Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Rodents Rule the Roost
I have worked in a couple of restaurants that had their fair share of the Mickey Mouses. And the Ricky Rats. Every place has roaches, that is so no big deal. The rodents can be a big turn off to the customers though. Don't get me wrong, I am no fan of them either. When a customer feels a mouse run across their feet I can pretty much kiss my tip good bye. Rats are even worse because those bitches ain't scared of people. They will crawl up on the table and taste a fried cheese app and then send it back if it's not hot enough. One place I worked at had a real big problem with the rats. It is a restaurant that shall remain nameless, but I will say that it was on a pier next to a huge fish market. Let's just hypothetically say it is called Pizzeria Uno at the South Street Seaport in New York City. Damn, that place had some rats. I swear to God they were so bold that they had the right of way if you saw one coming towards you. We used to throw forks at them to get them to go away. The worst is when a customer would call us over to tell us they think they saw a mouse. Then we have to act all surprised like we have never heard of such a thing at our fine establishment. Meanwhile a manager is banging some pots on the floor hoping that the fucking thing would go back to it's nest under Table 27. Then the customer would always want a discount which ain't gonna happen. If we gave a discount to every person who saw a rat at that place, word would have gotten out that everyone eats free at the hypothetically called Pizzeria Uno at South Street Seaport. That place was full of laughs. I saw Susan Sarandon and Tim Robbins eat there with their kids once. Everyone was all excited and I just wanted to ask her for my seven bucks back for Lorenzo's Oil. And another time a Muslim family ordered the Pizza Skins and then freaked the hell out after they finished and realized they had eaten bacon. That was some funny shit. Hey, is it our fault they didn't read the menu? I got over that place real quick. Between the ridiculously late hours, the tourist tippers and the nightly Rat Parade, I quit after about two months. I left 30 minutes into my shift. Another waiter saw me leaving and asked how I was getting to go home so early. "Easy," I said. "I punched out."