Thursday, April 19, 2012

Am I overreacting?

I forgot to mention this in my post about the crazy shit going down yesterday, but something else strange happened. I waited on a regular customer, who has always been pleasant, kind, a good tipper, etc.
When I gave him his check, he asked me if I knew about the gym in the mall a little ways down the road. I thought he wanted directions, and I started telling him how to get there.
"No, no, no, my son is a personal trainer and he owns it. I wanted to give you his card, you look like you could use some time in the gym."
He must have seen the shock and confusion in my face.
"I mean, you're beautiful, but you could be extra beautiful! A lot of women today think they have to be skin and bones, but I think you could benefit from some muscle tone."
He kept going on about how he wasn't trying to be offensive, that he just thought I could use it!
The fuck? I was incredibly offended. I gained some weight after high school, and when I realized I wasn't happy with my body, I lost weight. The healthy way. Many people have commented on my small frame, but I'm happier with myself than I ever have been, and not once did I do anything but watch what I eat and work out. And yes, I may be tiny, but I can still lift trays with 10 plates on them and bus pans full of dishes.
All the girls were horrified too. "What? No! You look great!" One of them mentioned I should call the son and scold him for his father's tactics. So I did.
"Uhm, hi, I have your card here. I'm sure you're a lovely personal trainer, but your father just completely offended me with the way he went about offering your services."
I feel a little bad about it now, because I know the father is a nice guy, but I was really upset about it! I dwelled on it all night. I felt extremely self-conscious, until one of my regulars overheard me talking about it.
"Blondie, that guy is crazy. You are stunning. Women would kill to have your figure, not to mention your personality."
I know he meant it, and as shallow as it sounds, I think I needed to hear it from a man!

What do you guys think?

Big happenings.

First of all, I appreciate my readers' concern on my last post. I have started saying 'policia!' when he bothers me, and it stops all contact. At least until his drunk ass forgets three hours later, but whatever.

Anyway, the past few days have been exciting at the diner. On Monday, I broke. All the aforementioned personal shit came to a head when the crazy cook (I believe I've mentioned Mumbles before) continuously fucked up my orders and kept blaming it on me. I started bawling. And I could not stop. The hostess and day girl who was casually eating her shift meal before leaving had to completely take over, because I was incoherent. I sat in the back station and cried and cried for what felt like hours. Finally, I went into the bathroom and composed myself as much as I could. I tried to discreetly grab the hostess, but at this point, I didn't care too much. I told her I was sorry, but I had to go home.
"Blondie, I think if you just calm down, you can get back on the floor."
I told her, "Honestly, I don't think I can. And even if I could, my makeup looks like Ozzy Osbourne did it while recovering from a bad acid trip."
They told me to get it together as much as I could before leaving, they didn't want me driving so upset, but they would figure it out.

I was a little bothered by the fact that they were more concerned about getting me back on the floor than they were about my little freak-out, but at least in the end they had my back. What bothered me more is that at the end of the day, the cook who triggered me suffered no consequences. He stayed, he got his paycheck, while I missed out on an entire shift and received no apology.

Then, the next day, everyone around me was walking on eggshells. I hate gossip. I hated every head-tilt, every pat on the back, every "are you okay?" It had been less than twenty-four hours and everyone thought I was a mental case. Lord knows what the end result was after it went through the grapevine. My only saving grace was the cook who is part-owner. He came to me, (in broken English, adorably) and told me it would be okay. If I ever had a problem again, I had his number. He would come whenever he could, or send someone else to fix it. He said "I know you five years, and this isn't you."
I really appreciated that.

Then, today, one of the new(ish) girls caused an issue. Ever since she started, we all thought she was a little off. Nice enough, but very slow in her movements and speech. Someone said it seemed like she was on sedatives. Then, rumors were going around that she smelled like alcohol, from both customers and coworkers. We noticed when she went for a cigarette break, she went to her car rather than out back where the other smokers go, possibly because she had a bottle in there. She was warned a few times, told that she was free to smoke, but had to stay close enough to grab if a table needed her or she was sat, etc.
She did it again tonight. More than once. Finally, our night manager went out and said, "I'm so sorry, honey, this isn't working. You can pick up your paycheck tomorrow, but you're done."
She left. She called three times and our manager told her, "We're in the middle of dinner right now, but I promise I will call you when I can." And I know she meant it.
A half hour later, this bitch shows up! Manager says, "Blondie, hold down the fort, I'm going to talk to her outside."
Comes in about 15 minutes later and runs to me while I'm picking up food.
"She threatened me."
"She did what?"
"She told me I better be careful leaving the diner at night from now on."
the fuck?

Of course this shit is on the night I close, and we have to watch our backs when we leave.
So manager files a report with the police (possible overkill), and we have one of the cooks stay with us until the minute we walk out and lock the doors in our cars. We were fine, thank gosh, but who does that?

Sorry if it's a bit of a TL;DR, but it felt good to get all that off my chest, dear readers. 

Saturday, April 14, 2012

The town drunk.

We have a Mexican dishwasher. He is always drunk, yet somehow never breaks a dish.
He also has a thing for the ladies. Depending on his level of intoxication, he will call you a beautiful princessita americana and that he loves you, all the way to ass-smacking. He has never touched me, I think he knows better after seeing me fight with the cooks and cause I'm 'the baby.'
However, Thursday night one of the ladies and I decided we had a rough night, and we wanted a shot of his vodka. Since then, it's non-stop.
"Oh, beautiful prencessita. I love you, te amo, you're beautiful."
He's grabbing on the other woman. It got to the point tonight that all the cooks and the busboy said he had had too much. We were afraid to go in the kitchen.
I'm pissed because everyone knows he's a drunk and terribly annoying when he takes it too far. But the owners won't do anything because he works for peanuts, under the table.

I'm going through a really rough patch right now in my personal life, and work is piling more and more shit on top of it. I feel I'm near my breaking point after five years. Le sigh.