Sick Sisyphus Reference, Friend

A couple of summers ago, I took a part-time job as a server at a local pub/restaurant. I had a full-time job, so this was just for the experience and to pick up some tip money on the side. The pub had been closed for a few years after the old owner couldn’t afford it anymore, so when the new owners picked it up and got it ready for opening again, the town was pretty excited. It’s a bit of a town landmark, right in the middle of our main street.

I applied as soon as I found out and ended up getting hired! I was one of the younger servers, alongside a few older ones. Most of us were women, and the older servers really looked out for us inexperienced ones. Overall, the others on the team were really nice, save for a couple of nasty ones. My new boss was… well… not as great.

[Boss]’s favourite saying was, “If you have time to lean, you have time to clean.” He thought if we took even a second to catch our breaths, he was losing money from us “slacking off.” On slow days, he would find menial, pointless tasks for us to complete. Wipe the bar counter (even though it’s been wiped three times in the past half-hour already), reorganize the menus (even though they’re already perfectly organized), fill up more condiment cups (even though there are already fifty salsa cups ready to go) — stuff like that. The most tedious task, especially in the early months of the summer, was sweeping the side alley that leads to the patio. There were these massive maple trees along the path, and they would drop leaves and seeds like crazy, especially on windy days.

One afternoon in early June, there were only a handful of us working. It got slow, and I got assigned the sweeping task. I swept up the back alleyway as much as I could, but the wind was blowing and the trees just kept dumping more and more seeds onto the path. I did my best until a coworker called me back inside to help serve tables; she didn’t want me missing out on tips, bless her.

I seated the table, got their orders, and started entering them in. Just then, [Boss] stormed up to me.

Boss: “What are you doing?”

Me: “Entering table fifteen’s order. Why?”

Boss: “The side alley is a mess. I don’t pay you to slack off.”

Me: “I swept up as much as I could before this table walked in. It’s a really windy day; that’s why it keeps getting full of leaves and seeds. You’re more than welcome to check the compost bin for how much I actually did sweep up.”

Boss: “No. We don’t finish things halfway here. You’re going back out there and finishing your job. I want it to be spotless. [Coworker] can take table fifteen.”

[Boss] then switched table fifteen from my account to [Coworker]’s account. [Coworker] was an older server, and she and I got along great. She worked as both a server and a bartender, and she used to be a general manager with another restaurant chain. She decided to join this team after her retirement as a part-time hobby. She taught me a whole lot while I worked there, and I’m grateful to have met her.

Coworker: “I’ll hang onto your share of the tips. Best not to make [Boss] angry.”

Me: “He really wants me to make it spotless. Does he know how impossible that is? I’d have to be out there all shift.”

That’s when [Coworker] gave me a smile, and the lightbulb turned on in my head. I still had two hours left in my shift, and it was going to be right into the dinner rush. I grabbed the broom and dustpan and got to work.

I would sweep as much as I could, but every so often, another strong breeze would come by and hundreds more helicopter seeds would flutter to the ground. I kept going. At this point, it started to get busier. A line-up soon began to form out the door. [Coworker] was taking care of tables, but very soon it became clear that the other servers needed someone else to deal with everyone. [Coworker] let them know what was up, and most of them, who tolerated [Boss] at best and hated him at worst, understood.

I kept on sweeping.

Like Sisyphus and the boulder, the task was never-ending. I scooped up pile after pile after pile of leaves and seeds, to no avail.

After forty-five minutes or so, the side door opened suddenly to reveal a red-faced [Boss].

Boss: “Why aren’t you in there serving customers?”

I gestured at the alleyway.

As if the gods themselves had heard the malicious compliance brewing, another strong breeze shook more seeds onto the partially-cleared alley, right in front of [Boss]’s face. The look on his face was priceless.

He told me, in a quieter voice, to get back inside and start taking orders. I handed the broom off to him, and he began to sweep. And sweep. And sweep.

The other servers and I had a good laugh about it inside, and I managed to make decent tips that night. [Boss] realized he couldn’t exactly fire me for following his orders perfectly, and he ended up being more relaxed about the side alley; no one really cares about some leaves and seeds on the ground, so long as they’re not obstructing anyone.

I ended up working there for the rest of the summer before quitting. I hear the pub had to be passed on to new owners after [Boss]’s disorganization got the better of him.

On my next shift, I found a broken broom in the garbage. I’d like to think it was the work of [Boss], red in the face and exhausted from battling against mother nature.