I thought of an embarrassing incident that happened to me a long, long time ago. It took place at a restaurant I worked at, under a talented French chef named Pierre.
The retaurant owner was a cheap s.o.b., who’d yell at Pierre if he saw him chewing. If Pierre was chewing, it meant he was eating the profits. We weren’t allowed to eat. Pierre was an overqualified chef who had won awards when he owned his own restaurant in the 80’s, but it had gone out of business and he had since gone bankrupt. Having fallen on hard times, he was working for the cheap s.o.b. (as was I)
Well, since we weren’t allowed to eat, (unless we paid full, inflated price) I was always hungry because Pierre’s award winning food smelled soooooo dreamy deliciously good.
One day, my good friend Jay showed up to discuss doing some remodeling for the owner, and also to give me a ride home. It was twenty minutes to closing, and the owner was busy, so Jay ordered food. He sat outside on the patio, where we could talk candidly. It was a bit chilly and everyone else was inside. He knew I had always wanted to try Pierre’s cooking, so he asked me what I wanted to taste, and he’d order it. I suggested the salmon with the lemon/butter/caper sauce.
Jay ate some, but left a hefty portion of it for me. The owner told me to go ahead, have a seat and eat. (it wasn’t a problem, since it was paid for) So close to closing, I just wanted to get the hell out of there. The cheap owner and Jay went inside to discuss the remodeling, and I started clearing off tables as fast as I could. Out on the patio, there was a steaming half serving of salmon left for me, as well as some green beans. Pierre would also hollow out a roma tomato, stand it on end, and fill it with tiny vegetables.
I thought about sitting down to eat, but didn’t. Standing next to the table, I leaned over, and started wolfing down the salmon.
I’m standing, bent over the table in my black pants and white shirt and apron, shoving large forkfuls of food in my face, and of course, a passerby. It is a man walking down the street, mere feet away. I look up to see the visible disgust on his face.
He doesn’t know my friend Jay ordered the meal for me. All he sees is some waitress leaning over a table shoving someones leftovers in her mouth as fast as she can. He was disgusted enough to actually stare and turn his head to continue staring as he walked past. I stopped chewing in horror, but what could I do? Yell,
“No really, my friend bought it for me…”
I can’t describe the look of disgust on his face. I may as well have been eating shit. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the horror of it.
At first, I was embarassed. But years later, it kind of cracks me up.
posted by Tampons and Ramen @ 11:39 PM
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