I worked in a large steak house chain during my freshman year in college as
the closing manager. It was steady work and not too challenging physically
or mentally. I loved many aspects of this job really only dreading
end-of-month because I found counting stock tedious and 10-keying
mind-numbingly repetitive. I'd often arrive 30 minutes before my shift, get
a cup of coffee, and spend the extra time chatting with the day crew on how
smoothly (or not) their shifts went; this would give me a general idea how
the evening was going to unfold.

On this day, as I opened the front door and entered the air conditioned
dining area, I was greeted by a group of customers standing with their backs
to me and every table full. I sighed and excused my way past the crush of
waiting customers to get to the back of house. So much for that preshift cup
o' joe.

It was confirmed beyond any doubt that it would be a very long evening as
the unit manager greeted me at the dishroom door with a haggard, "I've been
doin' grill. Carlos sliced his hand on the Hobart. He's okay, a dozen
stitches, but I've been stuck working grill all shift."

"And you've not pulled inventory or run the numbers." I finished.

"Bingo. Sorry 'bout that. You don't have to work the floor tonight if you
wanna get started."

Being young and dumb, I simply shrugged my best WB animation lollypop [/jpeg
sucker].

I looked around the prep area at the employees working. "¡Jose!"

The man, hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, stopped his mixing a batch of
blue cheese dressing and looked over in my direction. "¡Patron! ¿Como es
usted?"

"¡Bueno, gracias amigo!"

Jose, at only 5'3" was one of those back of house employees you could ask to
do any work. He was built like a mini forklift, barrel-chested and broad
shouldered. The only thing showing his 54 years was the peppered goatee. If
asked a question, his answer was always the same, he'd shrug and say, "O.K."

"¿Tiene usted cualquier plan para esta noche?"

"No, patron."

"¿Puede trabajar usted esta noche?"

Jose smiled and shrugged with his usual, "O.K."

"I'm good. We'll finish in record time. I'll help out front now." And I didn't
again think of running the numbers until we closed the restaurant.

The dinner rush was long, one of the most difficult I could remember, and
filled with some really extreme customers. I heard several servers give
voice to the "full moon" complaint throughout the evening. By 10:00pm, we
said good night to the last customer, locked down every door, stacked the
chairs, washed the tables, and Jose and I headed into the walk-ins and
storage areas to start counting cases and cans, weighing loose and opened
stock, and reorganizing the shelves as we went along. Pretty soon it was
well-after midnight. The janitorial staff were in and out, the walls were
washed, tile flooring scrubbed, and bullpen hosed down. With the final tub
of salt weighed and our visual count ended I took my hand-written sheaf of
numbers to the office to quickly run them while Jose volunteered to autoperk
another pot of Mexican Black.

I was just finishing off the first page when Jose came screaming around the
corner and slammed the office door behind him panting and yammering some
unprintable strings of Spanish. He was wild-eyed. He parked his back to the
wall and pinned the door closed with his feet constantly yammering at me.

I'd been robbed once prior and it wasn't something I ever wanted to
experience again. I was freaked pretty badly. I was just able to dial 911.
As the two of us sat there leaning against the door, I tried to get him to
talk to me. All he'd do is shake his head and mutter while his body
shuddered uncontrollably. I managed to get him calmed down enough to
_finally_ stutter and stammer that he'd seen someone walk out of The Cage
(our storage garage in the back) and into the bathroom right near our
server's station. "Great; a robbery. That would cap a perfect shift," I
thought.

Within minutes, the local police had arrived and were banging on the glass
of the front door.

It was a physical challenge to pull Jose away from the floor in front of
that office door but I managed.

As I ran out of the office, I jumped the counter and slid across the
still-wet floor tile. I also [somehow] managed to find the key to the lock
and turn it but I was shaking like a leaf in a wind storm. As I opened the
door, I tattled like a 5-yo cranked on a speedball to the two officers.
Jose, unwilling to be left in the office alone, had also followed me out and
across the counter. We were immediately shooed out of the restaurant and
taken into custody in our parking lot where two more squad cars were pulling
up-and-into slots. The officers went through the whole place, each closet,
stall, walk-in and finally The Cage. We were both (Jose and I) still shaking
uncontrollably while the officers worked their way through the darkened
restaurant. A corporal had been the last officer to arrive and started
pulling the story, slowly, from Jose.

It seems Jose, while making that pot of coffee in the station, thought he
saw someone in the hall back by The Cage and got curious. He went to go
ask. As he entered the darkened hallway, this guy walked right out of the
restroom door (without opening said door) and looked right at Jose standing
there. Jose did the only thing he could think of and ran into my office.
Since my good looks and 5'8", 144 lb. body were such deterrents to violence,
he figured I'd save him.

Officers Ruiz stopped listening at "walked out of the door." Officers
Gonzalez, Remington, Smith and Wesson radioed an "all clear" signal and
pretty soon were back outside. The officers continued questioning us but
soon three of the five drifted off to finish their evening's patrol. I
invited Officers Smith and Wesson in for some coffee so they could do their
reports. The two politely accepted and we all headed back inside. Jose stuck
around to jabber at me some more as I finished my numbers and closed up the
restaurant.

The next day, the unit manager read my log entry and called me before I'd
made it out the door to school. He simply said, "I don't close this place
for a reason. Don't stay that late again."

The Ranger

That was pretty ****ing boring. But I was curious what you were
always posting about and so I read it. And just as I suspected, it
was absolutely nothing about nothing.

ObFood: Bacon, crab, and a perfectly ripe and tasty avocado tossed
salad for lunch. With Girard's Champagne dressing.

-sw

On Fri, 17 Jul 2009 09:58:49 -0700, The Ranger wrote:

> I worked in a large steak house chain during my freshman year in college as
> the closing manager.

<YAWN>

Sqwertz > wrote in message
...
> [snip]

So which puppets are you going to post with today? PVC or SW or JS?

The Ranger

On Jul 17, 10:47*am, "The Ranger" > wrote:
> Sqwertz > wrote in message
>
> ...
>
> > [snip]
>
> So which puppets are you going to post with today? PVC or SW or JS?
>
> The Ranger

Being that you also posted that boring bit of drivel on
alt.folklore.ghost-stories then I'm giving you a C for trying to write
something that really has no merit or imagination. Wait...screw
it...you get a F.

Chemo the Clown wrote:
> On Jul 17, 10:47 am, "The Ranger" > wrote:
>> Sqwertz > wrote in message
>>
>> ...
>>
>>> [snip]
>>
>> So which puppets are you going to post with today? PVC or SW or JS?
>>
>> The Ranger
>
> Being that you also posted that boring bit of drivel on
> alt.folklore.ghost-stories then I'm giving you a C for trying to write
> something that really has no merit or imagination. Wait...screw
> it...you get a F.

Well I enjoyed reading about it!

On Jul 17, 1:42*pm, "Ophelia" > wrote:
[snip]
> Well I enjoyed reading about it!

Thank you, O.

Ophelia wrote:
>
(snips)
> Well I enjoyed reading about it!

Me, too! Besides, it had a happy ending! Or would that be; it
didn't have an unhappy ending <G>.

Sky

--
Ultra Ultimate Kitchen Rule - Use the Timer!
Ultimate Kitchen Rule -- Cook's Choice!!

On Jul 17, 1:35*pm, Chemo the Clown > wrote:
[snip]
> Being that you also posted that boring bit of drivel on
> alt.folklore.ghost-stories then [..]

And you read it twice. I'm flattered! Stay tuned.

The Ranger

On Jul 17, 1:51*pm, The Ranger > wrote:
> On Jul 17, 1:35*pm, Chemo the Clown > wrote:
> [snip]
>
> > Being that you also posted that boring bit of drivel on
> > alt.folklore.ghost-stories then [..]
>
> And you read it twice. I'm flattered! Stay tuned.
>
> The Ranger

I didn't read it twice....your profile lists all the newsgroup you
post in. Sheesh....

On Fri, 17 Jul 2009 10:47:51 -0700, The Ranger wrote:

> Sqwertz > wrote in message
> ...
>> [snip]
>
> So which puppets are you going to post with today? PVC or SW or JS?

Bwhahahahahahahahahahahah!

Get over yourself and accept that fact that multiple, distinct
people really don't care for you or your BS.

-sw

On Jul 19, 8:03*am, Sqwertz > wrote:
[snip]
> [..] accept that fact that multiple, distinct
> people really don't care for you [..]

I can accept that there are a handful of louts like you and duh-Wayne
(whining, pewling, braying) that offer nothing. And I'll willingly
shoulder the dislike they spew. It's part-and-parcel of the whole
Usenet experience. It's when the same louts start playing "me-too"
puppets that gets tiring.

So how is my booster revenue doing? Don't get too greedy; you don't
want those "multiple, distinct people" to turn on you, too.

The Ranger

On Sun, 19 Jul 2009 08:24:48 -0700 (PDT), The Ranger wrote:

> On Jul 19, 8:03*am, Sqwertz > wrote:
> [snip]
>> [..] accept that fact that multiple, distinct
>> people really don't care for you [..]
>
> I can accept that there are a handful of louts like you and duh-Wayne
> (whining, pewling, braying) that offer nothing. And I'll willingly
> shoulder the dislike they spew. It's part-and-parcel of the whole
> Usenet experience. It's when the same louts start playing "me-too"
> puppets that gets tiring.
>

clearly, anyone who doesn't think you're a prince is a lout, offering
nothing, or a sock-puppet of same. thanks for the explanation.

blake

On Jul 17, 1:18*pm, Stu > wrote:
[snip]
> Sounds something like happened to me. [Robbery in progress..]

I've lived through a robbery. I hope to _NEVER_ experience another.

The Ranger wrote:
>
> On Jul 17, 1:18 pm, Stu > wrote:
> [snip]
> > Sounds something like happened to me. [Robbery in progress..]
>
> I've lived through a robbery. I hope to _NEVER_ experience another.

I don't remember reading that one. Did you post it?

I'd like to read it sometime, unless it's gots more
anti-Norwegian bigotry in it.

"Mark Thorson" > wrote in message
...
> The Ranger wrote:
>>
>> On Jul 17, 1:18 pm, Stu > wrote:
>> [snip]
>> > Sounds something like happened to me. [Robbery in progress..]
>>
>> I've lived through a robbery. I hope to _NEVER_ experience another.
>
> I don't remember reading that one. Did you post it?
>
> I'd like to read it sometime, unless it's gots more
> anti-Norwegian bigotry in it.

lmfao

On Jul 17, 2:22*pm, Mark Thorson > wrote:
> The Ranger wrote:
>
> > On Jul 17, 1:18 pm, Stu > wrote:
> > [snip]
> > > Sounds something like happened to me. [Robbery in progress..]
>
> > I've lived through a robbery. I hope to _NEVER_ experience another.
>
> I don't remember reading that one. *Did you post it?

I never wrote it. I probably should as part of some metaphysical
healing process.

> I'd like to read it sometime, unless it's gots more
> anti-Norwegian bigotry in it.

How about I change it to "Finn?"

The Ranger

On Fri, 17 Jul 2009 14:22:15 -0700, Mark Thorson >
fired up random neurons and synapses to opine:

>The Ranger wrote:
>>
>> On Jul 17, 1:18 pm, Stu > wrote:
>> [snip]
>> > Sounds something like happened to me. [Robbery in progress..]
>>
>> I've lived through a robbery. I hope to _NEVER_ experience another.
>
>I don't remember reading that one. Did you post it?
>
>I'd like to read it sometime, unless it's gots more
>anti-Norwegian bigotry in it.

I've been anticipating the day when the Ranger will expose himself as
anti-Welsh, too :-)

Terry "Squeaks" Pulliam Burd

--

"If the soup had been as hot as the claret, if the claret had been as
old as the bird, and if the bird's breasts had been as full as the
waitress's, it would have been a very good dinner."

- Duncan Hines

To reply, replace "meatloaf" with "cox"

On Sun, 19 Jul 2009 17:42:17 -0700, Terry Pulliam Burd wrote:

> On Fri, 17 Jul 2009 14:22:15 -0700, Mark Thorson >
> fired up random neurons and synapses to opine:
>
>>The Ranger wrote:
>>>
>>> On Jul 17, 1:18 pm, Stu > wrote:
>>> [snip]
>>> > Sounds something like happened to me. [Robbery in progress..]
>>>
>>> I've lived through a robbery. I hope to _NEVER_ experience another.
>>
>>I don't remember reading that one. Did you post it?
>>
>>I'd like to read it sometime, unless it's gots more
>>anti-Norwegian bigotry in it.
>
> I've been anticipating the day when the Ranger will expose himself as
> anti-Welsh, too :-)
>
> Terry "Squeaks" Pulliam Burd

what about us micks? (although sheldon has that pretty well covered.)

your pal,
blake

"blake murphy" wrote:
>
> what about us micks? (although sheldon has that pretty well covered.)
>
>

Yeah, but... I don't mean it derogatorily, just for the factualness.

On Jul 20, 9:10*am, blake murphy > wrote:
> On Sun, 19 Jul 2009 17:42:17 -0700, Terry Pulliam Burd wrote:
> > On Fri, 17 Jul 2009 14:22:15 -0700, Mark Thorson >
> > fired up random neurons and synapses to opine:

> > > I'd like to read it sometime, unless it's gots more anti-Norwegian
> > > bigotry in it.

> > I've been anticipating the day when the Ranger will expose himself as
> > anti-Welsh, too :-)

> what about us micks?

It would fully depend on whether you're an Orange or Green.

The Ranger

On Jul 19, 5:42*pm, Terry Pulliam Burd > wrote:
[snip]
> I've been anticipating the day when the Ranger will expose himself as
> anti-Welsh, too :-)

I play soccer with a Welshman, the only one I've ever met to my
knowledge. I asked him which part of Australia he came from. The
Aussies and Scots thought it funny enough to prod him into a new
knickname, Syd. That was a decade-and-half ago...

The Ranger

The Ranger wrote:
> I worked in a large steak house chain during my freshman year in college as
> the closing manager. It was steady work and not too challenging physically
> or mentally. I loved many aspects of this job really only dreading
> end-of-month because I found counting stock tedious and 10-keying
> mind-numbingly repetitive. I'd often arrive 30 minutes before my shift, get
> a cup of coffee, and spend the extra time chatting with the day crew on how
> smoothly (or not) their shifts went; this would give me a general idea how
> the evening was going to unfold.
>
> On this day, as I opened the front door and entered the air conditioned
> dining area, I was greeted by a group of customers standing with their backs
> to me and every table full. I sighed and excused my way past the crush of
> waiting customers to get to the back of house. So much for that preshift cup
> o' joe.
>
> It was confirmed beyond any doubt that it would be a very long evening as
> the unit manager greeted me at the dishroom door with a haggard, "I've been
> doin' grill. Carlos sliced his hand on the Hobart. He's okay, a dozen
> stitches, but I've been stuck working grill all shift."
>
> "And you've not pulled inventory or run the numbers." I finished.
>
> "Bingo. Sorry 'bout that. You don't have to work the floor tonight if you
> wanna get started."
>
> Being young and dumb, I simply shrugged my best WB animation lollypop [/jpeg
> sucker].
>
> I looked around the prep area at the employees working. "¡Jose!"
>
> The man, hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, stopped his mixing a batch of
> blue cheese dressing and looked over in my direction. "¡Patron! ¿Como es
> usted?"
>
> "¡Bueno, gracias amigo!"
>
> Jose, at only 5'3" was one of those back of house employees you could ask to
> do any work. He was built like a mini forklift, barrel-chested and broad
> shouldered. The only thing showing his 54 years was the peppered goatee. If
> asked a question, his answer was always the same, he'd shrug and say, "O.K."
>
> "¿Tiene usted cualquier plan para esta noche?"
>
> "No, patron."
>
> "¿Puede trabajar usted esta noche?"
>
> Jose smiled and shrugged with his usual, "O.K."
>
> "I'm good. We'll finish in record time. I'll help out front now." And I didn't
> again think of running the numbers until we closed the restaurant.
>
> The dinner rush was long, one of the most difficult I could remember, and
> filled with some really extreme customers. I heard several servers give
> voice to the "full moon" complaint throughout the evening. By 10:00pm, we
> said good night to the last customer, locked down every door, stacked the
> chairs, washed the tables, and Jose and I headed into the walk-ins and
> storage areas to start counting cases and cans, weighing loose and opened
> stock, and reorganizing the shelves as we went along. Pretty soon it was
> well-after midnight. The janitorial staff were in and out, the walls were
> washed, tile flooring scrubbed, and bullpen hosed down. With the final tub
> of salt weighed and our visual count ended I took my hand-written sheaf of
> numbers to the office to quickly run them while Jose volunteered to autoperk
> another pot of Mexican Black.
>
> I was just finishing off the first page when Jose came screaming around the
> corner and slammed the office door behind him panting and yammering some
> unprintable strings of Spanish. He was wild-eyed. He parked his back to the
> wall and pinned the door closed with his feet constantly yammering at me.
>
> I'd been robbed once prior and it wasn't something I ever wanted to
> experience again. I was freaked pretty badly. I was just able to dial 911.
> As the two of us sat there leaning against the door, I tried to get him to
> talk to me. All he'd do is shake his head and mutter while his body
> shuddered uncontrollably. I managed to get him calmed down enough to
> _finally_ stutter and stammer that he'd seen someone walk out of The Cage
> (our storage garage in the back) and into the bathroom right near our
> server's station. "Great; a robbery. That would cap a perfect shift," I
> thought.
>
> Within minutes, the local police had arrived and were banging on the glass
> of the front door.
>
> It was a physical challenge to pull Jose away from the floor in front of
> that office door but I managed.
>
> As I ran out of the office, I jumped the counter and slid across the
> still-wet floor tile. I also [somehow] managed to find the key to the lock
> and turn it but I was shaking like a leaf in a wind storm. As I opened the
> door, I tattled like a 5-yo cranked on a speedball to the two officers.
> Jose, unwilling to be left in the office alone, had also followed me out and
> across the counter. We were immediately shooed out of the restaurant and
> taken into custody in our parking lot where two more squad cars were pulling
> up-and-into slots. The officers went through the whole place, each closet,
> stall, walk-in and finally The Cage. We were both (Jose and I) still shaking
> uncontrollably while the officers worked their way through the darkened
> restaurant. A corporal had been the last officer to arrive and started
> pulling the story, slowly, from Jose.
>
> It seems Jose, while making that pot of coffee in the station, thought he
> saw someone in the hall back by The Cage and got curious. He went to go
> ask. As he entered the darkened hallway, this guy walked right out of the
> restroom door (without opening said door) and looked right at Jose standing
> there. Jose did the only thing he could think of and ran into my office.
> Since my good looks and 5'8", 144 lb. body were such deterrents to violence,
> he figured I'd save him.
>
> Officers Ruiz stopped listening at "walked out of the door." Officers
> Gonzalez, Remington, Smith and Wesson radioed an "all clear" signal and
> pretty soon were back outside. The officers continued questioning us but
> soon three of the five drifted off to finish their evening's patrol. I
> invited Officers Smith and Wesson in for some coffee so they could do their
> reports. The two politely accepted and we all headed back inside. Jose stuck
> around to jabber at me some more as I finished my numbers and closed up the
> restaurant.
>
> The next day, the unit manager read my log entry and called me before I'd
> made it out the door to school. He simply said, "I don't close this place
> for a reason. Don't stay that late again."
>
> The Ranger
>
>

When did you start suffering from narcissism? This is classic!

d

On Jul 17, 5:49*pm, D > wrote:
[snip]
> When did you start suffering from narcissism? *This is classic!

I'm glad you enjoyed it! Feel free to talk to any of the dozen or so
that hang on my every post about joining the boosters. Dues are
reasonable. I believe Sqwertz is the treasurer.

The Ranger

On Jul 17, 12:58*pm, "The Ranger" > wrote:
/SNIP/
> The next day, the unit manager read my log entry and called me before I'd
> made it out the door to school. He simply said, "I don't close this place
> for a reason. Don't stay that late again."
>
> The Ranger

Sounds like something that happened to me. A friend and I were out for
a walk when we came across these huge anilmal tracks in the snow. We
followed them for a time and saw that whatever great beast we were
following had been joined by another of his kind.

WTP

"The Ranger" > wrote in
ndwidth:


>
> The next day, the unit manager read my log entry and called me before
> I'd made it out the door to school. He simply said, "I don't close this
> place for a reason. Don't stay that late again."
>


Thanks!! Now I'm going to have bloody nightmares about the place I used to
(have to) visit, but had conveniently erased from my memory till now!!



--
Peter Lucas
Brisbane
Australia

Killfile all Google Groups posters.........

http://improve-usenet.org/

http://improve-usenet.org/filters_bg.html

On Jul 27, 8:26*am, Peter > wrote:
> "The Ranger" > wrote bandwidth:
> > The next day, the unit manager read my log entry and called me before
> > I'd made it out the door to school. He simply said, "I don't close this
> > place for a reason. Don't stay that late again."
>
> Thanks!! Now I'm going to have bloody nightmares about the place I used to
> (have to) visit, but had conveniently erased from my memory till now!!

I live but to serve.

The Ranger

The Ranger > wrote in news:60be8881-34fb-47ba-b64a-
:

> On Jul 27, 8:26*am, Peter > wrote:
>> "The Ranger" > wrote innews:eaSdnbNVD8NRMP3XnZ2dnUV
> andwidth:
>> > The next day, the unit manager read my log entry and called me before
>> > I'd made it out the door to school. He simply said, "I don't close this
>> > place for a reason. Don't stay that late again."
>>
>> Thanks!! Now I'm going to have bloody nightmares about the place I used t
> o
>> (have to) visit, but had conveniently erased from my memory till now!!
>
> I live but to serve.
>


Yeah, right!!

When I have a spare 15mins, I'll let you know the story of the Hamilton
Butter Factory, here in Brisbane.



--
Peter Lucas
Brisbane
Australia


If we are not meant to eat animals,
why are they made of meat?

In article >,
Peter > wrote:

> The Ranger > wrote in news:60be8881-34fb-47ba-b64a-
> :
>
> > On Jul 27, 8:26*am, Peter > wrote:
> >> "The Ranger" > wrote innews:eaSdnbNVD8NRMP3XnZ2dnUV
> > andwidth:
> >> > The next day, the unit manager read my log entry and called me before
> >> > I'd made it out the door to school. He simply said, "I don't close this
> >> > place for a reason. Don't stay that late again."
> >>
> >> Thanks!! Now I'm going to have bloody nightmares about the place I used t
> > o
> >> (have to) visit, but had conveniently erased from my memory till now!!
> >
> > I live but to serve.
> >
>
>
> Yeah, right!!
>
> When I have a spare 15mins, I'll let you know the story of the Hamilton
> Butter Factory, here in Brisbane.

Do tell? ;-)
--
Peace! Om

Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass.
It's about learning to dance in the rain.
-- Anon.


Subscribe:

Omelet > wrote in
news
> In article >,
> Peter > wrote:
>

>> >>
>> >> Thanks!! Now I'm going to have bloody nightmares about the place I
>> >> used t
>> > o
>> >> (have to) visit, but had conveniently erased from my memory till
>> >> now!!
>> >
>> > I live but to serve.
>> >
>>
>>
>> Yeah, right!!
>>
>> When I have a spare 15mins, I'll let you know the story of the Hamilton
>> Butter Factory, here in Brisbane.
>
> Do tell? ;-)



I have to duck out for a bit, but I'll transcribe it when I get back :-)



--
Peter Lucas
Brisbane
Australia


If we are not meant to eat animals,
why are they made of meat?