Chronicles of trading in Corporate America for a waitress's apron during my very own quarter-life crisis.

Saturday, April 12, 2014

"Son of a doctor's touch, a nurse's love"

Sometimes the things written about dead people make me laugh.  I only kind of feel bad.

Taken from an obituary:  
“While her light finally gave into the wind that gives flight to all our journeys, there will always be a glimmer left behind by what she stood for.”  

The... fuck?  What in the hell does that mean?  I got lost at "gave."

If there is a heaven, I wonder if there’s an orientation process with optional celebrity meet-and-greets.  You sit down with a jaded, tired-looking administrative clerk of some sort, and after the explanation of altered dimensions, assurance of eternal reunion with beloved family and friends, and probably a lot of paperwork, they ask if there’s anyone special you want to see that you couldn’t during your lifetime. 

“Uh, sure,” I’d say, and the clerk sighs and clicks her pen while I think out loud.  “JFK might be cool.  What’s the statute of limitations – like, is Marie Antoinette still here?  I also wanna meet Davy Jones.  Well, and pretty much every dead musician ever.  Ooh, hey, does the 27 Club throw any parties?  Can I go to one?  Those’ve gotta be ragers, and I don’t have to care about my organs anymore.”

I'm almost positive that the tone of this post is due to the overwhelming amount of Jeff (and Tim) Buckley and Elliott Smith on my playlist lately.  

Also, I burned my hand at work.  Despite being newly engaged, I find myself taking a picture of my hand for a totally different reason today.  This burn hurt so badly that I was actually in tears.  Dominant hand, too.  I'm starting to really resent bread ovens.

However, I'm also feeling a little morbid (which I usually try to combat with humor) because a customer collapsed with a seizure in the restaurant last night, and paramedics carried him/her out on a stretcher.  I really, really hope that the customer is recovering well and that his/her family is doing okay.  And I wonder if we comped their bill?

I wasn't in the room when it happened; in fact, my section was on the other side of the restaurant.  I don't know who their server was.  I didn't even know there was an ambulance at the building until my own customers asked me about it.  

This is not the first time, as a waitress, that I've seen a medical emergency at a restaurant: 
  • My cousin/best friend used to work for a metro ambulance service.  He has said that they made at least five stops a week at the local Red Lobster because, apparently, people can pretty much "out of nowhere" develop an allergy to shellfish.  First-hand, I experienced this when I took a boyfriend to dinner for his birthday about 15 years ago; he ate shrimp, per usual for him, and an hour later I was in a hospital waiting room, trying to comfort his grandparents while he was getting medicine to treat anaphylaxis.  He now carries an EpiPen with him when he dines out.
  • Speaking of EpiPens, I had to administer one to a customer when I did my brief stint at Olive Garden -- an act that I know I could've been sued for, but the woman's eyes were so watery and swollen at that point and her nose was running so much, I didn't care.  She was on the floor in the ladies' room and motioning to her handbag a few feet away, slurring, "Epehpengh, Epehpengh."  Fortunately, there were instructions for use on the EpiPen packaging.  I popped it into her thigh, through her jeans, and called 911 from my cell while holding my hand to where I'd just basically stabbed this woman.  By the time the paramedics arrived, the swelling in her face had gone down a bit, and she was able to speak a little easier.  
I then did this for about a week.  The whole thing traumatized the crap out of me.  So HEY, people with allergies:  Pesto is made with pine nuts!!
  • I was breezing through a shift at Outback once when a customer was taken to the hospital.  She had -- get this -- torn her esophagus while eating.  Her entrée was a rack of ribs.  The rest of her party actually stayed and finished their meals, plus celebrated a birthday for one of them, while she was getting treatment at a hospital.  They were completely nonchalant, like it happened all the time.  
  • Three times now, I've seen other servers get carted away in an ambulance.  Two of those times, the servers slipped and hit their heads; one of those servers was pregnant at the time.  The last one was just a few weeks ago, and I don't entirely know what happened to her, but she quit the restaurant shortly thereafter.  

So... yeah, shit happens, it seems.

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