05.30.08
Now I must play the final scene, the death of Dr Death!
Holy Balls, I don't know what Oscar did, but he worked his bald headed bartender voodoo to turn OTB into a spiraling mess of multiple parties of 12-plus people, constantly streaming in like the fucking nematoads in Spongebob. At one point a guy came in asking about the group of twelve we had madea reservation for.
"Is that your group?" I asked, pointing through the inside window to a group we had just sat moments before. "They're the group you're talking about right?"
He peered through, looking confused. "No...the reservation is under Wendy."
I looked down at the list, then back at the group. They fucking lied to me, telling Kathleen and I that they were there for Wendy. Seriously, straight up mother fuckery I tell you.
When I wasn't running back and forth setting up giant ass tables, or getting sassed for double seating people and feeling like an overall douche bag, I was about to die from the fact that all air flow stops in a five foot radius around the hostess stand.
Also Kathleen, my co host, is a piece of work. And by piece of work, I mean she overthinks things and operates on a level normally inhabited by straight A students who get addicted to Meth because they needed something to keep their edge up in their quest for a 4.0.
Para example: A couple walks in. They would like a table outside. Catch is, the only open table has to be bussed.
What a normal person would say "Sure thing, do you guys mind waiting 5 minutes while it's bussed?"
What Kathleen says "Outside, sure hold on let me check, okay well its going to be a five to ten minute wait, we just need to clear off a table for you guys, it shouldn't be too long, or I can seat you inside, table or booth? Anne Marie, who did you just sit?"
"Carlos. Sit Theresa."
"HOld on one second you guys, I'm just going to take a look around to see what table we have open for you guys,"
"Therea. Sit Theresa"
"Okay, I need to just check our seating chart, it shouldn't be a problem to sit you guys, just one second, Okay well Julie has that big party in her group, but 94 is open or what about Christina because she's got a table open but I shouldn't sit her for a while right because she said that we double sat her the last time so what about Carlos? Do you think he could handle that?"
The couple looks at each other, confused. I suppose I should mention that when you read this, imagine everything Kathleen says being simultaneously rapid fire and perky, like a bunny with a machine gun for a mouth.
This happens for every single customer. At one point we started getting overwhelmed in the front, with nearly twenty people all trying to get tables. I was flustered to be sure, but Kathleen jumped in with a wait list and those buzzers, a move I saw similar to somebody saying "Aw dang, mosquitoes, LET ME GET MY UZI."
Every reaction this kid has is at a defcon 1 level. It's all right sometimes, like when there are To-Go orders, something I havent even attempted to learn, but I've come to find that when encountering overly peppy people like her or the girl who I had to work with on my Space Research final project, my personality forms the laconic Yang to their super charged Yins. I think I can handle maybe one more shift working alongside her before this gets the best of me and I turn into a three toed sloth.
ratherbored at 23:42