
Last night I cut my hand at work. It's sad I'm now a
finn-ed
nublin, but it's the
way it happened that makes me shake my head in
disapproval. We close at 10pm. But at 9:55, people insist on coming in and ordering a three course,
leisurely meal. As I sat and waited for these people to order, eat, and then pay so I could go home, I grew very impatient. I bussed their table in a frenzy because it was already an hour past closing. Bringing the glasses to the dishwasher is a blur at this point. I know one slipped and
broke and cut my hand instantly like it was made of tissue. I started bleeding like a
mofo which caused me to go into my I-just-saw-blood-I'm-going-to-faint thing. This has been happening since my youth. I see blood, especially my own gushing out, and I become light headed and sick. After laying down and sweating for a half hour I got up and went home where Patrick had assembled a make shift medical clinic worthy of the red cross. Also, I was given ice cream.So my message is this: please, if a restaurant is even close to closing for the night don't go in. I promise you your food will not be made or served with love and someone will get hurt.