It's over

another Christmas season draws to an end with Manuel asking
"Who will rub my feet, who?"

I have to say, without fear of contradiction, this was the best Christmas I have worked yet. Better than last year, and it was a gem too. The year before that was not gem like at all. It was hell in a Santa suit. But this year was just great. I define a great Christmas at work as being one that is financially rewarding, one that leaves me with few physical scars, no new mental scars, and when all the guests had a great time. Oh and that's in order of importance to me. But what was also very pleasing for me was that I managed to continue churning out posts on here despite being sore, tired, sweaty, hungry and quite often barely able to find the strength to switch the bloody mac on when I got home. It's quantity that counts folks, not quality, quantity. Just ask Old Knudsen.

Saying that I still think the most ball busting season of the year deserves one more final posting before i can put it out of my mind for another 3 months, when planning for December 08 begins. So here is the WellDoneFillet review of Christmas in a handy section I call...

The WellDoneFillet Christmas Review

The Numbers

The number of Christmas Criers I had to endure/laugh at was 5 and that's a marked reduction on last years cry-fest. This years Christmas Criers were as a result of too much to drink and the emotion of the season and because the "men" at one table made jokes about one of their work colleagues large breasts. Nice one guys, you made someone cry, feeling good? What next candy from a baby? Kick a dog? I didn't laugh at that crier.

Mentalists were thin on the ground this year too. There must be a link between criers and mentalists. There were only 2 proper mentalists on show this year, this dick that I wrote about earlier who made his girlfriend cry and the lady who showed up ten minutes before her party was due to get moved on and demanded we serve her the salmon she had ordered. We did indeed serve her the requested salmon, under protest it should be added, which she then spilt her glass of coke all over. That made my night.

The number of members of parliament booked for Christmas dinner was 6. The number that turned up was zero. Despite the great and the good from the Northern Ireland Assembly being booked for dinner, despite being sworn to secrecy, and despite laughable security checks none of the bastards showed up! I was left with a table of mid ranking civil servants, they were very nice people and a joy to serve but I had a host of one liners prepared and a greeting to welcome then in both Irish and Ulster Scots. It all appeared to be Ian Paisley Jnr's fault. His empty seat was photographed by most of the guests and sent via text message to him. Huh that'll teach him....(I think I may have over egged this story earlier)

The number of members of staff who have resigned during December is currently 3. I say currently as I know of at least 1 more that is planned and New Years Eve always tests the reliability and resolve of the weak. It's hard to do at the best of times but if your hearts not in it....The Princess resigned too. She's moving on to a "proper" job. The waiter known as Crazy Paving has also resigned. She was a great waiter, and I'm going to miss working with her and The Princess. Emo Bar girl also jacked it in saying she wanted a normal life. Stop being Emo then. She brought her own special uniqueness to the job. Sometimes she was fun, well maybe fun is abut strong, but mostly she was just very very Emo. Customer - "Hello can I have a pint of beer please?" Emo Bar Girl - "Yeah but what's the point? What about me?" I'll miss them all. Fucking young ones these days with their ambition! None of that in my day.

And the best number of all? £2120.00 or there abouts. Loverly Jubberly.....but shhhhh don't tell the taxman......

Awards

The Waiters Dream Table Award goes to the good people from the CSA who managed to inhale their 4 courses in an almost unbelievable 75 minutes. Never before have the rules of EAT PAY TIP LEAVE been so well adhered to. There will always be a table ready for you guys.

The Ebenezer Scrooge Award is normally a hotly contested award with many tables vying for this accolade. But this year I had only two tables to choose from. In the end it wasn't this lovely table up for a night in the big city from one of our hick redneck provincial towns. Instead it was Saturday night's table who were also from the bible belt heartland of Ulster. I swear to God getting money out of these people is harder than convincing them we are all descended from monkeys. They want to barter with you about the price and tell you about their local that serves twice as much food for half the price. Well fuck off back their and stay there. Once they remembered that they didn't have to pay the service charge that was it. They took up a half arsed collection in a wine glass that was more insulting than a tip. God apparently works in mysterious ways, but Manuel's ways are stranger still and they should by now be suffering a karmic reaction.....

Award for Chef of the Season goes to "Spud". He was a walking disaster zone. When he was sent to the shop to get much needed bread he came back with McDonalds. When he threw a big huff and walked out he ended up walking back in again 3 minutes later, leading to accusations that he couldn't even do that right. And he nearly killed himself on Friday when he managed to throw the kettle of soup all over himself. Genius.....

Customer comment of the month award is shared between the lady who complained, "There's no chicken in the Caesar Salad." (The Caesar Salad doesn't come with chicken, d'uh) and the lady who assured me she was having the Chocolate Cake for dessert when there was no chocolate cake on the menu. Even when I brought her the menu she still insisted that it was there and that I, "must have switched the menu." Jesus wept....

The Timex Award for Timekeeping goes to an accountancy firm. They were late by 8 whole days. Despite paying a deposit with the time and date marked on it, despite being phoned the day before, despite ordering in advance, they still managed to get the whole thing wrong. Tremendous. Not sure if that is better or worse than last year award winners, a local school. They were booked for the 5pm to 7pm sitting. They arrived at.......6.55pm as they thought they were booked for 5 to 7. D'oh.......

There were other things.....other stories.....other comments made....other wrongs committed but this christmas was great. The kitchen boys were great, the management didn't let us down, the guests for the most part were fun, on time, and generous. And everybody had a good time and after all that's what it's all about......no it's not, it's about the cash and it was simply superb.

Thanks to....
The Princess
The Chops
Crazy Paving
Psycho
The Original Psycho
The Glorious Leader
and The Cooker Jockey's Upstairs

Lets do it again sometime........

Black Friday is coming and the waiters are getting scared

The First Casualty of Black Friday is Innocence
the second is your feet....

The weekend was tough. Not the worst but tough all the same. Next Friday though, the 14th, is Black Friday. This was more charcoal Friday than Black. Black Friday is the busiest day of the year. It's like all hell is let loose and it needs to be fed in five 2-hour sittings. No other day is more eagerly anticipated and feared by chefs, waiters, and bar staff alike. I'm not doing it justice.....

It's fucking hell on earth. It's the perfect storm. It's the tenth circle of hell. It's 14 hours straight, no break, no food, no smokes, no coming up for air. It's not for the weak, the fainthearted or those of a nervous disposition. And certainly not for those who cant work four hours in a row without resorting to quoting European Employment law. All bets are off, all workers rights are put on hold. By the end of lunch you have served more tables than you would on a Saturday night and you still have three sittings to go. If you are unfortunate enough to die during service then you can expect to be moved to the side. Someone will send your next of kin a text message to come and collect you. This is the Champions League/Superbowl of restaurant work. The big fight of catering. The rumble in the restaurant. The Olympics for waiters. Anyone for steroids? It really doesn't get tougher than Black Friday....

It's all about the anticipation of what might happen. Actually it's all about what might go wrong. If we get it wrong on a Tuesday night we might annoy 2 or 3 customers. If we get it wrong on Black Friday we might end up with a riot on our hands. Hell hath no fury like a mid ranking Civil Service manager who has to wait longer for their turkey and ham than they hoped. And with communications being what they are these days you can expect a withering email of complaint before you have even got the tables reset again. I've never been involved in a Black Friday disaster, touch wood I never will. But stories of other restaurants serving desserts at 1 am and customers who had to wait an hour and a half for their first course last for years. It sends a very cold shiver down my back at the thought of it. Your adrenalin is fueled by the desire not to be the one that fucks it all up and personal pride in the job. But mainly the former reason.

Conversely, it's also the greatest rush you can get working in a restaurant. It's a fucking high. The adrenalin is pumping from the moment you put on your uniform. A restaurant in full flow is a beautiful thing. When it flows right, when all you can hear is the laughter of your customers and the popping of corks, when all the staff are moving as one as if choreographed, when the plates go out full and come back empty, when the chef still calls you by your first name and not fuck-wit then it truly is a joy to behold. Not that you have time to behold anything. You will work harder on Black Friday than on any other day in the year. You will also make more money than on any other day. Which is nice. Black Friday is also a very Golden Friday too...

And it's all I can think about....sweet Jebus I'm scared......and excited too.....but mainly scared.....

Assholes, they are like busses...

chaos theory
if you show up late, you don't get dessert...

You wait all weekend for an asshole and then 15 show up at once. Which is nice. Sorry did I say nice? I meant to say it's fucking typical. To be exact it wasn't 15, five of the guests showed up on time the other ten arrived over a 45 minute period. Which was nice. Sorry did I say nice again? I meant to say it was frustrating to the point of stabbing. Each one of the late comers was greeted by me at the door with "Oh yes you were booked for 7.15, they are waiting for you." But no one seemed to get my dig or care. They just meandered in like cows ambling around a field, without a care in the world. So by the time the last of the guests arrived they were a total of 45 minutes into their 2 hour sitting without so much as sprout having been served. Whilst the rest of the restaurant was stuffing their bakes with turkey and ham my table were pondering which course they weren't going to get.

You see it's just not possible to serve 4 courses in an hour and fifteen minutes. Cant be done. No chance. Forget about it. So I approached the table and put the situation to them, a whole course had to go. Some people didn't quite get what I meant. In order to comfortably enjoy two courses of food one entire course had to disappear altogether. Some people were happy to drop their first course some were happy to forgo their desserts. And they thought this was the situation resolved. Good holy fuck this was becoming harder than the time I had to explain the Chaos Theory to a group of Vietnamese Sailors, (chaos theory describes the behavior of certain nonlinear dynamical systems that may exhibit dynamics that are highly sensitive to initial conditions (popularly referred to as the butterfly effect). As a result of this sensitivity, which manifests itself as an exponential growth of perturbations in the initial conditions, the behavior of chaotic systems appears to be random. This happens even though these systems are deterministic, meaning that their future dynamics are fully defined by their initial conditions, with no random elements involved. This behavior is known as deterministic chaos, or simply chaos). Obviously.

After further discussion, the drawing of a large clock, a quick explanation of how a modern professional kitchen works, and version of, "He's got the whole world in his hands" it was decided that desserts would be cut from tonight's menu. Fantastico! We were getting somewhere. Drinks and first courses served. I started to relax a bit and decided it was time to climb down from my very high horse. The guests at the table were a little scared of me and I was feeling bad for them. My initial tone may have been that of a shitty head teacher. So I decided to cut them a little slack. I schmoozed them with a bit of silky banter. They were actually quite nice, for dentists that is. A bit of Restaurant Rainman work later and I had changed the table plan for the evening allowing the tardy dentists plenty of time to scoff our Christmas Pudding and custard.

I know I know I'm too soft....

But this was only possible by relocating a table in the next sitting to a very peculiar position somewhere between the toilets and the delta nebulous. Not a pretty place to be but if there was any grief from the next table I would schmooze my way out of it with a round of drinks or something. As it happens there was a minor moment of, "Oh is this our table....?" from the next group of guests. I bullshitted more than I schmoozed, but it worked and that's all that counts. They got a great meal with greater service and a fantastic view of the toilets and I got tipped handsomely by the dentists who seemed happy to pay the "we are sorry we stressed you out by being late and are really happy you sorted us out with our desserts even thought we took up more of your time than we should have" tax without me having to suggest it. Now that is nice.

We had our first Christmas crier and first Christmas mentalist of the season tonight. And it wasn't very nice to watch at all. Normally we sit back and marvel at the mentalist as they let a full year of grievances out on their bosses. Normally we snigger and giggle cruelly at the Christmas crier, making up a back story for their public crying fit. But not tonight. Both Christmas offenders were on the same table, a table for two. EEK! The restaurant was a cacophony of noise. There was much laughter and over exuberance on the behalf of the table of 30 bin men. But the atmosphere was great. The music system was playing all the tunes it refused to do on Friday. But this was broken by the raised voices from one table. A man's voice. We all shot looks at each other and raised eyebrows. Plates were dropped off without being scrapped, drinks orders were put on hold. We had to see. But by now Mr Shouty big voice was standing up and trying to force money into his partners hand. She wouldn't take it and was trying to calm him down. She knew we were all watching. We knew she knew we were all watching so we pretended to go back to work. He stormed off leaving the money on the table. She cried. Oh what to do. I went over to see if she was okay and give her a napkin for her tears. What the hell else was I gonna do? She just wanted out of there quickly. She handed me the money Mr Shouty had thrown on the table and left. And you know what, that's the biggest tip they have ever left me. They are normally quite mean. So more tantrums if you please. I like a crier and mentalist as much as the next waiter but come on, don't make me have to feel bad for you too. Waiters, seeking gratuities where there is only pain and crying. We are a classy bunch.....

Not sure how the whole blogging thing is gonna work in December. I will have the stories but may be short on the energy to write them.........

Be careful what you wish for.....

the music box has all the power....

Christmas eh, you get yourself all worked up and then nothing happens. No one cried, no one went mental, and no one broke any marital vows in the toilets. As Christmas service goes this was smoother than Julio Iglesias, which is pretty damn smooth. Where's my blog gold people, where? Everyone arrived on time. They enjoyed their food, they loved their wine, for God's sake they laughed at my jokes. And when the bills were presented they paid them with no hesitation, leaving generous gratuities for myself and work chums. This isn't what I signed up for!

The only problem of the day was the music system. Being a law unto itself it refused point blank to play any Christmas songs. Not so much as a Fah Lah Lah or a Bell Jingled in anger all day. Not even one rendition of my personal favourite Christmas Wrapping by The Waitresses, of course. It was as if it knew it was still November and was refusing to play ball in a fit of stroppiness. Maybe it was harking back to the good old wet days of summer as it decided to play Summer Holiday by Cliff Richard, the bastard. I mean the machine, Cliff hasn't changed his name. But that would be sweet, Ol' Dirty Bastard reborn as a Christian pop singer with a penchant for tennis. As I kicked the music system for the 43rd time I began to think of it as one of those pedantic sort of people that says things like, "Good morning at 2am" or knows exactly when your Christmas tree is supposed to be taken down. So I kicked it for the 44th time. It was about this time that I gave up and put on Lovin' Spoonful's Summer in the City. What the hell, may as well play along with the onerous little bastard. I then realised I had been fiddling with the machine for 20 minutes and that table 6 would probably be wanting their turkey by now....

And there in lies my dichotomy folks. I want my Christmas sittings to go well, who needs the grief from drunk solicitors or shoe shop assistants? But at the same time I know people prefer stories of waiter woe and customer strife. Come on just admit it. I do too, it's just that I have to suffer the vein popping pain of it live, you get the recanted version. Am I actually saying I want things to go bad? Crikey, this isn't good. There are dark and mysterious forces out there, other than the chefs, that can make my nightmares come true. Oh well we all must suffer a little to entertain the masses.......

Maybe I'll spill something on purpose tomorrow, just to have something to write about. I'm a blogo-masochist, "Be rude to me sir....forget my name madam....yeah click your fingers.....ooohh I like that......"

The WellDoneFillet Guide to Surviving The Office Christmas Party Part II

Behind every Mike in HR lies a true
Christmas Mentalist

So we all know the joy that is the Christmas Crier, the bag of cats that is the Christmas Mentalist, the ball licking sycophant and the Christmas lothario who wants to do more than kiss under the mistletoe. There is nothing I can do to stop Christmas Party goers from doing a Jekyll and Hyde personality swap before the soup goes cold. But if you follow the WellDoneFillet Guide to Surviving The Office Christmas Party you should manage not to get your head caved in by the mentalist, spend 3 hours in the toilet rubbing the criers back, avoid getting shagged by the married rat and not get a written warning from the job worth. It's all in a handy cut and keep section I call,

The WellDoneFillet Guide to Surviving The Office Christmas Party
(Catchy eh)

Let's start with the CHRISTMAS MENTALIST. The mentalist is the person most likely to put you in hospital. Whilst annoying, the Christmas Crier wont stab you in the eye with a dessert fork or subject you to a spit filled tirade of abuse. The mentalist needs to be avoided at all costs. Spotting the mentalist is the key to your survival. As you sit at your table waiting for the waiter to bring you your Campari and Soda take a moment to look around the table. Don't stop to admire the lovely dresses and new ties look for the person with the 1000 yard stare. They wont look obvious at at first but look beyond the party hat. The Christmas Mentalist wont be talking to anyone but will probably be jittery, will spend about five minutes polishing their cutlery, and wont have taken their coat off despite having been in the restaurant for 45 minutes. That's your guy. Stay away from them. Make no eye contact. Do not buy them a drink, it's like feeding a gremlin after midnight, don't do it. Don't engage them in conversation, but should you find yourself in a situation were you have to talk to them keep it brief and general. Don't bring up any issues that are likely to set them off, for example promotions that they missed, in fact stay off all work related stuff. Stick to topics such as the weather, who will get the Christmas number one, and if they like "It's a Wonderful Life". The Mentalist is at their most threatening when they are on the move, much like hippos. Know where the mentalist is at all times and be somewhere else. And when the mentalist finally flips and the red crazy mist descends it's always good to have someone between you and the crazy person chucking the knives, preferably a new person so you don't feel too bad when they get split like a Twix bar. Avoid the mentalist at all costs. But you might want to bring some band aids with you just in case.

The CHRISTMAS CRIER can ruin your night, ruin it not with dessert forks or threats of physical violence but with tears and napkins and cry's of "No one loves me." Oh it's bad so very very bad, and sad. But how do you spot the Christmas Crier? Who's the one that you are going to spend the night in the toilet with? Identifying the Christmas Crier is so much easier than the Christmas Mentalist. They will have a track record of crying in public, most likely at your last staff outing and around any holidays of significance. You need to know these things before you sit down. Because once you sit beside the Christmas Crier you are stuck with them for the rest of the night. They will glue themselves to you like a limpet. Escape is futile and when they inevitably do break down you will be expected to go to the toilet with them and sit there for hours and rub their back and tell them everything is okay. The Christmas Crier is going to cry, you can't stop it. But you can delay it. Keep their alcohol consumption to the minimum, dilute their wine/vodka with water. Encourage them to drink lots of water. Avoid all conversations about relationships, family, pets, weight issues, and what's happening in the soaps. If anyone around you and the cry baby starts a conversation regarding these issues you need to jump in fast and change track quickly. Stick to dull matters such as cars, wallpaper, mobile phones and Adam Sandler movies. If you have avoided the Christmas Crier well done, now stay away. But if you have the Christmas Crier in their pre-Crying state you need to get rid of them and quick because like I already said they are going to lose it at some point. The best way is to attach and run. Move with the Christmas Crier to a another group of co-workers, start a conversation about relationships (that's the attach) and then make your excuses and run, run Forest run, and don't look back......

The CHRISTMAS HUMPER & THE CHRISTMAS DRUNK are quite often one in the same person. And like the Christmas Crier they will have form for both crimes. Think, who got drunk at the charity lunch quiz? Who smells of drink at 9 in the morning every morning? What happens when you get two drunks together? You get drunks humping. Look round the room for the guys and gals with their arm around the person beside them within five minutes of arrival. When the boss orders wine they will be the person that calls the waiter over and doubles it. They also arrived there an hour before everyone else. With their inhibitions lowered and senses dulled thanks to tequila and rum the Christmas Drunk starts putting the moves on. They start high but after ten rejections they will hump the bus boy or even you. You need to be strong and firm. There's no point in telling them you are in a relationship already that's nothing more than details/challenge to the horny drunk. Tell them that you would rather sleep with a rabid dog with herpes than put your tongue in their mouth. Do it loud, do it in front of everybody, and don't worry about their feelings, the person you work with is essentially dead and has been replaced with and walking horn. That warning is enough to put them off. They are drunk so expect some sort of nasty reply. You will most likely be called frigid/gay/straight/impotent. Still better to be called names than get chlamydia or herpes from the office skank (either male or female). Oh and watch for them turning into the Christmas Crier or Christmas Mentalist after. If all else fails make sure you bring condoms.

Secret Santa is a pile of cheap nasty poo. Don't get excited, keep your expectations low and you wont be disappointed. The Office Sycophant can be a problem. They normally don't get drunk and tend to remember everything that happens. They remember and will use it against you for another year. You can just try and avoid them but that isn't really a viable option as they are like cockroaches and just keep showing up. The best way to deal with them is to get them drunk, take photographs and then relax. Chances are they will turn into a mentalist or crier.
You have worked hard all year and are entitled to your night out as much as the rest of the space cadets and freaks that you work with. Don't let the bastards ruin your night. If all else fails get hammered, shag the office junior and then smash the place up........

It's what I used to do.....

(Tomorrow, How to help the waiter help you enjoy your Christmas night out. You will need to take notes)

Tis the season to be jolly (or cry, go mental, and try it on with the 19 year old office junior) Brilliant!

Happy Christmas

(you bastard)

It's five weeks to Christmas. Thirty five and a half days from now it will all be over for another year. I say 35 and a half because it's all over by tea-time really, isn't it? By then you are slumped in front of the TV jacked up on mince pies and Baileys watching the Vicar of Dibley wondering if it would be bad manners to go and check your email. (It is by the way.) That is of course if you were involved in the whole racket in the first place. Some people opt out of the Christmas thingy, conscientious objectors, if you will, of the Yuletide season. And I have no problem with them. The thing about Christmas is that you cant sit on the fence, you have to go for it at 1000mph with golden balls and twinkling lights or get the fuck out of the manger all together. There's no in between. But what cant be avoided is the Office's Christmas night out. That's were I come in.

Whilst it maybe 35 days to Christmas it's only 10 days to the start of the Christmas party season, can you feel it people can ya, can ya, eh eh? There is nothing better than having to go out on an all day bender with people you would normally cross the road to get away from. People you cant fucking stand because they are dull or they smell or because they grind on your tits for most of the year. Then you are expected to eat turkey and cranberry sauce with them. Not a fucking chance matey. Oh I see you, with your fake smiles, and air kissing, and the "oh you look fabulous" crap but moments later it's back to your clique and it's all whispering and dirty looks. You stink up my restaurant with your hypocrisy and cheap perfume/cologne.

Worse than the back biting and hate filled smiles are the sycophants and brown nosers. Manuel sees you too. They sit near the boss, normally facing them. They don't start eating until the boss starts eating. They order water if the boss orders water. They are non-committal on whether they are enjoying their meal until the boss says whether they are enjoying their sprout and chestnut risotto (which little man arse kisser ordered too despite originally ordering the turkey but switched because the boss was having the risotto.) If the boss ain't happy the suck-up goes into over drive, shouting and ranting and blaming the waiter. They demand everything be done to correct the problem, normally completely unreasonable demands like have the chef come down and kiss the bosses ring by way of an apology. Meanwhile whilst little man arse kisser is waiting to see the restaurant manager I am usually getting the problem sorted out and putting an end to the drama. These people are real ball busters.

And then there is the Secret Santa carry on. Tony from HR buys you a cats calendar and you got Sheila from Marketing a novelty mug which reads, "I'm a bitch." She laughs, you mean it. Oh the fucking horror of it all. Every year we end up with bags of unwanted "novelty" presents. Miniature tool kits, key rings, Bart Simpson socks, desk top skittles, Looney Tunes ties, miniature gum ball machines the list is as endless as it is painful. And they all get abandoned, either through drunken misadventure or because the recipient is offended with their Secret Santa tat. Saying that some people cling to their present like it was given to them by one of the 3 Wise men. There they are at closing time nursing their office golf set like it was their first born child despite being so drunk they don't even know their own name. Sad beyond words.

Then there is the Christmas crier. Awh bless them. Before the Yule Log and coffee is served there will be somebody crying their eyes out. There is one in every office at every party on every shift. They get dragged to the toilets by their co-workers, who later on will say they knew it was going to happen. There they are the four of them in one cubicle in the toilets all crying together because Tony/Jane in Sales hasn't noticed them or made a cruel joke. The first Christmas Crier last year was clocked within two hours of Christmas Service starting. I'm running a book this year, the first Christmas Crier, how many Christmas Criers, and the ratio of male to female Christmas Criers. I love the Christmas Crier, they make me feel like a normal well balanced individual by comparison. But they aren't the worst offenders. The Christmas Crier is the close relative of the Christmas Mentalist.

I absolutely love the Christmas Mentalist, as long as there are a number of doormen between me and the crazy bastard that is. The Christmas Mentalist, as the name suggests, loses the plot in the worst way. It's a combination of too much drink, which they cant handle, and a whole years resentment and hate bubbling under their Three Piece Suit. What makes the Christmas Mentalist such a fun character is that it's always the last person anyone in the office would suspect to be a grade A basket case. But we can spot them. They have a blank stare, and wear two watches and have manic hair. Their co-workers don't see the signs because they haven't seen him all year despite being in the same office. And that's normally the problem. We had one guy go absolutely stark raving bonkers a year or two ago. Tables and chairs were sent across the bar, followed by glasses, bottles, and the guy that brings the office mail. Oh yes he went daft. He was "escorted" out by three doormen who he decided to take on as well. He regretted that. He did it the year before at another restaurant. Crikey he must have a few issues.

nice

Ah I love the mentalist, especially when they set the Christmas Crier off who then sets of little man arse kisser. Office Christmas Parties are the best. They are a real leveler. The supposedly more professional the group the more they ridiculous they act. For example I had a table of school teachers last year that I had to tell off for throwing wet napkins at each other and shouting at the top of their voices. And then there was the table of lawyers that drank so much alcohol that one of the group actually shit themselves. They threatened to sue us for chucking them out, a suit that never arrived I should add. How do these people face each other again back at work? Married people trying it on with the office junior, the boss in tears, the mentalist, the super drunk, how?

Ten more days people, ten more days until the "normality" of my lovely little restaurant gets bastardised by filthy office parties. Oh the horror, oh the humanity, if it wasn't the most lucrative four weeks of the year I'd go out on the sick until it was over. So who are you, the mentalist, the crier, the lover, or the brown noser?

(Tomorrow, how to survive your office Christmas party)

What's he building in there?

Manuel is busy,
busy doing man things...

Spent two bloody hours yesterday chasing up deposits for Christmas bookings. It's going to be a busy one. Oh sweet Jesus it's gonna be tough. The bookings are coming in quicker than my fat stubby fingers can cope with. I asked the Glorious Leader for a secretary, he told me to quit whining and get on with it.

People come up with some tremendous excuses for not having their deposits in on time, "I was on my way when I got side tracked in town and then I ran into a friend who I hadn't seen in ages and we ended up going for a drink and that was Thursday and I wasn't in town on Friday as I don't work Friday's as I'm on a job share with Maggie she works on a Friday not me so that's why I didn't get down last week." Said the far too jolly by half secretary who didn't appear to breathe as she spoke to me. To which I replied in my driest most monotone voice, "Yeah, so will you be bringing it this week then?"

Then you get the panicky apologists, "Oh my God, I'm so so sorry. I can't believe I forgot about that. Are we going to lose our table? I'm so sorry. You must think I'm awful. I really am so sorry...." You can hear them searching round their desks for the cash or a stress ball or the Prozac/Valium. I like them panicky. You know they are going to arrive on time and have all their cash sorted in advance and be good little customers. And that's what I need, good little customers who do what they are told.

Christmas isn't about the quality service and all that, it's about as close as you can get to working in a factory without actually having to. It's also about surviving. Christmas past is full of the weak and the dead who never made it past the first weekend. I promised myself no tears, they weren't strong enough to cope with 5 sittings, I don't need to feel bad. You can expect to hear more and more about Christmas over the next few months. It becomes all embracing from now on in. New girl 1 asked the Princess and I what all the fuss was about Christmas and why were we always talking about it. She was quick to understand the brevity of the 4 weeks of December when we simply replied "Cash, lots and lots of cash." Young un's they catch on quick.

Anyway I'm up to my neck in it this week with Christmas stuff and the top secret "Operation NOT ENOUGH HOURS IN THE DAY FOR THIS CRAP BUT I'M GONNA DO IT ANYWAY." More on that to follow. Posting may be light for a day or so, it might not be either, who can possibly say? Oh and if you haven't booked your office's Christmas party yet, get it done soon or it will be Pizza Hut's all you can eat buffet. MMMMMM festive.

I leave you with the Tom Wait's classic "What's he building in there?" or if you prefer, the live version.