Panic

I did it again yesterday. For the second time ever. I completely and utterly forgot about a table I was serving.

I had 3 guys at the pizza bar, and a table of 2 at another location. I took very good care of both, until at some point my mind just simply erased all thought of the 2 guys at the table. Gone. Obliterated.

I proceeded to have about a 20 or so minute conversation with the wine guzzlers at the bar. Seriously, more than an entire bottle of wine each. After that, I headed back to the bar and began cleaning. About the time I was wiping crusty espresso grounds from the machine, I suddenly remembered table #2. You can not imagine the sheer panic that washes over you, upon realizing that you have not been by a table in more than half an hour.

I said several choice words.

Dropping the rag, I ran out to the table, fervently praying to baby Zeus that they had magically disappeared, lest I face a very awkward moment. Merciful baby Zeus, nestled in his cradle of lightening somehow heard my pleas, and they were gone. My guess is they asked someone to get them their check, as I do not recall actually giving it to them. And then they left cash. I was able to deduce from the 6 dollar tip that they, through some miraculous means, were not entirely pissed. But oh the wretched panic.

I've only done that one other time. It was a Sunday. I was in the bar. I had a guy at the bar. I dropped off his fillet, and forgot about him for 30 minutes. Except for he was actually there once I finally remembered, holding his credit card with a look of utter disdain plastered on his face. At that point asking how his meal tasted was a panic reaction, and made me look an even bigger fool. The worst part is, he comes in at least weekly, so I avoid him like the plague every time he brings in his wife to get wasted. Seriously, who gets plastered at Carrabbas? Embarrassing.

Please bless that I wont ever do that again.