“Glancing up at the clock every few minutes, I’m hopeful to finish work on time tonight. Only forty three minutes left until closing time and the minutes feel like hours. I can’t stand still, my body is aching for a nice long soak in the bubble filled bath. I keep leaning from one leg to the other, feeling the strain from standing all day, desperate for the night to end.
I hear the door beep, signifying a customer walking through the door. I glance up at the clock showing forty one minutes until closing time. I let out a sigh as I realise they want to eat in and my hopes of finishing early are diminished to pretty much zero. A quiet curse escapes my lips as I plaster on a big fake smile and welcome the late comers to their table of the long ago empty restaurant.
I wonder how late I’ll have to stay tonight with zero overtime pay. I step back and allow the drunk couple to study the menu, inwardly cussing and urging them to order quickly, eat even quicker and leave. I guess luck isn’t on my side as usual, when the customers order their first course and add that they will decide on their next course later.
I glance at the clock again thirty five minutes until closing. Then I remember there’s no hope in hell of getting out of here on time tonight. I stand a few tables away from them giving them a sideways glare that they don’t even notice because they are touching each other up under the table. How disgusting is that? They’re in their late 50’s and acting like young teenagers, on a weekday, keeping me from getting home for much needed rest.
I avert my gaze and silently will the rest of my torturous shift at work to end.
An hour after closing time, they’ve just come back through the front door after what must be their 4th cigarette and 2 bottles of wine, I’m ready to give them a piece of my mind. Instead I still have the decency to stifle a yawn facing their general direction.
Even the chef’s have left and I’m standing around looking like a fool, feeling awkward as their tongues are now as active as their hands were at the start of their meal.
I think I’ve had enough tonight. I print out the bill and as politely as my temper will allow, I present it to them and apologise that we must close for the evening. My inner thoughts threatening to be heard. I chide myself for apologising as the couple have zero consideration for our opening hours yet I still feel guilt for pretty much throwing them out.
After 1.5hours of stressful and unnecessary unpaid overtime, the inconsiderate customers leave a shocking 70pence tip. I curse aloud at them as they walk away and wish I could run out and throw something at their ungrateful behinds…”
Written by Ling Lee (06/03/13).
Don’t you just hate when people make you finish work late? Opening hours are there for a reason yet why do some of us feel bad for enforcing the close when the idiots know what time we are shut?
I hope karma gets them twice as bad. Inconsiderate @?!?@#%$!!!