Remember the Alamo and Meat Cleavers

We've all had those days where things get to be too much and we find ourselves at the end of our proverbial rope. Granted, our job can be a stressful one when we are dealing with people who think that their ham and cheese panini is the be-all end-all most important sandwich on the face of the planet and if they don't get it right this minute they are going to go bat-ass crazy. Or maybe you have a boss who wants to cut your shifts in half and doesn't care that you have bills to pay and cocktails to order and now you'll have to start putting that shit on your Visa card. There are any number of ways to deal with these stressful moments. Personally, I find that going into the walk-in for a couple of minutes where it is nice, cool and quiet does wonders for my peace of mind, especially when I go in there with a coffee cup of champagne that I can down in three seconds. Or sometimes going into the bathroom and splashing cool water on my face helps me feel better, especially when I go in there with a coffee cup of champagne that I can down in three seconds. The point is, there are lots of different ways to deal with stress. One way I do not recommend is throwing a meat cleaver at someone. But hey, if that's what it takes to calm you down, who am I to say anything? I say potato, you say meat cleaver.

This month, a waitress named Maria Benavidez in San Antonio, Texas was charged with aggravated assault with a deadly weapon after she done lost her temper and threw a meat cleaver at her boss hitting him in the head so hard that he needed six stitches to sew that shit up. Her bail was set at $30,000. Damn. If she makes $75 a shift, she has to pick up 400 extra ones just to pay for that. According to the news report, she was upset that her boss was cutting her hours. She was also upset because she opened an envelope containing a paycheck belonging to the victim's stepson, who also works there. I'm not quite sure what that means. Why was she opening that? Maybe to see how much he was getting paid? And then when she saw how much money he had she was like, "Oh I am so mad I am going to throw a meat cleaver at somebody!" I dunno. The story says she was asked to leave by the boss and when she didn't the police were called and that's when kitchen utensils started flying.

I can understand Maria's feelings. Sometimes we need to take out our frustrations somehow and she obviously didn't have access to some champagne. Once again, we see the dangers of not having a steady supply of bubbly on hand for emergencies just like this. It could have been so different:

Boss: Uh, Maria, are you opening my step-kid's paycheck?
Maria: Oh, I'm sorry. I thought it was mine. Oops! How silly of me. I don't know what I was thinking.
Boss: Well, stop it. And by the way, I am going to take away one of your shifts. Starting tomorrow, you only work twelve shifts a week and not thirteen. I am giving my step-kid your Monday lunch shift. Sorry.
Maria: What the hell? Are you kidding me? My Monday lunch shift pays for my weekly supply of Rose's Lime juice, asshole. How am I supposed to make that money up?
Boss: Well, maybe you can get a part-time job down the street at The Alamo. I hear they need tour guides and they pay you in cash and corn tortillas.
Maria: Oh no you din't. What, you just think because my last name is of Hispanic origin that I want to be paid in corn tortillas?
Boss: No, I was just kidding. Chill out. Haven't you ever seen the Pee Wee Herman movie where he goes on the tour of the Alamo? Pedro and Inez? C'mon, Maria. It was a joke. And plus The Bitchy Waiter was desperate to fit that scene into this blog post simply because this is happening in San Antonio.
Maria: That is not funny. I am so freakin' pissed off right now that I could throw a goddamn meat cleaver at your head!
Boss: Well, how about I give you some champagne in a coffee cup and we call it a day?
Maria: Really? Okay, that sounds swell. Thanks!

You see? Champagne always saves the day. Hopefully things will work out for Maria. Davy Crockett would not approve of using meat cleavers to solve our work problems. Sam Houston would want you to drink champagne and work things out. Santa Anna would totally want you to throw a meat cleaver at your boss's head. I guess we all have to do what is right for us. And a personal thanks to my seventh grade Texas History teacher, Mr. Moses for teaching me who the hell the main players were in the fight for Texas Independence. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a coffee cup of champagne that has my name on it. Remember the Alamo, bitches.

(By the way, go here and tell them that they need to have the Bitchy Waiter on their television show. Thanks.)



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