In which mistakes are made that change the course of history...

At the end of a long week, at the end of an even longer day I sat for a moment in my car and groaned. Resting my head for a moment on the steering wheel, and successfully fighting off the urge to beat my brow while screaming I reflected on the events of the evening.

Armed with positive feelings I had marched happily into the kitchen and pleasantly greeted my coworkers. Looking at me like I was speaking in moroccan wearing nothing but a shower cap they ignored my greeting and went right on their merry little ways. Determined not to be shaken by the animosity so early in the evening I went to find out what I could do. Happily, I found that I could help one of the few normal waitresses set the dining room straight. As we washed chairs she gave me a few hushed bits of advice. "Jan, Gina and Ashley think that they are the bosses of everyone" she whispered "but in reality, the only people you need to listen to are Captain Rigatoni, his Mother and Bobbi." Mulling over this tidbit of info I wondered how not listening to Jan in particular was going to work out for everyone. Not well, was my conclusion. Her ears must have been ringing because at that moment Jan trundled onto the scene to mutter loudly about our inept ability to properly wash chairs and then go off on a furious tirade at the hostess about the evenings floor plan. Sighing to myself I remembered that my inner poise and many zen like qualities were sure to get me thru the night in a state of calm.

My state of calm lasted until 3:55, when on schedule Capt Rig had his first meltdown of the evening. Deviating from his normal schedule he kept at it all night long. I had been assigned to stand in the kitchen and learn what the food looked like, and deliver it to the appropriate tables. By the time the dinner rush rolled around I had lost all sense of inner poise and wanted to run as fast as possible into the labyrinth of the restaurant passageways and hide in the gelato cooler. The tension was so thick that you could barely see thru it, Capt Rig was in a terrible state, and one could barely hear over his shouts of fury. Keeping all of the various dishes straight was a very tricky job as so many look very similar. Garnishing the plates properly is a matter of life and death, and heaven help you if you send an entree out without it's little parsley friend. And heaven help you if you slip up, and add a garnish to something you should not. My nerves were on high alert as I attempted to appropriately garnish the plates, rest their boiling hot little fannies on my arms and run them to the dining room while suffering third degree burns. All of this being done, with the bulging eyes of Capt Rig watching my every move.... While waiting for a plate of pesto to make it's way to me Jan stormed into the kitchen and shouted "HEY new girl, when you are not carrying food you have to be drying silverware." OK, off I went (hoping very much to hide in the dish station all night.) No such luck as within 2 seconds the cry went out for food runners "I have a rigatoni alfredo, a chicken broccoli and pesto with a side of veg for table 20!!" the cook droned. I repeated the order, as is required, garnished nervously and ran off to table 20 while watching the skin burn off my appendages. Coming back into the kitchen moments later I was greeted with an uproar "WHERE ARE MY VEGGIES" screamed Gina "Oh shit" replied the cook "The new girl took them" WHAT IN THE F**K WOULD SHE HAVE DONE THAT FOR, GOOD GOD??!!" screamed Gina in a complete rage. Sure enough, this attracted the attention of Capt Rig. Thundering out from behind the prep counter he demanded to know what was going on. (wait for it... THUMP. oops, that's me getting thrown under the bus..) "The NEW girl" fumed Gina "TOOK. MY. VEG." Deciding that there was nowhere to hide in I went to meet my doom. "Yes, it was me" I declared "I misheard the ticket order, and took those veggies right out. It was completely my fault and I'm very sorry." Standing there feeling like a complete ass for apologising so abashedly for making a side dish accident I awaited certain death. Things were suddenly very quiet. Looking at me Capt Rig took a deep breath "Okay. No problem." I glanced around nervously waiting for the trap door to hell to open up and swallow me whole. Gina, who evidently was wishing for an epic beat down to happen sourly snipped to me "well. let's make sure that mistakes like that don't happen again." My relief in escaping the fury of Capt Rig was painfully short lived as each and every server took it upon themselves to tell me that avoiding the wrath would be a short lived situation. Gina, obviously very mad at me for ruining her life and stealing her veggies made sure to loudly tell everyone to check their tables to make sure they were getting the correct food. Jan, never one to be nice continued to scream at me to dry the silverware, even if I was already drying it. The cook, who had given me the veggies and HAD been reamed a new one by Capt Rig for the horrible mistake took great satisfaction in giving me looks of death all night long, while reading the tickets so fast that I could hardly understand them. Just when I thought that my feelings of jarred nerves and horror couldn't get much worse Capt Rig ramped up the fury a few notches. Noticing that more sauce than he considers to be acceptable was going onto a plate of ravioli he freaked out at one of the cooks. "WHY WOULD YOU F***ING DO THAT YOU CLOWN?" he ranted "WHY DO I PAY TO TO BE SUCH A POINTLESS MORON!!??" And then he started smacking him. I waited for a full blown fist fight to begin and was a bit horrified when it never happened. A little voice in my head asked me what sort of grown ass man lets a big bully smack him around? Before logic could reply that NONE would, Gina and Jen both screamed towards me to DRY the SILVERWARE FASTER!!! Oh good grief, if this had bee a normal restaurant I would have taken a moment in dry storage to gather my nerves or perhaps shed a hysterical tear. In this case with my every move being in some way recorded I just continued to dry silverware as fast as possible while feeling like an uneducated 15 year old who is being punished.

When it was time for me to leave I took a moment to remind Bobbi that I was going to be out of town taking a blissful break from the madness of her restaurant for the better part of a week. I was curious to know when she expected that my training would be over and when might I be allowed to take a small section of tables. "Oh I really can't say" she purred "You still have A LOT of training to do." Which meant more shifts from hell making what boiled down to zero dollars.

Sitting in my car, later that night (or, early the next morning depending on how you look at it) I genuinely felt a bit shattered. The tension, the screaming and the backstabbing will take a lot out of a middle aged waitress, even one who has fairly thick skin. I concluded that I would need to make the most out of my time off and decide if the trauma was worth any amount of money. As I count down the days until my next shift I am still undecided...