Rob (Owner of Wobbly Rob’s All Day-All Night Joint, open until 10:00 p.m.)
I’ve got to cut down on the drinking. And the cocaine. It’s basically a professional hazard due to the restaurant business being so stressful.
Today I was going to pull my shit together and so I went in at around 11:30 a.m. It was like walking into the Twilight Zone or something. The place was sparkling! The windows were clean, all the burned out light bulbs had been replaced, which is something I’ve been meaning to do, but the cost of LEDs is a crime. Not only was the place spotless, the staff were all smiles and bustling around like they gave a shit. It was disconcerting.
I pulled Tito over and asked him WTF. And he said he hired a new busser and that she was really something special. This pissed me off because I told him to run all future hires through me, seeing as it’s my joint. I asked him why he didn’t check with me first and he said I hadn’t been into the restaurant in a week and he ‘saw an opportunity with her.’ Screw him. I came in. It was just after hours to get the money. (I know our name makes it sound like we’re all all-night restaurant, but that’s just a way to get attention. If I had my way, we’d never open.) And granted, I didn’t take the money to the bank, but I am on top of the collecting part. Plus, a new busser is not an opportunity. It’s a goddamned busser.
He says, you got to meet her, man. She’s really amazing. Efficient and smart and she knows a lot and the customers love her.
I told him to stop smiling because it was hurting my eyes and to go get her so I could interview her properly. Already my day was feeling wrong. Who does Tito think he is hiring new bussers without checking with me? It’s bullshit. That’s the problem with immigrants. Give them an inch and they start hiring people.
He told me she was busy with some customers and he showed me where she was. Damned if she wasn’t in the middle of this heavy discussion with a bunch of suits at Table 7. I’m talking high up management types from the Government Building. And they were talking to this new busser like she was management!
And the busser lady! She had on a plaid flannel pantsuit. My Wobbly Rob t-shirt was hidden UNDER THE JACKET. Ah, that was some bullshit. I need a drink just thinking about that flannel pantsuit and her hiding my logo.
By the time the lady was done talking to them, they all insisted on shaking her hand. When they left I heard the tallest one telling another one that he’d never had such an in-depth discussion on town politics with someone who wasn’t on council. Like that was some big achievement. Disgusting. I need a hoot at the thought of them all laughing together.
She came over to me with her hand out and I waved it away and asked her if she filled out an application. She said yes and how nice it was to meet me and what a great team I had here. She was looking at me in this way like my mom used to. I half loved it and half hated it, but mostly when she looked at me I hated myself. You know how some women seem to know all the dirty things you’ve ever done? Well, this new busser had those knowing eyes.
You need to show the Wobbly Rob t-shirt, I said.
She said, of course. She completely understood.
I was going to give her shit, but she kept looking at me in that way that made my head hurt. So I said I had to get going. I decided right then I was going to get drunk and stay that way for three days. I’m drunk right now, as a matter of fact. But first I had to get the money out of the safe.
Is everything okay? she asked. And I could tell she cared. I even had this sense she might have some solutions to the myriad things that are wrong with me and everyone else. But I told her to mind her own business and that she better watch her step.
This is what happens when you hire women for jobs that should be done by men. Or boys.
I hate the restaurant business.
Ash, Ash, Ash! He’s everywhere. When I drove home yesterday I saw him with his nose pressed to the window of The Gold Exchange on Main Street. Then this morning when I got to the mall, he was in the parking lot and he had this used car, like USED BAD. There was a half-deflated balloon tied to the antennae and a little beer bottle full of dandelions on the hood and this hand-lettered For Sale Sign.
He’d fixed up his makeup and was fully foundationed. I guess in addition to his other issues, he cannot colour match skin tone for shit. Oh my god.
And that car! It had a flat tire and was obviously a complete wreck and I say this as someone who drives a ’99 Nissan.
Everyone who walked by got his pitch, which was all over the place. His fat little hands were going in circles and he’s shrugging and his hair, which is still like a little yellow tragedy on his head keeps slipping over his eyes.
This car, he says, is amazing. Beautiful. And I can get you into this car. Only I can get you into a car like this. It’s just beautiful. Because I know about beautiful. I really do. Amazing, right?
Hey, shut up when I’m speaking to you, eh? Do you have your birth certificate?
You’re going to love this car. I can make you a deal you’ll never forget. Never. Because it will be a beautiful, amazing deal. YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE THIS DEAL I CAN GET YOU ON THIS CAR.
Shut up. Get out of here if you aren’t going to pay attention.
I thought, when Henrick and Mohammed find out he’s trying to sell a car in the parking lot they are for sure going to shoot him. Which is sad, but he really was kind of a nuisance.
But you know what was really interesting? He had fans! That’s right, Ash. Sad Man had fans.
Remember Ron and Sean? Those guys who got kicked out of school in tenth grade after that incident with the cell phone hidden in the trench coat in the girl’s change room? The ones who wore the jackboots and army jackets and wore the T-shirts that said SS. Which would have been bad enough, but then one of them said on Twitter that it stood for school shooter and they were banned permanently from any school in the district. Oh my god. Well, you know how they are a little too fond of inhalants and they’re still wearing jack boots and the SS t-shirts? Well… they’re both out in the parking lot, watching the Sad Man. Those two really needed some proper parenting. It’s just so sad and I know I’m going to see a lot of this when I’m a nurse. Not as much as if I became a social worker, obviously. But a lot.
Ron and Sean are basically in love with the Sad Man.
I feel sorry for Henrick and Mohammed. They may have to shoot all of them. Ha!
I wonder where Sad Man got the money for that car?
Okay. Off to teach the world about curry!