You are soooo burnt!
I have worked in restaurants for years and they provide an endless supply of dishwashers, bus people and waitrons ready to have the wool pulled over their eyes. We have sent wide eyed neophytes all over town for left handed smokeshifters, bacon stretchers, cans of blue steam, pure baking cocaine, and binary shrimpherders. At the height of the rush, a waitunit could be relied upon to bring us shots, without even knowing what they were doing. “I need four shots of Stoly citron! Pick this duece up! It has sitting here for five minutes! Ask Monica if she wants to fire table twelve. The apps went out 45 minutes ago! Don’t forget the shots! Go! Go! Go!” But my favorite of all time was when I sent a waitress to the pub for a bottle of fellatio. Michelle was a tall, pretty, sweet, goofy, spastic kid with a high-pitched, loud voice. She loped downstairs to the bar while we cranked up the intercom and she asked George for the bottle. The band was between numbers so the whole pub could hear her. There must have been 80 people in the pub and about 12 in the kitchen. The place literally exploded. Tips were killer that night. The chef took me into the office at the end of the night and tried really hard to chastise me without laughing.