On the flip side...
One of the major drawbacks in working in the service industry as a server, cocktailer, bartender, bouncer, etc. is that anyone that you prefer not to see can come visit you at anytime. In addition, you must be nice to this person because you are at work.
I generally, as a rule, never get involved with any of my customers at a place that I’ve worked, and have freely distributed this advice to anyone who will listen.
Obviously Damn! from last weekend fell through the cracks. Damn! not only knows where I live, but where I work as well. So I been mildly concerned that his 6’4” frame would stroll through the doors, much to my chagrin, and I will have to be nice to him. In addition I will have to be on the DL so as not to attract attention from any of the other servers, lest they find out where my poor judgment led me last weekend.
Wednesday night I gave up my shift to another girl, but last night I had to go. Honestly, with an overactive imagination creating some anxiety. So as I told one friend of my escapade, and my concern, she assured me I had nothing to worry about.
She’s right. He wasn’t the one I should have been concerned about.
[Mama this is when you will want to turn away, plug your ears, and chant “la la la la la”.]
I had one table in my section that I wasn’t taking care of. Thank God. When I looked over I realized that sitting at the table was Cot, whom I hadn’t seen in nearly two years.
When I first moved to California I hung out with a group of friends that I knew through my roommate, Drama Queen (DQ) at the time. I was attracted to Cot, all of this coming to a head (absolutely no pun intended) one night at the river, after partying the entire day. Flirting be done we crawled to the top of a cot-esqued bunk bed. This rickety thing could hardly hold one person, let alone two. Mind you DQ and her boyfriend were asleep on the bunk below us – at least her boyfriend was – we thought she was as well. This was until Cot kicked the child safety bar along the side of the bunk, causing its metal frame to fall down from the top and catching DQ’s leg and slashing it down her calf. (Really the cut was only a couple inches long). That was the end of that. She pretended to sleep no more, and for months after complained about the scar that I had caused on her gorgeous legs.
Cot and I hung out for a bit after that, but when I decided I could no longer live with DQ, I let all of her friends go as well. It wasn’t worth any of the stress that she would cause anyone, and Cot wasn’t really the ‘keeper’ type anyway.
So last night he sat there, in the middle of all of my tables. I did everything possible to avoid eye contact. He was with some girl and another guy friend, I was at work… and it was never really anything anyway. Thinking maybe he wouldn’t recognize me (how many times have I changed my hair color since then???) I neglected to remember my F’n name tag. Genius. Anyway in a fleeting hope, that he had a look-alike somewhere in the same neighborhood, after he left I look at the Visa slip that remained on the table, just to verify the name. Indeed, Cot it was. I set it down and looked up, noticing the guy he had been sitting with had merely moved to the bar, and there he sat staring at me looking at the Visa. Smooth, very smooth OC girl.
I generally, as a rule, never get involved with any of my customers at a place that I’ve worked, and have freely distributed this advice to anyone who will listen.
Obviously Damn! from last weekend fell through the cracks. Damn! not only knows where I live, but where I work as well. So I been mildly concerned that his 6’4” frame would stroll through the doors, much to my chagrin, and I will have to be nice to him. In addition I will have to be on the DL so as not to attract attention from any of the other servers, lest they find out where my poor judgment led me last weekend.
Wednesday night I gave up my shift to another girl, but last night I had to go. Honestly, with an overactive imagination creating some anxiety. So as I told one friend of my escapade, and my concern, she assured me I had nothing to worry about.
She’s right. He wasn’t the one I should have been concerned about.
[Mama this is when you will want to turn away, plug your ears, and chant “la la la la la”.]
I had one table in my section that I wasn’t taking care of. Thank God. When I looked over I realized that sitting at the table was Cot, whom I hadn’t seen in nearly two years.
When I first moved to California I hung out with a group of friends that I knew through my roommate, Drama Queen (DQ) at the time. I was attracted to Cot, all of this coming to a head (absolutely no pun intended) one night at the river, after partying the entire day. Flirting be done we crawled to the top of a cot-esqued bunk bed. This rickety thing could hardly hold one person, let alone two. Mind you DQ and her boyfriend were asleep on the bunk below us – at least her boyfriend was – we thought she was as well. This was until Cot kicked the child safety bar along the side of the bunk, causing its metal frame to fall down from the top and catching DQ’s leg and slashing it down her calf. (Really the cut was only a couple inches long). That was the end of that. She pretended to sleep no more, and for months after complained about the scar that I had caused on her gorgeous legs.
Cot and I hung out for a bit after that, but when I decided I could no longer live with DQ, I let all of her friends go as well. It wasn’t worth any of the stress that she would cause anyone, and Cot wasn’t really the ‘keeper’ type anyway.
So last night he sat there, in the middle of all of my tables. I did everything possible to avoid eye contact. He was with some girl and another guy friend, I was at work… and it was never really anything anyway. Thinking maybe he wouldn’t recognize me (how many times have I changed my hair color since then???) I neglected to remember my F’n name tag. Genius. Anyway in a fleeting hope, that he had a look-alike somewhere in the same neighborhood, after he left I look at the Visa slip that remained on the table, just to verify the name. Indeed, Cot it was. I set it down and looked up, noticing the guy he had been sitting with had merely moved to the bar, and there he sat staring at me looking at the Visa. Smooth, very smooth OC girl.
posted by hannahhas @ Friday, May 20, 2005
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