Fustercluck

I recently experienced one of those nights that is so abominable you think that you must have pissed off some god of fate because there’s no way that things could have really shaken out so badly for you.

I will call this god of fate Bishibumu and say he looks like a chicken with turtle feet.

So whatever I did to Bishibumu, he wrought his full fury on me Saturday night. Saturday day had actually been really good. I met one of my good friends who was in town for the weekend and we spent the day in a sculpture park mocking the soulful endeavours of numerous artists. (I would seriously recommend the Laumier Sculpture Park in St. Louis btw; if you are sarcastic and don’t get sculptures it’s even better because there’s so much to mock.) After the park I went to work and killed a little bit of time in Target where I found they had seasons 1 and 2 of It’s Always Sunny on sale for 16 bucks! 

…Then I went to work and Bishibumu got involved.

So upon arriving at work I find that there isn’t another busser there, so basically I thought I was going to have to do all the opening stuff for the bussers and the stuff for the host. Luckily the hostess showed up and started dealing with all that crap and I was left to take out the trash and replace candles. 

It’s also important to add that this past week at work had been really slow. Thursday I left at 9 o’clock because there was absolutely nothing to do. But Saturday rolls around and from the moment we opened at 5 we were just constantly busy. In addition to usual tables, we also had 3 parties of 12 that came in at different times. The first group came in at 5 and then the next group came in at around 7. 

The night got really crazy, with constant running around, filling water, taking plates and replacing tables. At one point someone smashed a glass and I had to clean it up. My boss was constantly like ghosting into the busser station and yelling at us for random stuff.

Well the fun started when we turned over the table of 12 after the group at 5. We changed all the paper on the tables and reset everything, the hostess had put down menus and we were just putting down the glasses of water. Well, we had to put tables together to fit in the twelve and the paper covered over the monstrous height differential between the tables. So I innocently started putting down water and happen to set one glass on the place where the table came together. (This is where I blame Bishibumu, because most of the glass was on one side of the table, but somehow the one glass just kind of flopped over and soaked one entire table.) 

So now the table is completely soaked and we have to change EVERYTHING; the paper, the table cloth, the place settings, the water, and the menus. I was really freaked out and the hostess had already started showing in the people, so I had to grab her and be like, “…uhhh…there was an accident.” She rerouted them back into the waiting room and then the other busser and I started clearing the table. 

Clearing the table was extremely difficult because there was no place to set anything and we had TWELVE place settings to move. So basically we start rushing around and put the silverware and napkins on the seats and then put the water glasses on the floor. (You should probably see where this is going.) So we get everything off and change the paper and then I move around the table and…

I managed to kick a group of glasses which somehow like exploded. I had no idea I could kick that hard, but glass and water like shot all across the room. The booth that was next to me got completely soaked and shards of glass shot across the room (I would eventually find a huge chunk of glass under the seat of a baby…uhh…) So the glasses explode and everyone just turns around and stares at me. 

Honestly, I’ve kind of gotten over being embarrassed by anything. I do enough stupid stuff that it really doesn’t faze me anymore…this, however, was very different. My face immediately flushed and I started sweating out of every orifice on my body...yep…all of them.

So I’m a sweaty mess scrambling around and trying to clean up the glass and water while also trying to help the other busser reset the table. The hostess is in here now and is doing damage control with the other patrons apologizing for the water and trying to be really friendly. 

My boss also busts in and…while I think she was going to be mad, she looked at my face and just immediately asks, “Are you okay, Tedd?” I can’t even imagine what twisted expression of embarrassment and shame was on my face, but she seemed to be pretty alarmed, enough to forget about the chaos and destruction I had brought onto the entire dining room.

Eventually it all got picked up and the rest of the night went pretty well. The other busser though, also decided to leave early in the night…and also decided to eat dinner during the rush at 730, so that I was pretty much the only one running the dining room for like an hour. Then after he left at 9 I had to clean up all the rest of the tables and reset them. It was even better because we had a group of 12 come in at 930 who hung out until 1145.

So at midnight I’m sweeping up the floor and feeling miserable and one of the waitresses felt my shame and started making me feel better. She started complaining about the other busser and then complimented me on my worth ethic. The funny thing was when she tried to summarize my good qualities and looks at me in the eyes and goes:

“Tedd…you are one of the most hard working people we’ve had in here for a while. You are just so incredibly…,” here she paused and then with some bravado finished with, “sufficient.”

So I started thinking in my head… “I’m incredibly sufficient…which is like being remarkably average or shockingly normal.” Also falling into this category are brilliantly pedestrian and startlingly quotidian (grad school word, bitches!)

So by 1215 I just wanted to hurl myself from a building. I get in my car and start driving home, getting onto 270. I was driving a little over 70 and…of course I see flashing lights pop up behind me.

So I pull over on the side of the road and Johnny Copperson rolls up and asks for my info. He disappears and, as my friend said, I had one of two options – crying or laughing. And so I started laughing and then decided that things could be worse… I’m still not sure on how, but they could be.

The cop comes back to my window and promises me that he’s cutting me a deal. By this time I didn’t even care anymore, so after he got done telling me that everything that happened would be recorded by his cop came I jovially jumped in with, “So I’m not going to be on Cops am I?”

He didn’t find this funny at all…and was just like, “No.” After that I drove home five miles under the speed limit, fell into bed and hoped that it was all going to be a stupid dream.

It wasn’t, of course, and the icing on the cake was that on Monday afternoon I got an email from my friend who had gone to the sculpture park with me. Attached was an article from the St. Louis Times stating that one of the sculptors we were mocking had died of heart failure… 

No joke.

Bishibumu strikes again.