…at the one (Irish-y) burger joint in the first floor of a historic hotel:
1) As I pass through a lounge, I hear my one (eccentric) (blonde) (semi-manager) coworker begin to explain some aspect of the beerlist to some guests in response to some question that they had asked, and she begins by prefacing everything with the caveat that she doesn’t know a lot about what’s on the list except for the lagers, “because I like beer-flavored beer.”
2) After my one (blonde) (make-upped) (college-age) coworker warns us that her family is coming in, her (heavier) (blonde) mom and her two (blonde) sisters and her mom’s (blonde) friend all come in, and they ask to be seated in her section, with her mom immediately starting to joke that we better have good service here.
So, we’re busy and I’m based in a different section, but as that one closes down and I move out there, I’m clearing a few plates from their table and I can see out of the corner of my eye that my coworker is approaching, so I say to the table loudly and theatrically, “Here, let me get this for you, it seems that your waitress isn’t pre-bussing your dirty plates,” and the mom finds that really funny, but my coworker is a little offput.
Then, later later, I’m going around with water to all of the tables, and I’m at their table and she is approaching again, so I do the same thing and rapidly go to fill up any glass I see, and I make a similar comment about them not getting water, and she just looks at me with the glass I’m filling and is like, “[my first name], that’s Starry” (the renamed, Sprite-like Sierra Mist drink).
“Oh,” I was like, and then I began laughing at myself. “I deserve that!”
3) Throughout the night, they’re setting up the entire restaurant to be set up for a wedding the next day – a Sunday, when the restaurant is typically closed – and as I’m running around helping people, I heard the the one (big personality) (redheaded) (Irish-American) owner talking with a customer about what event they’re doing and how they’re setting up, and after she mentions about the open bar, the customer is saying he wonders how much they’ll drink on a Sunday, and she was immediately like, “Yeah, when they said that, I was thought, ‘That’ll kill the liquor bill!’”, and he kind of made a mug and rolled her eyes a bit, too.
4) As the night is ending, the one (straggly-bearded) (thin) (white) (stoner) cook offers me a full Greek salad, since it’s a mistake since he put onions on it and the customer said no onions.
“Thanks!”, I was like, and I took a leftover blue-cheese dressing that someone had poured and dumped it on there, and I clarified to him that I’d eat it here and finish it before the last dishes from customers were put through (i.e., I wouldn’t leave a dirty plate behind in dish), and if I was getting close and couldn’t finish, I’d pack it up to-go then, but don’t throw it out.
And, he was cool with that, and every once in a while I’d run back and wolf down huge bites as the kitchen cleaned up around me.
And, as I was doing that, I took a too-large bite, and as I bit into a yellow cherry tomato my mouth wasn’t quite closed, and this giant spray of yellow cherry tomato juice and seeds that was inside it sprayed out across the counter there where I was eating, which someone had already wiped down.
5) On the bus ride home, two (white) (STEM) undergraduates behind me are talking about how they have a big bottle of vodka and are debating what to do with it for their party.
“We could get an eighty-nine cent Coke from Circle K,” the one was like, floating the idea of getting a gas station fountain drink in a huge styrofoam cup for the mixer.
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