Is there any relationship that is more tenuous than that of the people who close the restaurant and the people who open it? It’s a fine line from one to the other, because very often people can switch back and forth between the two. One week, you might close for three days and the next week, you are the opener. I am almost always the opener and I have one thing to say to the person who closed the night before: what the fuck is wrong with you?
Look, I get it, You were there until 11:30 at night and you didn’t want to give the dining room another sweep because it was late and you wanted to go home, but suck it up. If you don’t sweep at night, who do you think has to do it the next day? Me, that’s who. I also have to mop and those six or seven crushed Goldfish crackers under Table 16 are not going to go willingly into the mop bucket. That should have been swept up by your lazy ass since it was left there by a lazy ass parent who had a baby who couldn’t get the Goldfish into its lazy ass mouth. That’s the deal: closer sweeps, opener mops.
And why is there no silver rolled? Oh, I know why, it’s because you didn’t ask the dishwasher to run it so you were able to leave claiming there was no clean silverware to roll. That’s not fair and you suck. And don’t tell me it was busy because you know I can look in the computer and see what the sales were for any day I want, right? All I have to do is run a report for last night and see that it was dead enough for you to have time to do something other than twiddle your thumbs for five fucking hours. You had time to pull the broom from your ass and use it to sweep up some goddamn Goldfish crackers and roll twenty-five roll-ups.
And really? There are no paper towels in the bathroom? I have to do that too? How fucking lazy are you? What did you do, just wipe your hands on your apron after you washed them because you knew that I would be here the next day to take care of it? It was also nice of you to leave the coffee pot with grounds in it so that when I went to brew hot water, it produced some leftover weak ass coffee that meant I had to dump it out and then wash the pot.
You’re an asshole, whoever closed last night. A lazy son of a bitch who I hope I never have to work with. I want to report you to the manager so he knows what a horrible employee you are. Maybe you need to be re-trained. Or maybe I need to get out the side work chart and have it tattooed on your face so every time you look in the mirror, you will know what you have to do next. We may not work at the same time but we still have to work together. I am going to look at the schedule and see who was the miserable piece of shit who closed the restaurant last night so I will know who to talk shit about behind their back. I am talking about last night, Tuesday. Who closes on Tuesday nights? Yes, I know who it is, it’s that new girl Angie. I knew I didn’t like her from the first time I worked with her and she was all smiley and everything to her tables and saying “my pleasure” and “absolutely.” And then last week she told me that she needed someone to cover her shift for her because she had a previous commitment at some shelter where she serves food to the needy. God, what a fucking goody two shoes. I wonder if she leaves the shelter in shit shape like she did the restaurant last night. So I agreed to cover her shift because I’m so fucking nice and friendly and where does it get me?
Wait, I covered her shift for her. On Tuesday night. Last night. I closed last night. Nevermind.