It's not ...... here, twat.

Don't forget to take him home...

As I was clearing up at the end of the shift a woman stumbled towards me mumbling something about her bag. She knocked into a table that had just been set sending a glass or two onto the floor. With a deep sigh I decided I should see what she was up to. I was tired and not in the mood for stumbling and mumbling, well not her stumbling and mumbling. I found her on the other side of the restaurant on her hands and knees on the floor peering under a table. She had lost her bag and was groping around the floor looking for it. She found it and in her drunken excitement banged her head on the table above her sending another glass to the floor. I helped her up and showed her the door. Oh how we laughed. Then I swore. But at least she went home with her bag and I didn't have to deal with one of those "Have you got my xxx, I think I left it there last night?" phone calls.

Those phone calls rarely end with the caller being reunited with their lost property. We are usually the first people they phone when they realise, through their cloudy hangover cornflakes, that their precious mobile phone is missing. Now we are all guilty of leaving something behind in a bar or restaurant or somewhere similar but what splits the callers into two camps is how people react to being told the disappointing news that their mobile/umbrella/scarf is not here. The good people of the world say sorry for the hassle and ring off, the pricks get shirty.

"Whaddya mean it's not there? It has to be there. Where else could it be?" Sir it's not here, I've looked for it, the cleaner has looked for it, the manager has looked for it. IT'S NOT [FUCKING] HERE. (implied but never said, obviously).

It's normally at this point that they get really irate and start with the insinuations that something more sinister may have happened to their phone. This really pisses me off and the call gets terminated rather sharply at this point.

But at least these people call us when they think they have left something behind. Some people never contact us at all. I have left numerous scarves over the years in various bars and made no effort to get them back, it's just a scarf/umbrella or what ever. Usually something minor. But if I left my £500 camera, not that I have a £500 camera, in a restaurant I would seriously make some effort to retrieve it. I would, you would, most sane people would, but not the guy who did leave a very expensive camera in our restaurant over a year ago and has never returned to get it. That camera has now been on more holidays than Judith Chalmers this year. And it's not just cameras that get abandoned either. We have had all sorts left behind, some gets collected some gets abandoned like a bag full of kittens. Not that I have had a bag full of kittens, yet.

Here are your top five things left behind in the restaurant:

1. Rick Moranis. Well not the actual Rick Moranis from "Honey I didn't touch the kids, I swear" but an old man who looked very much like Rick Moranis. It was a Sunday afternoon and we had a Christening party in for lunch. It was a large group of about 20, lots of kids and grandparents and the whole gang as it were. As they were leaving kids were being gathered up, much to my relief, and marched to the toilet and then outside to awaiting cars. A table like that is not for the faint hearted, it's like a whirlwind of noise and mayhem for 2 hours. Kids, presents, new born child, mums and dads were all accounted for along with 3 out of 4 grandparents and escorted to their awaiting cars. And off they went. Minus one Rick Moranis look-a-like grandfather who had been doing what he was told and was waiting for someone to come and get him. After half an hour both he and I were getting a bit anxious. I wanted to get my section set, he wanted to get home to his Werthers Originals. Another 15 minutes had passed before a very upset/angry/embarrased looking woman came blustering through the door shouting for Grandad Joe. Joe/Rick wasn't a happy chappy. So the next time you go out for a family meal keep and eye on the old ones as well as the young ones. It was all very Home Alone, sort of.
2. Umbrellas, scarves, shoes and er um underwear. Who has sex in the toilet of a restaurant? Eh? A better question would be why would people have sex in a restaurant toilet? You dirty dirty people. Actually I don't care if you are in there going through the Karma Sutra page by page just put your bloody stained underwear back on again after. Scarves and umbrellas I can understand, but shoes I don't? How does that work? You arrive with shoes on but leave with one, it's never a pair, behind. What? A shoe with a mobile phone stuffed inside was found on Saturday night? Was that some sort of modern Cinderella set up? Odd beyond words.
3. Mobile Phones. Good grief we get more mobile phones in a weekend than most shops who sell them do in a week. Well maybe not that many but we find a hell of a lot. Most are picked up within the hour some poor unfortunates are never matched up with their true owners. It was almost as if they wanted to take the phone out one last time before dumping it....
4. Plans for a new hotel development. The plans for Belfast's new Obel Development were left behind in the restaurant by a group of quite drunk architects one night. The plans weren't picked up again for a week. Which gave me plenty of time to make a few alterations. The Manuel wing will be a grand addition to the really rather ugly building.
   
5. Cash. In the form of tips for the lovely waiter.....or else......

So if you are venturing out this weekend make sure you gather all your belongings, including your grandfather's, before you leave. We dispose of everything after 6 months, grandfathers included.....