The Murphy’s Law of food service is that the last table of the day is the one that will keep you there the longest. It never fails. It’s like the last table that is sat in your station is destined to make you stay at work longer than you want to. Okay, really the first table sat keeps me there longer than I want to because I don’t want to be there at all in the first place.
I was working a ten hour shift recently. Don’t even get me started on the whole working for ten hours straight thing. My lazy ass can barely handle four hours so it was like this endless day of customers continuously asking me for things. “Can I get water? Can I get coffee? Can I get eggs? I need this I need that. Me me me!” What about my needs?? I wanted to pull my freaking hair out but I didn’t because it looked really really good that day. I had tried a new product that morning and it made my hair all bouncy and shit. I digress. I was scheduled to leave at 9:00 PM which wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t started at 10:30 AM. Seriously, I felt like Abraham Lincoln should come in at any minute with a proclamation or something. My last table was nice enough. It looked like I was going to leave earlier than expected because it had slowed down. Then it happened. As I was presenting them with their check at a mere 8:00 PM and salivating over the possibility of leaving an hour early, they asked to see the dreaded dessert menu. After 9 1/2 hours, well over one hundred people, and close to $1700 in sales, I get to sell my first dessert. Oh boy. I shot her a look from hell as I waited for the next request. “Oh and can we get some coffee?” All day no one had felt the need to have dessert and judging by the hips on this lady she didn’t need it either. But she ordered it. I waited about a thousand hours for the kitchen to make the damn thing and rushed it over to her along with the check. Which sat there. And sat there. And sat there. Meanwhile, I sat at the bar feeling my patience grow thinner than the hamburger patties we sell. She didn’t eat that dessert. She made love to it in slow motion. She fondled each spoonful with her tongue and then would slowly sip her coffee as I sat near by watching my Golden Years rapidly approaching. By the time she was done I fully expected my first social security check to be waiting for me.
She finally paid her check and said thank you. She left me a nice tip. I was so eager to get out of there, I beat her out of the door. She was still sitting there as I walked past her booth’s window. I waved. She looked at her empty coffee cup. It stayed empty unless she helped herself to a refill. I was done for the day.