Totally gross
When I worked at Black Eyed Pea in Houston Texas about a thousand years, I worked with a girl named Connie. We caught her eating leftover rolls and fried okra straight from the bus tub which led to her nickname of Bus Tub Connie. She thought it was a waste of perfectly good food and felt an obligation to consume it.
“There are starving children in Africa who would be so grateful for this leftover piece of chicken fried chicken,” she’d say.
“And there are people in the restaurant who think you are a disgusting human being,” we’d tell her right back.
I never thought I would meet someone as nasty as her, but last night at work, it happened. Our bus boy Reggie is officially the mist disgusting person I have ever seen in my entire life.
Reggie is telling us how broke he is and how badly he needs some money. Since he lives at home and does not go to school, I don’t know what he needs money for. His parents don’t make him pay rent, he does not own a car, he does not have a girlfriend and I have never seen him wear anything but ripped up Levis and black t-shirts. The only logical explanationis that he is a major drug addict and needs his fix.
“Man, I would do anything for fifty extra bucks tonight, you know?” he says. “Anything.”
Kristine wants specifics and asks him what exactly he is willing to do for some extra cash since we are all bored at work and could use some entertainment.
“I dunno, “ answers Reggie. “What do you want me to do?”
This is Kristine’s chance. “What if we all pitched in some money and we are willing to give it to you if you eat something really gross?”
Reggie must be more desperate than Kristine expected because he quickly agrees to it. “Okay, what do you want me to eat?”
I can’t believe that he is willingly going to let us decide what he will put into his mouth and swallow. We set some ground rules:
- It will be one soup cup of something.
- Each person who outs in money gets to add an ingredient.
- He must swallow it all.
- He cannot drink any water until it has already gone down.
- If he throws up, it does not count.
- If he swallows it all and keeps it down for 30 seconds, he will get all the money we have thrown into the pot.
Reggie agrees, proving that he must be a serious meth-head. Kristine and I go around the restaurant to see who is willing to donate some money to this very important cause and we find seven people who are willing to each put in $5. It’s not quite the fifty that Reggie wants, but he says he will do it if we don’t fill the soup cup all the way to the top. Everyone chips in their five bucks and their ingredient choice.
- Kristine: leftover carrot soup from Table 7
- Juan: chocolate syrup
- Tim: Tabasco sauce
- Angel: a leftover hamburger setup that was pulled from the garbage can.
- Tony: pineapple rice pudding
- Sarah: dead broccoli from the window
- Me: a piece of fat that was left on a plate from an order of the shell steak
Kristine mixes it all up in the cup and I swear to god it makes me want to throw up just looking at it. She gingerly places the piece of slimy steak fat on top of the concoction and presents it on a tray to Reggie. Next to the cup is a glass of water, a spoon and $35.
“Eat up,” she tells him.
Reggie picks up a spoon and I see not an ounce of hesitation in his eyes. He pushes the steak fat to the bottom of the cup and stirs it in. The lettuce and tomato from the hamburger setup is breaking apart with the broccoli while the chocolate syrup colors everything a deep dark color of diarrhea brown.
“I’m trying to pretend it’s a smoothie,” says Reggie.
“Yeah, a delicious fucking steak fat smoothie,” I remind him.
He lifts the spoon to his mouth and takes the first bite as the seven off us attempt to wrap our brains around this kind of desperation for $35. He swallows the fist bite and claims that it isn’t that bad. He still has at least three or four more bites to go and I am confident that when the time comes to to eat the fatty piece of gristle, we will all get our five dollars back. Remarkably, Reggie takes a second and third bite without batting an eyelash. There is one more bite to go and it is the one with the fat.
I taunt him. “Just remember who was eating that piece of steak fifteen minutes ago, Reggie. It was that old man at Table 9 who spits everywhere when he talks and leaves the whole table feeling greasy when he’s done. He probably had that piece of meat in his mouth before he spit it onto his plate and it’s the same mouth he used to eat out his wife last night.”
“Shut the fuck up, man!” Reggie yells. “Shut the fuck up.”
I begin to make gagging sounds and then Kristine and Sarah do the same thing as the spoon nears his mouth. I can see the fat quivering on the spoon and it has a some rice pudding on it that makes it look even more fatty.
Reggie swallows it and throws the spoon onto the floor. Kristine looks at her watch and begins the countdown for thirty seconds to see if Reggie will earn his prize.
“10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1!”
Reggie grabs the glass of water and the money. “Fuck all y’all, I did it. My money now, bitches.”
So Reggie is officially the nastiest person I have ever worked with and you are the most gullible if you would ever believe a story like this on April 1st.
April Fools!
Amy
This is the greatest fucking story EVER
j Perillat
Pretty funny stuff right there….lol
I have been in the (hos “spit” tallity ) Business for over 40 years.
Ive seen spit, urine,off the floor (5 second rule), dick in soup,balls in water glass…
endless stream of payback and just curing that beat up treatment from “client’s”
I worked at an up-state New York Italian restaurant that was one of the busiest I have ever worked.
There was an full service side dining area that included garlic bread ,pate’ Minestrone soup and a relish tray to accompany any and all entree’s ordered. entrees were about $7.95 and twelve trips to the table.
The full service closed at 9
At ten o’clock ,during an horrendous storm, wind howling, rain beating everything to a pulp, the door opens as though is would end up 15 miles away in a tree top and a “woman” large enough to be mistaken for a water buffalo beats her hoofs on the floor and throws back her hood on the cape of her buffalo suit and bellows “a table for one!”
I seat her in the Ala-cart area of the restaurant where every thing is ordered separately and she tears into me as though rummaging through the dense roughage in Africa ,bellowing and red faced that she was not seated in the “full service area.
I explained the miss-fortune of her timing of missing it by a mere hour and inform her that the accoutrements would have to be purchased separately.
Her demands sent the owner to her table and he said “just give them too her”
The steps at that point of the night to achieve this were daunting, open every container in the walk in cooler to create the “relish” tray after hours…ugh
scoop out pate’,all put away because we close at ten.
Well the radishes were rolled in the anus,celery took care of the ball-sack itch,carrot sticks cleared my sinus cavity and the Queen of hearts yelling “off with their heads!!”
relished every drop.
be careful what you bitch for.
Frankenbeth
Hah! Let me tell you I worked with a hostess that would do anything for money. ANYTHING. For three dollars I once got her to eat an errant french fry that had not only been one someone’s plate and subsequently stuck to the bottom of the bus bin, but after the fact had a run through the dishwasher. It was the most bloated and foul looking french fry I have ever seen, and I laughed like a sadist when she consumed it. Surprisingly she seemed pretty nonplussed by the whole thing.
JermytheWormy
Hey, I believed it, because I was Reggie. Only mine was MUCH worse. For $50, I drank a rocks glass full of ashtray water from the employee bucket out back. In my defense, I was 17.
Sean
More of a Bartender Story, I worked at a Chilean Disco, La Playa… was very popular, we came up with different theme nights, “playa mexicana” ie… margarita night, “playa desnuda” was a wet tee shirt limbo contest night, well “playa toxica” invovled a contest where we concocted a drink so foul, campari, milk, salt and a blend of all the nastiest “well” booze we could find, four unsuspecting contestants would suck it down, the first to finish the tall boy glass and complete ten push ups won $75 and a lifetime pass to the club, ten min later you would see them rolling on the floor, and not again for 3 days.
Alan james
Here is a real story, back when I was startingout in the kitchen, I was in the dish pit and the sauté cook was the biggest dirt ball ever!!! He would be talking to you while cooking, pick his nose with his right finger and then stir the sauce and taste it!!! (With said finger!!) as god is my witness he also would scratch his ass or balls and not wash his hands.
I never ate anything he offered to me
J Morgan
Absolutely not joking… I once worked with a pair of roommates that were dishwashers. When the serving staff or bussers would bring cleared dishes back to the dish pit, these guys would take them from us and scrape the plates not into the garbage can, but into TOGO BOXES. These guys did this practice nightly, and usually left with 5 or so Togo boxes of food. The owners did not mind, I have no idea why… Nastiest thing I have ever seen working at a restaurant.
AMR
Made up or not, still a hilarious story!
Chelsi
You’re a dick, haha. But I believed this story because I am pretty sure I work with Reggie, except he’s changed his name to Mark. Mark will not hesitate to grab the smallest breadcrumb from the bus tub and shovel it into his mouth in the bus station. He claims he doesn’t have enough money to pay the $4.50 for an employee meal (which is any lunch item on the menu), although he apparently has enough for meth and hookers if you believe his stories, which you will after he shows you the pictures. He used to being his own snacks from the food bank but he got kicked out for trying to smuggle extra items out under his shirt. He leases a Mercedes and never refers to it as his car or his vehicle or his ride; it’s always “The Benz.” He might as well call it “my house” because he literally lives in it, which is why he rolls into work every Monday after a weekend binger with his work shirt on (I think it doubles as his “going out shirt”) and spends 20 minutes in the bathroom trying to get the creases out with hot water and a napkin. He repeatedly used phrases like “okie dokie artichokie”, “holla holla for a dolla” and my personal favorite “blondie, blondie let down your laundry.” He’s also a self-proclaimed impressionist and tells me he has tried to draw me “millions of times” but he “can’t get the jawline right.”
So, thanks Bitchy, thanks for reminding me that your joke is my reality. :'(