Even infallible me is subject to bouts of dumbassed-ness (who knew?)

This past Sunday was a complete clusterfuck. From the time I walked in at 11:30am, I had nothing but party after party after party. It wouldn’t have been so bad if we had enough staff. Being triple sat is no problem for me. My restaurant has  a three table max policy, so I’ve long gotten used to it.

But somewhere down the line it was forgotten that merely having a skeleton crew on a Sunday just won’t cut it. We’re busy. With a lobby full of 7 and 8-tops waiting, even a floor of awesome servers isn’t enough. Our poor hostess was running around bussing tables and carrying trays laden with dishes that easily weighed as much as she did. We had one expo, and one guy that was supposed to wash dishes, work in the alley dressing food, and somehow keep us servers supplied with enough cheese biscuits to feed the insatiable angry horde i.e. the guests.

Needless to say, it was nothing short of controlled chaos. We somehow managed to keep it together.  Thankfully, our new promo is bringing in people who aren’t afraid to spend some money. With $30 and $40 tips rolling in like crazy, it was easy to keep my mouth shut and just focus on getting the people in and out.

I ended up working straight through my split shift. I was starving, but at the point where I was too exhausted to eat. In the midst of working two sixtops and a lowly single, at 9:30pm the clouds parted and the sun came out:  I was cut!!!

My euphoria was short-lived. Both sixtops wanted hot tea (motherfuckers!) I was halfway through getting the tea set up when another server told me that my single needed his bill and a debit machine cuz he was late for a flight. Yeah, sure pal. I ran out to find one of our portable debit machines, and brought it back to the kitchen, thinking I’ll run the tea and the card at the same time. I ran a little too fast. The debit maching slipped out of my hand,

AND LANDED IN ANOTHER TABLE’S BIRTHDAY CAKE.

Go me.

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