I had trash- wing sauce, up over my elbows. After about fifteen minutes they realized I was serious and they came over and they helped me. The cashiers helped me, that's how bad it was. I mean, me, and, and the manager, and the supervisor, and the cashiers. "It must've been in the case of beer," I said. "He starts cursing about how I must've stolen it! Why would I steal it? What would I even do? But he's ranting on about how I'm a thief, how I must've taken it- he is saying that I have to be strip-searched. It must be right back here, I just have to look for it.' And what do you think he does?" I drag that case of beer out and look through it, I look under the register, I look all over the floor, I'm looking in the drain- I have to go out and tell the guy, 'I'm sorry, I can't find your credit card. "So I ask Night Bartender, and she helps me look, a little. "Yes! Where's the credit card?" She pantomimes looking around frantically. I go and get an order of food that's waiting, bring it out to the customer, and then I come back, pull the printouts off the register, and- where's the credit card?" While it's authorizing, I say, 'I gotta get this beer outta my way,' and so I pick up the case and shove it under the sink. Cash me out so I can go yell at them.' So he gives me his card, and I bring it to the register, and I swipe it. He says to me, 'Great! Now they've just delayed my flight. "We're all tripping over them and of course she's all, 'Oh I'm too busy I can't deal with these now someone else do it for me!'" She's got like 18 Bud Lites in a case on the floor, and the fridge is full! We don't even need them! There's nowhere to put them! So the case is sitting right here, so you can't even open the door." She gestures to a spot right next to her register. Meanwhile is doing her usual thing where she flips out about everything, and calls down to order more beer bottles. So it's the end of my shift and it's been a long day and my husband has been calling the office, here, since nine in the morning, and saying all kinds of things to the office staff- I mean,, he's been saying really graphic, nasty things about me to them-" This is the last customer of the night, did I mention?" I say, 'How are you?' He says, 'Awful! I'm fighting with my partner, I'm way too early for my plane, nothing's working out, and I don't think the day can get any worse!' So this is what I'm starting with, right?" "And so this guy comes into the restaurant. I can't eat, he's calling all the time, I've had to call the cops- it's just been a laugh a minute, being me." "Oh, I don't know if you heard this, but I left my husband last week." They've been married 25 years, but he has struggled with mental illness and refused counseling, and I know he's been a nightmare, verbally abusing her and even hitting her a few times. "With the missing credit card?" I shake my head again. "You didn't hear yet what happened last night," she says.
After a while when it slows down, she and I stand at the back counter and she fills me in. One of the managers makes a joke and she pretends to take offense, something about who's working what unit on my shift. I haven't seen her in over a week because she had some days off, but it's busy so we don't get a chance to catch up right away. She and I share a register three times a week, and split the floor of the big restaurant, each of us waiting half of the tables.
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