Last Saturday, dishwasher Fellows had an issue with Chetto. I don’t know what happened, but it involved Chetto’s little bitty pocket knife and the word ‘shank’. Or at least that’s Fellows’ version of it. No one else who was present remembers anything except for Chetto cleaning his nails with his little bitty pocket knife.
It was necessary to have a big meeting on Wednesday to hold Fellows’ hand and assure him that he was delusional safe from harm.
So tonight Fellows came to work breathing like he just finished running a marathon. I asked how he was doing and he told me it was “complicated”. Whatever. He asked where Chetto was, then proceeded to creep around like he was a cat in a house full of dogs.
I was in the wait station reading a brochure when Fellows ran around the corner and slammed himself against the counter and stood there panting as if maybe my dogs were after him. It was like something you would see straight off a children’s cartoon; totally ridiculous. I have never seen such a blatant grab for attention and sympathy from someone who considers themselves an adult. I have no patience for that kind of shit. I rolled my eyes and told him he was creating his own problems. Then I told Chetto he needed to get Fellows out of the wait station before I made him cry. Dude’s a dishwasher; he needs to be in the dish pit or with the cooks.
It seems he overheard me, so he left. Crying. Am I psychic or what?! I’m probably going to be in trouble for this.
On one hand I feel bad because he’s so socially awkward. On the other hand I don’t because food service is a tough gig. We are like a bunch of cannibals. Then there’s always the possibility Fellows might decide to bring a gun to work because Chetto, the teddy bear is a threat. My opinion is Fellows is a stinky racist who has always had an issue with Chets because he’s a Mexican and in a position of authority.
I say this is why you don’t hire people who are registered with the state as emotionally handicapped.