Monday, 27 October 2008

Jesus was a carpenter, I am a waiter....

I knew Friday was going to be an interesting day when my choice of underwear was restricted to one of two pairs. One likes to reach blindly into the drawer and a pull out a large roomy pair of briefs but this was not the case on Friday. I reached in, rummaged around, and came out with nothing. This was a most unsatisfactory situation. Peering further into the drawer I realised all my boxer shorts etc were either in the wash, just out of the wash or in the queue to be washed. I also realised that my sock to briefs ratio is well out of kilter as I have a many more pairs of socks than briefs. Why the disparity? Surely there should be balance in the whole underwear department.

not my pants....

In the end it came down to a choice between a pair of tight green jockey-esque briefs or my Incredible Hulk comedy pants. Remembering that the tight green jockey-esque briefs have a nasty tendency to chaff I had no choice but to opt for the Incredible Hulk comedy pants. I'm no fan of comedy underwear. I mean the comfort, care and protection of ones genitalia is not a laughing matter. But like I say my choices were limited and I lack the confidence to go commando. It had been quite a while since I last wore them but they must have shrunk as they were somewhat tighter than I remember. (Yeah that's right "shrunk" hehehehe - LMM) They were a bit too Incredible Hulk like for my liking.

Friday night was busy, actually we surpassed busy within the first hour and before we knew it we were riding the choppy waters of full house. But it was good, we were good, the kitchen was good. Every obstacle the guests put in our way was dealt with masterful ease. For example...

There was a table of 20 show up that claimed to have booked that we didn't know about. POW! We got them seated without them even realising there was a problem.

There was a table of 16 that arrived with 5 extra guests. POW! We got them seated proving that 21 into 16 does go.

Oh you want three courses in an hour? POW! No problem, we did it.

We were hot. Every extra guest seated, every table served with grace, calmness and good humour. They set 'em up, we knocked them right out of the field. POW! POW! POW!

It was a really great night and after 8 o'clock nothing went wrong.

A table of fourteen didn't arrive with seven unannounced extra guests and insist we seat them all. Sixteen of them didn't sit there meekly saying nothing whilst four of them swore, ranted, raved, and generally abused waiter chum number one for not looking into her crystal ball and guessing that there would be seven extra places required. That same four then didn't go on a mini rampage lashing out verbally at all and sundry for not having the ability to quickly fashion a table and four chairs out of thin fucking air.

I'm glad that didn't happen

I'm also very relieved that the quartet of doom didn't launch a verbal assault on me as I was happily carrying out my waiterly duties. I'm glad they didn't threaten me with violence. I'm glad they didn't threaten me with violence. I'm glad they didn't threaten me with violence. I mean I was overcome with joy that the large oafish chap with a head like an anvil and fists like mallets didn't threaten to, "Knock my fucking head off." I was delighted that they didn't start telling lies and making up stories. If they had abused my manager and called him "scum" and followed it up with more threats to remove heads from shoulders, well, that would have been intolerable. So I'm chuffed that didn't happen.

Mostly I'm really pleased that I didn't react to any of this provocation and keep clam and controlled through it all.

And I'm super fucking pleased that I didn't get so wound up and beside myself with anger that I tripped the abort button in my head and decide to call it a day and storm the fuck out. Phew I'm glad that didn't happen at half eight on a Friday night.

Because if that had all happened at half eight on a Friday night and four people had verbally abused my friends and co-workers and my good self and issued viscious threats of violence and in the end have to be ushered out the door leaving my waiter chums traumatized and myself half way home then that would be both abhorrent and unacceptable.

So thank fuckity that didn't happen.

Oh....wait.....it did.

And all because we couldn't seat them.

They booked for fourteen but twenty one arrived. We couldn't accommodate them, we apologised but what were we to do? Jesus was apparently handy with carpentry and fashioning stuff out of thin air but despite my large ego I am not Jesus nor do I posses any carpentry or magic skills. So I cant create tables and chairs and the space to put them in out of nothing.

That's why I have now binned the Incredible Hulk pants. I get all Bruce Bannerish with them on and we all know he had severe anger management issues. In the end I only got as far as the back door. I realised half way through my storming out that I had no cash on me with which to secure the services of a taxi and I'm far too lazy to walk the two miles home. To lazy to walk out, ha! So after a brief conversation with the boss, were he craftily tugged on my sense of camaraderie, I walked back in again with the same force that I walked out. The rest of the night went like a breeze and within half an hour we were laughing and relaxed again.

But the whole incident was, in the end, a minor, if quite scary, moment in a hugely successful and lucrative weekend. So why is still bothering me? Is it my reaction or theirs that has me contemplating the point of it all? I'm going shopping on Monday for new underwear, maybe that will offer me some new perspective or at the very least better underpant options. And isn't that all what we really want - perspective and good underwear......

21 People trying to get Manuel's attention:

belfastyouthworker said...

you can never have enough underwear, dude. i'm sorry about your experiences with several fucktards on friday! this will obviously increase tenfold in the run-up to christmas. this will be my first christmas in 5 years out of hospitality. i intend to be the biggest bastard the welly has ever seen on my christmas dinner :D


i jest, darling

Manuel said...

byw: christmas fuckwads are easy to deal with......middle class a-holes with anger issues are another story all together.....have you read my guides to christmas from last year? are you a crier or a mentalist? I guessing the later.....but you never know

belfastyouthworker said...

i will be neither, i will be the perfect guest as i know only too well the stress that the staff are under. just plug me in the corner with a bottle of white and a straw

Manuel said...

byw: definite mentalist..hehehehehe

Niall said...

jesus... its this time of year. and also a question of geography i feel. you situated at what I would describe as a flash point of the city where 2 very different classes of people mix and to be very hones sometimes it produces fantastic results... an interesting mix of random people juxtaposed together in a friendly environment and it can be good.... unfortunatly like hot air meeting cold storms brew and idiot mouth breathing realics who make us all look bad and get our fine country a bad rep because they full believe its still 1975 and if they shout its acceptable. these are the same people who the more money they get the more they are entitled to and that you as a waiter must grovel to their DLA swindling wallets and obay. Well fuck them I say. Fuck their wannabe ways. I have realised that the most powerful and rich are much quieter when things go wrong that the middle management types and we should not stand. its time to strike back and remind said folk that their like will not be tolerated or just call the fuzz and have some verbal abuse charges landed.. a colleague of mine recently did and just got an out fo court settlement of.... five grand... thats a tip.

Niall said...

rant over.. long weekend... very long weekend

Manuel said...

niall: you get out, all out.....i may cover more of this during the week....come back and rant away.....

savannah said...

holy moley, sugar! i thought i had it bad dealing with family issues, but all y'all have it so much more worse! xoxox (my plans for the holidays remain stay at home in the new house and cook up a storm in MY NEW KITCHEN!!!! *happy dancing in my mind because i'm really too tired to really dance*

(have i told you recently what a gem of a waiter guy you are?) ;-)

MJ said...

You know what you need to go along with those Incredible Hulk Comedy Pants?

A pair of Hulk Hands!

Silverstar said...

Well, at least you could start to walk out. As a nurse, you can't walk out without losing your license. And if you think these bozos are bad, just add a sick relative to the mix. Yes, you must pull things out of the air, stop taking care of all your other patients, because, of course, you are Mum or Dad's private nurse. It's more about them than it is about you. But good job getting rid of the Incredible Hulk briefs. Try to find some with Ghandi or something on them.

scuba steve said...

Once upon a time, comando was actually pretty common for me as I hate doing laundry. That all ended when I went to a interview for a local restaurant. When I showed up, I was told the manager would be with me and to wait in the bar. I decided to use the facilities while I waited since I spent the morning hydrating in order to recover from the previous nights tequila rampage. The interview went great, and the manager offered me the job. I accepted, stood up, shook his hand, and thanked him. He went to the back to grab some paperwork for me to fill out at home, and I left. Once I got home, I looked over the material and found a hand written note… “I love a man who is a ‘free spirit’ meet me at (insert local bar here) at midnight”… Of course, I looked down and my fly was wide open. Needless to say, I found a different job the next day! The good thing is that now my girlfriend insists on doing my laundry for me!!!

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Waiter Extraordinaire said...

When you head home just forget about what happened.But in a way I like it better when you remember cause your blogs are much more interesting talking about some of these retards.To be a waiter we need a child's mind.Sort of like we experience something and 5 minutes later we forget.

gimme a minute said...

You need more calming underwear.

Anonymous said...

Good god and I thought working in retail was bad.

paddy said...

What a pack of fucking savages. Don't blame the undies mate - some punters are just fuckheads.

THe frustration and the anger will pass. But don't forget the name that booking was taken under, and let your mates in the trade know who they are. People like that should eat at home.

Manuel said...

savannah: awh shucks.....thank you

mj: quality.....one could really exact revenge with those on

Silverstar: ghandi pants! bwahahahaha

scuba steve: welcome scuba man! Bwahahahaha that's just awful

steve: yeah easier said than done all the same...

gimme: awh jesus monks....is there anything they cant put on your briefs

anonymous: I'd say it is just as bad.....some people are shit and that's that

paddy: people like that should eat in a cage......

sheepworrier said...

Fucktards, Manuel - pure and simple. No one deserves that sorta shite. (well, a few people do, but that would be going off on a tangent)
Why were the peelers not called?

belfast plate carrier said...

Is that one of my lines there?

Medbh said...

I'd say being threatened calls for a huffy response. Or at least a good 2 cigarette break.

Manuel said...

sheepo: funny thing is they said they were going to call them? Go figure! It was over before we need to phone them. Their parting words were hilarious though, "We'll be back in an hour. You better have our table ready by then." Awesome....

BPC: which ones? I'll post em back.....

medbh: You're normally the first and yet here you are at the end...I had about three two smoke breaks that evening....

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