About 5 minutes after she left, a birthday party with about 15 people came in. Right behind them was another 6 tables. All for me. I panicked for a bit but GM F went to take drink orders from a couple of the tables while I got them from others. The birthday party was really demanding. The kid was turning 13 and had a couple friends but mostly it was just his family with him. There were a few smaller children who were very whiny and seemed to not comprehend the idea of their food staying on their plates and not being smeared across the table. And for all of you who don't know, cleaning wing sauce off tables after it's been sitting there for a couple hours is a challenge, to say the least. Stupid fucking kids.
Obviously, this kids mom wanted me to take about a million pictures with her son. And since I only had the entire restaurant to myself, I had plenty of time to sit around and wait for her to think of creative poses for us. I think my favorite was when she had me pick her son up. And this kid was pretty hefty, okay? He was no string bean. I'm 5'1" and 110lbs. Picking up chunky boys who have food and shit all over their NASCAR t-shirt isn't my idea of a good time. I tried to tell her that I had pulled some muscles in my back (total bullshit) so I shouldn't be picking anything up, never mind a human being. She wasn't buying it. So I ended up grunting and lifting and re-adjusting so that I could get this fat ass 13 year old cradled in my arms like a baby. His mom thought it was the most hysterically funny thing she'd ever seen in her life. She took way too many pictures of us like this and I'm pretty sure my face was probably purple and I was about to pass out. Bitch.
I tried to avoid going to their table but that was nearly impossible since they seemed to be guzzling their Pepsi and Rootbeer at breakneck speed. Everyone needed refills every 5 seconds. I was happy when they asked for their check. I printed it off and slapped it down on their table and right as I turned around to go check on my other, rather neglected tables, The Mom asked me if I could do one more thing for them. I sure could!
She asked me to pick up her 3 year old and kiss him on the cheek while she took a picture. Fuck. My. Life.
I picked him up and was promptly smacked in the face with a Hot Wheels car covered in something gooey. I didn't want to know. I looked at this boys' face and saw that he had honey garlic wing sauce everywhere. The Mom commented on how messy he was and chuckled. I looked at her, expecting her to offer to clean his crusty, slimy face. Nothing. She lifted the camera, ready for me to give her lovely little boy a smooch. I lifted him up higher and puckered up, keeping my lips an inch or so away from his face. But of course, that wouldn't do. She insisted I give him a real kiss on the cheek. Jesus. At that point, I just wanted to get it over with so I did it, she took the picture and I put the kid back on the floor.
All that and do you know what she gave me? On a $250 bill, I got $10. Fucking bitch.