My husband and I had the thrill of a date afternoon. We were able to run a few errands and then have an early dinner at a restaurant where we actually held the menu in our hands, instead of staring at a board above the cash registers.
As we sat eating our dinner, I noticed the wait staff meandering through the kitchen which was located in the open, for all of the nearby customers to see - an open air kitchen. As they talked and checked to see if their food was "up" I couldn't help but remember back to when I waited tables with a similar kitchen.
One night the manager called me over to the side area, away from the kitchen. I was a nervous since he seemed like he needed to discuss something with me in private. As he began, his voice lowered to a whisper and he said, "Some customers just told me that they were uneasy with the fact that when they looked into the kitchen, they saw you scratching your behind." Ewe!! I was shocked! I told him that they had the wrong person.
At that time I wore dark blue, men's, 501 jeans, with the back pockets carefully removed with my mother's seam ripper. That was the cool thing to do in order to be unique. They were so tight that I had to lay down on a bed in a horizontal position, in order to button all five buttons. The customer told my manager that the girl they saw, picking her seat, had a brown ponytail, guilty, and was wearing blue jeans with flaps on the back pockets. Not guilty!
He let me off the hook after I proved the customer wrong, and my friend Regina was guilty as charged. Whew, narrow escape, but an escape none the less. I only pick my seat when I am at the movies.
As we sat eating our dinner, I noticed the wait staff meandering through the kitchen which was located in the open, for all of the nearby customers to see - an open air kitchen. As they talked and checked to see if their food was "up" I couldn't help but remember back to when I waited tables with a similar kitchen.
One night the manager called me over to the side area, away from the kitchen. I was a nervous since he seemed like he needed to discuss something with me in private. As he began, his voice lowered to a whisper and he said, "Some customers just told me that they were uneasy with the fact that when they looked into the kitchen, they saw you scratching your behind." Ewe!! I was shocked! I told him that they had the wrong person.
At that time I wore dark blue, men's, 501 jeans, with the back pockets carefully removed with my mother's seam ripper. That was the cool thing to do in order to be unique. They were so tight that I had to lay down on a bed in a horizontal position, in order to button all five buttons. The customer told my manager that the girl they saw, picking her seat, had a brown ponytail, guilty, and was wearing blue jeans with flaps on the back pockets. Not guilty!
He let me off the hook after I proved the customer wrong, and my friend Regina was guilty as charged. Whew, narrow escape, but an escape none the less. I only pick my seat when I am at the movies.
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