Last night I picked up a closing shift for my roommate. She had had a few too many celebratory birthday drinks (even though I was only a few behind, if even that), so I helped her out and went in to work for her. I was happy to know that I was in the closing section that got to go home first, and spent the slow-ass night standing around while I waited on one or two tables at a time.
At the end of the night I did my closing sidework and left. I got gas, cigarettes, and then chain-smoked my way back into happiness on the drive home. After getting out of my uniform and into normal clothes I looked at my phone, which had been on silent. This is the text I received from one of the other closers:
"Hey kara about u come back in...pick UR Shit up off table 30 and to bev like its suppose to be done...thanks"
Um...Hey 'name rhymes with Shmam', why don't you learn how to use grammar, capitalization, and punctuation properly. Also UR is not a real word. Maybe if it stands for 'underlying reason', or I have a stick stuck 'Up my Rectum'. I think the last one makes more sense.
After arguing with my manager over text for a little bit, I had the bartender put my pitcher of delicious and well-needed beer in the fridge and skipped my ass back to Shmupplebees. He had made it sound like such a big deal; like I had lit my section on fire and called it good for the night.
I got there and this is what I essentially did; I filled ONE salt shaker, ONE pepper shaker, and dumped ONE pot of coffee..... I also had apparently left a broom in my section, which Shmam huffily informed me. I went to my section, looked around for a minute, and became thoroughly confused because I didn't see anything that resembled a broom, except for maybe the fact that the furniture was made out of wood as well. I asked another server where it was, and she pointed to it. It was now in another section, pretty sure it was being used to clean said section up, but still not in my section anymore. Whatever. I was told to put the broom away. I walked over to it, picked it up, and took it all the way to the back so the server would have to go get it again.
Oh, I also took my TWO plates that I had completely forgotten about to the back as well.
When I was done, my manager got off his phone, actually got off his ass and came out of the office. He looked at me sheepishly, grimaced/apologetically smiled, and said 'sorry', I wasn't the one that was mad about it.
Whatever Shmony. You're the manager. Grow some balls.