Wednesday, July 06, 2005
using a squigy for fun and profit
i went to the diner a little early today.
my car was in the shop across the street and, not knowing how long it would be, i ducked into my place of employment for lunch before my shift.
as i sat, reading my book and munching on a wrap, my manager approached. from the look on his face i knew nothing good could come of this conversation.
"the dish guy called in and we are short a cook. i can't do both"
somehow this is my problem
he does not ask the question but i can read it across his face.
"fine, i'll dish, but your buying me dinner."
great start to a day. not only am i on dish for the evening, but i am going to close.
i have done dish at other resturants before, but never here.
oh well, you learn something new everyday.
the evening started out pleasantly enough. i like spraying things with water and playing with a squigy always brings hours of fun.
i wrote a song, which the kitchen crew got a kick out of. it was entitled "dishes are like fishes" though the words are lost on me now.
i titled myself the "dish fairy" and brought stacks of china goodness to all the good girls and boys.
at about 9, however, the fun left me.
hell, friction left me.
my shoes became ice skates as the mats on the floor were rolled up for cleaning.
suddenly the simple act of walking became a perilous game.
i named the carpeted floors outside the kitchen "friction world"
i hate these damn shoes.
there where moments where i felt like the cartoon cat when he slids out on the ice. paws flying everywhere.
i wrote a song about life on the slippery tile. somehow i managed to get the phrase "clumsy triple sow cow" into the lyrics without missing a beat. or, rather, without slaughtering it.
the last song of the night dealt with an incident with a brown gravey laddle.
to save face and avoid embarressment i will refrain from telling that story.
i will leave it with the simple truth that two hours later i was still picking brown gooeyness out of my hair.
i walked from the resturant with a burn across the back of my hand, a bruise on my shin and backside, and an overall feeling of moisture and grease.
when i got home i had a difficult time deciding whether or not to take a shower. not that i enjoyed the dirty greasy feeling, but after spending 8 hours of perpetual dampness i really didn't know if i wanted to submerge my self in more water.
my car was in the shop across the street and, not knowing how long it would be, i ducked into my place of employment for lunch before my shift.
as i sat, reading my book and munching on a wrap, my manager approached. from the look on his face i knew nothing good could come of this conversation.
"the dish guy called in and we are short a cook. i can't do both"
somehow this is my problem
he does not ask the question but i can read it across his face.
"fine, i'll dish, but your buying me dinner."
great start to a day. not only am i on dish for the evening, but i am going to close.
i have done dish at other resturants before, but never here.
oh well, you learn something new everyday.
the evening started out pleasantly enough. i like spraying things with water and playing with a squigy always brings hours of fun.
i wrote a song, which the kitchen crew got a kick out of. it was entitled "dishes are like fishes" though the words are lost on me now.
i titled myself the "dish fairy" and brought stacks of china goodness to all the good girls and boys.
at about 9, however, the fun left me.
hell, friction left me.
my shoes became ice skates as the mats on the floor were rolled up for cleaning.
suddenly the simple act of walking became a perilous game.
i named the carpeted floors outside the kitchen "friction world"
i hate these damn shoes.
there where moments where i felt like the cartoon cat when he slids out on the ice. paws flying everywhere.
i wrote a song about life on the slippery tile. somehow i managed to get the phrase "clumsy triple sow cow" into the lyrics without missing a beat. or, rather, without slaughtering it.
the last song of the night dealt with an incident with a brown gravey laddle.
to save face and avoid embarressment i will refrain from telling that story.
i will leave it with the simple truth that two hours later i was still picking brown gooeyness out of my hair.
i walked from the resturant with a burn across the back of my hand, a bruise on my shin and backside, and an overall feeling of moisture and grease.
when i got home i had a difficult time deciding whether or not to take a shower. not that i enjoyed the dirty greasy feeling, but after spending 8 hours of perpetual dampness i really didn't know if i wanted to submerge my self in more water.
posted by Jody @ 11:41 PM 
