Friday, March 2, 2012
Food & Life Hellfire for lingering tables: An oddly poetic rant
Posted by Besha Rodell @BeshaRodell on Fri, Mar 2, 2012 at 3:30 PM
My dear high school friend Martin, who is a bartender in Brooklyn, just posted this on his Facebook page:
The next time you find that you are the last people in a restaurant and you've already sent back a beautiful steak and it's 45 minutes after the place says they close, know that the people who work there hate you in a very specific and powerful way and that when you die and find out that God works in the service industry, you're gonna get a humongous boulder to push up that eternal hell-hill and me and the rest of my peeps'll be chillin in heaven, surrounded by heaps of pure white & green & even purple drugs and swimming' in sparkling rose.
Of course it reminded me of this conversation about closing time, but also reminded me of my own days working in Brooklyn, standing in the dining room of the small restaurant where I worked, two hours past closing, hating my lingering customers in that specific and powerful way Martin speaks of.
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