My dear friend Gearhead is giving me the day off today. This is the first guest submission for this blog.
We were all in our late teens, in the mid 70s, working in a chain restaurant, paying our own way through college. On this evening, although underage, we were all heavily intoxicated, and decided to stop in at our restaurant for eggs and hash browns.
There were three of us. Big Dave, a 285 lb gentleman that grew up in a nice, working class family, Dave ? (I forget his last name) that had no family, no morals, no manners, no brains, no front teeth, almost no stomach (after several operations) and drank tequila like water, and little old me.
As we sat waiting in our familiar surroundings for the waitress to appear, something happened that chilled us to the bone. It was the sound of the double doors to the kitchen being thrown open. BA-BAM!!
We all knew that sound. It was the sound of someone throwing the swinging doors out of their way forcefully.
As we swung around in unison our worst nightmares were realized; it was the District Manager for the chain!! Why was he here at 11:00 pm? He only shows up when someone gets fired! But yeah; I can still hear the sound, “BA-BAM!!” The doors had been thrown open, and here he comes, with a cold hard stare and a steady gait. We’re dead. We’re all dead. And yes, there is a rule that states that anyone can be terminated for activities that “embarrass the company”. We were all drunk.
He stopped at our table. He stood there and stared at us for a few moments.
“What’s going on tonight boys?” he asked glaringly.
“Oh, nothing, nothing, nothing,” we answered.
He stared at us a little more. “Are you boys hungry?” he asked.
We all nodded yes.
“How would you boys like to eat anything and everything on the menu tonight and I’ll sign the check?” he probed.
Now we were really confused.
He continued, “I am working up the new menu. I need the products and pricing from Vops, Danny’s, Hi-Ho’s, Simbo’s and the Tom-Tom restaurants. If you can get that, I will buy you all dinner.”
“When do you need this?” I asked.
“Tonight.” he answered.
“So, how do you recommend that we…” Big Dave started.
“I don’t care, and further, I do not want to know how you come up with the information. That is your business.”
After a focus-group meeting, complete with multi-voting, paredo charts, fishbone analysis, (2 minutes total) we came up with our scientific solution; we would steal the menus. Big Dave was the driver and Low-Life Dave? was my partner in thievery.
First destination: Vops. As we waited in the lobby a cute little gal approached with 2 menus in hand. “Two?” she asked.
“One” I responded as I grabbed a menu out of her hand, and ran for the get-away car with my loser cohort.
We laughed all the way to Simbo’s where, as we walked in we spotted menus on the counter, grabbed one and took off. We’re having fun now!!!
As we walked in to Hi Ho’s, we were greeted by a young pansy-ass host that asked us, “Two?” He had no menus in his hand. We looked around. There were none to be seen! We allowed him to seat us at a table.
“Coffee?” the pimply-chump asked? Wouldn’t you know it, my airhead, loser partner says, “Oh yes please!” Now I am leaning across the table ripping on my dorky co-hort , when here comes the pansy with menus and coffee in his hands.
I grab a menu out of his hand and bolt for the fire door, which proves to be impassible. Then we dash for the foyer and end up in the breeze way with the pansy boy blocking the path of Dave? from the door.
At that moment I realized that I needed to turn around and save Dave? Before I could take one step, and in one fast motion, like the crack of a whip, Dave? Pulls a huge knife from it’s sheath and is holding it right up in the pansy’s face.
Dave? Had a crazed, survival level bend in his expression. I yelled, “DAVE, LET’S GO!!!!”
Panzy boy screamed and took off running back through the restaurant. We burned rubber out of there.
There is more to the story, but I have forgotten it. No one got hurt. Our new menus got printed later on that month. We ate well that night. We all had a new respect for our crew-cut, red neck district manager as well. I’m now thinking that we threw ourselves in harms way.