They are everywhere!!!

I recently got a text from the NNG while she was at her "real" job that said:

NNG: I totally saw Captain Rigatoni at a seminar today! I have to tell you all about it. URGGGHHH!

MAW: You saw C-Rig!? The Horror! I want details!

NNG: Yes. It was pretty horrible.

MAW: I'm messaging you on Facebook becasue it is easier and I have a lot to say!

MAW on FB: You saw the C-Riggers today, no shit? I want details. Did he/she/they talk to you? Was this a seminar about how to have clowns ruin your business??!!

NNG on FB: Yes so I saw the C-Rig's! uggghhh....
My boss and the payroll woman and I went to this seminar on......get this......LABOR LAWS!!!!!
While I was getting ready I was thinking to myself "I wonder if I'll see.....no way, what the heck do they care about labor laws..." so the thought was fleeting.. THEN we get there and we walk in and my coworkers go use the ladies room (i know i'm getting very specific) so I get stuck picking seats. I pick the front row on the side (cause if i wanted to sit where I would normally sit in the back corner I probably would have fallen asleep and I don't think they would be very happy with me)
I'm sitting and my coworkers come back, and I glance towards the doorway and BUM BUM BUM!!!!!!!!!!!! In comes sista C-rig! Hahahaha Bobbi totally came it and I literally almost threw up. I didn't really make eye contact, I actually shuffled in my bag so i could have time to make a plan.
I looked back over and we slightly made eye contact (i did not even smile) and she, of course, sat in the front row right in the middle. I could have died...
I strategically placed my chair directly next to my boss so i didn't have to look over and cringe. Finally the seminar starts, and of course Bobbi looks all professional and whips out a notebook and is taking notes, (meanwhile you know what she's really writing) how to screw all my employees, and the men in the room? or....how to be the most passive aggressive person in the world!! So all of a sudden C-RIG HIMSELF comes through the door, and sits in the way back. I wanted to get up and be like...ok where's Ashton....I'm being punk'd right???? No, i wasn't dreaming they were both there.
So eventually there's a break and I'm thinking what if she comes over here? Do I punch her? Could I cuss her out in front of my new boss and the department of labor? To make a long story semi long we never spoke, but I did make sure to walk right in front of her so she could see me. I was talking and she was sitting in the front row and i walked right past her to talk to the woman who was in charge of the seminar....I kinda stood sideways so she could see my face and i could see her out of the corner of my eye and oddly, she was sitting there while everyone else had left. I was like "oh my god she's waiting to talk to me" thank goodness my boss and the pr lady are talkers so we kept talking and asking questions and then I walked around got my bag kept talking and then finally she got up and walked over to C-Rig and some other guy and they left!!
But all throughout the seminar i wanted to be like "so it is ILLEGAL to tip out the kitchen" or "so it is ILLEGAL to force someone to pay for broken items and lost checks" i have a list of things that you can make deductions for and those are not on it!!! ughhh...yes...so that is that....awful...

MAW on the FB: WOW. OK.
Item one: According to my HWF C-Rig had their hearing with the Labor Board yesterday. Hence, their appearence at this seminar was probably to do a bit of last minute prep.

Item two: Also according to HWF, at the hearing C-Rig was told to sit down and be quiet, and to let Bobbi do the talking as he was digging himself a deep hole.

Item three: Despite this, C-Rig is apparently very pleased with how their hearing went. Because they lie and have no concience.

My thoughts on your horrifying situation: I would expect that Bobbi was more shocked to see you then you were to see her. She thinks that when people are not at the blessed C-Rig they curl up and die a slow death, probably alone, to be discovered weeks later by the landlord looking for his late rent..... I love the fact that Bobbi and C-Rig were both there but did not sit together. WTF? You guys are RELATED- sit together for christsakes! Was Bobbi all dressed up or in her frumpy-dumpster "workout" clothes? Did C-Rig stand up and interrupt the speaker, declaring himself to be king of the world?

I wish I had been there. The whole thing sounds too awesome to be real (but I know it is!) I feel bad for you though, breathing the air in the general vicinity of the C-Rig-ers is rather poisinous.

Thanks for filling me in. I LOVE it.

In which the insanity becomes even more insane...

Happy Oh-Ten everyone! We plunged into the new year at Captain Rig's with a bang (and a whimper...)

Not shockingly the arrival of the super new decade brought an unprecedented level of stress to our normally cordial and relaxed environment. New Years eve-eve did not run particularly smoothly and if you ask Jan and Karen it was all the fault of us new staffers. Idiots! Renegades!

Before I dive into the deliciously gory details of what was a truly hideous weekend I just want to pause for a moment and say one thing. I can honestly say that I have never seen such a display of absurdity by a boss in my life. Words fail me, and for those of you who know my true identity that is a rare thing. Sadly, I simply can not put into writing the level of crapola that Captain Rig brings to the table. Moving on...

New Years eve got off to a bad start right from the beginning. Tensions were running on overdrive and a delivery of critical items had not yet arrived, throwing several staff members into fits of fury. Preparing to chop up a Mt Everest sized pile of lettuce I discovered that I was missing the bags that the lettuce gets stored in. Inquiring about the whereabouts of said items was obviously the wrong thing to do "You're just going to have to START ON LETTUCE" Karen screeched at me, as her lips curled into a sneer exposing her desperate need for dental work. Looking at her it occurred to me that she had most likely suffered some sort of traumatic brain injury, rendering her incapable of being at all rational. Speaking very slowly, taking into account her extreme mental deficit I explained that I was indeed chopping lettuce but was unsure what to do with the finished product. "You'll just have to figure it OUT!!!" she screamed like a complete lunatic. Sighing in despair I retreated into the depths of the kitchen to beat my head bloody against the wall and contemplate the unjust world that I was sadly a part of. Lucky for me, within minutes the delivery man had arrived bags in hand.

As Marissa and I finished up with the 42,786 pounds of lettuce we were summoned to the kitchen by a roaring Captain Rigatoni. He and Bobbi were furious with all of us and our inability to perform even the most mundane of tasks. They were sick and tired of the incompetence and F***ing bull crap that they had to put up with. Captain Rig was especially disgusted by the fact that our idiocy had attracted the attention of the labor department. He stormed around, pointing, cursing, gesturing and hovering precariously closely to the brink of a major coronary event. And then I did it. I made the very poor decision to open my foolish mouth and make a comment on the bile that he was spewing every which way. (it was legit though, I was not being a smartass!) Hearing the sound of my voice Captain Rig whipped around, eyes bulging in horror that someone of my pathetic stature would dare to speak to his highness. Demanding to know my name, he asked if I wanted to continue working there. Much to the dismay of my brain, my mouth opened up all of its own accord and said "YES". WHAT the frick mouth?? Hush yourself!! Getting close enough to me so that I could see the pores on his nose he snarled that if I wished to continue to have the privilege of working for him that I had best zip it. He continued to rant in a manner of complete disarray and confusion for quite some time before concluding with: "Well I don't know about all of YOUS but CAPTAIN RIGATONI is going to have a damn good 2010." To which people actually applauded. After I threw up a little in my mouth and contained the urge to slap everyone in the face I unwillingly plunked my hands together a bit to blend in. AKK!

Running away in horror, trying to shake the feeling of pure insanity I was stopped by my human work friend. "So..... what did you think of THAT?" he asked me. Being that I was genuinely disgusted and furious I replied that I had never in my life seen such a display of confusion and bullshit. As we finished our whispered discussion Bobbi rounded the corner and noticing that the two of us had paused, she shouted "STAFF, STAFF there is a LOT to do and we need to GET SHIT DONE!!!" Moving along, shaking our heads at her display of insanity we proceeded to circle like moronic goldfish around the restaurant. A few moments later I noticed that a bit of snow was on the floor so I stopped to pick it up. Like a freaking cat Bobbi pounced on me again. "STAFF" she hissed "IT is time to be paying attention to our TABLES!!!" Looking at my empty section I decided that I needed to hide. Passing my human work friend I declared my intention to hide out in the bathroom for a bit of time. I took a moment in the bathroom to take deep, calming breaths and try to lower my blood pressure to a more acceptable level. I reminded myself that I was not really an idiot, contrary to popular belief. I tried to get in touch with my inner zen like qualities, even while my stupid eyes were threatening to get all cry-ish on me. Realizing that I could not shack up in the bathroom forever I shook it off, tried to keep my inner beast dormant and got the hell back to work.

Fortunately at that point things became busy and we had a nice, smooth evening. New Year's Day went well too, with a minimum of drama and ridonkulocity. Imagine THAT! We can all do our jobs... Now this isn't to say that the Head Harpies were not on a rampage of destruction but most of them kept their thoughts to themselves.

What I managed to take away from the whole long, absurd and exhausting weekend were a few tremendously helpful tips on how to run my own business. Hooray! First of all I need to really start yelling at my staff a whole lot more, with gratuitous use of the F word as well as referring to myself in the third person. Awesome-o! Secondly, I need to schedule an "I'm Great" meeting, where all I do is talk about the fabulocity that is me, name drop, pat myself on the back and in general make my staff want to commit harry carry on the spot. Thirdly, and most importantly I absolutely need to remember that the way to get my peeps in the mood to do a helluva good job for me it to use them as my own personal punching bag right before the busiest day of the year. Cool beans!! I feel that if I implement these tips I will soon be the most successful person in the world, just like Captain Rigatoni.

In which our Heroine learns that she will never be able to cheat a lie detector test...

Crossing the threshold of my own personal hell the other evening (aka: the kitchen entrance of Captain Rigatoni's) I could hear the hollerin' coming from the back room in a big way! Realizing that this was sure to be yet another heart warming evening of cheerful pep talks, and loving pats on the back I concluded that it was the perfect opportunity to continue my social experimentation on the Captain's dime.

Before I could reflect any further on what my bold mission might be I was captured by Dan, and in a whirlwind of speed was whisked away to the dark recesses of the walk in cooler. My reaction was something of the "HEY! YO! WTH??" kind, as I do not particularly enjoy any kind of sudden kidnapping. Surrounded by buckets of pasta, "homemade" desserts and carrots, Dan delivered a stern lecture. "We have an audit going on today" he said in his very best waiting-to-be-upper-management voice "and we need to go over a few things." I was confused, and was picturing some sort of tax evasion taking place and could not see how I could possibly have any part in such a thing. Continuing on, and carefully annunciating his words lest I be confused by the weight of my mission Dan said "They are going to be asking all of us some questions today about how this restaurant is run, how you get paid and what some of our policies are." "Reeeeaaaaly?" I said, as it dawned on my that this was the Labor peeps and not the Tax goons "What's the deal?" I inquired. "Well, there are a few things that need to be said by ALL" was his firm, and clearly pronounced reply. By this time it was becoming painfully clear to me what was going on: We were going to be told to lie. And if there is something that this middle aged waitress AVOIDS it is lying. It is well known in my circle of friends that my lying skills are on par with my coordination skills meaning, NOT good. Not only is lying something that I am (somewhat) morally opposed too but I just can't be smooth about it. I tend to stammer a bit, get overly exaggerated in my hand gestures and facial expressions and get all red faced and sweaty palmed. I just can't pull it off, period! This was NOT the kind of challenging social experimantation that I was intersted in. Clearly pressed for time Dan continued with his lecture on deceit "When he asks about our tip-out policy you should know that we DO NOT nor have we EVER tipped out any staff in this restaurant besides the service bar." "You don't say" I replied with great sarcasm "Because some little part of my memory remembers something entirely different..." "Well that part of your memory needs to be turned off right now" was his sensible thought on that matter. "Also, you have NOT nor have you EVER been required to pay for anything you have broken, screwed up on or damaged." Remembering that there was a small portion of my medulla oblongata (or similar?) that needed to learn to shut it's mouth I shut mine too... "Also" he droned on "it is not our policy to ask you to pay for a "walk-out" but we do reserve the right to terminate you if you have multiple people leaving without paying." "So the other day" I mused in my out-loud voice "when my work friend was let go for one walk out.... That never happened? Am I right?" Delighted with my quick learning skills Dan exclaimed that I WAS right and that I HAD it and could scurry right along and talk to Mr. Department of Lies.

Fortunately for me, a long line of liars had formed at that point so I had a bit of time to muse over my options. I saw this as a perfect, heaven sent opportunity to expose the shady work place principles that were applied at Capt Rig's. I saw this as a delightful opportunity to avenge my fallen and unjustly fired friend. I worked myself up into a fine state of indignation over the fact that people thought that they could order me to lie and expect me too! Seeing Dan run by to polish the halo that Captain Rigatoni had given him I asked a quick question "So Dan, why is it that you had to catch us one by one and tell us what was going on? Why did we not have a meeting to talk about this? It wouldn't be becasue "management" didn't want to be (ahem) involved? You know, in case we get asked if we were told by our "bosses" to say certain things?" "Ahhh" he said, clearly agitated by my quick thinking and perception "that might be... close to correct..." As he left the kitchen he turned and semi-shouted "AND it's a BEAUTIFUL thing!!" with more than a touch of sarcasm, which led me to believe that despite all the mumbo-jumbo he was still at least partially human. With my suspicions confirmed I went to the front of the line to get down to the dirty business of exposing the corrupt state of affairs going on in the kitchen. My imagination was having a delightful time picturing the way I would describe to Mr. Labor how I had been told to lie, how we did in fact have to tip out everybody and their brother, and how we most certainly had to pay for breakage and mistakes. I was going to be a champion of the masses, a freedom fighter on the level of Gandhi, and a patriot for waitstaff everywhere. That was the case, until I saw where it was that we were going to be having out "private meeting." In the office: NO. In a nice private area of the dining room: NO. Where, you might ask... Where would we have the opportunity to have a heart to heart chat with somebody who might be able to save us from doom and slavery (and the loss of tons of our own dollars, paying for busted up plates?!?) Dead front and center, under the close surveillance of several video cameras and right next to the hostess station, where Bobbi was conveniently located. Although I'm sure that she was keeping a responsible eye on things, not eavesdropping or anything. (See! I can lie!)

My head was in a terrible state at this point and I knew that if I did not lie, as soon as I went back to the kitchen I would be shoved out the back door and kicked like a junk yard dog. I reflected upon the sorry state of my bank account, the pile of bills on my kitchen table and the lack of available jobs in my town (or any town.) I knew at that point, that there was no choice in the matter. I would HAVE to do one of the top things that I AVOID. I was going to have to lie like a rug.... And there was no way that I was going to be able to pull it off because as soon as I sat down my blood pressure went up to 180/240 and clearly a stroke was imminent. "Hello, I'm Mr. Labor" said Mr. Labor, standing to shake my clammy hand, and not reacting well to the fact that my hands felt like the hands of a LIAR!! Wiping his hands on his pants (sorry) we got on with things. "What are your tipping policies here?" he asked sternly "Do you have to tip anyone at the end of the night?" "Um, yeah, um" I said smoothly, and calmly "We have to tip the bartender and ummmm. that's it. yeah, just them" (shut up!! I shouted at myself! Stop talking!) "So just the bar?" he asked again, looking at me with a firm expression "nobody else? Not a bus person? A hostess" THE KITCHEN??" I was in full blown freak out at this time, I could see Bobbi peering at me with slanted eyes and taking notes, I could see that I was directly in the line of the cameras. I wanted to jump up and scream like a freak, and then run out the front door like a crazy person. Gathering my thoughts as best I could I stammered that no, we didn't tip anyone else, and that it was just the bar, and that yes as far as I knew it WAS mandatory to tip the bartender because I had never been told otherwise. I jambled on and on. I could not shut up the word vomit pouring from my mouth. I was red faced and sweaty like a mass murderer under the spotlight of interrogation.. The interview went on for several minutes more, I continued to stammer like a guilty convict, Bobbi continued to give me the stank eye and Mr. Labor clearly did not believe a word I had said. And then it was over, I was allowed to run like a track star back to the relative safety of the kitchen. Where, oddly enough I found most of the staff chirping in indignation about the unjust questions that had been presented to them. At that point they all believed the lies that they had been told to tell (whoa- stop the crazy train right here please so that I can get the hell OFF!)

By far, the best part of the whole adventure was to learn that some of the staff who are supposed to be on the receiving end of out tip-outs at the end of the night had never seen any of that cash. Not a dime, not once! Good to know that we are lining the pockets of management with our hard earned money- really flipping awesome.

The result of this social experiment: OK, so this one was forced upon me and was not my choice! I don't think that I would choose lying as a way to spend my evening. Anyway: EPIC fail. I am a terrible liar and also clearly have no moral fiber since I made the choice to lie (my justification that I HAD no choice is BS- you always have a choice. And I choose to keep my craptastic job.) I'm clearly going to be getting coal in my stocking this year!