An ode to bodily functions

Alright so it's 3:45 and rather than sleeping, or I don't know studying for my food test at work tomorrow I've decided to regale you with the oh so perplexing stories of loss of bodily functions that do happen in restaurants a lot more often than you'd imagine.

 So let's rewind back about 5 years ago when I was working at a family restaurant which had kids eat free nights. Ugh, side note all servers hate those nights the blissfully slow nights turn into the romper room of horrors when someone says free food. Snot nosed screaming kids literally appear out of the wall paper. I didn't work Kids eat free because I had "school", I didn't work them mainly because they sucked. School sometimes is true, but for a lot of servers school is a half assed attempt to transcend our service/hospitality addiction through education. Most, but not all servers will fail at least one class or semester due to too many doubles, parties, drama or serious financial strain. Ok so this "school" night I happened to be sitting out on the porch of my boyfriend's  house drinking beer and chain smoking it was summer after all. I get a phone call from a coworker of mine, I answer the phone and it's obvious she's still at work. I can hear the cussing from the mexican dishwashers in the background.
"Oh my god you will never believe what happened tonight here at work"
"Um, if this is about the new girl and that cook with the chin strap I already know."
"What? No, but tell me about that later, no this is better, tonight is the definitive moment for TBDJ"

 (TBDJ was our code for a certain manager who no one liked. The big dumb jew to be exact, hey no one said servers are politically correct...or decent human beings).

She proceeds to recount to me how the restaurant was on a wait, the hostesses were very stressed because a cocktail server come to the front and started harassing them about putting a high chair at a high top table and now the parents are mad because the kid hit his head on the underside of the table(well, duh!). While this is going on, with 10 people milling around the open air lobby no one notices the small child defecating on the vinyl bench in front of them. That is until TBDJ happens to walk by, now normally you can set spoiled meat in front of her and she cannot smell it, tonight though she noticed this aroma. After threatening the hostesses and the server (and making things worse in the process) she notices the little present on the bench. Apparently all the other servers noticed it as they walked by to see what the fuss was with the hostesses but as is the case with dog mess, if you don't acknowledge it you don't have to fix the situation. The whole the smeller is the feller scenario. Apparently TBDJ went to all the buss boys and told them to clean it up and they laughed in her face. They may fix that toilet in the bathroom that won't stop flushing, they may hose throw up off the sidewalk, and yes, they even clean up unidentified goop that once resembled chocolate cake and ketchup but they draw the line at excrement. You can't buy someone's dignity for 7 dollars an hour. So in a huff she stomps to the front (after 20 minutes of this sitting in the lobby), grabs the bench and proceeds to drag it through the restaurant and the kitchen out the back door and hose it off in the back parking lot all the while cussing and gagging.

 For all you amorous couples who decide to play around with exhibitionism and PDA, you're not getting away with it. Your servers know, and yes, they are laughing at you. When you decide to get frisky under the table, we are aware as we see every possible angle of that table, it is our business and no, I do not believe that is your blackberry in his lap you are working on. When a lesbian couple decided to take it to the bathroom on Sunday afternoon while I worked at a sports bar about 3 years ago I was amused and slightly annoyed as a fight broke out at their table in their absence. I soon discovered the fight was because one woman was there with her boyfriend who was blissfully unaware that his girlfriend had been inspecting the body of her girlfriend next to her all while he watched the steelers game. So, as I stomp to the bathroom to tell these women to break it up I found out they're not alone in there. I see two pairs of feet in the handicap stall facing each other and one pair of little dora the explorer mary janes blissfully kicking the toilet bowl humming while waiting for nature to take its course. Awesome, one child is in for a scary surprise if I don't take some action. So I get my managers, who are both male to come and deal with the situation. Now if you tell a man "hey, there are two chicks in the bathroom gettin' it on I need you to come rectify this situation" they're usually all over it with the hopes of seeing some free porn. This particular day though they'd developed a sense of decency and didn't want to enter into the ladies room. So rather than knock on the stall door they reach for the nearest device...a mop. Yes, they knocked on the door with a mop handle from the door of the bathroom to get their attention and let them know that there were children around and to get a room...and not one in a public bathroom. If this wasn't funny enough the look on their faces when the women came out and they were not silicone enhanced rail thin blondes, but overweight dowdy women made that mess all worth it. If you're going to serve, you've got to be able to laugh at anyone and everyone.

 Finally I think of the downside of working in bars, the times someone hucks on the floor. I was proud to say after serving for 9 years I'd never had someone throw up. That all changed this Christmas season. I was waiting on a party of 30, alone, a christmas party hosted by some douchebag in a sweater vest, a tie, and overly gelled and spiked hair. Honestly, if you dressed an over stuffed bratwurst up in izod and introduced him to dep, that's what this dweeb looked like. The party was mostly 20 somethings all drinking, which is usually a great thing. That is until someone says they're going to have a chugging contest...with Guiness. Now said dweeb had already had 2 guiness when he gets this brilliant idea and proceeds to chug 3 more then disappear as the entrees come out.  20 minutes  and a bet with the bartender later he stumbles back to his party. I'm standing in the kitchen door way with my manager when dweeb's coworker comes up and informs us that his boss had filled not one but two SINKS with vomit, but not to worry he'd cleaned it all up and just to hit it with some disinfectant. It should be noted that this night 30 police officers were in the bar having drinks and witnessed this whole debacle. Let's face is altruism is rare, in a restaurant it's damn near extinct. For this man to clean up after his boss well, they could've not tipped me and made my might because that's grounds for me to quit. After spending many minutes laughing hysterically with the bartender and the other servers I make my way back up to check on the party and overhear the dweeb telling his friends he's "redecorated the bathroom, 2 sinks at a time" and laughing. I'm not saying Typoid Mary was onto something, but I understand the whole infection through food thing after dealing with this idiot. Two months later I'm in a local home decorating store returning a pillow or something when who should walk up but the puker himself. I instantly recognized him and the dark shadow over his face let me know he remembered me, and as he hurried to make the exchange all while hiding his face I wore a very self satisfied smirk. Yes, I was your server, yes, I remember you and no I did not forget what you did.