The Mop Nazi

I have been at my new job (in addition to the old one) for about six weeks and I have written surprisingly little about it. Since none of the people I work with know that this blog exists, I am being careful. It ain't easy to leave it out of my topics of conversation since it's sorta my life's work. Just last night, a table mentioned that they bet I have a lot of good stories about waiting tables. It took a lot of effort to not give them one of my business cards. It's best though that no one there knows so I can write freely about them, but in a non-specific way so as not to alert them that they work with The Bitchy Waiter. On the offhand chance that one of them may read this, I don't want any issues. It happened once and I suppose it could happen again. However, I need to write about my boss.

At first glance he seems cold and distant but in all actuality he's just kinda quiet. A seemingly very nice guy who doesn't have too much to say. Now he's got my loud ass all up in his face laughing and telling stories so he seems to be warming up to me. Or tolerating me. Whatever. On my first day, he was giving me the run down of my opening sidework duties. One of them involves mopping the whole restaurant. Thankfully, it's a small 40 seat place so it's not overwhelming. But mopping? Why can't dishwasher Jorge do it? I filled the giant yellow industrial mop bucket with soap and water and got ready to start the chore. He asked me, "Do you know how to mop?" Lordy, lordy, the only people who are more intimate with a mop are Alice from The Brady Bunch and Carol Burnett. I told him that I did in fact know how to mop. As I submerged the dirty stringy mop into the water, he stood at the bar and watched me do it. After about three swabs he said, "You need to push the mop to and fro." Okay, really? This man was seriously not critiquing how I mop was he? I have been using mops since I was seven years old. Okay, maybe I was just pretending that the mop was a customer in my beauty shop, but nonetheless. "Oh, so not side to side, but to and fro? Is that what you want?" I asked sweetly. He arched his eyebrows, closed his eyes, nodded his head and said yes. (Do that, okay? Arch your eyebrows as high as you can and then close your eyes and nod your head. Do you see how disapproving and condescending it seems when done with those actions? This man is serious about his mopping.) I did as was told because I am a model employee and plus I really didn't give shit if every bread crumb from the night before was picked up or not. After all, the lights are so dim once we start service that no one would see a whole freaking loaf of bread if it was on the goddamn floor anyway.

Every time I have mopped since then, I have done it his way. One time I caught myself reverting back to my old disgusting habit of the "side to side method" but quickly reverted when I realized what was happening. How awful would it be if he had security cameras on that he could see what I was doing from the office? I can imagine him bursting out the door, leaving his mild-mannered act behind and going off on me for not following proper mopping procedure. "How dare you ignore my mopping instructions! I said 'to and fro' not 'side to side' do you hear me? To and fro. TO AND FRO! TO AND FRO AND NO WIRE HANGERS! EVER!" So just to be on the safe side, I mop to and fro.

(Attention Carol Burnett: I love you. Please do not sue me for lifting this image of your charwoman character. I know you like to sue people. I have nothing to sue for. If you sue me, the only thing I have to give you is my Thursday night shift with the Mop Nazi. Thanks.)


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