Usually when I talk about work it's to complain. Of course. Conflict is the basis to any story; so is drama. Especially when there is blood involved.
I walked into work on Friday with barely enough time to fix my tie and I was already being sat. I wondered if folks hadn't gained enough weight over the holidays because it was just as busy as any weekend over the last month. No worries though, it's all good for the pocket book. Or as my dad used to say "all the more for me." (And he was talking about food so it's doubly fitting.)
All my tables sat within seconds of one another so I was basically slammed. In. The. Weeds. And what better way to get out than by complete distraction. Like say, a man falling down the 14 stairs that lead to the washroom. It's a loud sound. Quite distinct. Not as much a sack of potatoes as maybe a pillow case full of prime rib with a watermelon-hitting-the-pavement finish. I looked to see the man flat out at the bottom of the stairs with a slowly expanding pool of blood around his head. Holy shit.
"Someone call 911!" I screamed, maybe even twice.
I ran (carefully of course) down to help the guy, who was already trying to get up. I urged him not to and put my cloth to his blood soaked head; a cloth that is usually for carrying hot plates. "Gosh, I hope it's not dirty", I thought. But it's not like I'm usually armed with an arsenal of sterile pads so I told myself to stop worrying about it. I moved on...to the idea that he could die in my hands. People die from falls all the time and this guy was bleeding A LOT. Ok. So that wasn't the case here. Thank God.
In the mean time two other staff had joined me along with the manager. Suddenly I remembered that I had tables and that I had been in the weeds. So where was I now? With blood on my hands. Someone else's blood on my hands. Shit. There was a lot of blood everywhere. And I had been lucky enough not to get any on my clothes. The other staff relieved me of my head-holding duties and I went to wash my hands and arms. 4 times.
And I went back to the weeds.
The rest of the night went off without a hitch. I guess I work well under stress. I was quite impressed with myself. But I just can't get that image of the pooling blood and the weight of his head out of my mind. I hope he's ok.
9 comments:
The human head weight 8 pounds....
good work, superhero!
I'll have the shell steak, extra bloody. Thanks!
You should have been a doctor.
slyde- strong like bull
earl- mmmmmm steaaaaaak.
liz- no way. to much trauma drama.
this is a great story! i loved being in the weeds. its pure adrenalin. And if you pull it off with everyone being satisfied? Even BETTER!!!
congrats samaritan!
melanie- Do you ever have nightmares about being weeded? Like there is all of a sudden 20 people in your section and you can't get to them. That's not as much fun ;o)
in the weeds... I have never heard of that phrase before, but I gather that it means that there are a bunch of people at your tables. This makes your restaurant patrons the weeds.
Also, blood is awesome!
jiggs- and when we're out of something we say it's 86ed. Not as much fun as some other numbers I know.
I can't imagine carrying on at work after that. Mostly I'd be carrying around images of the pooling blood for days.
In the weeds, is a new one for me.
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