Well That Shift Wore Me Slap Out!

Just got home from work at  the restaurant. We were down one server so of course we were busy...Murphy's Law. I didn't have a very big section but had a table coming in who requested me and is a forty percent tipper. My little section filled up when then they asked me to pick up another table. Heck yeah! Then they came up and asked me to pick up another table, done! Then one of my tables left and they cleaned it off, immediately resetting it and plopping three more people down. Then they simply said "And go pick up the four top at 604." At one point I had seven tables at once. Did I mention that I am fifty three?

I felt like I was in the Lucy episode where she and Ethyl worked on the candy  assembly line except I didn't have Ethyl to help me. I forgot to put one order in but caught it soon enough to go back and beg the cooks to make it on the fly. (restaurant term for "hurry the hell up")

Working in a restaurant is like working in a divided country. In my opinion servers are South Korea and cooks are North Korea. Of course ask them and they would say the reverse. In down times we all get along, unless you are a crappy server. If you're a crappy server  they are on your butt every minute of every shift and for that I don't blame them. I'm not the best server in the world but I'm no slacker and unlike a lot of the younger servers, know all the Latinos names. The cooks pushed ahead my late ticket and got the food out before the customers walked. They were a really nice couple and it's not like they didn't see me running around like I was in cartoon. I had another couple who while boxing up  their leftovers spilled a tiny drop of sauce on the man's pant leg. He said not to worry but I did. I came back  to the table with a cloth wet with fresh squeezed lemon and soda water on it. Yes I am old but yes I used to read 'Hints From Heloise' in the Sunday paper. I leaned down to dab the spot on his  pant leg around his calf but the minute I touched his pants knew they weren't "Dickies." Crap, they felt like linen pants or maybe even silk. I looked up and said "I'm guessing you didn't get these at  Wal Mart."

Then to top it off when I ran his credit card I  ran it for the table behind them, over charging him by  thirteen dollars. The owner credited back  the thirteen dollars to their card but in my flustered state didn't leave a copy for them to tip on. I saw the wife up front talking to Barb (One of the owners) and just knew she was complaining about my service. Gods be good, she was simply telling Barb I didn't give a slip for  them to leave a tip on so they would just bring back cash. I thought to myself, "I'll never see them again and my husband will never have a pair of pants as fancy  as that guy was wearing."

Whadda ya know? Thirty minutes later the dude walked back in and handed me thirteen bucks. I saw him come in  the  front door talking to the hostess and could tell he was describing me when he made hand gestures like he had short spiky hair.

I goofed up. I am only human. The thing is some people are nice about it and some people act like you  ruined not only their night but their life.

I bounce between my jobs.  At one I sit and wait for people to come to sell to, hoping they will buy. The other job they come in and have already decided to buy and simply want me to make it a pleasant experience.

It's been slow at  the new mattress gig but only the second week we've been open seven days. It wasn't a big week but I doubled my sales from last week. If I can do that every week I'll have something going on  in no time.

Waited on one table tonight who I bonded with and told me she would forward Tim's resume to KIA where she works.

Yee Haw!

It's  gonna happen for us, I have no doubts. (well maybe a few)

Going up Sunday afternoon to visit the little Miss Massey at Georgia State. A dear  friend of mine from work, Crazy Catie is going with me (actually driving  me) and we are taking the girls and their new friend to Lil Five in Atlanta, tooling around and then having a burger at The Vortex.

I've been taking Massey  to Little Five Points since she was fifteen.  We would walk by  The Vortex every  time we went but you  can't get in til you are eighteen and they are firm on it.

My girl is eighteen now, so is her roomie and so is their friend. Neither of them have been to Little Five and can't wait to introduce them to the most eclectic, exciting and unusual part of Atlanta.

Two more shifts  then I'm headed to downtown Atlanta. When I was a teen we spent almost every weekend there. That was when Underground Atlanta was REALLY underground. That was when the legal age was eighteen, and before they  realized  that was a stupid mistake.

Mid town Atlanta is  the most  amazing, growing, eclectic and accepting  part of  the city. It's a place where you  can be who you want to be and not be judged...and if you  are judged, we call those judgers tourists!

Looking forward to The Vortex!

Til next time...COTTON