Like Dog Years, Only Worse

Since I have been a part of the working world, I have also been a part of the restaurant industry. Although this may be only 5 mere years in the grand scheme of things, I think that "restaurant years" are something like "dog years", only worse.  Everyone's job has stresses, but dealing so intimately with strangers is constant stress within itself.  

Forget the cliental for a moment, what I really wonder about, is the breed of people who place themselves to work in restaurants. Yes, I am one of them- I know. But, what is it about this job that seems to be found by so many... 'colorful'  workers? Or... is it the job itself that simply strips everyone it encompasses of their sanity, morals, and common sensical thought process?

My first job was ran by a duo of Jehova Witness middle aged women. One, who was "allergic to artificial odors", and another who would occasionally forget where she left her retainer. (This retainer was some sort of apparatus that held her two front false teeth.) No retainer, no teeth. Every day, we would insert a VHS corresponding to the date, press play, and this was our video camera security system.  Mind you that there were only 30 tapes, so at the end of the month, we would start back at '1' and hope there was nothing important documented on that tape we might need later. On months with 31 days... I guess we were just SOL, or something like that. Oh, and since this whole system was run on an ancient 8 inch TV and VCR, anyone could pause the tape whenever they wanted. We were punished for EVER sitting down, subject to have the schedule changed mid-week without notification, and every two weeks we were paid in cash rounded DOWN to the nearest dollar. 

My second job was owned by a married couple who, in the year that I worked for them, I saw a grand total of 3 times.  Now, although the daily work could be done by a group of 16 year olds with no supervision, the 'business' part of their ownership was nonexistent. They would order no bulk supplies, but send us to the grocery store every morning- then accuse us for their lack of profit. The Regional director was really the glue that held us all together. I loved this man to death, but he was just a little... off. He spent his days speaking to us in his interpretation of tongues, making ice cream sundaes atop his bald head, and searching for Zookeeper jobs on CraigsList, for he felt this would be a step up from where he worked currently. When the store Manager was fired for her lack to manage (at all) I was asked to fill her shoes, for Minimum Wage.  I was told that Minimum Wage was about to go up, so... that was sort of like a raise.  I may have been 17, but I was not stupid.  Needless to say, I left as soon as I found another job.

At this point in my life, I began to work in Corporate restaurants. Based on the fact that I still do, and hope to continue after this is posted, I will not give specific details as to the situations that take place.  Sorry, lets have coffee... I'd love to tell you the dirt.

Stay sane, my service industry friends... Please, I need you.