19 to 21: A Birthday Countdown

As I walked into work this morning, I noticed a small note next to the computer where I clock in. It read "Justin and Jim: You need to clean the men's bathroom today." There might have been a smiley face after that, and if there was, I didn't see it. And if I would have seen it, I would definitely have erased it. My statement in my head was "I stopped cleaning bathrooms the day I stopped cleaning tables." Which had been true. Until today.

Jim and I tackled the rather gross men's bathroom (I took the sink and mirror; Jim got toilet duty) and finished in under 10 minutes, but it was the nature of the job that frustrated me. I'm there to sell suits, not clean bathrooms. I don't get paid nearly enough money per hour to scrub anything. Plus, wouldn't you figure that a company like the MW would be able to hire some sort of cleaning/janitorial service to clean their bathrooms. I don't know. . . it was just frustrating, and quite gross, and that coupled with the fact that I had no sales in the five hours I was there, well, I considered today a bit of a waste.

But that scrubbing got me thinking about my past jobs. You know, the ones that actually required me to clean up after people. . .

So I figured I would provide you a couple stories from my time at JC (Johnny Carino's, for those not in the know) that make me glad I no longer call that restaurant my place of work:

- One night at JC, we had a large birthday party, complete with many kids, in the one large room we often had parties in (did I mention it was large?) and it was finished off with cake for the guest of honor. This cake was provided by the guests, but it was not really eaten per se. I would say that it was more smeared and smashed into crevices of booths, left under tables, and not enjoyed, as evidenced by the plentiful amount of leftovers on our small bread plates throughout the room. When this party left, it took two of us table tenders (wow. . . haven't made that reference in a great while) a good 15 minutes to completely restore the room somewhat back to its original state, although that was futile, as cake stuck into booth crevices is just too ridiculous. . . The moral of the story: Don't have kids.

- Another night at JC gave my buddy Chris the opportunity to clean up after a toddler who could not make it to the bathroom in time. Now usually, this would mean some form of vomit or spit-up, depending on the age of the child. Well, this was a special event, and I thank God that I was not there, or else I probably would not have had a job after. You see, this child could not make it to the bathroom in time before an explosion that no diaper could have contained. I remember hearing that story the next day and laughing so hard and telling Chris that I would have never cleaned it up. Poor guy never thought of that angle. . . And I'm afraid, that might have been another one of those booth crevice situations, too. . . The moral of that story: Again, don't have kids.

- On the whole, the job was rather thankless. Cleaning tables, that is. In my time picking up after messy eaters, I accidentally stuck my fingers in tomato sauce, spilled beverages of all kinds over myself, had plates shatter at my feet (both my fault and others), was blamed for all sorts of evil that only a customer awaiting a table could create, and even was left to discover some rather unfortunate materials in the bathroom. . .

- Which reminds me. . . There was once a time when I entered the men's bathroom to do my hourly clean-up and as I entered the larger stall, I smelled something awful. Now, it's a bathroom, so I continued to walk towards the toilet and noticed several toilet seat covers on the ground to the right of the toilet. As I got closer, the smell got worse. I wrapped my hand in toilet paper and lifted the edge of one of the papers on the floor. What I discovered was more throw-up than I think I have ever seen at one time (at the time, that is - I do believe that I have seen more at other times since then). The thing that I thought as I covered my mouth and backed away was "How in the world did this person miss the toilet?" It was literally over all the tile to the right of the toilet and nothing in the toilet. . . Either way, I was the lucky buck who got to wheel the mop over to the bathroom and clean up after this person (never did see the culprit. . .). This was not even the only time that I had to clean-up throw-up (are both of those hyphenated? I say yes.) either. . . Another time, it was in the girl's bathroom, and it was almost the same situation. Lucky for me, I got to mop that one up too.

That's good for now, but I would like to make a point as to why I think my time spent at JC was worth it. Not only did I make some good money for awhile (some weeks, looking back on it, were more profitable than some at the MW) but I began my journey to where I am now. At the time, I had been searching for a job for months on end, not able to beg for a job with anyone. But a new restaurant in town gave me an opportunity to begin anew. I started as a Host, performed well, eventually moved to Table Tending, became a certified trainer, gave them everything for almost 1.5 years and then left when they weren't willing to be flexible with my hours when I wanted to coach basketball. I had trouble leaving because I had no set income if I left, but I asked a friend to get me in at his job (that would be the FL) and I interviewed there, earning a job there only two days after my last at JC. I worked hard there too, putting my time in for 6 months and when an opening occurred, I took over as the Assistant Manager, running a relevant retail store for hours on end at times. It was there that two women came in and I did my thing and I was offered a position at the MW as a paid salesman. The real deal. The Show. And it's through this job that I will be able to begin my future. No matter what it is. . .

Back tomorrow night after GAME TWO. . . Just remember friends, if the SUNS win, it will be a happy post. If not, well, then go ahead and expect the worst of times. . .

Until later,