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.

The Thong Police

Ashley had been lying dormant for a while, or at least as dormant as any of the axis-of-evil members can lie.

Evidently, keeping quiet had lost it's charm and appeal for her because she came out with vengeance and a high level of mouthiness during a Friday evening shift.

I might have previously mentioned that while Ashley pictures herself as a lean, bodacious supermodel that simply is not the case. While she might not carry the heft of Jan she is a portly soul, and has enough rolls to fill a basket. None of these things stop her from being exceptionally critical of the physical stature of others (she might not run... but she does run her mouth!)

For whatever reason she became agitated by the fact then in the kitchen on occasion when one (or several) of the girls leans over to get something their shirt hikes up and there might be a momentary flashing-of-the-thong. THE HORROR!! The sensible approach would be to say "your showing too much skin there, pussycat doll wannabe!" But as we all know, the sensible approach is the road less traveled at Captain Rig's.

I witnessed Ashley not walking, but literally running (while gasping for air, I'm sure) to tattletale to Bobbi, Momma Rigatoni and anybody who would listen. She went ON and ON about it in a rather bizarre, but quite passionate way! I had not realized how deep her desire was to be the leader of the thong cops of America.
Sidling up to me she whined "You know... I just can not figure out why all of these BIG girls will not buy cloths that FIT! Maybe if they actually bought pants that would button then we wouldn't always be seeing their underwear... I know it must be really hard to have to buy a size 16 instead of 14 but they might look a little better." I studied her figure intently and came to the conclusion that she had deemed her pants to be well fitting, since her muffin top was only jumbo sized. (and then I went to beat my head bloody against a wall, as hearing her berate everyone in sight was downright painfull.)

Suddenly, we were all summoned to the kitchen for a Very Important Meeting. Mama Rigatoni gathered us all around and said "when you girls are in here bending over and we can see your THONGS I wave to the boys and point down your PANTS!" (lucky you guys, way to get an eyeful of coin slot!) Continuing on she said "From now on everybody has to wear pants that FIT, shirts that are LONG and NO MORE THONGS!" As people dispersed she made a point to tell all of us "girls" that she planned to line us up at the end of the night and (wait for it....) have us all bend over- so that she could check on the thong escapage. OH. MY. GAWD! This middleaged waitress don't bend over for nobody- you had better believe it.

Several of the girls, including the poor NNG were very embarrassed by this encounter and outraged at Ashley's false sense of self-pride/worth/beauty. Not to be stopped, Ashley continued to steamroll on all evening blathering on and on about unacceptable thongage, poorly fitting pants and her own slim figure. It was all very strange. Stranger still, was how she chased the NNG around all night trying to talk to her about the incident. Being rather offended by the whole mess (hmmmm, why might that be?) the NNG grew more and more pissed off. I was waiting for a fistfight... It never happened...

I was pleased that Mama Rig forgot about the promised Bending-Over because that might have been a bit too much for me to take. I was pleased to know though, that I'm not a grownup enough girl to be able to choose the knickers that I might wear what with thongs being banned and all. So, high waisted granny panties it is. I wonder how everyone will feel when they get an eyeful of those sexy things!
(Editors note: can't do it. I don't even own a pair of high waisted granny-pants. but whatev- it's a great visual!)

Canadians. Wine-O-s. Singing Brooms? Ahh, a day in my life..

Dear Canadians. I am sure deep down inside you are all lovely people. BUT! (and before I offend all of y'alls- I am NOT racist about anyone. There just happen to be a group of people out there who waitresses really dread and sadly, our friends from the North fall into this category. So no hate for the middleaged waitress, ok?) I have posted about them and their never ending shenanigans and terrible tipping skills before and my feelings (and their behavior) has not changed.
I'm sure that all of you Canadians are very nice people, and I know that you play a good game of hockey. But please learn to behave and tip!

I had a very long night of Canadian-itis recently. Table after table of $150+ check totals and $8 tips had me crying in my soup. Or cursing rather loudly and threatening to shoot myself in both feet so that I could just go home, damnit!
One table in particular had me gnashing my teeth and reminding myself to shut my fricking mouth... They ran me ragged... Their children were demanding and petulant and they refused to speak English except to boss me around. (and they could speak English. It was annoying.)

At the same time in the adjacent table I had a 2-top who were clearly from the Very Big City that is known to produce A-Holes. No offence. However, these two decided to break the stereotype and start off with full blown fabulocity. Perhaps it was because I had the table of truly offensive northerners that made them seem rather tolerable- but this 2-top started out full of promise. they ordered wine (had to get the HWF's wine key, obviously) They ordered apps and warned me that they were going to have a nice, leisurely meal. This sounded like an ideal plan because not only was it early and I had to be there- so I might as well be busy- but my Rude table was keeping me so busy that I had me big old hands pretty darn full.

By the time that the Rude table was ready to get a move on the Man in the friendly 2-top had drank his way right thru the bottle of wine. Needless to say, things at their table were starting to take a turn for the worse- or at least a turn for the strange.

As the Rude table left they demanded to see their bill again to "check the breakdown.. because it seemed really HIGH." Ok, no problem, here you go DOUCHEBAG! They studied the bill with a microscope and found it to be correct, much to their dismay. Since it was my fault that they ate and drank so much they punished me with a four cent tip and got the frick out.

After they left Mister wine-o had lots to say about them. "Soooo" he drawled rather tipsily "they think that their shit don't stink, now don't they?" Not wanting to spark some sort of insane debate, or to appear rude I just laughed them off. But he persisted "Tell us what you really thought of them, because we thought that they were first class assholes." "Well." I said tactfully "They were a bit needy but it isn't something that I haven't dealt with 100 times before...." This was not a good enough answer and he persisted in pestering me to spill my real feelings on the matter. (which I would not do. but I did get him to order more wine, knowing that his wife was DDing his drunkass home.)

Much time had elapsed at this point and they were my only table left so, much to my chagrin, I had very little excuse to hide from them. More fine had further loosened Mr. Wine-o's tongue and he prattled on endlessly. (this is why I hated bartending and never wish to do it again- escape is challenging. and at a table like this- you are suddenly the bartender, therapist and best friend EVER!) As they prepared to take their leave I was asked one more question "In the Disney movie with the lion and the princess, is there a singing broom?" Lion. Princess. Singing Broom? WTF? Thinking hard I said "Beauty and the Beast you mean? Are you thinking of the singing candelabra?" He was not convinced and spent 10 lawyerly minutes asking me if I had reasonable doubt that there was NOT a singing broom in Beauty and the Beast. The whole situation unnerved me a bit and I started second guessing myself and could not say with 100% certainty that there was no damn stupid singing BROOM! (anybody? have the answer?)

In the end all the ridonculocity paid off because they left me a gargantuan tip- but it was all around odd.
And I'd love to know if there is a singing broom in the movie about the lion and the princess....

Inside the head of a MAD MAN!

Captain Rigatoni was most disturbed.

Sitting in his lair (aka:office) he twisted his large, gold rings around his twinkie like fingers while ruminating over recent events. He was not sure what had him so on edge... But something did and he fully intended to do something about it!

Leaping up from his chair, in the way that only an unfit angry man can he strode to the kitchen filled with agitation. Suddenly, something caught his eye though a crack in the door. Intently he peered out and was disgusted and baffled to see that his staff of clowns had parked out in the back lot. AH-HAH! THIS must be the reason for his discontent, he thought to himself, his STUPID staff was doing things all the wrong way AGAIN! GOD, were they EVER on their A Game? Would he ever be able to get a moments rest, what with having to babysit the lot of them 24/7?!

"HEY YOU!" he shouted angrily to the first waitress he saw, pleased to have found someone so quickly on whom to vent his anger "WHAT are you all doing parking out there? WHY would you do such a thing." "Well" calmly replied the waitress "We are parking there because you told us to." "WHAT?!" he cried, eyeing this small, middleaged waitress with extreme displeasure "I NEVAH would have told you to do such a thing! NEVAH! Now answer me again: WHY are yous parking out there." Annoyingly unphased by his attempt at intimidation she sighed a little and with the kind of calm patience that made him want to kill someone she said "Well.... We are parking there because you told us to do so." This was not going the way he had planned at all. She was making him look like an idiot in front of everyone with her terrible, disrespectful lies! Luckily, at this moment in walked his Mama. He knew that for sure, she would have his back and save the day! Then he could kick that middleaged waitress right out the backdoor where she belonged with her insolent, ignorant LIES! "MAMA" he said "This here waitress is tellin' me that I told all of them to park out back. I did no such thing so what's she playin' at?" Looking at him with resignation his Mama said "Well Rigatoni, you did tell them to park out there." At this point Captain Rig was seeing red and could not believe the betrayal from his own MOTHAH!! From the distance he thought he heard the sounds of self-satisfied laughter (which made his blood boil) but there was nobody else in the kitchen at that point.

Right at that moment into the kitchen trundled Jan, dragging by his ear her faithful man slave. The man slave was a well trained employee of Captain Rig's and was Jan's poopsy-woopsy. She loved the way that he sucked up to the Captain in a way that was terribly disturbing to the normal idiots working there. She loved the way he massaged her rolls of fat after the hard hours she put in on the job. Oh she just loved everything about her man slave, especially the way that she could throw him at Captain Rigatoni to cheer him up, collecting tons of brownie points in the process. The Captain was delighted to see the man slave and jumped right over to where he was standing. With his fat finger he poked the MS in the ribs, causing him to giggle and nervously jump around. "You like working with these idiots" chortled the Captain, poking and tickling at the MS who continued to jump nervously from foot to foot, giggling all the while "you like what I have to put up with around here, DONTCHA!!" Agreeing with his every word while slobbering delightedly at the attention the MS nervously dodged the ever more violent pokes that the Captain was giving him. Tiring of their little game the Captain finished up the bizarre interaction by putting the MS in a headlock and mussing with his hair. "You go now" he bellowed "I know I can count on you to do a good job!" Running away as quickly as possibly the MS went to hide once again in Jan's formidable shadow, while trying to master the art of basic English.

This robust moment of bullying had helped the Captain to clear his head but had also exhausted him. To his office he went, shaking his head and muttering obscenities to all the cooks as he past them by. Couldn't leave them for a second, he mused to himself, because they'd be trying to put him out of business. Once back in his office he realized that he had some mail on his desk! Delighted, he pounced on it like a fat kid pounces on cake. Unwrapping the biggest package first he was giddy to discover that he had been mailed an Award Of Excellence. He, the master of the universe was finally being given the credit that he deserved! Never one to pass up an opportunity to shamelessly indulge in public self promotion he immediately summoned the entire staff to the kitchen. "STAFF" he said in his most preachy, big-news-is-coming voice "I have won the most important award in all the land." I wanted to tell you all this so that you know how powerful and wonderful I am. AND I wanted to tell you that this is what happens when EVERYONE does that job that they are supposed to do and EVERYONE is on their A GAME!!!" Not noticing the baffled and bemused expressions from most of his staff (with the exception of Jan and her MS who were jumping up and down, hyperventilating from excitement and high blood pressure) he solemnly led a round of applause and retreated to the depths of the restaurant to polish his new plaque.

And the moral of this story is: (we should all have a Man Slave) Just kidding! The real moral is that when one wins an award, of any caliber, the supposed slacking and ineptitude of the staff is momentarily forgotten.

Cakes, Cleavers and Car Trouble. Or: I'm BACK!

I was on route to Captain Rigatoni's not too long ago, all shiny and well dressed (as usual) running punctually on time (as usual) and with a smile on my face and a freaking song in my heart (aren't I just the picture of perfection!) When I heard a pop.... I pulled my car over and sure enough, I had the very most flat of flat tires. I was not too bothered by this as I was raised to be an independent and clever woman, one who does not need any stinking AAA. I got my jack, and my winter coat. I dug out my tire iron and the spare tire. I got to work. Much to my dismay the lug nuts would NOT BUDGE! Inwardly cursing my mechanic for tightening the little buggers with the air wrench thing I realized that I would have to call for some serious help (AKA my poor put upon Dad. The middleaged Huz was at work.) The entire situation proved to be challenging (it was cold. my phone service was questionable. My Dad was very hard to locate.) But to make a veeeery long story short and reasonable the tire got changed. Being that I am a gifted and responsible employee of Captain Rig's most Magical Bistro I got on the hop and drove like a lunatic to arrive a mere 37 minutes late.

As I made my walk of shame into the restaurant I noticed that I was feeling a touch unwell. Thinking back on my day I remembered that I was running on no lunch, and that the cold weather and tire changing nonsense had put me into an icky state of low bloodsugar-itis. I am a scrawny little thing, who needs to be fed every hour on the hour to keep the hypoglycemia at bay. If I miss a meal, watch out... Not only do I get crabby but I get clammy, shaky and eventually just fall down and pass out, or become disgustingly nauseated. That's where I was at upon my arrival and I was rather hopeful that I would be able to snag some juice and crackers before being called into service.

As soon as I walked in Marissa and my Human Work Friend jumped on me. "You're just in time" they said with barely disguised disgust "We are being summoned to the kitchen for a Very Important Meeting!" Now, when one is summoned for a VIM one absolutely does not stop for a life saving smackerel of something. Looking longingly at the basket of bread, I woozily made my way into the kitchen and propped myself up against the salad cooler (and was promptly admonished for leaning on the salad cooler...)

Captain Rig crashed into the kitchen, very much in I-Just-Swallowed-A-Beehive mode. Faaaaaaaantastic. Glaring around at us in a tizzy he started in (and I knew we were in for a long one.) He reached into the dessert cooler and produced half of a cake, which had had something of an accident and had essentially slid off of itself earlier in the week. (we had been allowed by his majesty to eat some of said cake on that particular day- it was very good and we were all secretly glad that it had structurally failed.) Anyway, I digress. He pointed at the cake with a large meat cleaver and demanded the cooks to tell him why it had not been turned into some other type of dessert and sold. None of them happen to own a magic wand that transforms failed desserts into Ace Of Cakes like masterpieces so they were unable to answer his question. This displeased Capt Rig immensely which encouraged him to spend at least 15 minutes repeating the same question over and over again "WHY THE EFF DID YOU CLOWNS NOT MAKE THIS CAKE INTO SOMETHING THAT WE COULD SELL? WHY THE EFF DO I PAY YOU? WHY ARE YOU ALL SUCH IDIOTS?" This went on for long enough to put me into a stupor, one which was not even relatively pleasant. At this point I had reached the cold sweats and shaking part of my desperate need for food and was wondering what my punishment would be if I passed out and fell upon the floor.

Just as I had decided that vomiting on my shoes was the thing to do I was horrified to hear Captain Rig shout my name (he knows my name. mental note to legally change name as soon as possible) I shook my head in a weak attempt to revive and asked him to please repeat. He pointed and glared at the red faced cook behind the line and then he pointed at me. "SHOULD I" he intoned, slowly so that I would be sure to understand "FEEL SORRY. FOR THESE IDIOTS.... WHO WASTE! MY! MONEY! And EFFIN! RUIN! MY! BUSINESS!" I peered over at at the cook, who looked inches away from tears. I could feel the stares of Marissa and my Human Work Friend on the back of my head as they collectively held their breaths. In my hypoglycemic state I had a clear vision of what would happen if I said "Yes. You should feel sorry for them because you emasculate and demean then in a way that is unprofessional and unacceptable." I imagined how red faced and bug eyed Captain Rigatoni would get and how he would gesture wildly to the door and order me to GET! THE! EFF! OUT! I pictured myself high fiving the cook, grabbing my bag and shouting "Don't let the door hit me in the ass on my way out" or some such ridiculous nonsense. "Hey" hollered Capt Rig (in reality) "WELL, SHOULD I????" I looked at the cook, who looked back and from behind Captain Rig's back gave the tiniest shake of his head. "HEY!" shouted Capt Rig, fed up with my meandering nonsense "ANSWER ME!" "Welllll" I said, valiantly trying to see a loophole "I suppose that you wouldn't need to feel sorry for anyone who.... wastes your money.." And there was a huge sigh of relief from everyone around me who gave a crap. Not entirely satisfied with my answer Cap Rig jumped over to the sad looking cake and stabbed his meat cleaver into it. "WASTING MY MONEY, FOOLS" he ranted, stabbing and cutting in a manic frenzy "NONE OF YOU ARE ON YOUR A GAME!!! YOU DO A TERRIBLE JOB! GONNA RUIN MY BUSINESS!" After a few moments of ranting, hacking and frothing he was spent, and thankfully retreated to the dark, dank recesses of his office.

I RAN and had some juice. Revived. Shook my head in dismay.... And wrapped up the chaotic night by having an amusing conversation with Marissa and my HWF about what exactly they pictured me doing during the stand off with Captain Rig. Evidently they imagined me doing something startlingly similar to my groggy daydream.

This set off a several day tirade from His Highness about what a terrible job all of us do (pretty normal) about how we are never on our "A Game" (same message, dfferent phrase) and of course the standard stuff about being idiots, clowns, etc. Stay tuned to find out how long this rant lasted, or what it might take to snap a crazy man out of his madness....

If you gotta problem yo, I'll solve it. Or not?

As a rule I am quite a good problem solver. I can help you to jump start your car, I am not scared to help you check out funny noises in the dead of the night (well, I am. but I won't admit to it! oops, just did.) Really, I am a fairly handy person to have around when it comes to being a minor problem solver- Ms. Fixit type of gal.

One problem that I absolutely CAN NOT fix? The problem with people being bat shit crazy.

It is a well established fact in my brain that Captain Rigatoni and Bobbi Rigatoni are quite far off the deep end of anything that pertains to reality. The way that the pair of them interact with the staff, each other and their own freaking family constantly appalls me and leaves me shaking my head in dismay.

Let me set the scene for you. As is the norm on a Friday or Saturday night we were all summoned to have a big, rousing pre-shift meeting. We were actually called to the dining room for this one, which rocks my socks since it means we get to sit down!! We all gathered around, and I placed myself as far away from Capt Rig as is humanly possibly, and situated myself behind the tallest person there because invisibility is desirable.

Captain Rig strode in, rubbing his temples in a most aggravated manner and adjusting his bluetooth headset so that we could see how busy and important he was. It is difficult to forget even for a minute that we are working with The Most Famous Person in the Land as we are all constantly reminded of that fact. "All of YOUS are trying to put me out of business!" was his statement du jour "I have never seen this place run so poorly!!" He continued on in a fairly normal (for him) way, expressing his usual level of disgust in the fact that all of us tend to tell people to eat elsewhere, scream obscenities at his guests, lock the doors and turn off the lights, and spit on peoples food right in front of them. Normal stuff, you know? I was very happy to be sitting and hiding and was inching oh-so-close to dozing off (or going to my happy daydream place. mmmmm, cozy) when the meeting took a turn for the worse. Captain Rig stood in front of the Male youth of America and pointed a chubby finger at him. "THIS is one of the big problems" he seethed "I have said from the beginning that this guy has no place in my restaurant, and no business waiting tables for me!!" THUNK! That's the sound of my chin hitting the table in a bit of shock (I quickly picked it up and resumed my hiding.) The poor MYOA had no opportunity to run for cover as he was front and center, and clearly the object of Capt Rig's attention and fury. DOOM! I watched in growing horror as Capt Rig demanded that the MYOA tell him the exact ingredients that made up several dishes on the menu. Cracking under the scrutiny the poor YOA was unable to even remember his own name, much less the amount of salt that goes into the meatballs. Stammering somewhat, but maintaining a remarkable level of cool headedness the YOA tried very hard to do the Captain's bidding (with no luck.) FURIOUS at the incompetence of his freshly minted and still untrained staff member he continued making an example of the poor guy. Stepping in, Bobbi joined in the fun and carnage. "Bobbi" said the Captain, slapping his palm to his forehead "Can you even begin to believe this guy? Why is he even working for us? WHY?" Bobbi eyed the YOA with nothing short of unbridled hatred, "DISGUSTING" she proclaimed, voice dripping with insanity "Just. Disgusting." All of my radars that detect extreme psychosis were going off hard core in my brain at this point as I continued to watch this poor kid get strung up by his toenails and publicly flogged. I snuck a peek around the room at my coworkers, wondering if my feelings of shock/disgust/pity were mirrored on their faces. Not surprisingly I noticed that Jan, Karen and Gina were looking pleased and smug, knowing that if they were called upon to recite recipes that they could do so with ease. They were practically jumping up and down saying "pick me! ask me! I'm crazy too, just like you Captain Rig!" Taking no notice of their flailing arms and eager expressions Captain Rig finished up his rant of terror. "This here is a good kid" he said somberly to YOA "but that doesn't mean that he should work here. All of yous should memorize the menu as I will be quizzing you on it, and firing the people who get it WRONG!!" As we scattered, one of the newer girls (the one who has a tendency to tattletale like a 3rd grader) announced her grand plan to make flash cards with menu items on them and diligently study them. Rolling my eyes with reckless abandon I held back the urge to slap her silly. Come ON people, you have just witnessed the execution of somebody's frigging SOUL and you prattle on about flashcards?? Sheesh, the lack of humanity of 98% of the people I work with is horrifying.

It was no great shock to me that Captain Rig maxed out my psychosis radar, and to see Bobbi so willingly jump on the beat down bandwagon was expected. How do they manage to live with themselves after so easily dishing out public humiliation? Like I mentioned before- bat shit crazy is a problem I can not fix- and the two of them are way beyond help.

A great side note- despite suffering horrible humiliation the MYOA has stuck it out and continues to work there in a manner that seems quite acceptable to my uneducated eyes. I'm not sure if I would have been able to stand continuing on after such an episode, so good for him for being such a tough guy.

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.

The world is a Vampire. And not the sexy kind.

All of you cool kids from my middleaged generation know what I mean from my blog title today. Essentially, that the world (AKA my life & times at Capt Rig's) is draining the life blood/soul/will to live from me and that soon I will walk among you as one of the undead. Sadly, I am not making reference to having a fleet of heart-throbby Bill Compton's or Edward Cullen's prancing their immortal selves around making everything all sexy. (which is too bad really, either of them would distract me nicely from the Evil people I work with.)
Very bad night at Capt Rig's last night. My head is in a very bad, dark place right now.....
I had previously written quite a long post about the events of last evening. It was bitter, verbose and thoroughly detailed the interactions and exchanges that happened thru the course of the evening. But I erased it, due to the fact that it was just TMI and I do not want to bore my readers (I also do not want you to think that I am a pathetic looser for tolerating this crap. Which I am not, I am not a quitter though and I have dedication and tenacity. Suuuuuure...)
So here you go.

Dear Staff at Captain Rigatoni's,
Why does it feel to me, every time I step in the door as though I have gone in a time machine back to High school? Is it because you are all petty backstabbing little people with no regard for each others feelings? I think this is quite accurate. You might not like me, because I refuse to engage in petty conversations with you about how the other staff members look, smell, walk and talk. But I do not care. I can still look at myself in the mirror and know that I did not bad mouth anyone because of things that they simply can not help. Also, I know that you most certainly talk about me the same way when I am not listening because you do it to each other, even the people you declare your undying friendship to. This is not nice way to act, young ladies, and what goes around comes around.
Why, when we run out of something earth changing like liners for the bread baskets can you not simply ask for more? Why (Bobbi) must you steamroll into the kitchen and call me a "fucking piece of shit waitress" and also call me lazy? Is that a nice way to speak to someone, especially someone who is much smarter and kinder and clearly cuter than you? I look at your skinny stilettos and consider kicking them and watching you take a nasty tumble. That would be very bad for you, so watch yo' mouth when you talk to me suckah....
Why, when you do not take the time to tell me how you want something done (Ashley) and it still comes out looking just the same way that it does every single day must you run around telling all the other servers that it looks like shit? Either show me exactly how you want it done, or please kindly shut up about it. I do not have time to listen to you ranting about my idiocy when you have put zero effort into making sure things are done to your high standards. Also Ashley, please start lifting some weights or similar if you insist upon being so critical of everyone else's physique. I hate to tell you, but you are painfully far from being a Maxim cover girl. Gosh.
Ashley and Jan, you two are normally such nice people that I was shocked to overhear you talking smack about me behind my back. You tried pretty hard to cover your ample behinds when I walked in like stealth but it was too late. Perhaps it was not enough that I was carrying a rack of glasses, two checks, a bag of takeout food and a stack of plates out when I last left the kitchen. I'm sorry that you think I am not working hard enough at removing things from the kitchen, I'll really buckle down and get right on that. I might need an extra arm, but I am sure I have one in my closet at home.
And table 27. I honestly am sorry that a $10 bill fell on the floor when I got you your change. But, you let me know and I was actually able to find it (and if I had not, I would have given you a $10 out of my tips- obviously.) You were so happy with the rest of your meal, and since I fixed things for you so quickly why did you stiff me and leave me no tip? I was not trying to steal your money. I was not trying to steal your husband or your first born child. I am sorry that you are asshats.
I'm sorry Staff at Capt Rigs, but you can not push me out and force me to quit. You are messing with the wrong lady. Yes, you are making me very unhappy but I am not going to let all of you know that and I am NOT going to let you bulldoze me out the door. So screw all of you.
Love and hugs,
Middleagedwaitress