Ex-Roommate Alert!

So, my ex-roommate showed up at the restaurant last night. It was bound to happen. She always was the type of person to gravitate towards money and latch on like a parasite.

I successfully evaded her. Hooray for Y.E.L.R.A.!

I'm not ashamed of my job. It's just that I would have to be nice to her and play catch up as if either one of us cared. Plus, all I could see myself saying is, "um... yeah... so, like, I'm a restroom attendant right now." I didn't want to go through the whole rigmarole about how I'm just doing this so I can finish school and yada yada yada. I don't need to prove myself to people I don't care about.

Ah, Weekends.

Your Ever-Lovin' Restroom Attendant had a wacky weekend full of celebrities (major and minor ones), children dressed like Disney characters, and SEX! Yes kids, I had to prevent more couples from slapping nasties in the stalls.

All hell broke loose on Saturday evening when a large group of people showed up at one time. A girl with a dress the size of a postage stamp entered a stall and her thuggish boyfriend followed behind. I kindly let them know that I can only allow one per stall. His response was that she was sick and he had to take care of her.

Honestly, she looked fine to me. In a true moment of greatness where I felt the gods were on my side, she said in a sober voice, "I only have to pee, so get out!" She kicked him out of the stall. As they waited for the elevator a few minutes later it became obvious that he was being a crankypants. Over the noise of loud music and others talking I heard him tell her the "shut the fuck up!" Classy.

About a half hour later she appeared in the restroom again. This time a group of her friends were comforting her and helping her touch up her mascara. I can only hope she kicked him in the nuts very hard to prevent him from procreating.

At the same time this was happening, two women were upset about the bathroom and decided to take it out on me. Woman #1 was upset that the previous tenant of the stall she entered had urinated on the seat. Obviously it was my fault. My nefarious plans carried out once again. (Nya ha ha!) Woman #2 was upset over the design of the restroom. My only response to this was that I did not design the restroom and I was doing my best to make it a comfortable situation for everyone. If she had any complaints, the management would definitely be able to address it. Passing the buck is a beautiful concept at times. I don't normally do it, but what else was I supposed to do when there was twenty people in the restroom and I was trying to help them all with questions?

The best moment of the weekend came on Friday night. A man and woman entered into the restroom at a lull in the evening. No one else was occupying the stalls. He asked, "Are all the stall open?" I let him know that they were all open, but had a suspicion that something was about to happen. My first indication was that she had been in restroom about a minute earlier. Of course, they both entered the handicapped* stall together.

I let them know that I could only allow one per stall. They were okay with that and she left, with a disappointed look on her face.

A few minutes later he finishes his business and exits the stall. As he was washing his hands he said, "Sorry about that. She gets excited sometimes."

What is she, a dog?

Don't worry about me, though. All in all it was a fun weekend. I survived and my pocketbook is sated for now.

Until next time,
Y.E.L.R.A.

************************
*ed. note: Handicapped stalls have more room to work with, don't you know! I'll post some tales of the handicapped stall at a later date.

I Don't Like Wednesdays

Prissy Bitch: "Do you have to stand here all night?"

Y.E.L.R.A: "Well, it is my job."

P.B.: "What do people do in here?"

Y.E.L.R.A.: "Um... they go to the bathroom....?"

P.B.:"And... ?"

Y.E.L.R.A.: "That's pretty much all they do when I'm in here."

Yarrrrrrr!

'Tis Talk Like a Pirate Day!

Anyone caught pissin' on the seat will be forced to walk the plank! Methinks the sharks will be happy with shove some human meat down their gullets!

Enjoy yourselves, landlubbers!

Yarrr.

Was it the Full Moon?

Your Ever-Lovin' Restroom Attendant came face-to-face with an interesting new problem this weekend: What happens when men don't know it's a unisex restroom. Two fine examples popped up on Friday and Saturday night.

(1) Friday evening: A man walked into the restroom, picked a stall, propped the door open with leg, and began to urinate. I sat there patiently, listening to him tinkle, all the time wondering what he was thinking. Then, it dawned on me. He didn't know. Interesting.

When he came out to wash his hands, I kindly let him know that it was a unisex restroom and if he could just close the stall door when he did his business. He was actually embarrassed. He apologized and promised not to do it again.

The next time he came into the restroom he declared, "I know the rules, now!" Good for him. He knew the rules. It still didn't prevent him from pissing on the seat.

(2) Saturday evening: An overweight man whose clothes were actually too big for him walked into the restroom. His clothes were possibly manufactured by Mark Ecko or Sean John. He did not match the decor of the restaurant. It has nothing to do with his race or him being a representative of said race. He was a crass individual who peppered his speech with the word "fuck" a lot. As a side note, he was mad that I did not have any cologne and chastised his friends because he was told this was a classy joint.

Anyhoo... He proceeded to unbuckle his pants and tuck in his undershirt. The problem was that he was out in the open. I let him know that it was a unisex restroom and that women would have a problem with what he was doing. He declared, "I don't give a fuck! They ain't gonna see anything."

At least he wasn't afraid to admit his shortcomings.

Lessons from the Past

Y.E.L.R.A. got off rather late last night. A party comprised of somewhere around 100 people came to whoop it up at the ol' place of employment. Usually it's not a bad thing, but there were a few unique things about this party. First, they worked at another restaurant across town. Which leads to number two: since they are restaurant people, the party was not scheduled to start until around 10pm.

Now, we all know that when a party is scheduled to start at a certain time, most people don't arrive until an hour or so later. This makes for a late night and a tired Y.E.L.R.A.

In retrospect, I'm pissed.

I was not told that this party was happening until around 7:30. My manager, matter of factly, tells me that there is going to be a large party of around 50-75 and I'm probably going to stay until it ends. Usually it's not a problem. I don't mind staying late. However, since I do use public transportation and most of the reliable public transportation shuts down around 1am I was forced to find an alternative transport home.

This was not my managers fault, though. He had just found out at the same time. What was intended to be a small party escalated. Much to everyone's surprise, someone from the other restaurant dropped off a large quantity of alcohol to be consumed by the revellers at around 6:45. It was a lot of alcohol. They then informed the manager of the amount of people that were really coming. Clearly they took advantage of the restaurant and its staff. This doesn't even take into account the amount of money the restaurant potentially lost in alcohol sales, which is really none of my concern.

There is an understanding between people in the restaurant business. It's kind of a "you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours" concept. Restaurant people all deal with the same bullshit from customers and there is a sense of sympathy among each other. It's a fraternal feeling, something akin to soldiers who have fought in the trenches. Restaurant people take care of each other.

Early in the evening I was excited to host this large group of fellow restaurant people. I've talked to employees of other restaurants that are located nearby ours. They are possibly the nicest people I've ever met. I thought I could really enjoy this party.

I didn't enjoy it.

None of these people were friendly. Additionally, none of them tipped me. Of course, they are not required to tip me, but it's a nice feeling when someone does. A dollar to say, "yeah, I've been there, too."

I used to wait tables. I used to hang out with all my co-workers and party afterwards. I'm now reminded why I stopped hanging out with my co-workers. There a big chunk of people that are alcoholics and drug abusers in the restaurant business. You think I'm exaggerating? Ask anyone who has ever worked in the business. People will tell you horror stories . Restaurant people are an amoral micro community that sleeps with each other, drink constantly, and consume large quantities of narcotics. Kinda like Hollywood, but not as much money.

Note to self: Finish school. Also look into changing name of blog to "Confessions of a Misanthropic Restroom Attendant."

The Door Story

Y.E.L.R.A.: "The stalls are all occupied. If you can wait just a few seconds, one is bound to free up.

Guy I Wanted to Punch: "What about that one?"

Y.E.L.R.A.: "They're all occupied, sir."

G.I.W.T.P.: "But the light isn't on."*

Y.E.L.R.A.: "I understand that, sir. The light is burnt out. They are all still occupied at this time."

G.I.W.T.P.: "What about this one?"

Y.E.L.R.A.: "Sir, they are all occupied."

G.I.W.T.P.: "But, the light's not on this one, either."

G.I.W.T.P.'s co-hort: "Dude, I think he made it clear that they're all occupied."

Thanks, G.I.W.T.P.'s co-hort! At least someone was listening. To top it all off, G.I.W.T.P. thought he was a really funny guy. He had to have been at least a foot shorter than me. I could have taken him.

*note: When a stall door closes, a little light above the door turns a nice shade of blue to indicate that it is occupado. Pretty neat stuff.

The Critics Agree...

...that my job sucks. The following are real quotes from guests in the restroom:

(1) "I so don't envy you right now."

(2) "Did you ask for this job?"

(3) "Awww, looks like you drew the short straw tonight."

(4) "Are you on bathroom duty?"

(5) "I hope you get moved up from here." (The guest winked when she said that)

(6) "Where's your next job going to be?" (???)

(7) "You realize you can't do this job for that long. Maybe a few weeks is tops."

(8) "Your job sucks." (Spoken by guest who was upset I would not let her go into a stall with her friend.)

(9) "You're doing a great job." (Guest patted me on the shoulder when she said that one. As if I need reassurance.)

Your Ever-Lovin' Restroom Attendant really despises being told that his job is meaningless. I took the job because it was something I could do while attending class during the day. It is not intended to be my life-long career. It's intended to be an easy job that will not stress me out. The last thing I need is a stressful job that interferes with my school work. Granted, I realize that it's not the best job in the world, but it could be worse. Additionally, no matter which job I do I tend to take some sort of pride in it. Most people do. It's insulting when someone makes your job out to be meaningless.

Whatever happened to manners? I know that most of the idiots who enter the restroom have seen Forrest Gump. They probably think that it's the greatest movie ever made, which also explains why they can't figure out the faucets. I'm sure Forrest Gump's mother told him that if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all. Let that be a lesson to you: Be nice to people no matter what the situation. You never know if your story could end up on the internet. Everyone's got a blog these days.

Alas, fair readers, I'm preaching to the converted. Thanks for letting me get this off my chest.

Love Always,
Y.E.L.R.A.

Isn't There Enough Snow There?

7:20pm Saturday night. A man walks into the restroom.

"I'm Canadian," he states.

"That's okay, you can still use this bathroom," I stated, thinking that would give him a good laugh.

"Do you know," he continued,"where I can get a gram of coke?"

I'm prepared now for this question, unlike the other time. I kindly let him down, letting him know that I would not be able to help him in his quest.

"Do you know anyone who might be able to help me?" our friend from the North continued.

Again, I let him know that I did not have such information.

He then looked at me. In an effort to make light of the situation he ended the conversation with, "Good for you!"

The sad part of this was it was the highlight of the evening. The Labor Day weekend sent very few people to our fine establishment. At least I got off early that night.

The Napkin Story

Gentleman in Restroom: Can I leave my napkin with you?

Y.E.L.R.A: Do you need it for the rest of the evening?

Gentleman in Restroom: Yes, but not for this portion.