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.

I've Got To Hand It To You...You Cost Too Much

One of the strangest things that happened this week was the result of an accident. While cleaning a table (the typical work task) I heard a large crash of dishes in the kitchen. I did not think much of it because broken dishes are typical on a Sunday afternoon. As I carried my full bus tub back to the kitchen to be cleaned I saw that one of my friend's hands was bleeding profusely. I asked him what had happened, but quickly drew my own conclusions; the loud crash must have been a plate smashing against his hand and then upon the floor. After seeing the large gash in his hands I ventured to say that he needed stitches. The manager agreed and he was driven to the hospital where they gave him five stitches. He was required to return to work and fill out paperwork for his on-site accident. When he left for the day I remarked "Well, at least you do not have to work for the rest of the week."
Other than that event, nothing strange happened. Hostesses made me mad by continuously hounding me about "Could you go to this table???...How about this one???...or THAT one." They have no right to boss me around. I just wanted to say "I want YOU to clean that table." I guess it is part of the job.
Somehow I got weaseled into working Friday night. I received a phone call at 4:15 from an anonymous number. Here is how the conversation began when I answered.

--"Hello?"
--"Dude! I have the runs! I cannot work! I have the runs really bad, dude."
--"Ummm, first of all, who is this?"
--"Bob, from Roadhouse. And I have the runs really bad. I cannot work. Will you work for me?"
--"Well, what time are you?"
--"5:00"
--"Ok, I guess I can work for you."
--"Awesome, I will pay you. You work Sunday?"
--"Yes, I do. That will be fine with me."

As you can tell, "Bob" discussed no amount of money he was willing to pay so I decided that I would set my price of working a Friday night at $20. When I saw Bob on Sunday he approached me and said "Here. I will give you everything that is in my wallet." He handed me $7. I smiled and said "That's good...you can put the other $13 in my tip box after this shift." He returned the facial expression and said "Dude, you are expensive." He thought I was joking; I could tell. When I left that morning I reiterated "Yes, $13 after this shift. Thanks!" Again, he did not know what to say except complain about how much I charge. Next time I go into work there better be an additional $13 in my tip envelope.

Margarita, Mop, and Motion in the Ocean/Bathroom/Truck/Take Your Pick

In the spirit of Valentine's Day, I think that I will reminisce on my experience at work last Valentine's Day. Just to warn you, the following subject matter may be not be appropriate. Please use discretion in continuing your reading of this blog.

Sadly I had to work last year on Valentine's Day. While cleaning a table I was approached by a waitress who explained that there was a broken margarita glass near the bar. I prepared to clean up the spill, placing some dry towels over the mess and wiping up the spilled ice. A gruff voice whispers in my ear "Why don't you get a f*cking mop? *laugh*" I turn around to see some strange, 40-something year old customer looming over me and he slowly began to walk away. I do not know about you, but I found his comment inappropriate. What business was it for him to tell me what to do?

The next strange thing that happened occurred during my break. As usual, I ventured to the employee parking lot across the road in order to chill in my car for thirty minutes, just to get away from the chaos. After about five minutes a flashing light catches my eye from my rear-view mirror. I glance up to see that the reflection was coming from a large, mud-covered truck that was parked behind me; the truck was rocking back and forth. It did not take me but four seconds to realize what was going on. But what should I do? Do I stay in the car and hope that the lovers do not notice my awkward situation? Or should I discreetly make my way back across the road and into the restaurant? Too late, the two must have noticed me for the motion had ceased and the truck quickly sped away. Good thing that situation was over.

As the evening drew to a close, I decided to head to the restroom while waiting for parties to leave the restaurant. As I was...uh...standing there in the restroom I heard the restroom door open and a loud commotion. Undeniably there was a man's voice and a woman's giggle. The lock to the stall latched shut and there was some more random commotion (zips/unzips, buckles, etc.) I feel that I do not have to comment any more, but I quickly washed my hands and exited the restroom.

Thankfully, Valentine's was on the Lord's Day this year.
Jesus is watching.

"Garçon, will'st thou pluck the glass from mine dentures?"

Friday evening I went out on a date with my hot lady friend (just don't tell Erica) to Texas Roadhouse. I dropped her off at the door to get a table and I circled the parking lot several times earnestly trying to find a spot. When I finally found one nearly a mile away I was unable to park in it because someone else was pushing his idled car into an adjacent spot. After waiting a good five minutes I entered the nearly empty lobby of the restaurant and found said lady friend sitting on a bench. When I inquired the wait she said that it would be an hour and twenty minutes. I could not see how the wait could be so long. I humbly agreed to wait and began talking to the elderly ladies that were complaining next to me.

--"How could the wait be so long!?!? They said that ALL of the call-aheads would be seated ahead of us even though they are not even here yet."
--"Ma'am, I work here..."
--"OH YOU DO!?"
--"Yes, and I do not know why the wait is so long. It's only 5:00, nobody is in the lobby, and we have a whole new section (about 13 more tables) to seat."

About that time the main hostess looks up and waves at me. She quickly motions me to the stand and seats us.

--"If I had know that you were here you would not have had to wait even those ten minutes."

We were promptly seated with the best server there and the food was the best I had ever had there.

So, I figure that my job has some perks.


Not much happened at work this Sunday. Just a matter of breaking dishes and cleaning up messes.

A server approached me and explained that someone had broken a glass in the ice machine. I knew that this meant "Chaz, get your butt over there and clean it up." I groaned at the idea of cleaning out all of the ice, a process that can take around twenty minutes. I filled a bus tub of ice and took it to the sink basin to melt the ice with hot water. While melting, I thought that I stuck my finger on some glass and quickly released the water hose to grab my finger. The hose began flailing hot water in the air and all over me. I jumped to turn the faucet off, but by the time I did I was completely soaked. The event was greeted with much laughter and light-hearted jokes.


Customer Punchline of the WEEK!!!

A waitress dropped a bowl of baked beans in front of a large party. I quickly scrambled over to the table to help clean up the mess. An old lady leans over and whispers into my ear "I guess she spilled the beans." *ensuing, geriatric cackles*