And I'm back and I'm back again...
Saturday—
Saturday I was working for Brunch at my new place. I was lucky, by five something I could leave. I went directly to the place where I went Thursday. We were three tonight. Maureen, Katia, a Russian girl I was meeting for the first time and me. When the boss arrived and profusely thanked me for not letting him down and asked me how I was doing. I said I had just finished my shift and I was exhausted but it was ok. He said Good.
Then the customers arrived and the show started.
Around midnight Katia left. There were still some customers, and they were still drinking like this was the last day booze was legal.
Around half past free, the boss, Maureen and me are sitting at one of the table of the empty restaurant, counting the cash. Maureen and I made $100 tips each. Then the boss said how tired he was, stood up, closed the book and went to the door to take out the trash.
I said, “Wow, where you going? Maybe now’s the time to settle this thing between us.”
He said that it was not the moment. That he needed to figure everything out.
I said, “What do you need to figure out. You had two big parties. Tonight only you made almost one grand. You owe me 200 bucks. Ain’t nothing to figure out.”
Maureen was still sitting at the table, silent. Thursday she had left before me and the next day my boss had told her that he had given me the money he owed me just after she left. They are good friends, but she’s not a stupid girl. I still don’t understand how she can be friend with an asshole like that. Women…
The boss, he said, “Listen, I’m too tired to argue with you. I appreciate that you came. I’ll figure this out and we’ll talk about that later. You’re not alone, I have to take care of the others.”
“What do you mean? If I could wait more than 3 months for $300, she can wait a couple of days for the fifty or something you’re going to give her. It’s almost four, I did two shift and I’m still here. And next time, you’re going to give me the usual shit, ignoring me when I arrive, then finally saying you can’t give me anything today. So let’s settle this for good."
I was standing at one hand of the counter by then. And he was standing at the corner of the counter, just next to me. If I had planned what was going to happen, I would have done things slightly differently. First thing, I would have step back a little bit to give me more time. But the truth is I didn’t think. Even now, I can’t remember what he said that made my brains snapped. But trust me it was really bullshit. Maybe something like, You came tonight to make money on me and now blah blah blah. Or maybe the paternalist routine he often tried to pull on me. I can’t remember. All I know is that he just said that little thing and my mind went blank. Or rather red. I grabbed something on the counter—maybe a glass and threw it as hard as I could on the table on the barman side, where all the bottles and glasses were. I don’t know what I broke exactly. Probably not much. But the glass that I threw, yeah, this one I can tell it went in a billion directions at once.
Then I turned around and started yelling stuff about him and that’s when he grabbed me by the collar and kept his arm stretched at full length so that I couldn’t touch him. The way he hold me, it’s pretty much the way you would hold a snake if you’re the kind of person that doesn’t like snake that much. I couldn’t do anything in this position, but I kept yelling my throat off at him, pushing on his arm with my chest in a desperate attempt to reduce the distance between us and thus have his head at punching distance. I heard him say, “You broke something in my restaurant, now I have two solutions—“ I didn’t hear the rest. I was too busy insulting him. But that would have made me laugh if I had been in the mood for that, because until that night I had never ever broke anything in any of the restaurant where I had worked—and also because earlier in the evening HE had broken a cocktail glass when he tried to show off.
At this point, I thought the best thing that could happen was that he punched me. If he did, he would probably let go of me just after and if I’m not knocked out then it would be my turn. Even then, with my throat hurting from yelling and all the red in my eyes, I knew I had fucked up. It felt good to break the glass or whatever it was. But really, I shouldn’t have done that when he was that close to me. All he had had to do was stretched his arm and I was fucked. Finally Maureen came between us, screaming, “Let him go!” This is always an awkward moment, when someone tries to break up a fight. Usually, that’s when the opponents feel like it’s safe to show some little extra anger and if it lasts more than 20 seconds the scene quickly sink into ridicule. So I stopped trying to move forward and yelling.
Saturday I was working for Brunch at my new place. I was lucky, by five something I could leave. I went directly to the place where I went Thursday. We were three tonight. Maureen, Katia, a Russian girl I was meeting for the first time and me. When the boss arrived and profusely thanked me for not letting him down and asked me how I was doing. I said I had just finished my shift and I was exhausted but it was ok. He said Good.
Then the customers arrived and the show started.
Around midnight Katia left. There were still some customers, and they were still drinking like this was the last day booze was legal.
Around half past free, the boss, Maureen and me are sitting at one of the table of the empty restaurant, counting the cash. Maureen and I made $100 tips each. Then the boss said how tired he was, stood up, closed the book and went to the door to take out the trash.
I said, “Wow, where you going? Maybe now’s the time to settle this thing between us.”
He said that it was not the moment. That he needed to figure everything out.
I said, “What do you need to figure out. You had two big parties. Tonight only you made almost one grand. You owe me 200 bucks. Ain’t nothing to figure out.”
Maureen was still sitting at the table, silent. Thursday she had left before me and the next day my boss had told her that he had given me the money he owed me just after she left. They are good friends, but she’s not a stupid girl. I still don’t understand how she can be friend with an asshole like that. Women…
The boss, he said, “Listen, I’m too tired to argue with you. I appreciate that you came. I’ll figure this out and we’ll talk about that later. You’re not alone, I have to take care of the others.”
“What do you mean? If I could wait more than 3 months for $300, she can wait a couple of days for the fifty or something you’re going to give her. It’s almost four, I did two shift and I’m still here. And next time, you’re going to give me the usual shit, ignoring me when I arrive, then finally saying you can’t give me anything today. So let’s settle this for good."
I was standing at one hand of the counter by then. And he was standing at the corner of the counter, just next to me. If I had planned what was going to happen, I would have done things slightly differently. First thing, I would have step back a little bit to give me more time. But the truth is I didn’t think. Even now, I can’t remember what he said that made my brains snapped. But trust me it was really bullshit. Maybe something like, You came tonight to make money on me and now blah blah blah. Or maybe the paternalist routine he often tried to pull on me. I can’t remember. All I know is that he just said that little thing and my mind went blank. Or rather red. I grabbed something on the counter—maybe a glass and threw it as hard as I could on the table on the barman side, where all the bottles and glasses were. I don’t know what I broke exactly. Probably not much. But the glass that I threw, yeah, this one I can tell it went in a billion directions at once.
Then I turned around and started yelling stuff about him and that’s when he grabbed me by the collar and kept his arm stretched at full length so that I couldn’t touch him. The way he hold me, it’s pretty much the way you would hold a snake if you’re the kind of person that doesn’t like snake that much. I couldn’t do anything in this position, but I kept yelling my throat off at him, pushing on his arm with my chest in a desperate attempt to reduce the distance between us and thus have his head at punching distance. I heard him say, “You broke something in my restaurant, now I have two solutions—“ I didn’t hear the rest. I was too busy insulting him. But that would have made me laugh if I had been in the mood for that, because until that night I had never ever broke anything in any of the restaurant where I had worked—and also because earlier in the evening HE had broken a cocktail glass when he tried to show off.
At this point, I thought the best thing that could happen was that he punched me. If he did, he would probably let go of me just after and if I’m not knocked out then it would be my turn. Even then, with my throat hurting from yelling and all the red in my eyes, I knew I had fucked up. It felt good to break the glass or whatever it was. But really, I shouldn’t have done that when he was that close to me. All he had had to do was stretched his arm and I was fucked. Finally Maureen came between us, screaming, “Let him go!” This is always an awkward moment, when someone tries to break up a fight. Usually, that’s when the opponents feel like it’s safe to show some little extra anger and if it lasts more than 20 seconds the scene quickly sink into ridicule. So I stopped trying to move forward and yelling.
posted by Cecyl at 1:43 PM
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