working for the weekend

I’ve had a few crazy experiences with the people at my day job.  Consider these gems:

1. The man who left the bar, came back ten minutes later to tell me I was gorgeous, then came back another ten minutes later and begged me to go out with him.  When I said I had a boyfriend, he looked devastated and murmured “I should’ve guessed someone like you would.”  It would’ve been amazing had he not been 40, balding, with yellowed cigarette teeth.  It was still kind of flattering in a traumatizing way.  Oh, and the boyfriend thing? I lied.

2.  The woman who demanded a baked potato (fyi: not on our menu) and then asked what kind of cheese we put on our broccoli au gratin and if it used any butter.  When we told her it’s melted Cheese Whiz, she scoffed and stomped off.  Woman, I had an eating disorder.  If I’m judging your orthorexia, it’s time to seek help.  Speaking of people way too obsessed with food…

3.  The little lady who took the smallest piece of pizza from my sample plate, then took two napkins and squished the slice between them because “I gotta get all the fat and oil off.” I didn’t realize that lurking within the 2 centimeter thick slice was Satan’s fried minions, but last time I checked a teeny sample pizza slice won’t give you angina.

4.  The little old man who flirted with our bartender in front of his wife, then upon leaving looked back in, waved, blew kisses, made the ‘shh’ motion with his finger, and then bit his finger in a kind of ‘come hither’ gesture that looks sultry on Megan Fox (if you like that sort of thing) but looks positively horrifying on an 80 year old.  I think I went blind for five minutes after that.

5. The morbidly obese parents who bring in their morbidly obese kids, then proceed to order everything deep fried, then three desserts.  This doesn’t anger me so much as breaks my heart.

6. Standing outside with the sample pizza and having a man in his 60s shout to the passersby “Do you see this woman with this sign? I can’t believe you’d ignore this face”.  It was kind of cute, but then he turned to me and put out his hand and almost cupped my face.  He didn’t actually do it, but kind of used his hand to frame my cheek in a halo.  That’s endearing if you were a boyfriend, a parent, or any other familiar person.  Not if you’re an older gentleman wearing a Yankees shirt.  If you know me in real life, you know I have a huge issue with personal space.  If you invade it, my face retracts so far into my neck that I start to resemble an Italian Jabba The Hutt.  He did it twice.

7. Bad tippers. You clearly had enough dough on you to spend a few bucks on a steak.  Three dollars? Really?  And I usually don’t get tipped out, I get annoyed for our awesome servers who work their buns off.

8. People who send their food back over, and over, and over, and over again.

9. People who come up to the pizza sample plate going“Is that pizza?”  

But I think numero uno of the experiences I’ve had with my job (particularly, when I’m Sampler Pizza Girl) occurred just this past week.

A man came up to the restaurant entrance.  He looked inside.  He put his hand in his pants.  He looked at the pizza in my hand.  He took a slice.

I think the tears I cried that night were made of blood.

Thanks to that man, I now have to individually give out the slices with a pair of tongs, plus make the customers hold a napkin first so they do not get anywhere near the plate with their hands that may or may not have been doing some exploring down under.

I love my job.  And the people are just icing on the cake.

That’s not my only job, however.  I also work at a children’s theater here in Manchester, called Children’s Associated Summer Theater (or C.A.S.T.).  I want to announce our production of The Wizard of Oz.  If you could all come, you’ll experience a group of kids who worked their butts off this summer and have turned out an awesome show.


Manchester High School

134 East Middle Turnpike
Manchester, CT

August 5, 2010 at 1:00 PM

August 6, 2010 at 7:00 PM

August 7, 2010 at 7:00 PM

Published by The Curious Ally Cat

I'm a 34 year old adjunct professor and writer in Connecticut. People seem to like me because I am polite and I am rarely late.

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