My wife and I went to eat at a charcoal grill place for ribs on saturday. There is this area outside the kitchen, but not in the dining room, where the servers pick up their order. You can see inside this area while the door is swinging open & closed. So I see this waitress walking in there. There is one of those yellow signs indicating the floor had just been mopped, which was also evident because I could see the yellow mop bucket right next to it.
Anyway, this waitress slipped on the floor, and trying to correct herself or at least not fall down to hard, she fell ass backwards into the bucket. Her etire butt was in the bucket. Then the door finished closing and that’s all I saw.
I hope she wasn’t hurt, I really do. But…God that was a funny site! I almost choked on my ribs when I saw that. I think I and one other guy at another table were the only ones to see it. He put his hands over his face he was laughing so hard, and when he did he smeared barbacue sauce on his forehead and eyebrows, which made me laugh even more.
The OP reminds me of a time I was in a crowded pub in Madrid and saw a girl sit down on an upright barrel. An upright barrel which was obviously not designed to be sat upon. You can imagine what happened next.
That is very funny, but seriously, wet floors in restaurants are extremely hazardous. I used to work as a waiter and for the life of me, I don’t know why they would mop the kitchen and prep area floors during working hours when they didn’t need it. I remember taking quite a few falls because of it and dropping an uncountable amount of trays of food.
Unless there is a need to mop it, they should just wait until the restaurant is closed.
I’m glad I wasn’t there. I hope she wasn’t hurt, of course, but I probably would have shot barbecue sauce out of my nose.
That reminds me of a time I was interviewing for a waiter job at a local restaurant. I was sitting in the bar, across the table from the manager, facing the doors where the waiters pass in and out of the kitchen. It was a busy night, and one waiter, a late middle-aged gentleman, was particularly energetic. He ran everywhere he went.
One time, he hit the door to the kitchen nearly at a jog, with a tray full of dirty dishes. As soon as he hit the wet floor, his body went perfectly horizontal, and the dishes went everywhere. He came down with a crash right on his back, food scraps landing all over him.
I jumped up and started toward him, hoping to help. “Is he OK?”
The manager turned around in disgust and said in this perfect “Slingblade” redneck voice, “Aw hell. Don’t worry about him. That sumbitch does that at least twice a day.”
Sure enough, 10 seconds later, he was back up, scuttling around like nothing ever happened.