So somewhere during my developmental stages in the uterus the chromosomal, double-helical, gene pool make-up of my body took a short cut and skipped a few stages and thus, I was born with two omitted abilities: 1. Growing an adult tooth on the right side of my mouth. (If it weren't for my tooth destroying dentist, I'd still have a gap there. That's a story for another day) and 2. The simple ability to be a waitress.
One summer while home from college, I felt super motivated to earn a lot of money and took on a second job while working at the zoo. I applied to and was hired by the Natural Cafe on State St. I loved the food and the kick-back atmosphere - it was perfect. Now, they don't start new hires on waitressing duty right away. You need to work toward that glorious goal and start off at the Smoothie Bar. What did I care! I didn't even know what a waitress was let alone what they did! A free meal every shift, the cooks loved me, the music was great, and I got to drink the "extra" if there was too much smoothie made. Not to mention interesting and entertaining people to talk to (one night I found myself serving Troy Aikman and some other guy who's name escapes me from the Dallas Cowboys at my little smoothie bar.) But, sometimes the cafe was short staffed and I'd help bring the food out to the tables. My first time doing this was on my third day there. I was taking different orders out to the tables on the front patio and each time I did, there was a table of 8 Brazilians who would wave over to me and and shout out "Numba 10? Numba 10??" And each time I'd have to tell them, "Uh, nope. Not yet!" and then big smile and hurry back in for the next order (At least I knew this much. Big Smiles can get you places.) Finally, their order came up and my manager said she would follow me out with the rest of the plates. As I approached the Brazilian table (and this is where my talent truly shines) I held out the loaded plates of food, or maybe projected the plates of food, or . . . I don't . . . know. I just remember heaving plates out over their heads and shouting "Hey, look it's number 10!!" And as my arms stopped extending, the plates stopped extending, but little salsa cups stay true to the law of physics and gravity and went off the plates. My Big Smile dropped off my face and ran away. All I saw were salsa cups - gone. As I looked at those plates held by my beautiful extended arms I thought, "Dang! Now I've made a salsa puddle on the floor and I'll have to get more." But, everyone was laughing! . . . "ok . . . laughing can be good. Wait. But, they're not laughing at meeeee." And as I pulled the plates away from my limited point of view, I saw it. Salsa drip, drip, dripping down her head, her face, and sliding down her neck. Then I heard my boss right behind me. "Oh @#&%".
Same cafe, different day, I went to pick up a business man's blueberry smoothies from his little table and . . . whooop! The slick layer of smoothie sweat (condensation) on the glass fooled me into thinking I had a good grip and goodness gracious that thing just lept into that poor man's lap and smothered itself all over his Italian designer Liquid Black pants and John Lobb shoes that cost him a small fortune (I know so, 'cause he told me so).
THE UGLY To be continued . . .
