CatDecenzo’s Weblog

Just some mundane madness

Clean Up on Aisle 42, Stat!

I’ve been cursed.  Seems I have a magnetic field around me that attracts waiters and waitresses to bust out their handy dandy push brooms and, like something out of a Stephen King novel, obsessively feel the compulsion to sweep the floor around me the minute I sit down at a table in a restaurant.  I’m getting worried because it really, truly is becoming a recurring distraction, and now even The Mister, who thought I was exaggerating, agrees.  He thought I was being dramatic at first, defending the poor little $5.50-an-hour help, saying “Well, they’re just doing their job.”  Then he watched the magic unfold with his very own bloodshot eyes.  The last three times we’ve visited a restaurant, it happened.  And, no, wait, it’s not right when I sit down.  It’s AFTER my food has been served.  So there I sit, imagining wafts of dust doody landing ever so gently in my iced tea, and fur balls rolling around in my french fries.

Am I being unreasonable? And where are those little crayons and surveys they ask you to fill out to see if you enjoyed the service? Never around when I need one, that’s for sure.  I think I’ll customize my own and carry a pack of them, and leave one at each restaurant where this disgusting labor feat occurs.  It’ll say something like:

Rate from 1 to 10: Ability of staff to not leave you wretching after inhaling four brunette hairs.
Rate from 1 to 10: Ability of staff to not wipe the seat with a wet rag and expect you not to stick to the vinyl and make those embarrassing farting noises.
Rate from 1 to 10: Ability of staff to find the closest screaming toddler and seat you right next to him.

(Ok, so that last one has nothing to do with dirt…just had to throw that in there.  No, wait! The toddler is usually the one dropping his freakin’ cheerios, which in turn brings the waitress running out with the push broom…so there’s the segue.)

My co-worker witnessed my story of woe the last time she and I went to lunch. Dropping her mouth in disbelief, she said, “My gawd, you weren’t kidding,” as she watched the waiter fumbling with his broom and dustpan in an unwieldy manner near our feet.

I’m going to go research the history of “apple crumb pie” now.  I’m afraid.  

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September 24, 2008 - Posted by | Fear of the Day | , ,

1 Comment »

  1. Yeah. That rag they wipe the seat with. eeeeuuuuwwwww. Where the heck has it been before? I always go home and throw my pants in the wash (with an extra rinse cycle) right after sitting on a seat that got “gross ragged” right before you sat down. That frigging rag could star in a horror movie. It would be attached to the hand of a zombie busboy. He would hold it up threateningly and people would run away, screaming in horror.

    Comment by karen | September 25, 2008


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