Last Thursday night, I went out for drinks with fellow waiters and friends Crissy, Adam and Beate. We went to Harry’s Burritos on 71st & Columbus for some Happy Hour margaritas in honor of Beate’s birthday. We had enough rounds and tipped well enough so that the bartender (Tom?) offered us a round on the house after we’d cashed out. I went for a Maker’s Mark Manhattan. It had been one of those weeks; I still hadn’t really brushed off the drama that my previous post details, and I’d willingly left two night shifts before they’d even started just to avoid working with the manager who seems to have it out for me. (We’ve hit that point in the season when business is slow and they take volunteers to leave before the shift even begins).
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Before I take you to the cherry on top of this hateful ice-cream sundae: the manager from my previous post specifically told my friend Jenn that he hates me, referring to a pre-shift meeting in which senior servers were arguing that junior servers should be allowed to work pick-up double shifts in the case of this one particular Saturday since it was one waitress’ wedding, and most people with seniority (all of whom work Saturday nights) were invited. Apparently, I rolled my eyes a lot (go figure!) and muttered things under my breath (oops), and Jason took notice, deciding he hated me. I’m pretty sure I was even sending text messages to another server (Doug) saying things like, “Is this real?” or “Where am I?” or “Kill me now!” or “I’m in hell!” These are things I do rather than allowing myself to get invested in dead-end arguments between the management and the waitstaff. Ultimately, the management is going to do what it wants, especially at Roman’s where a manager would rather watch a server get clubbed than confront the customer who is behaving inap
propriately. Club your server and you might just award yourself some complimentary Prosecco – maybe even some cheese and olives! In fact, at Roman’s managers slap waitresses and no one flinches. The slap was a joke, but it was hard enough so that Jamie had red marks on her face minutes after being “jokingly’ slapped across the face.
propriately. Club your server and you might just award yourself some complimentary Prosecco – maybe even some cheese and olives! In fact, at Roman’s managers slap waitresses and no one flinches. The slap was a joke, but it was hard enough so that Jamie had red marks on her face minutes after being “jokingly’ slapped across the face.* * * * *
Said manager took his personal vendetta against me to unforeseen heights that Thursday night when he accused me of buying cocaine on the premises from my friend Bryan (a Dominican busboy...racism anyone?). After drinks with Adam, Crissy and Beate, I stopped by Roman’s to pick up Sekou for more drinks. Bryan came from the restaurant’s outdoor café to give me a half-handshake/half-hug. That is when the manager pulled Sekou (who was on his way out of the restaurant to meet up with me) aside and said, “I’m pretty sure Josh just bought coke off Bryan.” WHAT?!?! The sad part is that after Sekou told me, I felt overcome with helplessness. As if I was the one who should be worried, as if he was not the one who was accusing me of breaking the law and in doing so, slandering my character. Let’s not leave out how absurdly racist it is to accuse Bryan (who is perhaps one of the most well-mannered, kind and responsible people in the entire restaurant) of being a drug dealer! I haven’t decided how to counter-attack. I'm open to suggestions, but he most certainly will not be receiving complimentary Prosecco.
2 comments:
when you told me that story about the cocaine I wanted to punch someone in the face!?!
Your manager is childish, repulsive, and utterly dispicable. Who would behave like that and even go so far to slander someones character. He should be written up for haraasment, of an employee.
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