I've been out of the restaurant biz for several years now, but I guess you never really get your head out of the game. Scenarios of waiting tables are still in my top three dream sequences, beating out the much more pleasant dreams of hanging backstage with a certain bandana-wearing rocker or the popular but unpleasant free-falling dream.
It's always the same theme in these bad tipping flashbacks. I'm in the weeds, I've been quadruple-sat with parties of 8, and some chick never gets her french fries. It is like I'm lost in a maze and I can't make it back to the kitchen or call for help. Not that anyone would help because even in reality your coworkers just laugh and point at you from the server station when you're overwhelmed and can't catch up.
Maybe I just cared too much. I wish I could have been more like (insert name of server who took cig breaks every ten minutes only to leave their entire section of diners waving their arms, shouting, grabbing anyone who walks by for a diet coke refill or the check). I think I'll try to get inside the control panel and the next time some chick in my dreams gives me lip about her order of fries, I'll hand her my apron and kindly say, "I don't give a flying fig about your fries cuz I DON'T WORK HERE ANYMORE!!"
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