Waiting In Vegas

Our last assistant manager was escorted out by security for drinking on the job. When I say drinking on the job I do not mean having a refreshing glass of beer to de-stress. What I mean is he was shit-faced (near falling down) drunk. You could also smell the alcohol oozing from his pores from across the restaurant.

He was, at the very least, a pleasant and fun drunk. He joked a lot and skipped around like a leprechaun who had finally found their misplaced gold. He also put receipts behind his ears and roared like a dinosaur.

While watching him frolic around like Cooter Brown was both fun and entertaining, it really wasn’t professional or acceptable. Even though restaurants run themselves, him being so visibly intoxicated was just bad for business. He was escorted off property towards the end of his shift.

This situation left us minus one manager. The remaining managers have been working long hours and working 7 days a week for almost 2 months now – exactly why I would never be them. After scouring the face of the Earth (and possibly Mars) they have finally found what they deem to be a suitable replacement.

Because people within this industry change jobs frequently, it is simply impossible for anyone to start entirely anew. Someone from your new job ALWAYS knows someone from your last job. Past co-workers will spill all of your dirty little secrets long before you have a chance to do so yourself. With that said, our new manager has previously worked at several other locations on the strip and someone immediately recognized him. In an attempt to get him to spill his own dirt, I pretended to know someone he used to work with.

Me: Did you used to work at XXXX?
Him: Yes
Me: Oh, my friend John works there.
Him: Hmmmm…. Good old John.
Me: Yep, Good old John.
Him: Is he still mad at me?
Me: You’ll have to ask him yourself.
Him: What did he say about me?
Me: Nothing really.
Him: He didn’t say anything bad about me?
Me: He didn’t say anything positive.
Him: I’ll take that as a yes.

Later….

Me: So why do you think John doesn’t like you?
Him: You’ll have to ask him that.
Me: Touché