The show I was working last week was really loud. The crowd was having a good time and it was rather fun since I didn't have to whisper everything. When there is a singer, piano, bass, drums and brass, the atmosphere at work is decidedly more upbeat. When it came time to get round two of the cocktails out, I went over to booth number four and asked the man what he'd like. Leaning into his booth, I said, "Sir, can I get you anything else right now?" "What's that?" he said. I repeated my question with a bit more volume. He yelled into my ear, "What cheese do you have?"
We sell a cheese plate that I can never remember what kind of cheeses are on it. Gouda, cheddar, brie, Velvetta, whiz? I can't recall. No matter how many times I ask, it goes in one ear and out the other. Do you ever have those things that no matter how hard you try, you just can't commit it to memory? It's the same way I can never differentiate between the Q and the N train. Or prosciutto or pancetta. Or regular or decaf. You know, things that are pretty much the same but not quite. Rather than make up some random cheeses, I went to ask a co-worker. She was no help. "I'm not sure. I just always say 'three non-stinky cheeses' and that's it." Really? People are satisfied with that? Okay. Thanks. I was hesitant to ask my manager again because he would know that this isn't the first time I have had to ask and I have worked there for about 18 months. Clearly, there was no excuse for me to not know the three cheeses on the cheese plate. If I had to ask him again he may get the impression that I simply didn't give a shit about the cheese plate. So I asked him again. He told me the names of the three cheeses, two of which I have already forgotten. One of them was St. Andre, I know that. As soon as he told me, I ran to the table to regurgitate the cheeses before the names slipped out of my head and onto the floor.
"Sir, we have St. Andre, 'whatever the fuck it was' and 'whatever else the fuck it was' for cheese tonight."
"What?" he said. It was really loud in there that night. Neither one of us could hear shit.
"St. Andre, whadayacallit and thingamajig are our cheeses. Cheese!"
He pulled his head back and wrinkled up his forehead. He acted like he didn't know what the fuck I was telling him. "Didn't you want to know what was on our cheese plate?" I practically yelled at him.
He paused for a second and looked at me like the idiot I was soon to feel like. "Teas. I want tea. What TEAS do you have?"
Are you fucking kidding me? "Oh. Teas. Green Tea, Lemon, Red Zinger, Earl Gray, Chamomile, English Breakfast, Orange Ceylon..."
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