Freaky Friday.

    Can we just take a minute to talk about how weird yesterday was? Yesterday was fucking weird, man. And I totally got home and was all set to write about everything, and then I went to bed at 7 o clock. Because I'm cool like that.

Anyway, yesterday my day started out with a table that was having some sort of toilet brush based focus group/sales meeting/sales pitch thing going on.

Toilet brush. It's what's for breakfast.

Anyway, it was a group of four and I guess the head toilet brush guy was demonstrating this new moving squeeze handle thing on the handle part of the brush and showing it to his companions- not to worry, he brought along toilet brushes for them as well. So 8AM yesterday my day started with four weirdos waving toilet brushes in the air.  That was fun.

Shortly after that I progressed to waiting on yet another OldMan McRichpants, big fucking surprise. He was nice enough to me, in a condescending old white man sort of way, and even complimented me on my service.  However, on one of my trips to refill his coffee I heard him tell his breakfast companion that he "just isn't making enough to get by anymore."

Sir, your Fancy Pants Rich Guy Suit begs to differ. I seriously want to know what "not enough" is to this guy. Will he have to sell his vacation home? Shop at Trader Joes instead of Zabars? Move to a smaller apartment? Even....*GASP*....start taking the subway?!?!

Oh, sweet Suit Man. My heart aches for you. Truly.

On the other end of the spectrum, about an hour after that some homeless guy came in and proceeded to bathe his entire body in the restroom and then it stank all day. Actually I still haven't gone into that restroom because I'm scared of cooties, although god knows that's far from the worst thing anybody has ever done in the bathroom. (See leg juice)

Later that afternoon a guy came in and dropped his car keys off with us and told us we had to hold them and his daughter would be by to pick them up later. Because we're a goddamn valet service

Oh and then a man I'd never seen before came in and wanted to know when we "stopped serving garlic bread" because he used to have it here "ALL THE TIME"

Today was pretty normal aside from some old man puking all over table 13. Ironically, this was the same table that had been hosting the toilet brush party yesterday. Too bad they weren't here today.  Fun thing about the puking guy.  He was in a wheelchair, so he may indeed have had trouble getting to the bathroom in a timely manner on his own, but he was accompanied by four other people, he told them he was  going to be sick, and rather than one of them helping him to the bathroom they just let him puke all over the table.  Because reasons.

So, to wrap up:

We are here to:

Host your toilet brush meetings

Provide public showers

Provide valet service

Do banking (ie make change even if you aren't a customer)

Let your goddamn puke fly all over the place.

Flashback Friday: Leg Juice Edition

   This is one of those stories that I always get incredulous looks when I tell.  I almost wouldn't believe it myself if I hadn't witnessed it all with my own horror stricken eyes.  Today, children, gather round and I shall tell you the story of Crazy Debbie with the Leg Juice.  Everybody who has appeared on this blog thus far has been given an alias (an easily discernible alias to those who know them, but an alias nonetheless) but I can't think of a proper one for Crazy Debbie, so Crazy Debbie she will remain.

    I first encountered Crazy Debbie on a dinner shift almost four years ago.  I had no idea what I was in for. Crazy Debbie looks a bit like a cross between a troll and one of the seven dwarfs.  She had dark glasses, a dark colored head wrap, and walked bent over with a cane.  Of course, her most striking feature was her legs.  Short, fat, stumpy little legs, wrapped in layers and layers of medical bandages.  I'm not really sure what the bandages were for, but they were always oozing some kind of pus like substance that we all came to refer to as "leg juice."

     She had a penchant for stealing napkins and sugar packets, and one of the first times I waited on her, I got the shock of my life.  Like many NYC restaurants, we use paper napkins for our lunch shift, and cloth for dinner.  She sat in my section on a dinner shift, and requested an extra napkin.  Not knowing how batshit she was, I brought over an extra cloth napkin...the napkins we had out on that particular shift.  She went berserk. "What the hell is this?" etc, screaming obscenities.  Eventually one of my co-workers took her a large pile of paper napkins, which she then began to cram into her purse.

     Crazy Debbie also had a tendency to use her cane as a weapon. She'd stick it out into the aisle, and poke you with it to get your attention. I can recall at least one instance of her whacking the hostess with it, while the hostess was attempting to seat somebody.  If she was feeling "nice" she wouldn't hit you, and only loudly beat the cane on the floor.  However, all these quirks are merely "cute little antics" compared to the legendary escapades of Debbie's time in the bathroom.

     Crazy Debbie would use our bathroom to do whatever the fuck she needed to do with her bandage wrapped pus ridden legs, as well as, you know...normal bathroom functions.  We all became way too familiar with these rituals, because she never ever locked the door. We would speak to her about it. We would show her how the door locked. And yet, she always refused to lock the door because "what if I fall and I can't get out of the bathroom?"  So of course, inevitably a staff member or a guest would open the bathroom door, be visually assaulted with a crazy woman on a toilet, and then be subjected to her waving the cane and them and screaming to get out of "her" bathroom.  I remember once a little kid walked in on her, and came out looking like he'd been traumatized for life. At one point one of my managers made an "out of order" sign that she'd stick on the bathroom whenever she saw Crazy Debbie enter it. Eventually, it just got to be too much. About two and a half years ago one of my managers finally told Crazy Debbie that if he caught her leaving the bathroom unlocked one more time, she'd be banned.  Which, of course she did. So in that way we were finally able to get rid of her.

    I'm not sure where Crazy Debbie is these days. Most likely waddling along, terrorizing another restaurant staff into submission with screams and cane beatings. Wherever she is, it's not where I am, and for that I'm truly thankful.