Thursday, May 25, 2006 by Ospite.


I had been running around the floor for only 15 minutes. I had come in late and was attempting to pick up the slack caused by the wait staff doing extra work I'd do. It was early enough that I had only 3 servers working the floor. Max was in dire need up bussing help, for our busser had called in sick. Wednesdays aren't remarkably busy. I stepped up and went after the remaining glasses on Max's table. Sliding them into the racks in the kitchen, one wet iced tea glass slipped from my grip and launched itself for the floor.

My reflexes engaged and I went to grab the glass before it shattered on the stainless steel dish bay. My reflexes were not quite fast enough. As my fingers closed around the top on the glass the bottom reached steel/glass impact and the glass shattered...with my fingers closing around the rim.

The explosion sent shards every direction, including into the middle finger of my right (dominant) hand. The edge made contact under the center of the fingernail, cutting straight down and to the right. Suddenly I was aware of the pain used by the Spanish Inquisition to find heretics among the masses. I have to admit, the amount of blood was impressive.

So now I have two problems: 1) I have shattered glass everywhere and 2) my finger is dripping a rich red blood onto the floor and the dirty glasses in front of me.

Cold water and papertowels first. Sweeping the floor second.

The latter one achieved, I walked swiftly to retrieve bandages and then briskly to the bathroom, gripping my finger tightly as the towel became red. I burst through the door and put my finger under the icy water, forcing myself to clean the wound and check for glass. Between keeping it clean and trying to apply enough pressure to stop the bleeding, I had completely ignored a customer washing his hands next to me. He simply stared at my hands while his were remaining motionless under the stream of water coming from his faucet. I tried to read his face. Did I just make this guy sick enough that he'll complain so as to get something comped from his meal? Or is he the sort that can't handle blood?

He looked mildy green, fading to white and exited quickly thereafter forgetting to turn off his sink.

After I bandaged the finger, cleaned up my mess and wandered back onto the floor, his server came up to me.

"What the hell did you do in there?"
"Nothing. Cleaned and bandaged my finger. Why?"
"Because that guy stormed from the bathroom like he'd seen a ghost. White as a sheet, he grabbed his jacket and took off without a word. At least he hadn't ordered yet."

1 Comments:

Blogger irishlucky said...

yikes! i was slicing tomatoes the other day at work, and my knife slipped and i nicked my thumb. luckily the pain didn't register until i after i had my hand under the faucet. my co-worker saw the crimson flow, nearly passed out (such a drama queen, she), then offered to get me a band-aid. i guess some people can't take the sight of blood like you or me.

1:10 PM  

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At your service, Ospite

I am not in the restaurant business, I am in the people business. I use every opportunity to people watch, because to me, even the most mundane is fascinating.

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