RC

I have to tell you about this guy I word with. I' going to call him R.C. (short for Richard Cranium) which is long for Dick Head!

He is a very good looking, tall, dark and handsome kinda of guy. I guess he is around 30 yrs old, trying to past for 25. He's doing it too. Lots of exterior confidence. He's driven by OCD, trying to hold it all in a box that's getting heavier and heavier.

When frustrations cancel out public character, he rants. Beyond the point of ration. Like many of us in the restaurant business, he is driven to perfection. As a server he wants and demands that the night runs smoothly and efficiently.

The problem is we work at Denny's! On Midnights! Nothing runs smoothly or efficiently. We just try to ride out the 2:30 rush without hurting anybody.

Now R.C. was fired from this very same Denny's last year. For having oral sex in the public restroom. The men's room to be exact, with a stranger. But they hired him back and he has been on my last nerve for the last 6 months or so.

On Christmas Eve he, I and another waitress around my age (45-50), worked from 10 pm to 6am. He brought in a camera and was having a good time taking pictures of everyone.

After the bar rush was over and we were trying to straighten up the dining room, he brought his camera over to us so we could see the pics. As he raised the camera to our eye level he said, " took this one in the john." and before my eyes was a perfect picture of a mans testicles. Young looking if you ask me, but what do I know, I haven't actually see that many pairs.

Now I get to work with him again on New Years Eve. I just can't help wondering what he will get into then!

I need a little cheese to go with my whine.

Just got off my feet after an 8 hour shift. I spent my time busting up a fight, cleaning up spills, talking to a drunk and crying 22 year old girl, and trying to serve tables.

I work midnights at Denny's. Yes, it's true, drunks really do eat absorbent amounts of greasy food after the bars close. Nachos, burgers, french fries, chicken strips ( with gallons of ranch dressing) and can drink a lakes worth of ice water.

Don't get me wrong, I love my job. I'm almost 50 years old, with asthma, arthritis and congestive heart disease. I'm still pretty quick on the floor, but I pay for it later. Yet I still love being around partiers. The bawdy jokes and loud voices just make me smile. The music over the P.A. is good new stuff, even though I never know the artists.

But, tonight was one of those rare nights of complete mayhem. Every regular we have came in drunk on their asses. I'm talking 30 to 40 year olds who forgot how to behave in public. Flashing the cars in the parking lot through the front window of the restaurant started the night off at 11:45 and the disorderly conduct was under full steam by 1:00. Then of course at 2:30 we got the immature drinkers, (the kind that throw up) falling through the door. Two girls made it to the bathroom in time, but one guy decided to defecate outside the front door. (GOD help me!) I had to go out and shame him into cleaning up his mess and leaving.

Then after everyone is fed and well hydrated, I get to clean up the mess and get the place ready for Sunday go to meeting folks. They come in at around 5:00 and sniff at the odors and the filthy floor. By now the other 2 servers and the manager have left. I about had it by then.

I do know one thing though, I would rather deal with an honest drunk, than a sanctimonious SOB that wants the world to kiss their feet just because they are going to leave them a 60 cent tip for a cup of coffee and a mound of pancakes.

That's it for me today, I feel so much better now.

The obligation of the dishes

In my family room I have a super large plastic tote filled with my Grandmothers china. I inherited it from my Mother when she passed away a year ago. I still haven't unpacked them. I like them, they are beautiful lilacs and gold trim. But I don't have the space to display or store them.

No-one in my family wants them because, no-one has space for them. Besides that no one really like my Grandmother. She was a snootty old bitch. The china seems to be the only good thing she ever did for our family and they are just a burden.

What the hell am I going to do with 12 place settings of china. We don't even eat at the table. I can't sell them, because their "family heirlooms" for goodness sake.