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Which One?

I am having a hard time figuring out which scenario to share with you first.

Should I tell you how Dick's bartender friends weren't there at the onset of the cocktail hour, forcing my partner to take the helm, only to have Dick's friends arrive 45 minutes later, at which point Dick dug the money out of the tip jar and threw it at my partner while saying, "You're done. Shift over." (Note: The tip jar was an empty wine glass set in place by the first customer to tip - which is customary)

Hm.

Or, should I tell you how when Dick's friends arrived to bartend, Dick stormed into the kitchen demanding we find him a bigger tip jar because, and I quote, "Those guys are going to be raking it in and a wine glass would not hold all the money". (Note: My partner made $50 in 45 minutes. Dick's friends made $20 in 3 hours. Word of Dick's antics were out. His friends were punished.)

Wait.

Maybe I should tell you how when Dick came in to the kitchen he was told, "Sorry, no. Everything in this kitchen is to be set in motion for the food service." And how Dick stood there with his hand on a water pitcher insisting, and how he was told no 3 times. Which then forced him to open every cupboard in the kitchen, finding nothing, and closing none of them. (This venue does not come stocked. What we need, we bring.)

Well, no.

Maybe I should start off by telling you how Dick came in the kitchen yet again, getting the same response as the first time, but this time with a bit more "charm". (Read: Raised eyebrow)

Gosh. Um.

No... Maybe I will tell you how Dick then sent his sister into the kitchen because, and I quote her, "Yeah, um. I work in a kitchen (Goodie! Another "food professional") and I can see that we are going to need a bigger tip jar. I know this because I work in a kitchen. So, because I work in a kitchen, I am certain you will be able to hook me up." (I am not making this shit up.)

Or...

Perhaps I should start off by telling you that shortly after Dick's kitchen-working sister left, one of the members of the band (another friend of Dick's) came in asking if he could borrow a water pitcher. (That Dick, he's clever. I hope he applies for a membership to Mensa!)

Shortly after that visit, the closed-door F-Bombs started to drop. And it wasn't me who started it. It was my partner. And she never swears.

Anyway...

No.

maybe I should really start this blog by telling you how Dick came in yet again only to be told, "Dick. We've told you no. No means no. As a fellow "Food Professional" (I didn't even laugh when I said it. Well, maybe I did chuckle a little bit..) you should understand that no one but but the caterers are allowed in the kitchen. We've got a job to do. Again I will tell you the water pitchers are for the guest tables, as they requested." To which Dick asked in a tone only Dick could master, "Who are they?" To which I responded, "They are your in-laws, the people paying the bill tonight." To which he spun around like a diva and walked out the door.

(There were a couple more F-Bombs dropped after this visit. I think knives were sharpened again, too.)

Hm. That is a good one. But maybe I should start off by telling you how Dick's kitchen-working sister came back again with a wire basket, this time demanding a linen napkin because, "All the tip money will fall through the wire." At this point, we wouldn't have given her a phone to call 911 if Dick were choking to death, so the answer was no. To which she responded by spinning around like a diva (A trait that clearly runs in the Dick family) and slammed the door. (At this point, the entire kitchen erupted in knee-slapping laughter. The kitchen door is a swinging door and upon her "slam" it nearly caught her in the back of the head on the swing-out.)

Gosh, maybe I could tell you how Dick came into the kitchen 2 more times, but simply just to walk through as if to say, "I am Dick. I can do what I want." (His second time through, he slipped on some water and nearly fell face down. I have no idea how the water puddle in front of that door was overlooked by us...)

These are all such good starters but maybe I should tell you how Dick's bride was standing and greeting all the guest by herself during the Great Tip Jar Hunt of '04.

Or perhaps I should just start off by telling you how just prior to the meal service Dick came in the kitchen and unbeknownst to him, he was being closely followed by his now mother-in-law and demanded another water pitcher, then looking at her as if to say, "Good, you're here. Tell them to give me one." She was furious. With him. (A few more f-bombs, a couple of "neener neeners".)

Or I could tell you how Dick nearly tipped over the entire 3-tier cake during the traditional cake cutting service. But that wouldn't be nearly as good as telling you that when the traditional cake-cutting was over, Dick took the long mother-of-pearl handled knife and shoved it down the middle of the entire cake. (I heard a few hushed F-Bombs coming from the crowd. It was dark, so I don't have proof, but I am pretty sure it was the bride's grandmother.)

You can see my quandary. Which story do I tell you first?

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Posted by Foodwhore at March 21, 2004 11:23 PM