Gringo Shit

It’s Sunday and we’re mad busy.

Fluvio’s home sick so I’m left with the keys to the kingdom. The waiters are all working doubles. The “who gets to go home first” begging ritual is in full swing.

“Oh man I am so tired,” Shlomo says to me. “You can have the rest of my tables and take the cash.”

I’ve been sick for three days. Stoned on antihistamines I’m performing my duties on autopilot. I don’t feel like picking up the slack

“We’re all exhausted,” I reply, “let’s see what happens.”

“Dude pleaseeeee,” Shlomo pleads. He looks crisped around the edges.

“Let me think about it.”

Now Shlomo was out carousing last night. His car broke down on Jerome Ave and he spent all night trying to get a tow truck. He got no sleep. I sympathize. But I have a hard and fast managerial rule I live by…..

What a waiter does the night before is their problem.

Hungover? Detoxing? Burning urination? You should have gotten some one to cover your shift. If you come in and tie on your apron I expect you to do your job. That’s the ethos of working in a restaurant.

I stumble through the rest of my tables and try and remember to smile. When my entrées are delivered I sit on a crate and drink some coffee. It’s the first time I’ve sat all day.

“Someone is at the front door asking about a job,” the hostess says interrupting my rest.

“Is it about the waiter position?”


“Goddamn it,” I say wearily getting up.

As I walk over to the front I see one of the busgirls wearing a garbage bag over her head like a poncho and latex gloves on her hands.

“What’s with the outfit?” I ask

“Someone mierda all over the bathroom,” Olega replies.

“Huh?” I mumble incomprehensively. That Day Quil is really screwing up my synapses.

“Look cabron,” Olega says gesturing to the ladies room.

I open the door. Mistake.

There’s shit all over the bowl and floor. Someone had a bad case of the runs. The smell is overpowering.

“See?” Olega grins.

Sometimes women don’t want to plant their lily white asses on the bowl so they try and “hover.” Combine alcohol with bad aim and you get a mess.

“I’m so sorry you have to clean this up,” I mutter

“It’s ok. It’s my job,” Olega chirps. Grabbing some bleach she enters the hot zone in her makeshift hazmat suit to clean up gringo shit.

We don’t pay her enough.

When I get to the front door the prospective applicant is waiting. He looks like he stepped out of the pages of GQ.

“Are you the owner?” he asks superciliously.

“No, I’m the manager. How can I help you?”

“I’m here for the waiter position. I’m very experienced,” he says looking me up and down. Suddenly I’m conscious of the tomato sauce stain on my tie.

“Please come back tomorrow between 10 and noon,” I say, “The owner will be in then to conduct interviews.”

“Those times don’t work for me,” the man sniffs.

“Well, you coming in during the evening rush doesn’t work for me either. If you were experienced you would know that,” I retort.


I hand the man an application and he leaves. He’ll never come back.

I return to the back where Olega has finished her clean up operation. It’s bad enough the busgirls have to scrape slimy plates of half consumed food they can’t afford to buy themselves. But to clean up some Yuppie’s bowel movement? Gimme a break.

I’d love to find the culprit and leave a little post Tex-Mex present in HER bathroom. You know what I’m talking about.

As the night stretches on the waiters begin to squabble angrily over who gets to go home first. I call them into an impromptu huddle.

“Listen. Sometimes this job just sucks. Long hours are part of it. No one is leaving early and that’s that,” I say. If Olega has to clean up shit – they’re all staying.

Shlomo has a gleam in his eye. I think if he had access to a firearm he might use it.

“That’s it people.” I pronounce. Another rush of Yuppies queues up hungrily at the front door.

You would think the waiters would be happy to make all this money but they aren’t. When a server’s tired money ceases to be a motivating factor. When business is slow they bitch about not having enough shifts. When it’s busy they want to leave early. You can never win.

The night grinds on. Not being a complete asshole I take the last rush of tables and let the other guys cashier out. The kitchen crew is close to mutiny. I close the bistro early.

After I complete the night’s paperwork I clock out and head over to the Irish pub. I shouldn’t be drinking with a cold but my knees are killing me.

Lenny pours me a Guinness. While I’m waiting for the pint to settle I admire the expertly drawn shamrock in the foamy head. Suddenly one of the pub waitresses runs up to the bar.

“Some asshole just shit all over the ladies room!” she cries. Talk about being literal.

“Goddamn it,” Lenny and I exclaim in unison.

Lenny disappears to handle the problem. I stare sullenly into my beer.

“Gringo yuppie motherfuckers,” I sigh taking a sip.

It never ends.

14 thoughts on “Gringo Shit”

  1. Toria says:

    Awwww, that’s really awful Waiter. Damn idiots who don’t have to clean up the mess! Such a bloody pain. I pity the poor people who have to clean up that mess. GROSS does not begin to describe it……
    My daughter’s diaper is bad enough. *shakes head, muttering to myself* You can only wish redemption on these people, somehow, and see how they like it.

  2. Catharine says:

    Honest to God, I think the food service industry is one of the hardest jobs in the world. I never worked as a waitress because I knew I didn’t have the “right stuff.” Dealing with other people’s messes is one of the reasons.

    Kudos to Olega and the waiters and waitresses. And thanks for ranting here, and not at the customers. Some waiters do, you know…


  3. Johnny says:

    Hello!!! Its cool your blog…
    Hugs and Kisses of your plus new friend: JOHNNY…

  4. Manic Mind says:

    It doesn’t just happen in restaurants…

    In my previous life I worked at a credit union. The Supply Clerk for the whole credit union worked out of my branch and she used the public restroom located in the mortgage area because that one was closer to her cubicle than the employee’s restroom which was on the other side of the building. Well, one day she walked in and yup, there was literally shit everywhere. On and around the toilet, on the walls, the sink, and somehow on the ceiling. No lie – saw it for myself. The branch manager, who was very cool and very down to earth went to work on it all by herself, along with the supply clerk who felt bad for finding it in the first place.

    I’m willing to bet that the supply clerk plans ahead a little more and uses the employee’s restroom now. The Public – amazing, horrible, and fabulous. Or something like that.

  5. sMhyla says:

    Looooonnnngggg post, but I did read it. It was hilarious yet sad and gross at the same time. Not to mimic all the previous comments, but I also worked at a restaurant. Thank goodness I did not have to clean up something like that. A few years ago at my work, I heard that an employee was smearing his gifts on the bathroom walls. With some security cameras (outside the door), the mystery was solved. Same thing, the janitor could not be compensated enough. This makes me appreciate my job where I don’t have to clean. Take care.

  6. stuart says:

    I worked for several years as a waiter while going through a rather extended period at university. I was even granted the dubious pleasures of being (acting) head waiter at various times despite there being several people with way more experience. These people were professional waiters (unlike me) & I wondered if they would be upset. There was no extra money & they just laughed at me – they thought it would be funny to see how I dealt with the complaints from the customers AND the staff.

    The worst type of “crap” I had to deal with was when a customer punched his girlfriend a couple of times & another waiter & I intervened. He took a swing at us but was to inebriated to be very accurate.
    That was bad but I think the worst bit was when they phoned the restaurant TOGETHER the next day to apologise for causing a scene.

  7. Anonymous says:

    Great read – I work part time in catering while going to grad school and some of the clients act like such shits sometimes, while some clients and guests are so nice you would think they would do the work for you if they could. Human nature!


  8. Sami-Ann says:


    Before I became a server I worked at a city pool for most of my teenage years. I was a lifeguard for awhile and then did pool maintenance almost exclusively. On the days that I had to open the place in the morning, I was in charge of hosing down the locker rooms. There was one morning when I went into the men’s locker room to clean and I was in the middle of throwing citri-quat on the floor when something in the handicap stall caught my eye. I went over, swung open the door and almost passed out. Whoever this was I hope to God they took themselves to a hospital. Someone had thew up blood ALL THE FUCK OVER THE PLACE. It was all in the toilet, all over the toilet, all over the wall, all over the floor…. holy God. We had to open late and call in some people from the city to deal with it.

  9. jess says:

    it doesnt sound like someone threw sounds like someone was in a fight in there. wow.

  10. Heat says:

    Maybe it was the restaurant’s food that did it to the pooping patron….could be?

  11. Anon says:

    Heat: Food poisoning, Diarrhea, et. al., all take at very least 2-4 hours to kick in.

  12. Servergrl says:

    I have had some very disgusting things happen in my restaurant. A guest once found a pair of shitty underwear in the handicapped womens stall. Not onlwas it shitty, but it was leopard print granny-panties!!! it’s was so gross! But the weirdest part was that lady was still sitting down in our dining room, without her panties on, EWW!!!

  13. Emilayday says:

    a club member once overflowed her adult diaper of which she relieved herself of #2, and kept eating dinner obviously unaware of the stench and the shit oozing out of the waistband of her pants.

  14. Melissa says:

    I was 5 months pregnant and went to eat lunch with a friend. I barfed all over the bathroom. I mean ALL OVER the bathroom. Totally embarrassed I ran back to my table where my friend was waiting. They were getting ready to pay the bill when I told them to add a $75.00 tip. They looked at me like I was nuts. I told them I would explain later and ran to the car and waited for them.

    When they got in the car – they asked what was up. I explained what had happened. My friend walked back into the restaurant and gave the waiter a $100.00 and we left.


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