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RESTAURANT MANAGERS WHO HAVE TORMENTED ME 1/17/2020 7:06:01 PM
Read about one waiters dealings with an essential element of the NYC restaurant industry - diabolical managers! Joseph. In an industry where it actually might be a law that there MUST be at least one asshole manager per restaurant - Joseph is the one who irritated me the most. If we will harken back to yesteryear - or at least two weeks ago to my previous blog - 'The Projectile Chili Incident' - I shall further expound on Satan-like existence of Joseph, cashier/manager at The Great American Health Bar.
Joseph was the ancient, diminutive immigrant from, like, the distant mountains of Kazakastahn, somewhere, who had been herding yak only a short while before he came to New York. My suspicion is that he somehow struck oil while shooting for food, a la Jed Clampett from 'The Beverley Hillbillies', loaded up the truck and moved to The Big City.
First of all, Joseph was barely five feet tall - TOPS - and had only one suit - a monstrously oversized blue pinstripe deal that he probably grabbed off the rack in The Garment District without even trying it on. And he wore it EVERYDAY.
The only joy of his life seemed to be counting the money in the cash register OVER and OVER again - particularly the coins. The expression on his face registered one of true bliss. He had this sinister laugh - which reminded me of the dog, MUTLEY, from the Saturday morning cartoon- 'Dick Dastardly'. You just KNOW that he had, like, this secret dungeon room in the bowels of his house in some obscure part of Queens, where he descended the stone wall steps with an oil lantern, pushed a button where a bookshelf turned around, and there was his ancient room. A damp, dark room where he had converted all his wealth into gold coins and kept in metal boxes, which he counted over and over again for hours with an abacus, and wearing a monocle, even though he knew EXACTLY how much he had. The only other time I saw him THAT ecstatic was when he was throwing me under the bus - usually trying to make me pay for broken plates and cups - and also directing the scant flow of arriving customers to ANY station other than mine. That Mutley snicker at the obvious torment apparent on MY face gave him great joy.
There MUST be a way to get back at him somehow,I plotted in my fevered mind ( this was right in the middle of my first mind-snap in 1990). Then, THERE it was! Right in front of my nose!! Aha! He would always wear these 'dress shoes' with the hideous pinstriped suit when he arrived at The Great American, but would almost immediately change into more 'comfortable' shoes to stand behind the register all day. I observed where he left the said shoes (in the back closet). HERE was my chance! I would then put eggs in each of his shoes right before I left the restaurant, and snicker on the way out. I would often hear from some of the other waiters, how, perplexed, he would later grumble that somebody had put eggs in his shoes - and that his socks were ruined! I must have done this for a week or so, before he would finally look inside his shoes before putting them on. HAHAHAHAHA!! THAT was my greatest joy!
