Who Am I? The Lounge Edition

This week The Lounge is being hosted by Kim from  Falling Face First and the subject is 'Work Woes' - Kim invites you to tell the story of your worst job ever and to be honest, I've got quite a few to choose from!

 Once again I've dug into the depths of Fudge and pulled out a post I wrote a while ago because, being lazy, why bother writing a new post when you have one made to measure mouldering away in the closet? it seems to fit perfectly with this weeks theme.


Who am I? (clue: I am NOT a Waitress)

I've had a variety of shit jobs in my time from cold calling for a charity trying to get people to drop donation envelopes to canvassing for a double glazing firm and working on a fruit and veg stall in a market.

I have also, in my time, done a fair amount of waitressing.

There used to be a very large, prestigious hotel in town called The County Hotel, it's now a Marks and Spencer store but in those days it held huge functions and banquets.

One of the biggest functions of the year was Boxing Night. An all male affair with dinner, stand up acts and the main event at the end of the evening, boxing.

Because it was so popular the tables were set out in rows, canteen style. But, whoever had set it up hadn't allowed for the fact that many of the men sported impressive beer bellies and had their chairs pushed so far away from the table that the poor waiting staff (i.e. me!) had barely any room to squeeze between them and the next row.

The bigger the tables, the bigger the platters of food to dish up. These things were huge, hot and heavy. Half way round the table my arm was shaking like Id stuck my finger in an electric socket and I'd resorted to flicking the food off the platter and hoping it would land on a plate. Luckily much alcohol had been consumed and no one really noticed or cared.

When I got to the end of the table I stood there, red in the face, shaking and sweating waiting for the other tables to be completed before I could go back to the kitchen.

I watched with interest as one of the other waitresses who was serving a table opposite me tried to squeeze between two rather rotund gentlemen. Suddenly, I realised she was actually resting a boiling hot platter of food one one of their heads!!!!

How the hell could he sit there laughing and chatting with half a ton of piping hot spuds frying his brain???

Almost at the same time I noticed the other waitress realised what she was doing. Slowly she tried to slide the platter off his head and OMG, his HAIR was sliding off with it!!!

I was in awe, had she MELTED his hair follicles???

Kind of ....

Very slowly she slid the platter back again trying to manoeuvre the toupee back into place but by now the glue had become very ungluey  and the damn thing started to slide backwards down his neck.

She caught my eye sending me a desperate 'help me' look.  In an attempt to create a diversion I threw my empty platter to the ground with a huge crash.  Unfortunately this unnerving the poor girl so much that she threw her own platter high into the air, scattering potatoes across the table and sending the toupee sailing, like some ungainly, hairy bird into the lap of the man opposite who, being rather more than half cut and not knowing what the hell it was completely freaked out clearly thinking he was under some kind of attack and promptly threw the toupee to the floor where he repeatedly stamped on it shouting 'DIE YOU BASTARD!!!'

Shortly after that (or maybe at that exact moment) I decided waitressing probably wasn't for me after all ....