Doom Table, The letter "F", and The Great Spoon Shortage (AKA Food Service I)

The great posts for the length of one! I will tell of three things I found very amusing during my second day of work at the Club Fortune diner busing tables. Chances are none of this will interest you. But it should.

Doom Table.

The corner booth was filled. Three children. Two booster seats. Half an hour. It looked as if someone had walked in and roundhouse kicked the people's plates. And who put ranch on the kids menu?! I ask you because it was an interesting choice for children. About the only thing I'd trust a kid with is a sandwich or toast.

But specifics! I approached with caution and found the crayon drawings adorable, until I realized they spread onto the table. The jam container was upended, and grape and strawberry jelly packets were everywhere (reminiscent of playing cards when someone thinks they're clever and says "want to play 52 card pickup?"). The ranch (Why did they even have this much ranch I ask.) mini cups were all over the place. Most seemed to be hiding. In fact one was upside down under a pile of napkins, as if it was some sort of gooey landmine. And the crayons. Crunched, broken, twisted, strewn. Once I cleaned this table I took a step back to admire my work and found a silverware graveyard beneath the table. That and more jam.

The Letter "F"

As anyone who knows me well enough will tell you "That kid could get lost in a hallway, with arrows, and a sherpa." I have a thing with left and right and when putting down silverware I find that I often put the fork on the wrong side of the napkin, (not a life ending mistake, but I take pride in my work) the wrong side being the right side. So I with my mighty powers of observation noted that printed on the napkins are the words "Club Fortune Casino" or something like that. The point here is: the "F" in "Fortune" is on the left hand side. And I therefore remember to place the fork on the side with the corresponding "F".

The Great Spoon Shortage of 2008.

The morning rush swept in like a tidal wave. People demanding tomato juice, hash browns, refills and various other things. Apparently among the things they demanded, spoons were high on the list. So slowly, ever so slowly, we ran out of spoons. Without spoons I felt as if the whole operation would crumble. Someone would complain "The soup goes directly through my spoon!" And then in a horrible shill voice "Wait! This isn't a SPOON! It's a FORK!" At which point others would realize that they too had no spoons. And they would promptly have their minds freed of The Matrix and wake up in the real world where machines have taken over the world! But, thankfully, we got some spoons in the dishwasher ahead of schedule.