Evil Skippy snorts. What is this? A movie edited for air travel? Don’t you mean big f***ing deal? Sheesh.
Speaking of big-darn deals, you have probably heard the saga about how an Apple engineer left the new iPhone prototype in the bar area of a Redwood City, California restaurant. That is a bad career day. My schadenfreude tendency kicked in when I heard about the poor guy. Don’t judge me. There are times when we all take pleasure at someone else’s misfortune — it’s not just Evil Skippy. There is even a hit musical number about it.
My smugness (thinking that I would never have lost the prototype) lasted about three seconds before Evil Skippy started reminding me about my long list of workplace faux pas. OK, most of us have workplace horror stories where we play the lead role in our own embarrassing movie. Evil Skippy is correct when he points out that I have a long list of such tales. The top two both took place when I was working as a waiter during college.
Picture this: I was 20 years old, relatively innocent (except for the part about getting the job when I was supposed to already be 21) and easily mortified. It was a hot August day in Southern California and I was working the brunch shift. Everyone was dying for one of the restaurant’s famous frozen strawberry Margaritas that afternoon, so I was not surprised when a rowdy party of six all ordered one. The restaurant served them in goblets that could also have served as homes for baby killer whales. Those things were huge and they were heavy. Did I mention that I was also a weakling? I leaned over the table to serve the first of the six drinks, my arm quivering from the strain of balancing so many drinks on a single slippery tray. I sensed movement as one of the goblets wobbled briefly before sliding off the tray and on to the back of the woman sitting at the head of the table. She was wearing a bright pink tube top. (It was the 1970s after all). The woman was, how shall I say it, “well endowed”.
Evil Skippy snorts. Give me a break! You mean she gave Dolly Parton a run for the money.
Like the drinks, I froze. One by one, all five drinks left on the tray slid off and on to the woman in her flimsy tube top. I know it was flimsy because as she jumped up from the shock of the frozen drink oozing its way down her shoulders and back, she also shook herself from side to side. Two shakes and the tube top was history. Still, she kept on a shakin’ and a screamin’ and her now-bare breasts flung strawberry Margarita on everyone within a six foot radius. I draped a cloth napkin over the nearest breast and then ran off to get another napkin or two because it was not a one-napkin job.
The really bad thing is that this was just the second-worst thing I ever did at work. Once the statute of limitations expires, I might tell that other story.
Since misery loves company, what was your worst moment on the job?