My Worst Shift
The worst issue I ever had occurred when I was waitressing at a Waffle House. One evening, I was working a 6 pm to 2 am shift.
Around midnight, the tipsy people come in. They are usually inoffensive, but on one occasion, there was this one dude who was anything but.
His shirt was unbuttoned except for one button over his chest, which was in a hole three spots too high for it, and he only had one shoe on for some reason.
Our chef immediately declared that he needed to get out. The customer decided to demonstrate his disagreement with the chef’s decision in a most peculiar way.
It made everyone’s jaw drop—he somehow managed to climb his way onto the bar, standing right in front of me at the dishwashing sink, and immediately dropping his pants to show he was missing underwear as well.
I panicked, grabbed the nearest available thing, and shot the man in his junk with the hot water hose we used on the dishes.
Anyone who’s worked in a kitchen can probably attest to just HOW HOT the water coming out of that hose is. The man doubled over, screaming and grabbing his crotch.
He toppled over backward off the bar, hitting his head on one of the chairs on the way, and rolled across the floor towards the door, maintaining his fetal position the entire way.
After that chaos, we called the authorities. They came and got him, took statements, laughed for perhaps an unkind length of time, and took him to the hospital.
Some months later, I found out he had plea-bargained to a couple of hundred hours of community service for public intoxication and disturbing the peace. AndoraAnaheim