Okay. Let's recap.
My purse was stolen from work. And the shirt I wore to work. (I walk there and don't like to advertise that I might possibly have a pocket full of sunshine, i.e., hundred dollars or so...mostly "or so," so I would wear a different shirt and change at work.) Ever since, and if we're being completely honest...before as well, the place has been shaded by a black cloud.
Yesterday, I get to work and one of the servers looks like he has been crying. His face is blotchy and he doesn't seem...human. (Warning: I will probably be using a lot of ellipses in this post.) One of the bartenders was telling Him to "sit down" and that she would deliver his drinks to his table. He sat there for a minute and then got up and wandered off into the dining room...and then into the kitchen...and the pantry.
I went to set up the patio. I took the place mats, napkins and forks with me because it was all I could carry. Halfway through, the dude came out and put place mats and silverware on one table. I said, "What? Are you just going to do your own tables?" He said, "I saw you out here and thought I would help you." ...with one table. I said, "Well, all the tables need knives if you want to do that." Guess he didn't; he never came back out.
The other bartender came up and told me, "He just walked up to me and said 'I have a roll of quarters for laundry if you want to do 'em'. He repeated it and I told him I still don't know what you're talking about."
Well, the manager was oblivious to all of this. So I told her something seemed a little off with Him. She wanted to know what was wrong and I said, "He's on something. I don't know what, but he's a mess." She said, "I'm so tired of these people and their issues. Why can't we all just be adults?"
She finally went up to discuss what was going on with Him. In the meantime, the food runner came up to me to ask where a table of his was. I said it was the one with the drinks. She said, "I think those people are gone." One of his tables had ordered and left before their food came. I saw him wobbling around at the table. He probably scared the crapola out of them.
(The same thing happened the day my bag was stolen. A server was admittedly on pills and she so offended her table that they left without paying or tipping. She was going to run after them to ask what the problem was. That never goes well.)
I saw the manager following Him around asking him what was going on and where his tables are and if he feels okay and does he want to leave. Later I saw them at the computers and he yelled, "Get OFF my BACK!" She was hardly giving Him any breathing room. This was not the time to discuss the problem. Take his money, tell him he could have his tips later, send him home.
(In the meantime, the busser called and said he was hungover, had overslept, and was on his way.)
I see Him sitting and talking to the manager trying to sort out his money. A few minutes later, I see Him leaving. He evidently called the manager a "fat bitch" and walked out. Ooh. I am thinking that was a bad move.
About 20 minutes later we get a call from the front desk of a condo down the street. They found Him trying to get on the elevator. No, he doesn't live there. He still had on his work shirt so that's how they knew to call us. No one had seen him since. Police were notified. Obviously not good for a man with a prison record. : (
(I ask the bartender where the busser was. He had texted her "I quit.")
I have found a new job that I can do from home, pretty much. This will allow me more Huddy time, since I don't have one whole day with her by myself. And I won't have to worry about taking up granma and my friend's weekends sitting for her.
Now...how do I tell them I need to quit? Ugh. Maybe I should just load up on Benadryl and Red Bull, go to work and let that take care of itself.