The House Take

"So tonight is a very big night, we really have to impress, these are some very well known names and affluent people around town." The owner, Mike, stated with emphasis.

"As well, this party took much preparation from my wife and I, so the house will be treated as an extra person on the tip out situation." He said.

That statement was met with a look of skepticism from the staff and more than one raised eyebrow.

"Don't worry, this is a huge deal and you will all be taken care of very well." Mike finished.

We, the staff, moved out to finish our preparations and Mike pulled me aside.

"I want you to get some gloves on and pick up cigarette butts and trash outside the front door, the guests will be arriving in limos and I literally want to roll the read carpet out for them, I want the entrance to be spotless." He said.

I gave a forced smile and proceeded to my glorious duty. Time passes, cigarette butts are cleared and Riedels polished.

The guests arrived.

I recognize them immediately, they are what passes for "old money" around here.

Half of them are what passes for assholes around here as well, I know most of them well from the upscale establishment I worked at that proceeded my employment here.

But their money still spends, and well, so the next hours are filled with us moving cases of wine, wonderful coursed dinners and champagne.

Everything went by the book, wordlessly wine was filled, bread delivered, tapas plates, salad, soup and dinner make the rounds.

More and more wine.

Toasts are raised to the "well known" family name, then it happened.

Mid toast I hear a spill and a gurgling sound as an old man knocked over his wine glass.

Lindsay, one of the other staff grabs me.

"I think that man is choking!!!" She said as she pushed me toward the man.

Purposefully I strided forward.

And skidded to a halt.

The old man wasn't choking...

He had hacked all over his plate and his thousand dollar suit.

I took one look at his coffee cup full of vomit and tried to turn, tried to flee.

It was too late, much like the Millennium Falcon in the Death Star's tractor beam, I was being pulled in.

The whole room was quiet, the woman making her toast to how great everyone was froze mid sentence.

All eyes were on me.

I pulled out a couple wine linens and tried to help him clean up.

Then he hacked all over my hands.

That was enough for me, I hightailed it to the kitchen.

"What's going on out there?" Mike asked.

"Some old bastard hacked all over me." I replied.

"Oh fuck." was all he could muster.

I washed my hands over and over, then retreated outside for an outlawed cigarette break.

Walking back into the dining room I noticed the old man sitting there covered in his vomit.
Not a single remember of his family had helped him out.

Not a move to the bathroom, not moving his plate, not getting him clean, nothing.

In fact the toasting had resumed.

"Why don't they help him?" One of the girls asked me.

"These are the rich and snobby, they don't help each other out, its beneath them." I stated.

"They pay people to clean up their messes, I bet they shuffle grandpa there back to the home until its time to break out the old man for another public appearance or a chance to get in his will." I continued.

Finally they cleared grandpa out of the way, leaving a vomit filled bowl and coffee cup. None of the girls looked like they were going to move in so I decided fuck it. I loaded up with linens and dove in.

With a precariously balanced stack of filth covered plates I made my way to the dish station. I set them down and went to toss the dirty linens.

I came back in time to discover Eduardo starting to pick up the plates.

"Careful there brother, those are filled with puke." I warned.

He took one whiff of the foul smelling assemblage and started to hack himself, running out the back door to throw up.

I did the dishes myself, I'm not above that, my first job was washing dishes.

And it can be hard, nasty, wet, smelly and really I do have an appreciation of this unglamorous, yet very necessary position.

So the party went on.

Towards the end one of the hosts, a very well known man around town, came behind the bar where we were cleaning up and started passing out $20 bills around to the ladies as an extra tip (I was the sole male server)

"Everything was wonderful, excellent job."

He got to me, gave a trite smile, turned around and walked away.

"Did you just see that shit?" I said incredulously.

"He just stiffed you on the extra tip!" Lindsay exclaimed.

"I can't believe that, you cleaned up the old man's mess!" Jessica the bartended added.

"I know," I said,"I probably remind him that it happened, and we know perfect people like this never puke, shit or spit."

"It was an embarrassment, and he wants to pretend it never happened, I was part of what happened so I don't exist either." I said.

Mike then made an appearance.

"Great job tonight, Waiter, way to jump in there," he said, "drink up, we have a lot of clean up to do, we'll get you your tip out by Monday."

To be continued...