I just officially retired from Billy’s, and my coworkers have already told me of all my titles and nicknames I had, “Cinderella” is the character they are all going to miss the most. Not just because I am married to Prince Joey, but because I was the “step-sister” to the rest of the hens at the restaurant.
You know what I’m saying. Cinderella! Cinderella! Clean the dishes! Wash the floors! Fold the laundry! Yep, that was me. Somehow I have always been the designated “go-to” girl. I was the one they all called to clean the messes, and trust me, I have seen my share of beauties in my 10-years there. I’ve cleaned vomit off the sidewalk, poop by the dumpster, soiled adult diapers from the bathrooms, bloody bandages on the tables…
Sure, it’s not anyone’s fault when nature calls and accidents happen, but does it always have to be on my shifts? It’s not like my coworkers would call me at home on my days off and say, “Hey Lisa, can you come into work to clean up a spill on aisle one, please.”
No, I had never heard of these incidents happening when I was not present. It is almost like it’s saved just for my shifts like some kind of special gift.
Dang, our original hostess, used to call me “Long Arms,” and she would use me to reach for all the things she couldn’t stretch far enough to grab and to pick up anything she refused to touch. Roseanne, one of the other waitresses, used to call me “Kenya,” or so that’s what it sounded like because she was constantly saying, “can ya ” get me this, or “can ya” get me that. Even Mama Bear always called me when she needed something cleaned because she knew my O.C.D would not let me ignore the situation – regardless of its nastiness – once brought to my attention. Plus, my coworkers somehow believed that my gag reflex is less intrusive than theirs. So, they all thought it was only fair for me to clean up anything that even remotely seems gross, especially when that grossness came from a total stranger in the middle of our rush at the restaurant.
I’ll never forget, one day, this man came into Billy’s. I watched him pull into the parking lot like a mad man from the service area window. He barely stopped his car before he jumped out and quickly sprinted to the front door. Then he swiftly shuffled right past the hostess stand, through the dining room, and straight to the men’s room. We all knew what he was about to do. We all commented on it, and as soon as we were all done giggling, every woman working that shift stared at me and said, “You know you are cleaning it, right?”
Even better was the day one of our customers celebrated his 90th birthday with his son when suddenly, out of nowhere, his colostomy bag drained under his table. Before his server (not me) even knew what had happened, she was yelling for “someone” to help! Which at Billy’s meant, “Lisa, hurry up and get something to clean up this mess!”
No, I would not make this poor man or his son clean it up, although, for a change, they did offer. Talk about a crappy birthday present. So again, Cinderella to the rescue.
I guess after being a nursemaid to my older sister, Melinda. At the same time, she spent her childhood in and out of casts and hospitals because of her bone disease, Osteogenesis Imperfecta; it just became natural to me. What can you do? Some people are born to serve, and others to be served. Unfortunately, this princess was designed to be a workhorse. Therefore that is what I am. I’m sure it could be worse. I could be one of those poor souls that either cannot or does not know how to take care of herself. Too bad the thought of waiting around for someone else to do anything for me or even for herself is just too much work for me. It’s quicker and easier for me just to get it done.
So there you have it, I am a “Yang Monkey,” and according to Chinese customs, I will work hard my entire life, always reaching for the stars and planning new adventures. I’ll take that. As my father always used to say, “I’ll rest when I’m dead, but for now, I’ll just LIVE!
Laugh on. Peace out.
Lisa DeMarco is a columnist for Villages-News.com
