Wednesday, March 30, 2011


The dirty bastard kitchen manager formerly known as DBKM shall now be referred to as his new moniker, DQDBKM - Drama Queen Dirty Bastard Kitchen Manager.  Here's why:

Today started off pretty well.  I stopped by a fast food place for breakfast, and thought to call the restaurant beforehand to see if anyone already there wanted some breakfast, and I let it be my treat when I delivered, so I was feeling good about that, and there was general good will all around.  We were joking around, having a good time, picking at each other.  At one point I ran squealing away like a piglet because I picked at somebody so good they were throwing ice at me.  Love that!  I even picked at the cook when I caught him looking, rather lascivously, at the hostess's rear-end. 

Everybody was still pretty much in a good mood when, despite the rain and general rather dreary weather, folks started to come in to eat at a pretty good pace.  My customers were all good, no assholes, no problems, I had four tables that had been sat pretty evenly, and I was handling it okay, however, I knew that I was at my limit because one of those tables was a group of police officers who were there for the all-you-can-eat ribs and apparently 2,000,178,309 fluid ounces of tea/coke/water.    Because of the reorders on the ribs and the constant refilling of glasses, this table of 5 behaved like a larger party, or like two or three tables.  Also, I had another table, a couple of old ladies who were, again, nice enough, but needing stuff.  Then there was the table of four, my first table of the morning, that I was keeping an eye on about needing to cash out their bill.  Add on to this my most recent table, a couple of gentlemen, perfectly pleasant, but whom I had not visited with in several minutes, ever since I had taken their order, in fact.  They didn't look like they needed anything, but I wasn't comfortable just ignoring them.  I needed to get over there and give them some attention, just after I refilled glasses again, asked again if the old ladies wanted some dessert, and cashed out that first table I mentioned.  So I was juggling all this, doing okay, but NOT ready to handle another table, when I walk out to see that that is exactly what has happened. 

Because nobody happened to ask about my delicate, fine balance, or how adding another table to this ecology could take an okay situation to a very not-okay situation where nobody ends up getting good service because I'm spread too thin.  And where I end up getting screwed on the tip.

So I ask the hostess, passively, who would be picking up that table.  Bad news: me.  I say, simply, "No."  because that is exactly what came into my brain and, honestly, that's all I had time to get out because I was on the way to handle those four other tables.  The hostess let me know that I was the only person downstairs to get tables, which was news to me.  I, sarcastically, asked her to then let DBKM know that he had a table.  There's only so much I can do.

And here's where DBKM turns into DQDBKM, and shall ever remain.

The next thing I know, DQDBKM is calling out to me that I'm cut.  That is to say, not taking any more tables.  That is to say, Go home, You're done. 

This is because I was "refusing" to take tables.  I very briefly tried to argue the intricacies of the difference between "refusing" and "being unable to" by saying, as I walked by, to wait on my tables - namely the police officers still ordering round after round of ribs and sucking down tea like it was the life-blood of the Lamb - "I couldn't," but I knew it was pointless. 

The only thing I could do was finish up my work and leave.  Ah, and, of course, come home and write this.  Oh, and - despite the comraderie I feel for the other waitresses up there - pray that every man, child and farm animal in the tri-county area descended upon the place demanding quarts of tea and high stacks of pig-meat and fries, making DQDBKM rue the day that he so flippantly cut me off the floor, but I doubt that happened on account of the weather. 

So then, all there is to do is add/correct the moniker.  Which I think I have sufficently done.  Until next time - we'll see what happens next.  I may very well end up using every letter in the alphabet for the acronym. 

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