He Works Hard for the Money.....

     Have you ever heard the expression, "Give 110%."? As it has, and always will be, one of my mantras with any job I've had, or pretty much anything I choose to take on, sometimes it doesn't always pay off. Don't let me steer you wrong....work hard, give it your all...there's light at the end of the tunnel. But in some cases, this one in particular, it didn't reap the benefits I was hoping for.

      I was working part-time at a 5-star fine dining restaurant in Pasadena as a server. Let's just say my personality and jovial sense of humor was far more fit for TGIFridays or Applebees. I think it's partly because I like to smile at the customers and maybe toss in some light sense of humor to the patrons. I had no idea that in some of these hoity-toitty restaurants.....they don't really like that. Sometimes we were instructed before approaching a table with the following: "Now, when you serve this table, don't be too gushy, don't smile too much and keep things short and concise." Short and Concise?! I have 5 long winded specials I need to read off. And how do I not be TOO gushy, or smile TOO much?! What the hell does that even mean? So I find my self walking up to the table with half of my face in a frown and the other half a crooked smile, I must have looked like I had a stroke AND sounded like it when I was trying to keep things short and concise when I read the specials....."Steak,.....carrot soup,.....salad....it has cheese.....tastes good.....Wellington......my favorite......care for some drinks?" This was ridiculous!

     My roommate and I both used to work here so we would occasionally carpool into work. On the way in one day, I asked what the reservations were for that night. He told me the only things on the list were a pharmaceutical party in the back, a few groups coming in mid evening and a party coming in to celebrate the anniversary of her husbands death. (Morbid, but I've heard worse.) So that was all I knew going in that evening. When it came time to split up our serving areas that night, I was told I would take the 8-top in one of our private rooms and any walk ins, and the other two would handle the party in the back and the few others that had reservations that night. So putting my best foot forward, I was bound and determined to do a good job. I was going to be quick yet thorough, be present when I was needed and put on my best half-smile I had. So all is going well.....nothing is told to me about the party I was taking care of, but damned if they weren't going to have a good time with my hands on the reigns. Their orders were in and Im pouring wine like the Trevi Fountain and I hear one of the guys say to the other....."Did you enjoy your birthday?" So being the fantastic server I am this is my opportunity to be jovial, celebratory maybe even some sharp wit to stir up some laughter. So I ask, "Ohhhhhhhhh, so what are we celebrating tonight? What's the happy occasion? Who are we toasting to?!" To which the woman at the head of the table replies......ready for this?....."My dead husband....." At this point I realized I wanted to join her husband. Just my luck! I had the DEATH TABLE.....Party of 8!

     These examples of "trying your hardest" don't stop here. I'll share one more with you. There was a table of 3 that had come in to eat and they were one of the owner's friends and I was in charge of making sure they had the 5-star experience that Zagat raves about. It was two older women that were two sheets to the wind before sitting at the table, and an old guy in a wheel chair. So you can imagine how this is gonna go. They started off with some cocktails.....go figure.....the two women got Cosmopolitans and the man in the wheel chair ordered a martini with what appeared to be his dying breath. I made the Cosmos and my friend Heather made the man his last will and testament. I frequently checked in to make sure everything was going well. "Do you need more drinks? Water maybe?..... A defibrulator?" I was cleaning up behind the bar and glanced over at the table and saw the two women just lost in conversation and the man in the wheel chair was either getting a really close look at his food or had passed out with his face in his spaghetti. Heather said to me, "Do you think I made his martini too strong?" I replied back, "We may want to check for a pulse." Luckily enough he was not dead. Truthfully I was worried we were going to need to call the coroner, but come to find out when you are 90 chocked full of martinis and booze, sometimes you take a little nappy nap at the dinner table. I now tried to steer the table away from drinking as things were on an express elevator to hell. Dinners were finished, dessert was had and by God the martini glasses I cleared from that table were beyond plentiful. They were getting ready to leave and the owner came out to mingle with his friends and asked me if I would help them out to the car. They needed help getting her husband's gin soaked ass out of his chair and into the car. (Above and Beyond people....above and beyond.) Figuring I'm working on quite a hefty tip, I agree to help and I asked Heather to cover my tables. As I'm walking out the door, the owner, in his eccentric voice says to me, "Josh.....don't forget to bend at the knees.....cripples are dead weight." (I'd like to say I was shocked, but I think you are beginning to understand why I wasn't.) What happened next was just comical. Even Ripley wouldn't believe this. I get to the car and one of the drunkards took off and I was left with the other woman and her husband. I was given explicit instructions as to how this was going to go down. Ladies and gentlemen.....there was a SLIDING BOARD involved. She instructed me to lift her husband by his belt loops, drag him across the sliding board into the front seat and she would yank him in from the driver's side. (Verbatim) So here I go.....I get my fingers into his belt loops and lift with all my might...(the owner was right.....dead weight)...this guys pants came up to his chest and not to get graphic, but his poor balls.....they were where his nipples should have been. So now Im coaching him, looking him in the eye and attempting to ease his pain by leveling with him saying, "Sir I know this hurts.....just work with me....WORK WITH ME..... As his legs were getting slammed into the dash board all he could do was let out grunts and moans and I was honestly feeling really bad. I had a 90 year old fragile drunk tossed over my shoulder like a dish rag, arms flailing, legs flailing, and his wife who was about as worthless as his belt loops trying to YANK his arm from the other side of the car. I don't know how it happened, or when he finally fell into place, but he was in the passenger seat. I honestly don't even know if his legs were still attached or if they were still in the wheel chair. But he was in, the look on his face resembled someone who just slipped into catatonic state....no words, no more moaning, just pure and utter shock. His wife took the driver's seat and as the keys went into the ignition I thought to myself.....this is a disaster waiting to happen. She was probably better off letting her husband drive with his, what were now, legs rendered useless. But there is only so much help and remedial services I was willing to offer. I said, "Drive safe and have a good night."

     Not even an extra dollar!  Unfortunately the tip had already been given and this was before it was asked and agreed upon that I would play paramedic for the next 45 minutes. But silver lining....silver lining. If there's one thing I can do with the worst of situations, it's to find something to walk away with. Whether its a lesson learned, a new piece of comedy gold or a new skill set, I can now say and confidently add to my resume "Avid Sliding Board Skills". But you don't just stumble upon this wisdom. It's not just handed to you. You clearly have to work for it, and not just half assed work, you have to be willing to always give 110%.