The wind has been utterly insane this last week. On my way to work on Friday, I came over a hill to see a semi-truck toppled over in the ditch. People were running across the highway to help the driver, so it must have been a very recent accident. All I could say was, “Welcome to Harribalsac, Fucker.”
My last table last night consisted of two women who happily waltzed into the restaurant 15 minutes before close. Great. I love that shit, especially when the restaurant is empty. They took 10 minutes to decide what they wanted to order, then the older woman changed her entire order as I was leaving the table. They ordered an appetizer and one woman ordered a tossed salad as one of her side dishes.
I hung the ticket and went to make the tossed salad. Cora had just torn the salad corner down, so I had to dig all the ingredients out of the cooler, unwrap everything, make the salad, wrap everything up, and put all the stuff back in the cooler. Yeah, the bitching and cussing slowed me down. I took the salad out to the table and the older woman, who changed her order once already, asked if she could cancel the Cole slaw and have a salad instead. I thought my head was going to explode.
I delivered all their food and continued to clean while watching them s.l.o.w.l.y. eat. I cleaned the buser station. I cleaned the men’s room. I swept all of my section except the table they were sitting at. I mopped the outer edges of my section. I stocked the ladies’ room with toilet paper and emptied the trashes. I mopped all of my section except under their table. I noticed the younger woman was texting on her phone, so I picked up her dishes from the table and gave her the ticket. I went pee. I talked to Dani in the waitstation for a couple of minutes. I cleaned one toilet in the ladies’ room. Cora came in and I talked to her for a couple of minutes. I cleaned the other toilet. I waited. Certainly, they have to be gone. I cleaned the mirror. I cleaned the countertop. I cleaned the sink. I pulled the trash bag out of the trash can and FUCK ME if the older woman didn’t come in the restroom to wash her fucking hands.
I had to lock myself in a stall to keep from ringing her neck. Once she left, I opened the stall to see water all over the mirror, soap and water on the counter and rib sauce in the sink. I wanted to punch her in the throat. I re-cleaned everything and left the restroom. They were STILL at the table, haggling over how much they should leave me. By then I just wanted them out of the restaurant. I was beyond pissed off at their happily oblivious inconsiderate assholery. They decided 9% was a good tip and made their way to the register, where the older woman noticed the sign with our pies. Fuck me if she didn’t decide she wanted a piece of pie to go.
If there were ever two women I wanted to follow to the parking lot and slash their tires, these two were it. I mean, holy shit, batman.