Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Waiter! I hate to be a bother...but there seems to be a severed head in my soup.
Today I shall regale y'all with a true tale from the restaurant world.
This is a "yes, this really happens and this is where the joke comes from" kind o'story.
*the names have been changed because I never liked their real names anyways.
Once upon a time, at a little restaurant in a land called Minneapolis, there was a guy named Derwin. Derwin had just recently been hired as a "wait assistant" at an upscale neighborhood cafe (f.y.i- a "wait assistant" generally assists the waitstaff: gets water, runs food, gets bread, clears tables, etc...In this particular restaurant this was a coveted position as the wait assist was paid a fair wage and recieved generous tips from the waitstaff. They very often made well over $100 a night in tips).
Derwin was entirely unqualified for the job, but his friends worked there and the owner loved his friends, so Derwin got a job. Derwin was a lovable, slightly nerdy guy with a large head (literally) that seemed to fit right in.
One of Derwin's first shifts on the job was a very busy weekend night. It was early summer, a beautiful night, and the place was buzzing. "Derwin is doing a great job tonight" his spectacularly beautiful and smart boss, Bourbonmaggie noted. "He's a natural".
At virtually the exact second that the stunning and multi-talented Bourbonmaggie noted this fact, and when almost no one was looking...poor Derwin sliced his cute, chubby finger wide open with the bread knife.
He was a real trooper, that Derwin. He washed the blood off (and hopefully the knife), slapped a band-aid on and went directly back to work.
The witty and wise Bourbon (as she was known to her friends) had not seen this as she was busy running a restaurant and brokering world peace, but others did. Bourbon, oblivious and slightly buzzed from her "coffee" simply beamed at how well the evening was going. Things were good, and she loved her staff.
Her little Derwin was a winner, she thought. A great addition.
Let us now fast-forward about 1.5 hours into the past-future. Dinner service is at its peak, the kitchen is tense and heated as restaurant kitchens tend to be at 8:00 on a weekend.
The superhero server, Shamie, enters the kitchen with a strange, harried and pissed off look on her face. "This guy at my table says his tuna had a bloody band-aid on it."
"What?" Bourbon didn't seem to understand what she said.
"He says that when it came to the table, there was a bloody band-aid perched right on top of the fish."
"What? No way. No fucking way. What a scam. He's totally lying. Like it's even possible for that to happen", Bourbon says, her anger rising.
"I'll go get it" says Superhero. "I'll be right back"
Superhero goes, then comes back a minute later with the offending plate in hand. Sure enough, there's a gross bloody band-aid perched on top like some sort of gothic garnish gone wrong. Really wrong.
Bourbon looks at it. "Shit. What do we do? Who brings a bloody band-aid to a restaurant just to scam them? What an asshole."
Superhero smirks, pissed. "I know, but what should I do? The guy is being kind of o.k. about it, but other people are starting to notice that something's up."
"Shit shit shit." (Pauses) "Fine. Comp the table- but be quiet about it. And get him some new fish- stat."
"Sure, fine." Superhero exits.
What the fuck??? Bourbon thinks as she jumps back into "saving-the-world one table at a time" mode.
Fast-forward to the end of the night. Derwin has gone home and the remaining staff are gathered around the bar having wine and discussing the evening, particularly the "band-aid" incident.
Randomly, mid conversation, the server Bettie pipes up. "Derwin cut himself tonight. I bet it was his band-aid. No one else cut themselves."
Bourbon snaps her head around. "What?!?"
"Yeah, he cut his finger, and he was the one that dropped the food at that table. I bet it was him."
"Duh, you think?" Bourbon intelligently replies. She starts slowly shaking her head. "That fucker. I'm going to kill him."
(pauses for a bit, laughs to herself)
"Can you get me another glass? I think I need a drink."
Well, actually- as a side note: Derwin did not get fired, and eventually we all laughed about it. He never fessed up, though I'm sure if we would have brought the CSI team in his ass would have been cooked. I think he actually thought that I'd make him pay back the $200+ that I ended up losing on the table in question.
He turned out to, eventually, be a great server.
Thank jebus the papers never got a hold of this story. Or the health department.
There you go- the bloody band-aid story.
All true, unfortunately. All true.