A Perfect Storm

 I survived yet another awful Sunday.  At the end of the day, I felt like a tornado had not only blown through the restaurant, but blown through by hair and head as well.  In my seventh hour (of nine total), I thought, "What.. just.. happened... "  As summer officially kicks off this Memorial Day weekend, I fear the next three months of Saturdays and Sundays are going to be as "tornadous" (pronounced tornado-us) as this past Sunday. Lord help me.  

The stories would blow your mind too.  The chaos just grew and grew, all day long, until I thought I was going to be sucked up into it and disappear forever.

Right out of the gates (when we opened), my first table was so absurd.  It was a typical beautiful sunny San Diego morning, just before noon, and a gentleman asked for a heater.  Really?  It was literally 75 degrees out (and I was almost breaking a sweat) but he was in the shade of the umbrella, and apparently that made him cold.  Of course I couldn't find my assistant to help me move the heater, so I had to do it myself.  It was very awkward but I moved it.  Of course, the gas was out.  I quit.  "Where's my assistant!  I need him now.  I'm not dealing with this,"  I thought.  Not my first table.  Ugh.  I gave him hot water instead (keep in mind.. thirty steps to get the hot water.. then another thirty back down to return to the table...).  Happy Sunday Funday to me...

Next up: Europeans.  Lots of 'em.  Great.  I love hanging out with them, but I don't like waiting on them.  Some are much more high maintenance than others (with plenty of liquor, wine and/or beer they continuously order..  and let's not forget the mighty espresso to top it off at the end to even it all out!).  It wouldn't be so bad but they are notoriously low tippers, especially for all of the extra work we do (there's a lot more where that came from but I'll leave that for another day...).

The VIP was back.  This time with six others.  He actually requested another server thank GOD.  I just kept ignoring him the whole time he was there. Thankfully I was literally too busy to even fake smile at him (of course when he was getting ready to pay, he called me over and asked me why I didn't say hello).  Eww.  

I can't forget to mention the "preposterous lady" who kept yelling, "This is preposterous THIS and this is preposterous THAT....!"  She wouldn't stop with her preposterous comments.  And that happened at 4:45pm with 45 minutes left in my sixth hour of waiting tables, hoping to not take any more tables at that moment.  She was beyond upset that she couldn't get any lunch items when someone else in the hotel told her she could.  Now, am I honestly going to have to serve the lunch menu and wait on an angry party of six 1 and 1/2  hours after lunch service is over and only 45 minutes left before dinner begins?  Ding ding ding!  You guest it!  YES I DID.  Sadly (for us) in the hospitality industry, if you make a big enough fuss, you're most likely going to get what you want.  (Belive me there is a lot more to write about my experience with these people, but I'll come back to it another day...)

From the people making up their own menu items all day, to the self-seaters (every Sunday without fail), to the loud drunk people, to the snobby folk with their snobby kids, to the old people who made strange noises at the tables and who never smiled back at me, to the people who didn't speak a lick of English, to the people who were too cold and kept demanding extra hot water on a day full of sunshine, to my preposterous lady, my day was filled with this unimaginable storm of strange situations. I guess that's why we all love this job, but also why we hate this job.

Although, my "tornadous" day (I'd like to add that word to the dictionary please if I could) would have only felt like a F3 if it wasn't for all of the other issues simultaneously happening making my Sunday a full blown category F5:

a.)  Bad timing
b.) Lack of internal organization
c.)  Imperfect equipment (e.g., outdated computer systems, one working espresso machine fifty feet from my working station, etc...)

If I had my "preposterous lady" in the middle of a normal shift, when everything else was going fine, then it's truly not that big of a deal.  It's merely a funny story.  Lovely.  But when that happens when I've needed a manager many times throughout the day and couldn't find one, when I've had to split checks all day using a old calculator in a drawer that I'm not close to at all times, when I've needed drinks from the bar and the bartender is nowhere to be found, when the sushi kitchen has ticket times of over 35 minutes, when I need a soy sauce container ASAP and there isn't one in any of it's usual spots, when the main kitchen puts bacon on a sandwich that wasn't supposed to be there... and this kind of thing happens for three, four, five and six hours in a row, to say it kinda gets to you after a while, is a gross understatement. 

What's my point?  I'm not sure anymore. This post has gone on way too long.  But after reading it again, I've realized I should be blogging much more often because I do have a lot to write about. 

And that's a good thing.

So, "Thank You, Sunday."  Thanks for my perfect storm.  Guess it had a purpose in my life after all.