gotta feed them little torn up bits of food right from the table so there's a fresh saliva coating from when their undeveloped motor skills require them to stick their entire fist in their mouth to get the crumb between their thumb and forefinger.
The bad part about restaurant work, is that if your friend works 9-5, you end up working the exact hours he isn't, and guess what, Weekends are your busiest times.
Since this article has been somewhat straightforward, I'll leave you with some reponsese I wish I could give to customers. Not because i really hate my job, but just because after saying, “SURE, no problem” over and over, you want to bust out with a “FUCK YOU LADY” every once in a while. It's similar to how Bob Saget loves really raunchy humor because of all his years on Full House.
Is this thing going to buzz?
– No ma'am, actually it's going to unfold some little wings and a propeller like a transformer. It will then fly over to your food and attach tow cables. Yes even the fries too. On the return trip it releases the cables, parachuting your burger down to you.
(when i approach) Oh, we already ordered our food.
– No you didn't. Those people up at the front don't work for Fuddruckers. They are an Improv humor group that perform little shows involving input (both verbal and monetary) from the audience, YOU. It's really entertaining. So if you'll please repeat your order, I'll get the cooks working on it Asap. Oh those guys, look at em, so funny. Ya'll are PROS!
My kid's meal is supposed to come with free cookie, right?
– Yes you are indeed right, but by cookie we mean SHUT HIM THE FUCK UP or we stab him.
Excuse me, That video game took our money.
– Actually all video games take your money, See when you put it in there, it goes into a collection bin, and then some greasy guy comes with a key and empties it, chuckling all the while that your kids are so dumb that they actually find that piece of shit entertaining. Seriously the game did you a favor by teaching your kids that disappointment is a major part of life. Next time just leave the quarters on the table for me, I'll entertain your kids. Entertain them with my shoe.
Can I have a to-go box?
– Anything to get your ugly ass outta here faster.
All I can say is that I saw a trailer for the movie Waiting, and I'm dying to see it.