Restaurant Dream #1823

If I work a double, I tend to have restaurant dreams that night or the following night. This was my dream after working 9-11:30 Saturday and 10-8 Sunday:

The restaurant is packed, which is unusual for a Monday afternoon. All is going well until I see a group of familiar faces walk in. "Please don't sit in my section, please don't sit in my section," I repeat quietly to nobody in particular. They are guys from my old high school, former soccer stars. Of course, they sit in my section; my table smack-dab in the middle of the dining room is the last one available.

I go to greet the table, and they don't seem to recognize me. I'm saved! I treat them like any other customers, keeping my super cheery smile plastered to my face while they run me around with a hundred different requests.

All hell breaks loose when I present the check. "No discount for your buds, (embarrassing high school nickname)?" asks the ringleader. Then, as he tells his pals to "watch this," he attempts to reach into my apron. I snap and douse him with his nearly-full water glass. Every table in the main dining room. The silence is eerie - all of the normal fork-clattering and even the kitchen noises have stopped, and the only sound is that stupid The Fray song playing in the background for the 1000th time (seriously, fuck The Fray). A slow clap starts from one of the booths near the window, and suddenly the entire restaurant is clapping for me. The former soccer stars, too ashamed to go complain to the managers, walk out red-faced. I exit the dining room, expecting Manager R. to chew me out and fire me, but when he sees me, he only says, "I have to appear to discipline you, so just go home for the day, but I hate those little shits too; you're not in trouble."

I wake up.


Why did I have this weird dream? I don't even hate the guys who were in my dream; they were nice during high school (the embarrassing nickname was real, but they wouldn't have used it!). Oh yes, maybe I had this dream because of the BITCHES from Sunday.

Three girls walked in the door about 10 minutes after I got to work. Two I didn't recognize, but then I saw the third, the rudest girl from my high school soccer team. We DEFINITELY made eye contact, but neither of us said anything. "PLEASE do not sit in my section," I silently hoped. I knew Rockstar, my favorite hostess, would probably sit them in K-Man's section; she always tries to hook him up with cute chicks. So I thought I was safe. Unfortunately, they wanted to sit outside (on a side note WHY did I have the patio again? grr), so they were in my section.

Why did I dislike this girl so much? On the field, she thought she was the shit despite being one of the mediocre players on the team (not that I was the next Mia Hamm myself, but I didn't ball-hog or toot my own horn), she bossed people around, and she was generally unfriendly. She really loved hearing her own voice. Maybe she has changed since then, but I wouldn't know.

I contemplated giving the table to someone else. K-Man said he'd take them and let me have the next table in his section, because his section was close to mine, and I was really tempted to do that, but I figured I'd have to see BitchGirl anyway if I got any more patio tables. As I went outside, I formulated my greeting in my head. "Good morning and welcome to Restaurant X! How are you all doing today!? Oh. My. God. Bitchgirl! How aaaaaaaare you? I thought I saw you inside, but I wasn't sure!!!!!!" or something equally stupid. Nope, I couldn't do that. I'm bad at lying.

I went ahead with my normal greeting and started taking the girls' drink orders. BitchGirl's cronies were actually very nice; I wondered what they were doing with a friend like her. When I got to BG's drink order, it was as if we were in a competition, each waiting for the other to say something to acknowledge our past relationship (teammateship? Definitely not friendship).

I brought the drinks out, and then took their food order. Luckily, they didn't make any annoying requests, and I raced to put their order into the computer so I could deal with my new, other tables, who were scared of the bees dive-bombing into their $7 Bloody Mary drinks.

I brought the girls' food out to the table with Ms. B, and BG's friend complained about one bee that was terrorizing their table. Ms. B set down the plate she was carrying and simply smacked the bee with one calculated swoop of her order-taking check presenter. It fell dead on the table, I wiped it up with my towel, and the girls were fine. I was embarrassed though; there I was, just finished college (as I assume she probably just had too), and I was cleaning up bees for my former classmates. Ugh!

The rest of their meal went without a hitch, and her friend paid, tipping 20%. I should have been happy, but I was more disheartened than anything. I hate serving people that I know. I'm embarrassed around former classmates who now have "real" jobs (jobs that sound 10,000x less fun than waiting), clueless friends of my parents who ask what I'm really going to do with my life, and former teachers who give me a look like I wasted so much potential. ARGH! It's so frustrating.