Sunday, April 12, 2015

Sunday Favorites: Wait, You Can't Microwave Metal?

New to A Lady Reveals Nothing? You've missed SO MUCH. Not to worry. Every Sunday, I dig through the archives to repost an old favorite. Mostly because I'm too lazy to come up with new content every single day. Enjoy! This story originally appeared when I was waiting tables in International Falls way back on July 24, 2010:

A couple nights a week I wait tables and bartend at a local resort lodge.  I used to think I was a smart cookie, back when I worked in an office cubicle.  But that's because we didn't have to know things like: 
  1. It's not OK to pick up the 468 degree dishes out of the dishwasher with a towel, so as not to burn your hand. Unsanitary.
  2. Bars close at 1AM. It's not OK to stay open after that, even if your customers insist.
  3. People under 21 are not allowed to drink, and so you should really confirm people's age by asking to see their identification.
  4. You really can't carry that much stuff in your arms or you're going to drop it in front of everybody.
    1. It's easier to bring a tub and clear the table than it is to clear it one dish at a time.
  5. You not only have to clock in when you get to work, you have to clock out when you're done.
  6. Pork tenderloin comes with cream sauce, and if the cook forgets the sauce, you should remind him to put it on there because people notice missing sauce.
  7. Don't walkie talkie the owner to come here, without telling him why.

See what I mean? Lots to know. Don't get me started on the use of the register.

Tonight, a table of two arrived before I was completely ready for them, and I noticed that the buns in the warmer were still frozen. WHAT WAS I GOING TO DO??? Oh right, we have a microwave. Crisis averted. The more experienced waitress told me to just throw the whole ziplock baggie (filled with six dinner rolls) into the microwave for like 20 seconds.  But, she didn't realize that I won't microwave plastic, and also I really only needed two rolls. So I took the bread basket, wrapped up the two necessary rolls in the cloth napkin that goes in the bread basket, and chucked the whole thing in the microwave and patted myself on the back for being so SMART. These buns would be ready to bring to the table when the 20 seconds were up.

As I stood there in front of the microwave, I rolled my eyes at the faulty equipment. Lights were flashing on and off inside. Sparking, almost. "Crappy microwave," I muttered under my breath. Then I saw a flame.  

And then it dawned on me. Apparently there is metal in the bread basket. I almost burned down the Lodge, folks.

This right here is a member of Mensa

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