Ice, Ice, Baby...Part Deux

So, I have this ice in my car, almost to the point of melting because I cannot find a parking spot. Then a wonderful idea popped into my head. Nobody would be occupying the four new motorcycle parking spots by the front entrance and I could park there temporarily. I was almost to the spots when the car in front of me stopped to let out their old mother at the door. I was fine with that as I waited patiently. A car zoomed up next to me in the oncoming lane and let out their old lady, who walked out in front of my vehicle. What do you know...that car moves right into the motorcycle spots...parking in the middle two, leaving no room for me. I was infuriated and parked in the furthest spot from the restaurant. I walked to the front of the building and by that time the woman was backing out of the spot. I had no clue what she was doing, but I was determined to run back to my vehicle and zoom up front of the building. I claimed the spots temporarily and asked another busboy to assist me in carrying the ice bags to the freezer. A Hispanic worker's help was solicited by my manager who asked the man to help carry the bags into the freezer. Apparently the man did not understand that my manager said "treinta" (thirty)...because he only carried "tres" (three) bags to the freezer and disappeared.

The rest of the day was hectic and when 3:00 rolled around I was ready to get out of that place. My replacement for the evening shift had arrived and I was determined to leave as soon as I cleaned two more tables. All of a sudden, the second busboy to arrive that day approached me asking where the morning closer was. I asked why and he replied that he needed to give him his clock-out slip. This infuriated me because I was the first one there that day and was supposed to leave first. I asked him why he was leaving and told him that he was not first in. He looked puzzled and insisted that he was first.

--"You were here before 9:45???"
--"No. I got here at normal opening time."
--"We opened early today, Jessie. I am first to go......just forget it."
--"Thanks!"

He left and luckily the second replacement came in earlier...so I was not stuck at the restaurant as long as I thought I would be. The thing I do not understand about his logic for leaving first was the fact that if he WERE opener...why did he not cut more lemons and scoop butter? Did he think that some magical fairy came in the evening and did all of his opening work for him? This boy is confused. Whenever we were in the manager's office, I asked him to follow me to the front of the restaurant and he replied "OK!" as he sat down. What is this world coming to?

Ice, Ice, Baby

Mothers make the world go round...which is why every mother in Owensboro was treated to lunch at Texas Roadhouse on Sunday morning. I was scheduled as opener for the day, a 9:45 am, which is an hour earlier than I usually arrive at work on Sunday mornings. Considering that Mother's Day is the busiest day of the year for my place of employment, I was in charge of scooping extra butter portions and slicing more lemons. Needless to say, these tasks took me a bit longer than usual. Just as I was about to finish with my opening work, my boss approached me and asked if I would run an errand for him. The brand new ice machine had decided to break on the busiest day. I quickly took the $50 to Wal*Mart and stood at the ice chest trying to calculate how much ice I could buy with the cash. I assumed that 12 bags would suffice and loaded it into the cart. My purchase was made and I quickly returned to work before I flooded my trunk with melted ice. Once I got to work I parked near the door because not many guests were at the restaurant at the moment. Servers came out to my vehicle to unload the large bags of ice and I went inside to grab a quick drink. Then I returned to my Jeep to move it back across the street to the employee parking lot. As soon as I had parked and entered the restaurant, the manager approached me again and asked for me to purchase double what I had during my first trip, this time at Sam's Club with his membership card. I walked BACK across the road to my vehicle and made my way to the store. I found the ice chest at Sam's and retrieved two flatbed carts to stack large ice bags on. 30 bags was what I could purchase for $100 and I proceeded to the checkout. The cashier took my boss's membership card and the register rang up as "Card must be renewed." What was I supposed to do? I only had $100 to purchase ice and renewal my boss's card would set me back $35. I quickly decided to charge the renewal fee to my own credit card and have my boss reimburse me, which is what he did upon my return to a hectic restaurant. Then I had the issue of transporting the ice into the restaurant which I will discuss in next week's blog!

Slashed Tires & Hands

Last night was another tiring evening at the ol' Roadhouse. I was planning a night off from the stresses of school, but a fellow busboy implored me to work for him, offering $15 to do so. Right after school and before work, I had to run to the "Stand Against Child Abuse" demonstration that Beta Club was participating in. While standing on the courthouse corner an old man approached my group and gave a angered expression. He looked at us for the longest time and then exclaimed "You know...lots of adults are being abused too! And you know that once the sperm meets the egg, anyone who tries to get rid of it is a murderer!" We told him that our demonstration was not calling the attention away from the other causes. His wife finally came out of the courthouse and pulled him away from us. I made my way to work and decided that it was going to be a good evening because of the many greetings that I got when I walked through the door. That is when all of the disasters began. The restaurant was packed and nobody was getting up, which went our wait would increase. I hurried along, cleaning every table I saw available. I felt like the only one working. By the end of the evening, I had only one busboy with me, and even he was not much help because he was sick. I could not wait to get out of there. Finally, my evening was brightened by a server. She approached me with a large smile on her face. "Chaz, since you are working tonight, I have had more tables than I have had in the past month." Later that evening, my boss approached me and said that he had a strange question for me.

--"Chaz, is it true that you save all of your tip money?"
--"Yes, why?"
--"Well Chris (the head manager) told me that he really respects you for your being responsible with money."

Compliments such as these really make me strive for my best in what I do.

Later that evening as I was preparing to leave at 12:00, a fellow busboy entered the manager's office in his casual clothing.

--"Chris, I had two tires slashed this evening in the parking lot. I just thought that I would let you know so that you could report it. Thanks."

I really hate that for the guy because he is a nice guy. I do not know why anyone would do that to a guy like him. Earlier, a server had something slashed of his own: his hand. He was using the metal paddle to break apart ice in the ice machine and his hand slipped. The paddle cut directly to the bone. Needless to say, he went to the hospital. Apparently the paddle had been sharpened and bent over time when hit by the ice. I was glad to leave that evening.

Roadie Meets Benjamin

I really do not enjoy closing at work, especially on a Friday evening. This past Friday I found myself the last busboy in for the evening. The day had already been long: early Key Club meeting, National Spanish Exam, lots of homework, Spanish tutoring right after school, followed by work. What's worse is that all of the guys I was working with that evening were lazy, slow, or a combination of both. I made a strong effort to quickly clean tables so that I would be permitted to send guys home sooner, thus grabbing a bigger portion of the tip-out pot. One good thing was that we were short a busboy because he was out for back surgery (not-so-good). Another plus was that the guy I picked up the Friday closing shift for paid me $30 just to come into work. The night was going swell, since my friend that I never see anymore was working that evening and I was able to talk with him in slower times. That evening, the servers seemed to be more careless than ever. Glasses were breaking all around me and I scrambled to clean up the messes. As I swept peanut dust near the end of my shift, the boss approached me with a stern look upon his face. He held out three time slips exclaiming that the teens had worked over 5 hours without breaks. This is against the law and entails a $1,000 fine if caught. Two of the guys were only 5 minutes over each, one who I had told to leave 8 minutes prior. So, I got scolded for nothing considering that it was "my responsibility" to ensure that all had their breaks if necessary. After 6 hours of fun and frivolity, I fled the restaurant with nearly $100 for the evening. I could not imagine having a better job at this age.

Awesome as a Blossom

This past week I worked a lot more than usual. I know that five days may not seem like a lot of time to invest in work, but when you put school, homework, and club responsibilities on top of that, things can get hectic. Thursday was my first night off for this week, so I decided to take my girl out...to Texas Roadhouse. Right before going to eat we had a friendly game of bowling (I won). Dinner was great, but it was a weird feeling knowing that I would have to come in for the biannual server assistant meeting. I finished my dinner and headed to the mall with Erica to look around. We returned to Roadhouse for my 9:30 meeting and Erica insisted in staying in the car. I hated the idea of having a meeting because the last meeting lasted over an hour longer than expected. After waiting a good 15 minutes for the meeting to start, I smelled a wonderful aroma. The manager had brought in appetizers for our consumption. Sadly, I was still stuffed from my meal earlier and refrained from eating any more greasy bacon, cheese fries and cactus blossoms. The meeting began and the boss went on this long rant about employ apathy. He told us that the servers did not care about us or our home lives, so we should not bring in any raw emotions. Suddenly the boss made a turn to a more positive note.

"Servers really do not care about you guys. But to tell you the truth, servers come up to me all of the time and compliment Chaz saying 'Chaz is so helpful. His work-ethic is like no other. He is amazing.'"

At this I was not shocked, but deeply surprised at its inclusion in the meeting in front of 12 other young guys. Some were jealous, but bore no harsh feelings. The meeting ended and I returned to my car to find this girl resting in the back seat.

Is Your Vur-Jan-It-Y Worth $10?

Do people you work with ever get on your last nerve...so much that you experience a momentary glitch in your typical character? I walked into work on Sunday evening after having switched with another busboy my coveted opening position to pre-closer. When I came around the corner of the kitchen I heard the same ol', horrendous cackle. "Oh, boy...he is here" I thought to myself. After making eye contact with him the compliments toward me began flowing. "Chaz, I think your beard is awesome. I wish I had an awesome beard like that. You are so funny, Chaz. You crack me up." I knew that he wanted something. It was not long until the nuisance approached me and asked if I could do him a huge favor. I hesitantly asked for his request and he exclaimed to me that he needed me to work for him on Saturday so that he could chill with his gal pal. I am certain that he saw the look of disgust on my face because he quickly offered to pay me for my kindness. I agreed to work for him on Saturday morning in the closing spot. Now I was hesitant for two reasons: 1) Nobody comes in to eat on Saturday mornings so tips would be significantly lower. 2) The people that come in on Saturday mornings have kids that eat for free so that brings in even fewer tips for busboys. Essentially I was trying to do him a favor because it always seemed to be an inconvenience for me during the prior times that he had asked me. I proceeded to tell him that I was willing to do it for $10. All of a sudden this expression of disgust comes across his face and he exclaims

--"$10?!?! I do not have that kind of money! I have car insurance to pay!"
--"I do too, buddie. $10 is nothing."
--"Chaz, come on. How about $5?"
--"It costs me $3 in gas to drive here in the first place."
--"Just take $5."
--"I said $10."
--"I do not have that kind of money. I am poor."
--"Is your girlfriend not worth $10?"
--"I just do not have that kind of money at the moment."
--"You will after you get your tips this evening. I said $10."
(40 minutes of arguing later)
--"Ok, Chaz. I will make you a deal. $3 to get here and $3 to get home. PLUS $2 on top of that. What do you say?"
--"Man, I said $10...take it or leave it."
--"How about $8.25?"
--"I am NOT dropping my price. I typically charge $20 but I am trying to do you a favor."
--"Ok, let me think my financial status over."
(10 minutes pass)
--"Ok, Chaz. If I pay you $10 will you cover my shift?"
--"I am done with this ridiculous argument. So, the final answer is NO."

The guy punched the wall and exclaimed that I should not lead him on like I was planning on doing it, but to just say "no" in the first place. He obviously did not realize that I was trying to help.

Later that evening after he had called me a jerk, he asked me if I wanted to walk out to our cars together so that he did not lose his "vur-jan-it-y" to some creep in the night. I reluctantly agreed, but as I was leaving I noticed that he was in pursuit of speaking to the boss. I made a mad dash for the door and ran to my vehicle, looking back every twenty feet or so. Thank goodness I escaped THAT experience.

One Lazy Muck

I do not think that I can go into work without feeling like I am in a different world. This past Wednesday I went into work to find that half of the kitchen had been remodeled. The walls were clad with stainless steel and many of the shelving units had been replaced with brand new ones. The most shocking piece of new machinery was the new muck table. Let me define "muck" for people who may not understand the concept or why my blog is its namesake. "Muck" is the location or table that dirty dishes are piled on in order to be scraped of their contents and stacked for the amigos to wash. This new muck table looked as if it were ready for an embalming, with a large drain and pipe leading from the bottom of the inclined edges. Not only was the table smaller than the previous one, I simply did not like the disorder that would result from a smaller workspace. My job seems to get less and less productive with all of these new implemented procedures. I guess it is not up to me to make decisions on whether work procedures are productive or not; I am only a busboy.

I still find many of my fellow busboys to be lazy bums. How is it that I manage to find three dirty tables in five seconds when I arrive in a section of the restaurant that a busboy has been lazily standing in that section for the previous ten minutes? Either apathy is growing with each generation, or they honestly do not understand the value of hard work. Even when the morning closer busboy collects tip money from the servers, he should continue cleaning tables. Because the morning closer for Sunday did not continue cleaning tables while he collected money, we fell behind in our work and I was unable to leave until thirty minutes past when I should have left. Although this angered my, I felt that it was a somewhat of a good thing considering that I earned an extra thirty minutes of pay that I would not have made had I left on time. I try to work as hard as I can to prove my value to a company/organization and help that company prosper as much as possible.