After a summer of working in a lonely, empty restaurant, I have almost forgotten what it is like to be busy at Shmupplebees. The fair is in town and school is about to start back up, so the customers are returning to make our restaurant their home away from home. ...because at home you toss food on the floor and yell at the person who cooked because he/she did not put enough Alfredo on your pasta. Right?
My favorite part of tonight?
Oh how can I choose.
Was it the table who insisted that I sing to their friend even though it was physically impossible for any of the six people on to do so?
Or the table that racked up a seventy dollar bill and conveniently took both of their merchant copies so they didn't have to tip me?
Maybe the table that walked up to the bar to collect their own drinks because they had been waiting too long even though I warned them prior to ordering that it would be awhile because we were busy as shit?
At least I will have my expendable income back. Being poor during the summer makes for a very sad Kara.