By Jerome Haller

The first half of my overnight shift passes fairly quickly. I check in, get an update, chat with some staffers, and settle at my post. The rush of customers keeps me on my toes. I focus on the store’s merchandise, especially the goods in the cosmetics section.
By about 2 a.m., the rush ends and the store gets quiet. The screaming kids and folks with morning jobs have gone to bed.
In theory, the next few hours should be smooth sailing. That’s not the case. Instead, I grind through the toughest part of the night.

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Posted on September 1, 2009

By Patty Hunter

This week I learned that school is not the only place you can expand your vocabulary.
A young lady came in with two others and sat at my table. When I walked over to greet them, it took everything in me not to gape at her almost entirely exposed bosom; her neckline was more like a belly button line because of how low cut it was and it was open almost as wide on the sides. I didn’t even know it was legal to wear those kind of shirts outside of a strip club.
The bartender that night was walking back behind the bar when he noticed the free show. I laughed as I watched him struggle to not stare. He told me that’s what you call a “neck-breaker.” Apparently, when there’s something about a girl that makes you whip your head around to get a second look, she’s called a neck-breaker.

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Posted on August 27, 2009

By Patty Hunter

Stand with me now and close your eyes. Absorb the sound of water rushing by. Imagine the mighty river we must be near. The beautiful, tree-laden banks. Perhaps a sandy beach. And yes, we must be near, because you can feel the river lapping at your shoes. Really, your feet are getting wet. And what’s that smell? That’s not suntan lotion and Mai Tais . . . it’s . . . shit. For real.
Water from the alley – and our sewage system – is flooding the restaurant, thanks to a broken drainage system. This isn’t the first time. It usually starts out back and stops right at the doorway that separates the alley from the restaurant. This time, though, it’s creeping closer and closer to the dining room.

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Posted on August 20, 2009

By Patty Hunter

My experience going out to eat has completely changed since I began working in restaurants. While I was not as clueless as most, I would occasionally make the mistake of asking the overworked bussers for refills. Or I would leave everything wherever it fell and walk out blissfully unaware.
Things have changed.
I began my restaurant experience as a host. I would seat the tables and manage the wait list. I began to understand the flow of a restaurant and how important it was to have teamwork. Then I began bussing. I had a whole new perspective on how dirty and needy people were. After cleaning up a bloody syringe and having someone assume I couldn’t speak English because I was a busser, I decided it was maybe a good time to move on. From then on, I cleaned up any mess I made, placed the pepper shaker back in its proper place and was not irritated if I did not get a water refill right away. I still do this. It has stuck with me for almost five years.

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Posted on August 13, 2009

By Jerome Haller

During a recent Sunday night, I remarked to the Nice Cashier that the morning employee who relieved her had been showing up on time for a change. Of course, the tardiness promptly immediately resumed. On Monday morning, the Nice Cashier had to work overtime before returning home to her kids. “You jinxed it,” she said to me during a lull that night.
Yes. Yes I did.
Thus chastened, I didn’t even blink when an elderly woman walked in the store while pushing a cart. A regular with a stooped back, she wore a blue blouse and dirty white pants. Her body odor wafted in the air.

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Posted on August 7, 2009

By Patty Hunter

Our busy season is almost over. Families have spent their vacation money and are now saving up to buy new school supplies and autumn clothing. Does this mean they are cutting back on eating out? No, they’re just tipping less.

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Posted on August 6, 2009

By Jerome Haller

As I stood at the security post on a recent Friday night, a man waited in line to pay for his goods. He wore a T-shirt that said. “I Got Out of Bed for This?”
The shirt provided the theme for my shift.
Thanks to a bout of insomnia, I got out of bed and arrived at the store 40 minutes early. The guard on duty smiled. “I’m really glad to see you,” he said. “Can you stand here for five minutes? I have to run to the store and buy some bread.”
I gladly agreed to perform the favor. Since replacing a guard who had dropped the F bomb on a cashier, he had been a team player. He arrived on time, helped tackle a perp, and gave me tips about would-be thieves and company policies.
So I stood at the post. Five minutes had passed. Nothing wrong with that. Then 10. Nothing wrong with that either. At the 20-minute mark, I started to fume. Why should I get fisted for doing someone a kind deed?
At that point, I saw the T-shirt.

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Posted on August 4, 2009

By Patty Hunter

Oh, local Chicago pizzeria, how I loathe thee!
With thine poorly tipping guests
And ne’er enough of the most popular beers –
I have never met one that drove me so crazy.
Oh, local Chicago pizzeria, you surely kid!
Surely no busser would use Sprite in the place of table wipes –
But alas! ’tis true, for a guest phoned and complained.
How hast thee possibly stayed Zagat rated?

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Posted on July 30, 2009

By Jerome Haller

As I walked toward my store on July 4, an acrid smell hit my nose. It was the smoke enveloping the area. Fireworks had produced the stench and haze. A mixture of sounds attacked my ears: fizzles, small pops, loud booms that set off car alarms. Apparently, the locals had decided to re-enact the Revolutionary War.
One weary cop walked in the store. “How’s it going out there?” I asked. “Every day is a joy,” he cracked. Another griped about manning the paddy wagon on one of the worst days of the year.

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Posted on July 23, 2009

By Patty Hunter

I’m not so sure I want to quit my job anymore. I still hate it, but where else does a world-famous rock group’s order get botched, a jerk of a has-been actor sit at one of my tables, and an aggrieved aged customer old fling food at me all in the same week?

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Posted on July 8, 2009