Our owner has a habit of opening the front door several hours early, despite the fact that we are downtown...it's as if he is owning a public restroom.
Once we notice some guy walk in about two hours before we opened, and go in the men's room...nothing new. However, after about twenty minutes, the manager finally went in to see what the guy was doing.
The man was stark naked taking a sponge bath in the sink. The manager simply said,
"You're going to have to get the hell out of here." The guy left immediately. The owner still opens the doors hours
before we open. I think he likes it.
One afternoon, a middle-aged gentleman was seated in my section by himself. I took his order, and he was very polite and friendly. I was not very busy so we engaged in a little mindless chit chat. For some reason, he must have thought I was a good enough friend now that he could be comfortable discussing personal matters with me.
He asked me, as I was picking up his plate, if I could bring him a few cold pats of butter out of the cooler. I noticed that he only had one roll left and wondered why he would want to eat it when he had just declined dessert because he was too full; besides, there was already butter on the table. So I said, "It's going to be a pain to try to spread that hard, cold butter on your one roll" to which he replied with a little grin and a wink (as if we were old chums who were sharing an inside joke), "Oh, it's not for the roll; my hemorrhoids are really hurting, and I've found that a cold butter pat does wonders in a tight spot, ha ha."
As I stood there dumbfounded, he got up and headed for the bathroom. As he left, he
insisted on handing me my tip (as many customers will do to see the expression on your
face when they give you an unusually large tip, which this was). All I could do was
pray over and over that he had washed his hands!
The benefits of Briefs
It was about 6pm a few days before Halloween at our restaurant.
An older man brushed past me on his way toward the front door, and his wife trailed behind him. "Terri, bring my glasses!" he called to her in a strange tone of voice. I thought to myself, "Why don't you get your glasses yourself?"
The next thing I heard was squealing from the employees out in the lobby. Someone said there was shit on the floor. We chuckled, assuming it was probably fake shit, a Halloween gag. I excitedly ran out to see it.
This was no fake shit. The entire (and only) walkway between the dining room and lobby was streaked with turds, some of them smeared into the carpet. The man had not quite made it to the bathroom, and the shitballs had dropped out of his pantlegs. The smell already had some employees gagging. No one moved to clean it up however, despite the waiting guests nearby. Ben, an employee who happened to be dressed as a woman that night, could be heard shrieking, "And I stepped in it!" as he offered his high heel for examination.
Tim, our kindest manager, or rather our only kind manager, emerged from the kitchen with a wad of napkins in his hand. With a vacant stare in his eyes and a sadly drooping mustache, Tim began grabbing turdballs from the floor and swabbing the areas where they were ground into the carpet. As Tim passed me, headed for the trashcan, I commented, "This is the ultimate indignity. Why do you have to clean it up?"
Tim said he was tired of people quitting because they were asked to clean up stuff like this. He also added, "That'll teach him to wear boxer shorts..."
—Lora C., Massachusetts
I was heading for the bathroom stall to change into my waitress uniform, and noticed several other people in the bathroom--one of them a fat, rather unclean old woman. Noticing that the middle stall had no toilet paper, I went into the stall on the left. She went into the stall in the middle.
I heard grunting and groaning as she struggled to get her pants down, then I heard this large splatting, plopping sound, and she mumbled, "Uh-oh." She called out to the woman in the stall on the other side, "Do you have any toilet paper?" The woman apparently handed her a wad. She then called out to me, "Do YOU have any toilet paper?"
I looked down and saw lumpy, squishy, green-brown mounds on the floor. I wasn't quite sure if it was shit or puke. When the smell hit me, I quickly realized that it was shit. I thought maybe I should hand her the whole roll of paper, but then that would be acknowledging that I had seen what happened. Then maybe she would expect me to help her. I handed her a wad of paper and raced out of there and into the kitchen, gagging and hysterically shocked.
I was afraid to tell the manager for fear that he would make ME clean it up. Fortunately, he made the poor Mexican janitor clean it up. I got to tell my story repeatedly to horrified co-workers.
—Kelly S., Las Vegas
Spandex and the Tail
I used to be a shift manager for a super-busy restaurant at a ski resort. One night this woman comes in with skin-tight Spandex and a floor-length fur coat on. She treated the server and hostess like shit and was generally impossible. I was catching a breather at the waitstation and this same woman goes into the bathroom. When she came out, one end of a roll of toilet paper was hanging out of the back of her Spandex pants and paper was unrolling behind her. Needless to say, all the servers and I looked the other way as she trailed TP all around the dining room without a clue as to why everyone was laughing so hard. It made my night.
I used to wait in this Jewish Deli, and we made the greasiest sandwiches. The food there was gross, but the place was packed all the time. One busy Sunday afternoon, one of my two-tops got up to use the bathroom. She and her friend had both eaten a Sailor (pastrami and Swiss on rye with a grilled knockwurst on top) and an order of German potato salad. We called it the Gutbomb Surprise. Her friend waited for her to return patiently. People started lining up for the bathroom. We only had one Ladies' Toilet for over 25 tables. After about 20 minutes, the lady walks out, gets her purse and she and her friend quickly leave the restaurant. I was at the wait station, in the back of the dining room by the bathroom, when a customer grabbed my arm and politely whispered in my ear, "Uhm, you might want to ask someone to clean the restroom."
I walked in there, and it looked like a poocano (a volcano of shit) had erupted in there. There was shit sprayed three feet up on the walls, all over the back of the toilet, all over the seat of the toilet, all over the floor. There was literally shit dripping everywhere. The smell was overpowering and we were all gagging. What was most astounding was that she'd been in there for twenty minutes and she hadn't even ATTEMPTED to clean any of it up! I mean, what the fuck??? We directed all the customers to use the Men's Room and watched in horror and disgust as our dishwasher, Frank, pulled on those ill-fitting wrist-length clear plastic deli gloves and started wiping up crap with a mop.
Former Deli Waitress, Richmond VA
X La Ha, Ft. Worth, TX