Friday the 13th and Balance Day( the day of true love)

    Happy Friday the 13th everybody!  I'm trying to think off the top of my head if anything truly weird ever happened at The Cafe on a Friday the 13th, but truth be told every damn day in their was kind of weird so I kind of lost track of time.  But yeah.  Here's hoping nobody dies or gets clobbered today, and for fucks sake don't go around murdering black cats.  I read on the internet that that's a thing and in made me sad.  Anyway, here's an obligatory pic of some weird retro guy walking under a ladder and laughing in the face of bad luck. 

Such astounding bravery should not go unnoticed.

But anyway.  Later on I'll post some Old School Roasting Stories and we can pretend they're totally in honor of Friday the 13th, but really it's just weird shit that happened on a daily basis.  However, before we get to that, let's take note of my favorite holiday: Balance Day!  

There's a portion of this story that involves my darling Jammy, who I miss with ever fiber of my being, so in case you've forgotten who he is there's a link to an entire blog about him here.   Anyway.  Let's take a trip back to Valentine's Day 2012.  I was working a dinner shift, as was Jammy.  One of our bussers, Tazim was also there.  And really, all you need to know about Tazim can be learned from this picture.

He doesn't actually look like this. He does say "hey hey hey hey" a lot though.

Anyway, because Tazim is slightly confused by life sometimes he kept referring to the evening of 2/14 as "Balance Day."  Jammy, who hates Tazim with a fiery burning passion, and speaks slightly better English, thought this was absolutely hilarious and kept laughing about the error, even building upon it, telling everybody he came in contact with : "Balance Day! You have got to balance your love! Balance! Not unbalanced!" (please imagine all of this in a strong Bengali accent for maximum effect.) Anyway, three years later I can't think of February 14 as anything other than Balance Day.  So I wish you all a romantic and loving Balance Day.  

While we're all still feeling the love, let's take a moment out to mention a few oh so romantic things that happened in my current workplace within the last couple of weeks.  First off, about two weeks ago, I was working and had a couple that was canoodling, sitting on the same side of the booth, kissy kissy, whatever. No big.  Until of course the chick pushed the dude down on the booth, climbed on top of him, straddled him, and started tickling him to death.  I mean....that's a little much.  Anyway, my manager walked by and gave them a little eyebrow raise.

Nothing big, just a little "disapproving uncle" face.  So they stopped and left shortly thereafter.  Anyway, I went to pick up the credit card slip and in the "tip" line they had written:

"$7.00 - manager = 0.00"

And while we're on the topic of making out in the restaurant, who the fuck are all these people who seem to be enamored of the idea of making out right in front of service bar? Who are you people?  Seriously.  You do you.  I'm not here to judge.  But you straight up need to get the fuck out of my way before I throw all the drinks in your face.

But enough romance.  Let's wind up the blog with some Old School Roasting Stories.  Off we go.

January 31, 2012

Me:  Here's your mint tea.

Guest:  Do you live above sea level?

No, bitch. I'm a goddamn angsty mermaid.

Anyway, I distinctly remember this happening to me, and I remember what table they were sitting at, and I remember being confused as fuck as to why I had to answer questions about whether or not I live above sea level.  Inquiring minds, want to know, I'm sure.

Also January 31, 2012

Lady at 22 just ordered the "masculine salad." (Full of testosterone, I'm sure.)

Only the manliest leafy greens.

That one also happened to me, and honestly that fucking shit happened all the time.  So many times I was tempted to just bring over a salad with a bunch of stereotypical male things on the plate.  I was also very tempted to have a job and not be fired, so I never actually did that.

One more story before I hit the road.

Also from January 31, 2012 (evidently it was an eventful day)

Me:  Hey, do you guys have a first aid kit back here?

Line Cook: WHAT TABLE?!?!?!

And that, my friends, sums up the NYC restaurant industry in a nutshell.

Til next time...

Lessons learned.

One of the best things about working in a restaurant are all the various life lessons and bits of wisdom you seem to accumulate.  For example:

1) Guys in business suits are dicks.
2) Old guys in business suits call you "sweetheart" and are thisclose to asking you to fix them a drink.
3) Young guys in business suits are always trying to impress old guys in business suits and as a result are even more dickish than the old guys.
4)  Guys in business suits and suspenders are just total, fire-breathing, hellspawn assholes.
5)  If the guy is young and wearing a suit and suspenders and has slicked back hair, just remind yourself before you attempt to interact with him that you have bills to pay and you need to have a job and punching people in the face is technically assault.

I was going to make this a whole list of various restaurant related things, but it just turned into a rant about how much I hate "businessmen."  I think this entry can stand on its own.

Back, by popular demand.

     Hi internet! I'm totally back and stuff. Basically, because my one friend who reads this messaged me and was all, "where'd your blog go?" and I was all, OH SHIT I DON'T KNOW.  Fear not, my loyal fan base of approximately 5-10 people, for I am with you.

     A lot has happened since I last wrote.  The Uptown Restaurant finally went under, which we all kind of suspected and "re-opening at a later date" turned into "bought out by a coffee shop." C'est la vie. I now work legit around the corner from The Cafe, aka the original inspiration for this  blog. That's kind of awesome though, because I can visit my Cool Former Boss after my shift at my new job and get free beer which is always a plus. I never visit my Asshole Former Boss because he is an asshole.   Anyway, the new job is pretty decent.  Good money, super laid back, and decent bosses. That said, we're open til 2 on the weekends which does provide its own share of adventures.

Last Friday I was working late and around 1:30 a group of heavily inebriated people came in.  I  made the decision not to serve them booze, but just kind of avoided the mention of alcohol because I hate having that conversation and it's always super awkward. Anyway, after I finally wrangled their food order I noticed one guy seemed to have pulled a bottle of beer from out of who knows where.  We only serve draft beer where I work, so I knew he had to have brought the bottle in from somewhere else, which 1) is trashy and kind of stupid and 2) is illegal (damn open container laws!)

So I went up to him and as politely as I could (believe it or not, I can be super awesome polite if I want to....all those years of theatre training didn't go to waste!) told him that we didn't allow outside beverages and I'd have to take the beer away from him.  He gave me a stunned look, and said :

"But it's from next door!"

exactly, Obama, exactly.

It's from next door??? What the fuck does that even mean? Why should I give a shit?  I don't care if it's from up your ass, you can't have it in here!  Dumbass.  Anyway, a bit later they asked me for drinks and I had to turn them down, which I hate doing because it's always awkward, and I like to avoid coming right out and saying "You're drunk, bitch" unless I absolutely have to.  So I went through a few excuses, "It's 2:05 and we close at two, you brought in outside alcohol, etc."  Finally, I went with the ultra pc "I don't feel comfortable serving you as you appear to already have been drinking this evening." And what answer did that get me, you ask? One of the girls in the group looked at me and said:

"DUHHHH.  It's Friday!"

okay then.

So, to reiterate. Things I have learned.  You can break open container laws if your beer is "from next door." And you can be a drunk asshole as long as "Duh, it's Friday!"  Obviously.

Of course, my long awaited (by perhaps two people) return to blogging wouldn't be complete without a few Roasting Stories.  So let's get crackin.

January 29, 2012

"So for my dad I would like a chicken baguette, with no baguette, just a chicken.  He is gonna split it with my mom. So make it bigger, because they are adults. It has to be a decent size for 2. (I suggested they get two, but she was like: no, just make it bigger.)"

THAT IS NOT A THING. I WILL NOT DO THAT.

So. Here are some things: 1) If all you want is a chicken breast, go to the store and buy a fucking chicken breast.  2)  You cannot just have something "made bigger."  RESTAURANTS DO NOT WORK THAT WAY GOODNIGHT.

Sometimes people just make my head hurt. Anyway, I think I have time for one more story. Actually, I have time for lots of things right now because we are all going do die from snow and never leave our apartments ever again. But I want to start blogging again at least weekly, if not twice a week (I always say that) and I don't want to use up all my stories. So.  One more story to end the evening on.  Actually, no. Two stories because they're both short.

"January 30, 2012
A lady with a giant cart came in and asked me for a PB&J.  How do I say yes! to that?  I didn't. I totally said no."

Side effect of writing this blog: I am now obsessed with this octopus.

One more quick little "story" from

"January 30, 2012

A woman at table 10 found a potato on the radiator"

Honestly, I don't really have anything to say about this, other than "not surprised at all." Also, I google image searched "weird potato" and came up with this:

So, that's a thing. Dick potatoes for everybody! 

Or not. The octopus disapproves.