Today was evidently "Stiff/Annoy Your Server Day", but some one forgot to send me the memo. Had I know ahead of time that today was going to be an avalanche of shitty tips, needy bitches, and shitty pants, I would have just called off this morning and went back to bed. I had a table of three business women (of course, it's always women) that sat as far as possible from the kitchen door/service stand as they could get without sitting outside. Them sitting that far away means that I'm going to have to walk a mile to check on them. If they need anything, then I have to scale a mountain then walk four miles uphill in the snow both ways. Of course, seeing as they're they type of people that sit that far away, they're also the type of people who want to send you for one thing at a time when they need 4 or 15 things. They sat back there for 3 fucking hours. They might as well have applied for residency. One of the women decided she was going to be a "big shot" and pay for everyone. She paid with a card then sat there for another hour. When they finally left, I went back to get the credit card slip. No tip on the card or the table. Big. Fucking. Surprise. The most difficult usually tip the least. That was my first table today, so I could see how things were going to go for the rest of the day. All but three of my tables couldn't be bothered to tip even a goddamned nickel. This was the shittiest day I've seen in the 3 1/2 years I've been at Pizza Place. It was pretty dead, but the people that did come in were cheap ass skanks.
An old man came in after lunch. At first I thought he might have been limping, but once he got closer, I realized he was kind of hopping from one foot to the other as he hurriedly came down the sidewalk and in the front door. When he got inside, I realized he was not only hopping from foot to foot as he walked, but he was also slightly leaned back and clenching his ass. Of course he made a bee line for the restroom. I watched on our security cameras as he went the back of the store to the restrooms and knocked on the door. Some one must have been in there, because he continued to stay there hopping and clenching. I had a couple of tables that I had to get to, so I went to it. I had forgotten all about the man, when a horrible stench wafted up to the service stand. I looked around to see who sharted, but, alas, I was the only one around. I make it a rule to NEVER seek out the source of a stink, for fear of being the one who has to clean up whatever is producing the offending odor. I don't do nasty. I just don't. I don't get paid enough to clean up body fluids or whatever else disgusting shit finds its way into a restaurant from time to time. A few minutes later, the other server comes up and asks, "What is that smell?" I told her I hadn't the slightest. She decided to be the hero and search it out. Not 30 seconds later, I hear a scream. Having a feeling I wouldn't be the first to find the stench, thus not being the one responsible for cleaning it up, I let my curiosity get the best of me and went to see what was so bad that it made a grown woman scream. It couldn't have been that bad, right? She had to have been just being a drama queen, right? Nope. As I turned the corner and started toward the back of the restaurant, the smell was so bad it could gag a maggot. By the time I walked through the door to the bathroom my eyes were watering, stomach was churning, and I felt my esophagus get about 2 inches shorter. I held back my urge to vomit and looked over at my co-server who was white as a sheet and was pointing to behind the door. I peek around the door to see what was going on. Lo and behold, there is diarrhea EVERYWHERE. It covered the toilet, the floor, and was even splattered up the wall. Evidently, Mr. Hopandclench hadn't made it to the toilet in time. Of course, being the excellent employee that I am, I immediately announced that I would not be the one cleaning that up. Fuck that noise. "There's no fucking way I'm touching that. It can sit there for the rest of the god damned day for all I care. If LardAssManager wants it cleaned up, he can do it his self. I don't get paid enough for this shit." I proclaimed. With that, I turned around and went back to leaning against the service station. LardAssManager wound up convincing a couple of the cooks to cleaning it up. Good luck if you ate at Pizza Place today, because the hands that made your food are the same hands that, not 3 hours ago, were scrubbing shit off of everything in the restroom. I wish I had the power of seeing into the future. Had I been able to this morning, I would have avoided working all day for a measly $12.00, and I wouldn't have been forced to witnessing an old man's "accident" in the men's room. I need a vacation.
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