My Job Stinks

You know that smell we all have after a long day at the job? It's a smell that anyone who has ever worked in a restaurant is intimately familiar with. It smells like the storage room and it has a musty, musky, produce-y, fajita-y smell. When I got off work last night and got onto the N train, the whole car smelled like that. Perhaps a busboy convention was happening somewhere in the city and they had all just let out because when the subway door opened I was hit across the face with the odor. Once on the train, I noticed that about two thirds of us were quite clearly just getting off work. The guy next to me was wearing all black just like myself. Two guys across from me were wearing those kitchen pants that are like a black and white hounds tooth check pattern. I saw at least three other people wearing black pants and white shirts and then one bitch had on khakis and a polo shirt. All she was missing was some high top sneakers, suspenders and some flair and she could have stepped out of Bennigan's circa 1988. She may have just made a bad fashion choice though, not sure. Right then and there I decided that the time had come to stop wearing my uniform on the train. It's just such a pain in the ass to carry it with me. And I never want to leave my uniform at work because there are always people who forget theirs one day and then go to the closet and put on someone else's. An apron sure, no biggie. But don't be wearing my pants. I don't need some gal getting her panty pudding all up in my uniform pants. Honey mustard, yes,. Panty pudding, no.

At 59th Street, someone got on who smelled like bar-b-q. Is there even a bar-b-q place at 59th Street? Or did someone just roll around in a vat of liquid smoke? Either way, not good. I wanted to spritz some fucking Axe body spray all over that train car. I hate the smell of Axe body spray, but I hate the smell of bar-b-q/bus boy/fajita/waiter even more.

You all know the smell, right?



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