Showing posts with label spilled food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spilled food. Show all posts

July 28, 2011

Food Runner (Like Blade Runner, Only Less Cool)

One summer when I was a teenager, I gained part-time employment in a restaurant. Though this may seem like a typical adolescent experience, it was anything but normal, as I became completely incapable of doing anything right once I set foot in the establishment.
 
During my first week on the job, a magazine featured the owner/my boss as one of south Florida's most eligible bachelors, complete with a full pictorial. Suddenly, the place became a local hot-spot and was always jammed.
 

 
Being in a chaotic and new environment caused me to forget some important and basic restaurant principles. On one of my first evenings, someone asked for extra lemon.
 
 

I just handed her some. Apparently I needed to deliver several neatly sliced wedges on a clean, white, saucer. That made sense.

On another particularly crowded evening, the bachelor boss sent me out to get 12 cartons of cigarettes. I marched down the street in the pouring rain to a nearby gas station and acted like I knew what I was doing purchasing tobacco products.
 

Things went south pretty quickly.


I didn't even know that was an option. I didn't recall the boss saying anything about any filters, so I ordered 12 cartons of unfiltered Marlboro Reds.

 
 
I walked back in the rain the with the goods. The rain caused most of the boxes to warp beyond being able to ever return them. When I arrived and proudly presented the loot to the boss, he was not pleased. I figured when he looked at me like I was too stupid to live that he had wanted filters.
 
The coup de grace of my performance in the restaurant happened when I inadvertently held the veal saltimbocca over a customer and accidentally tilted it a bit.
 
 
 
 
I apologized so many times that she actually asked me to stop. I then asked her if there was anything I could do. Her response was only to say the words "Grey" and "Goose."
 
Though I look back at my restaurant experience and laugh, I'd be lying if I said that thinking about the poor lady dowsed in hot meat gravy didn't horrify me somewhat still today. 
 
I suppose that's a normal reaction.