…from the (Irish-y) burger joint in the first floor of a historic hotel, where I now work:
1) A (late middle-aged) (black) lady has this cute little purse up on her table, and I compliment her on how cute it is.
“You’re the second person to say that today,” she’s like.
“Well, it must be something in the air!”, I was like.
“That’s okay,” she was like, “I’ll take it.”
2) Even though there’s managers on duty, you basically do your job all night and maybe at the end with clean-up and fills they’re like, “Okay, have you started bathrooms yet?”, otherwise it’s like you’re really there with no supervision and you just do what you need to do when you need to do it and everyone trusts you with everything…
I like jobs like that.
3) When a veggie lasagna order that’s one of the specials comes in like a half hour before close, the one (straggly-bearded) (thin) (white) (stoner) cook with a gravelly voice is like, “Veggie lasagna, now?”, and then is all exasperated and is like, “The person who knows how to plate it is fucking gone!”
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