Too Darn Hot

It’s hot here in New York City. It’s so hot that part of my face melted off yesterday while I waited for the bus to take me to a job. I was wearing the required all-black outfit of course. Nothing says comfort like black pants and a black shirt in 102° weather waiting for the Q60 bus in Queens. Lucky for me, I was working inside but what about those people who have to brave the elements? I look around the city during a heat wave like this and feel such empathy for the folks who have to work outdoors. Okay, “empathy” is a bit much because it implies that I have feelings and concern for others. Maybe when I say “empathy” I just mean I’m glad it’s not me. Those men who pour asphalt and stand all day over a big cauldron of boiling tar? Awful. Those people who work on the tops of buildings replacing roofs? Horrible. Those servers who carry trays of fajitas to people on the patio? The worst.

Ages ago I worked on a patio for Houlihan’s. If you are familiar with New York City perhaps you know where the big fancy Apple Store is right at the corner of Central Park and across from the Plaza Hotel. Well there was a time when there was a Houlihan’s under there and it had a huge patio. Then one day it was filled in and covered with concrete and the Apple Store came in and no one ever remembers that there is a fine dining establishment buried there. Sad really. This country does not care about its history and architecture. How can they just bury a place like Houlihans’? Anyhoo, I worked on that patio one summer and it was so freakin’ hot. It was a giant square of cement that just soaked up heat and sun so when you stepped out on it, it was like the Gobi desert. I seem to recall there were a few pitiful trees that tried to give us some shade but even the trees knew it was futile and they were like, “oh fuck this shit, it’s too hot.” I hated to wear sunscreen because I was greasy enough from the food and sweaty enough from the humidity that to add another level of oil to my face seemed wrong. I can recall more than once seeing sweat drip off of my nose and onto a plate of food as I served it to someone. First class service, indeed.

I was only there for three months before I was transferred back to my home Houlihan’s. I never really liked it there and never bonded with any co-workers. One guy that was a waiter there was the brother to the manager. So you know he didn’t do shit and got away with murder. I don’t remember his name, but let’s just call him Richard. Or Dick for short. Everyone hated working with Dick because we all knew that no matter how half-assed he did his side work, the manager wouldn’t give a shit. He never got in trouble even though he was a complete prick. One time some foreigners stiffed him which wasn’t all that surprising. It was a regular occurrence seeing that we were on Fifth Avenue at Central Park and in front of FAO Schwarz toy store. Tourist central. Well, Dick was not pleased with his 0% tip and let them know about it. As they were leaving, he went up to them and asked them why they didn’t leave him a tip. They were all, “er, uhh, err, no English, errr.” Richard went off on them. I was shocked at how he was yelling at these people who didn’t even know what he was saying. “Well, this is America and in this country, we tip. Alright? You got that?? You know what your problem is? Ya got deep pockets and short arms, that’s what your problem is. Get outta here, go on and don’t come back with your short ass arms and deep damn pockets.” Yes, he really said that. I mean, I’m bitchy and all but that is epic asshole.

The manager, his sister, heard about it. He was told to not do it again. Such authority. That patio sucked. The people sucked, the customers sucked, the food sucked. But the suckiest thing about it was definitely the heat. Stay cool.

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