Someone emailed me and said me comments are not working? Is this nonsense true? Or are you all just sick of me.
January 10, 2010
Someone emailed me and said me comments are not working? Is this nonsense true? Or are you all just sick of me.
December 24, 2009
October 16, 2009
As predicted, this term is an absolute doozy ! We are three weeks in, and I still haven't had a chance to stop and catch my breath. I took the first month off from work to focus completely on school without distractions. I told my boss I would be back mid-October, but the way things are shaping up, if I do return to work it may only be for one sad shift a week....and hell no, it doesn't make ME sad at all.
I plan to post any interesting events that happen throughout my clinical rotations however. I mean, I realize this is a waitress blog and all, but you KNOW you'd rather read about old man testicle gunk, or my incontinent coma patient shitting on me while I was changing his bed. After all, that's real entertainment. No more "Oh, table 3 is being a bitch" or, "that asshole didn't tip..." lets get down and dirty with the stuff life is REALLY all about.
In the mean time I plan on changing the title of this blog. Also follow me on Twitter for more frequent updates (though probably still uncommon). And make sure to not go anywhere! I haven't forgotten about you. I will post when I can, and will regularly update throughout school breaks.
Also, if you've ever taken any medical courses and worked with a SimMan or a mannequin, this video is sure to have you laughing your ass off!!
September 25, 2009
This week you bared your soul. You shared the gruesome details, you admitted to crimes against society, you laughed an evil laugh, and I loved every second of it.
Secret Confession #1- One time I had to deliver a fruit tray to the main office of the county department of health. The delivery was scheduled for very early in the morning, and was located a good 30 minutes away from my house. Since my work was another 30 miles away in the opposite direction, I decided to bring the fruit tray home with me to save an hour at the crack of dawn. That morning as I sleepily loaded the fruit tray into my car, I accidentally dropped it all over the pavement... There was no time to get the ingredients, much less prepare them, so I did the only thing I could think of: I picked up all of the fruit, rinsed it off, and reassembled the platter. Yup, I served pavement fruit to the health department.
Brilliant. The shear irony of the situation would have been to much to handle. Now, lets hear from the passive aggressive antics of a pizza maker, and a cocktail waitress...
Secret Confession #2- I used to work at a place that served take-away pizza. Whenever someone was especially rude, I would slice their pizza just hard enough so it looked like it had been sliced, but not hard enough to cut through the crust. Devastating? Probably not. But the thought of those jerks making a mess of themselves trying to eat a slice on the way home always made me smile.
Secret Confessions #3-When I was a cocktail waitress at a casino, I used to do something called "arm pit straws". Whenever a person was particularly nasty and called me a bitch, I would put their straw under my arm pit while I was delivering other drinks. I would then put the straw in their drink (arm pit side up) and deliver it with a smile.
Ahh, and just the thought of you silently sabotaging those asswads makes me smile too. Thank you all for your confessions this week. Keep them coming, as I am thoroughly enjoying reading through them. It sure is nice to know you are all just as screwed up and vindictive as I am.
September 21, 2009
When hubby and I first met during the awkward prepubescent years, we were like two zit faced tweens in a Proactive commercial. We smiled at each other with metal faces as I knelt down to give him a kiss. See, I had a growth spurt before most kids my age, and was much like an amazonian walking several feet above my peers. Though it was a successful year for me and sports, it was not uncommon for me to hear shouts of "She-Man" and "Giraffe" echoing down the halls.
Like most things that happen during the ages of 11-14, we pray they stay buried and locked within the walls of our junior high, our relationship was certainly one of them. Pictures were burned to hide the evidence that I had, in fact, dated a midget.
Six years later when hubby and I ran into each other again, I was happy to see that he was no longer 4'8, but was still as thin as ever. We started dating immediately and four years later we were married. Though he was still shorter then me, this time it was only by mere inches, rather then entire feet as was the case in junior high. We were finally on level playing field. Until slowly, I began gaining the dreaded marriage weight I had heard horror stories about. While some will be quick to blame the birth control, I will admit the fault was nobodies but my own... and whole milk, and ice cream. Four months after the wedding, I was shocked when my favorite skinny jeans didn't fit anymore.
In effort to save money, the grocery shopping was down to mainly essentials, and since hubby needs high calorie food and drink to keep up his weight (lucky bastard) I found myself buying whole milk, pasta, and Pepsi. (yes, Pepsi is an essential).
Once I identified the culprit I immediately changed my shopping habits. I began buying skim milk, non-fat ice cream and Diet Pepsi for myself, while still buying high calorie foods for him. Within months I had lost most of the weight, and rejoiced as I slipped effortlessly into my favorite jeans.
One night last week I called hub, and asked if he could pick me up a Diet on his way home. When he arrived home with Coke, I threw a fit. After a four month love affair with Diet Pepsi, I felt that drinking any thing else was an abomination. Three 2-liters in two hours later, I was addicted. I began bathing in it, washing my dishes with it, and feeding it to my kitten. I filled my car, my cereal and my aquarium with it. I washed my clothes, filled the hot tub, and watered my plants with it. I dreamt of it at night, and made love to it during the day. Thank you husband for accidentally bringing it home that fateful night that changed my life. I will now fight anyone who says that Diet Pepsi is better.
And on a completely unrelated note, this is the funniest blog ever!! Go check it out, and leave some love. Adnoxious.blogspot.com
September 17, 2009
Since 90% of my year is spent with my nose deep in the books, when each school term is finished I usually have a few weeks to unwind, stay in my pj's all day, veg out and watch the episodes of all my favorite shows that I've missed. So to commemorate my finishing Gossip Girl Season 2 in less than 4 days, I have decided to feature a weekly Confession, written by you of course.
Are you a waitress, a pizza delivery driver, a barista, a grocery store checker, a nurse, or a retail salesman? If you work in any from of customer service and have ever fucked with a customer unbeknownst to them, please share it here. Tell me your deepest darkest secrets. Tell me about the time you spit on a pizza, or the time you ate food from a patrons plate after removing it from their table. Tell me about pouring Visine into someones drink, or giving that hot guy a discount on sharp Cheddar at the store. I want the gruesome details! And don't worry, It'll remain anonymous unless you request otherwise.
To begin this new feature on Confessions of a Part Time Waitress, I will start by sharing a secret of my own.
When I was 16 I worked at Little Caesars Pizza. On many occasions during my delivery's I would sneakily eat a bread stick out of the bag. Since each bag came with 8, I figured nobody would ever find out. To this day I don't know if anyone did.
Now its your turn. Just type it into the box on your left!
September 10, 2009
September 9, 2009
I think I need to change my blog title to Confessions of the Occasional Waitress. Or maybe 5 Hours a Week Waitress, or possibly I Hate my Dead End Job and Can't Wait to Quit as Soon as I'm Done With School....What do you think? Sounds pretty catchy eh?
Last week was our "unofficial" anniversary weekend. We headed North to watch our favorite band play a show, and then camped for 5 days on the beach. We had so much fun, and dreaded the thought of coming home and heading back to work. Funny thing is, we're home and I still have 5 more days off. See, I'm quite possibly the least of my employers concern right now. When I was first hired I told my manager that I would have complete availability. 7 days a week, any shift, doubles, triples, anything. Then once I started, I found out I had been accepted into the Nursing Program, and that the next two years of my life would be a complete shit storm of homework, clinicals, and HESI's. So, imagine the managers surprise when they learned they completely wasted their time training me when I would only be available to work one, maybe two shifts a week. Oh well, I guess that's the gamble. So now they just don't schedule me. And to be honest, I'm not complaining. The less I work the happier I am.
Next weekend is our "official" anniversary and we have another weekend getaway planned. Then just days after we get back Fall term starts and I wont even have enough time to scratch my own ass let alone work a shift at the steakhouse.
September 3, 2009
Several months ago, The Hooters Girl challenged her readers to officially "Follow" her blog, and that who ever became the one hundredth follower would be featured on a Blog Share post.
As I have reached 85 followers of my own, I would like to present the same challenge to you. The one hundredth follower of my blog will receive a full post dedicated to them, (and the blog/journal or site of their choosing), and a link on my page under Favorites.
I would also like to add that in doing so, you will be guaranteeing much additional traffic towards your blog.
So, what do ya say?
Post by G.H. at 12:45 AM
September 1, 2009
Last night was my first day back from my bullshit suspension. Though I walked in feeling completely awkward and uncomfortable, both mangers did a good job pretending nothing happened, while whispers of "I thought she was fired," and "I hear she's been stealing for months" were overheard from fellow employees throughout the night.
It was a remarkably uneventful shift, spent avoiding confrontation of any sort. It was ridiculously slow, and we were asked to start small cleaning projects. I opted to roll hundreds and hundreds of silverware, as it beats the hell out of scrubbing crusted cheese, and layers of spilled sauce under the salad bar.
I think it may be the law anyway, but my steakhouse is what you might consider an equal opportunity employer. This usually means non-biased hiring towards sex, race, or religion. However we have often hired mentally handicapped people as well. Now, please don't leave nasty comments because I will have none of it. My Aunt had down syndrome, and I have a soft spot in my heart for the mentally challenged. I do not, however, think that they belong working in a stressful position like those offered at a restaurant. Our newest hired busser is handicapped. He is very friendly, and does what he is told, problem is it takes him 5 times as long to get it done, and he forgets important parts of each task, which usually takes someone else to clean up, or sort out.
Last night, I thought I would teach him to roll silverware, and smiled as his eyes filled with joy at learning the new skill. We spent about ten minutes together rolling silverware, when he was asked to empty all the trash cans. He returned from the job to continue with silverware, and was completely drenched with sweat. I assumed he had washed his hands, so we continued rolling. We made small talk until I caught him wiping drips of sweat from his forehead with his bare hands. At first I was unsure of what to tell him, so I just watched as he scratched his nose, rubbed his sweaty neck, and returned his hands to silverware rolling. I gagged a bit, and then I reminded him that anytime he touched his face he needed to wash his hands. He nodded agreeably, and took off to do so.
While he was gone, Manager C (the one to suspend me) walked by with her manager meal, said she would be in the office eating dinner if anyone needed her, and reached forward to grab the nearest silverware.
Of course she grabbed the one Busser had just snotted, and sweat all over. And of course I didn't tell her. I just snickered to myself, and told her to enjoy her meal.