In The Weeds (Part 2)

The restaurant was a midtown Italian joint with a big lunch crowd. Frank Sinatra blared from the loud speakers while the wait staff changed in the closet. I had no experience, so I was nervous. It should’ve been perfect for me because they only gave me two night shifts a week which allowed me to do stand up on the other nights, but I was the worst waitress. I was perpetually "in the weeds."

When you’re "in the weeds" it means you need help, you're overwhelmed, and basically you're fucked. I was "in the weeds" from the moment I arrived until I left. I was really, really bad. I had no balance. I dropped stuff all the time. And I couldn’t carry a tray to save my life.

Crazy Curly was understanding of my lack of skills at first, but when I spilled a bottle of Pellegrino in a customers purse she lost it. She berated me right in front of the customer, and then later on again. I was surprised my "bestie" got so mad, but I shrugged it off and thought it must be wedding

pressure. I knew I needed to get back into the good graces of Crazy Curly. Ever since the Pellegrino in the purse, I was treading lightly with her. She noticed every drink spilled, every dish broken and every mistake. I was really trying to impress her with something.

Crazy Curly was always telling us stories about how when she waited tables they took revenge out on the customers. One shift Other White Girl was telling me and Crazy Curly about a jerky customer she was waiting on. He was trying to impress his date by being rude to Other White Girl.

Crazy Curly was busy doing inventory, but I was done with my section. Jerky Customer was a dick, so I thought he should eat dick. I made his dessert look like a penis with whipped cream, icing and food coloring. There was no mistaking what his dessert looked like. It was a penis. He was halfway through when the horrified date commented on his penis cake. Other White Girl and I loved it. We were laughing so hard, but it seemed to piss off Crazy Curly. It was like she was jealous. I started getting yelled at more and more by Crazy Curly. It was like I couldn’t do anything right. The penis cake was the last joy I had. Well, not exactly.

A new waiter started working at the restaurant. He started a few weeks after me. Crazy Curly kept telling me that this other waiter would be coming to work here soon. She knew him from another restaurant, and he would just be here for a month or two. She was going on and on about how hot he was. That he was in this amazing band, and that he was a total player. She wanted all the girls at the restaurant to watch out, but especially me. She kept calling him a panty peeler, i.e. a guy who can easily get you out of your panties. I figured she was exaggerating about all of it.

Me and Panty Peeler started hooking up pretty quick and soon everyone in the restaurant knew we were together. He was hot and cool, but I also thought he was a nice guy. Totally attentive. Would do anything I wanted. Really sweet. He always helped me with my section because he was great at waiting tables. Crazy Curly hated that he helped me. The nicer Panty Peeler was to me, the meaner Crazy Curly became. I found myself in a pissing contest with my boss while she was stressed out about her wedding.

Once Panty Peeler showed up things got worse quickly. Crazy Curly was fighting every day with my parents' neighbors' brother about the wedding plans. She wanted to honeymoon in Mexico, he wanted Bermuda. She wanted roses, and he didn’t want flowers. She had wanted a DJ, but he had hired a band. She’d yell at him on the phone arguing about all these things and then come out and yell at me. I was the wedding scapegoat. The shit was rolling downhill fast.

TO BE CONTINUED...