I have mentioned before, and once again I will state, I am a server. The restaurant I work at is quite busy in the summer. Actually it is a fenzied bee-hive like mad house and frankly, I am tired.
Today we had electrical issues. Those issues included the power for about one third of the restaurant went out. The most significant outage was the hood fans. I am going to assume you don’t know what hood fans are: they are the fans that suck op the smoke over where the grills and such are. So, they being out results in the smoke having no outlet.
We did not close when this happened. It took very little time for the restaurant to have a light smoky haze which became worse the closer you were to the cooks line. After about a half an hour in the smoke I turned to a co-worker and said, “I feel kinda dizzy” She half-way agreed that she too, was feeling funny. I have a knack for overreacting and panicking and I figured that this was such an occasion, so I kept on running around headless chicken like and bringing food to the hungry men and ladies of Minneapolis. As I was racing back to the kitchen I went from an upright position to sitting on the floor without really knowing how I got there. I don’t think I fully blacked out, but it was kinda freaky either way. And that’s not the embarrassing part.
I was thinking in my head of those special fire emergency instructions given to us when we were all kids, “Stay close to the floor and get out!” So I ran, head down, out the front door and into a mob of people who were waiting to get into the restaurant. I didn’t want to go back in just yet, but I looked like the mad woman on the street corner who talks to her ball point pen. I sat for a second on one of the chairs meant for patient and hungry future guests, catching my breath while concerned onlookers asked if I was OK.
The worst part, I had to go back in and tend to the rest of my tables, and then get sat again with more tables, filled with those kind citizens who watched my breakdown on the streets of downtown.
I’ll bet they thought I was on crack. Which could be looked at as momumental moment: I, a girl too scared to take pain pills, was mistaken as a druggie. Whoopee!