Dishwashers are people too! (this post is really about my shoes)

7 Jan

Maybe in your world the dishwasher is a kitchen appliance that maybe breaks the night you host a dinner party and you kick it and call it an asshole. The dishwasher sports a dent and a scuff and eventually the Maytag guy shows up and fixes it and life is easy again.
In my experience, that sort of treatment towards the dishwasher in a restaurant isn’t ideal. For one thing, I wear pretty nice shoes at work and I’m not looking for them to get all messed up. It’s bad enough that my heels get stuck in the holes in the rubber mats and get all disgusting. Do I really need to fuck them up more by kicking the dishwasher?
But the main reason that kicking the dishwasher at a restaurant is frowned upon is because he is an actual person. Well, if you took the time to pay attention to how furiously they replenish the dining room with soup spoons and appetizer plates, you may be convinced that they are machines, (or robots!) not mere mortals. But they are, in fact, people.
Back to my shoes.
So on Saturday nights I like to follow two rules of thumb. Heels and cleavage. I have learned over time that breasts can make certain people (I won’t mention any specific genders on this one) forget how famished they are for solid food. So when it turns out the wait is a little tiny bit (40 minutes) longer than anticipated, my partially nude body really softens the blow. The shoes are because I’m short as hell, and at this point my feet last longer on a busy Saturday night if my heels are elevated. Buying footwear for work is daunting to say the least. It’s my job to look fabulous so they can’t be any of those dorky non-slip numbers. Stilettos get stuck in the little holes in the mats, toes have to be closed so I don’t cut then open on random shards of glass (or ever have to get a pedicure). They can’t be suede or have a leather heel because there’s a lot of crap that ends up on the floor and lord knows it will destroy those puppies almost immediately.
So basically at this point in time I am left with two pairs of Saturday night work shoes. Pair #1 is leopard. They are four years old and thisclose to having holes in the soles. I get an endless flow of compliments from old ladies, young ladies, hubbies and kiddies, and all I can think is “holy shit thank goodness it’s dark in here.” The others are black Coach boots that I love more every time I put them on. I really don’t tend to make large investments in shoes for work because they get the crap kicked out of them more severely than your Whirlpool. So these boots are like a super big deal to me. My favorite part about wearing them tonight was when I jumped behind the bar to be helpful and somehow, half a pomegranate martini ended up inside of the right one, slushing around for a good hour until it finally dissolved into my tights.
Anyway, heels and breasts. My personal keys to a smooth Saturday dinner service.
But don’t think that my job is all glamorous and go deciding that you should leave your mundane teaching job to open a restaurant so you can dress like a flousy AND get paid. This evening I picked a paper towel off the floor (carefully, so as to not expose any unnecessary body parts) and realized, upon inspection that it was actually a ped. You know, those little socks made out of nude pantyhose that they have in the tissue boxes at Macy’s. I know what you’re thinking. What the fuck was it doing there? Just another culinary mystery I’ll never have the answer to.
And don’t quit your day job.


2 Responses to “Dishwashers are people too! (this post is really about my shoes)”


  1. no one will ever compair…. « shelbytown - February 22, 2012

    […] spots are fading. My toe is peeping through the front and they are not peep toe shoes. (See here for more information about shoe needs as a restaurant owner, if you haven’t already done […]

  2. shit my babygirl needs to know. « shelbytown - June 22, 2012

    […] 8. Dishwashers are people too.  […]

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