Confessions Collection

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!

Busy

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.

The Sweaty Silverware

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.

The Staff Meeting

After an insane six hour fathers day shift, nothing was more appealing to me then crashing hard and sleeping late into the afternoon. But 8am came so quickly.
I woke up to a viciously annoying alarm. Rolled out of bed, pulled my hair back into a loose pony, wiped off my smeared eyeliner and mascara, and left for the dreaded staff meeting.
Box's of greasy doughnuts and flavored creamers awaited us, as if to soften the proverbial blow waiting to confront us.
"Things are gonna change around here" shouted one manager.

"We really need to get our asses in gear" screeched another.

After the yelling died down, the full story surfaced. Just a few days prior we received an unexpected visit from the health inspector. And, well...It wasn't a successful inspection, to say the least.

We failed...Big time.

For stupid things to. Like the bleach rags not being "fully submerged" in the bucket, and not having tongs in the lemons.

I laughed at the thought of the health inspector watching us work on a busy Friday night over a secret hidden camera. Picking fries off of the plates and dunking them in the ranch, taking a quick sip of our guests Long Island Iced tea, and throwing hot potatoes from the prep line, to the kitchen and back.