Memory Monday - The Restaurant Series & The Annoying Co-Worker

Did I ever mention that my parents once owned a restaurant? Yes. I think I did.

Notice I am breaking into the restaurant material. This gives me loads of blog material. Stories about Patty Melts, Bread Dough, and Tabasco on it way. Just you wait!  

My Dad and Mom are good people. The kind that let homeless strangers sleep in our house. The kind that hired 'less fortunite' people to work for us just so they could support their family. Even though Springdale is a thriving tourist location, it brings the drifters just as much as anywhere.

This came to no exception to hiring struggling family members. One, being my Uncle. He. Drove. Me. Crazy.

Always right, loud, obnoxious, liked to drink, womanize, and mouth off to anyone.

My parents are so good, that they will eventually read this post, tell me that I was not very nice and to delete it.

Then, I will slightly alter it. But only slightly.

He used to throw tomatoes at my shorts. Then laugh through his tooth. That's right folks. Not teeth. Tooth. True story. My good parents even bought him a set of teeth.

Which he eventually ran over with his car. bike. tricycle. :-)

One particular day, I was fulfilling my 749th day at the sweaty dishwasher. I served two seasons at old Bessie, so when I say it was 749th day scraping away egg yolk, ketchup, and bleaching coffee mugs, I was not exaggerating.

I was lost in cleaning up french fries from the sink when I something hit me right below the left cheek. Then I hear his obnoxious no teeth laugh.

Har! Har! Har!!!Blah, blah blah gag!

He threw a tomato and my shorts.

A sliced tomato.

A sliced ripe tomato.

A sliced ripe tomato that would only be delicous on a cheeseburger.

I hate tomatoes and I don't eat red meat.

Unless it is from a cow that I fed and raised and butchered myself.

I don't have a cow.

I look up and give him the death stare. I. Would. Have. Been. Scared.

"Har! Har! Har! Har! Don't say I never gave you anything!" He taunts me and laughs some more.

This is why there is karma in the world. I just want you to understand that there is no way I would ever, EVER do to anyone what I did to this man. It. is. Disgusting.

But for him, JUSTIFIED!

I watched. I waited. I observed. I noticed he was sucking a Coke through a straw. He had it placed on a near counter where he was working.

**IF you have a weak stomach, stop here!!**

I took a new glass to get him a new coke. Before I piled it with ice and filled it with refreshment, I pulled out my Oral Retainer and placed it in the bottom of his glass.

The term, 'On the rocks!' has just slightly changed.

Need I place adjective descriptions with Oral Retainer? Or can I just say, Oral Retainer and we would all understand? It was nearly shift change. Which meant we'd been working for at least seven hours. Which meant, I ate when I got there  at 6:00am., then again lunch like five hours later. Do I really need to continue elaborating?

I switched the old one he had with the special one I'd made. Just for him. Aren't I sweet??

I then waited. and waited. and waited. I watched. I didn't want to lose my retainer. They were like $300! There is no way I could explain this to my orthodontist, parents, and co-workers, and suddenly started to have slight regret.

But he deserved to pay.

Then, he takes a drink. A long drink. Then he drinks some more. I laugh hysterically.

Yes! Justice in the form of Saliva Coke! VIN-di-cation!!

Once I felt he had enough, I walked over. Took his coke. Dumped it out for him to see. Then I laughed.

Har! Har! Har! Har! Don't say I never gave you anything!!" I say, and I place my retainer back in my mouth.

It must run in the family. Except I still have all my teeth.