Crazy Weekend

WARNING: This post has me doing A LOT of bitching. Mostly about my job, but some other stuff is thrown in there as well. I'll do my best to make it as interesting and entertaining as possible. However, if you're in no mood to hear a grown man bitch about his life, go ahead and hit the back button. K THX.

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Damn I love disclaimers.

Let's see, I suppose we'll begin with Friday.

After the Letterman Dedication, I was invited to go hang out with an old friend. Along with a couple of her friends, we hit up the mall and B-dubs. I ordered way too much food and drank two beers quite fast. So I was a little loopy by the time I got back to the APT.

Now this old friend and I got to talking over the IM. She's been really cool lately and would love to go further into our relationship. But, there are some personal things she's trying to figure out and is wary of dating me. I can understand that because we've dealt with this before. Plus, I'm awesome like that.

Saturday morning saw me running out to the Bank so I could deposit mucho moneys into my account. I also confirmed that my new suit is going to be ready to pick up on Tuesday. Yay.

Saturday night is a different story. We have plenty of people at work so the expected rush goes fairly smoothly. I kicked some serious ass on the grill.

Later that night, as I'm closing everything down, 10 people come in. Ten. TEN! Ten fucking people at 10:30pm. We close at 11. WTF? I was pretty damn close to going out there and yelling at all of them, "THIS ISN'T FUCKING B-DUBS! THAT'S DOWN THE STREET AND THEY ARE OPEN UNTIL 2! GTFO!"

I'm really thinking about writing a book called, "How not to piss people off" Chapter One will be "Closing Time". It will explain that you NEVER go into a sit-down resturant/retail store in the half-hour before they are scheduled to close. All the employees want to do is clean up and go home. When you come in at that point, they HATE YOU. No matter how nice they may seem, on the inside they are saying "Why the fuck are you here? GO HOME!" If you had my job, you would understand this.

After that all that fun, the new guy Mike and I are at the bar having a few beers with Sarah the bartender and we're discussing religion. (Yeah, imagine me discussing religion. Wow.) That's when the REAL shenanigans started. I start getting fun little drunken text messages from the afore mentioned lady friend. I won't go into detail, but let's just say it was major LULZ.

Even after all that, I'm kinda worried about her and still want to go over and see how she is doing. I try to get ahold of her, but then she says no. At this point, I'm kinda upset and I simply text her back to say "Good Night." She takes this as me being mad, but I'm just tired and don't want to deal with drunkeness anymore.

This morning, I get several "I'm sorry" messages in various forms. For the record, one "I'm sorry" is enough. Give me time to acknowledge it before you keep racking up the apologies. For the record, because I know she'll read this, I accept and I'm not mad at you anymore.

After sitting around with Jake most of the day looking at mad LULZ from the internets, I have to go back to work. I'm pretty ok with this because I'm anticipating a cakewalk. (Not the case)

First of all, Captain Braceface makes Donny go home because he doesn't want to pay any more overtime. At first, I'm ok with this because I still figure the night will go pretty smooth, and early on it was. Then the rush starts. Lots of tables seem to come in at all the same time and the servers send back order after order after order; and there is only me a Bryan in the kitchen.

So we're scambling around like mexican fucking beans trying to get these orders out. We eventually have to ask Dave (the manager with only the bare essential kitchen training) to help us because we are so slammed. After the rush, I vow to yell at Rob when I see him because I'm tired of him being such a fucking cheapskate. Apparently he's not aware of the old addage "You've gotta spend money to make money". What a douchebag.

That's not even the worst part. As Mike and I are closing, I start taking stuff back to the walk-in fridge. At the end of the night, we put away all the stuff from the steam table including queso dip, chili, and our buffalo sauce.

As I go to put the buff sauce away, I stumble and drop the full container of sauce onto the floor of the walk-in. Buff sauce goes EVERYWHERE. Floor, food racks, kegs... everywhere.

I immediately get Mike's assitance and postulate that tonight is "the worst night EVER". But even after we get the walk-in cleaned up, I continue to prove my postulation correct.

I had to teach Mike how to clean the grill so he can close with Mr. Worthless on Tuesday. (Bryan and I both have the day off) As I walk to the grill, I slip and fall. This is nothing new, but it's always annoying as hell when it happens. This time, did a sliding fall onto my right asscheek and tried to brake my fall with my left hand. Unfortunately, my thumb took the brunt of the braking maneuver and got quite nicely bruised. Thankfully it didn't sprian, dislocate, or break.

If I have another weekend like that at Beefs, it will be the absolute last straw.

Of course, if that all wasn't enough, I have a pretty crazy next two days on my plate. Meetings, road trips, class, work... plus I have to get trained on the new studio equipment so we can start the radio show on Friday.

The only light at the end of the tunnel is the possibility of seeing my neice of the first time on Saturday. That will all depend on whether or not I can get someone to cover my shift for that day.


Ugh, enough bitching. Nate-O needs sleepy.


Honorable Mentions
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Smalls: Everything is kool and the gang. Let's try and get together sometime this week.

Jake: Need moar epic LULz plz.



Dishonorable Mentions
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Beefs: May god smite that hell hole.

People who came in on Staurday night: Fuck you all. I'll send you all advanced copies of my book. I'll sign it, "To ??? for being such a fucktard. Hope this helps eleviate that. ~Nate-O"


Dont fear the reaper,

~Nate-O