Unfiltered Story #222196

, , , | Unfiltered | January 9, 2021

Figured it would have been a slow Friday, what being in LA, and having Comic-Con going on down south…

Until the proclaimed, “Hottest Mother F**ker in the West” came into my life.

As an opener, now doing my closing sidework; all that separated me from work and a sweet release was 40 roll-ups. Then a man from the bar came up to me, and asked me in his warmest beer breath, for ‘a manager’. No worries, who doesn’t want to meet a manager? They are cool people with insurance benefits!

Five minutes later, I’m being shoved aside by the same guy. Roll ups be damned! He shoves my other co-worker, and hooves his way over to my female manager, expo’ing in the window. He flips her around by her shoulder, and that’s when I stopped caring about how great my roll-up’s looked.

Apparently, he was not happy about having to pay his tab (Which he paid for with a credit card, and left over 18%). As soon as he touched my manager and started yelling, two other servers moved in as well. Benefits of working in a small restaurant. We slowly start moving this ball of yell towards the front door, when, with swiftness that is only learned from years of kitchen experience, comes my Executive Chef.

Now this man is not only one of the best I’ve worked for; but he is also a 6’3, Southern Mexican, ball of rage. And that’s on a good day.

Even with that, it took five of us to slowly back-peddle this guy out of the restaurant. All the time yelling about how we were being racist, and that he was, to quote him, “The Hottest Mother F**ker in the West!”. Again, he was yelling this towards my Executive Chef. The Co-Owner of our restaurant, and 5 others, who is a native Mexican.

We slowly back peddle him down the road, away from the customers. First Priority. Let him yell. He keeps getting in our faces, but backs off right after. We get him two blocks away, while waiting for the officers to show up that the host called.

Then he grabs my server book out of my pouch. Runs across the street while having a lil’ ticker tape parade, throwing my receipts and cash all over the two-way street.

So here I am, Friday night, picking up merchant copies of my night, some cash here and there… With my boss/chef. All the while, following this guy. Turns out it was a “distraction”, ’cause this guy was parked right across the street. Chef got a good photo of his plate. I got 2/3rds of my credit card slips.

Self-proclaimed “Hottest Mother-F**ker in the West” paid with a credit card, was seen on video. Taped by my co-workers, said where he worked, and then walked us to his car.

Still has my server book. My biggest regret is that I kept some good memories in there. Great notes from tables, lil’ doodles from the hosts… Little things that when you open your book on a bad night, make you feel a bit better…

I don’t care about the money. I care that he came into my place, abused my coworkers, and stole my memories. But, I did learn that my chef/boss is a total bada**, that will walk any threat away from his restaurant.