Thursday, September 21, 2006

Mickey Italiano BUSTED...story at eleven

I can not begin to relate these last two days to you.
I was ready to walk from my job (as in, bolt) both yesterday, and today(and two weeks ago when I GAVE the first "two weeks notice" of my life.)
I fucking hate this job so much, it ties knots in my stomach at night and I pee a little blood in the am.

The sad thing is, I work with three people daily.

I am the guy who would get the best dinner (from the chef) via the dishwasher when I was Front of the House (waitering).
I am the guy who did not call Dajib, Nabs; because I could tell them apart.
When I cooked, I made the "Family Meal (all the employee's) with more love and care than I did the customers.
I loved all these restaurant people I worked with in Manhattan.
Fast Forward:
Staten Island...
I have this "Utility Man" <---pots, pans and jail teeth assisting me. Apparently he "went" (got sent while in Rikers for being on good behavior) to (gasp) 'Culinary School' and he thinks he is better than me.
I gave this job my two day notice because of this guy; and they have not come to me with any compromise. I am so fucking delighted. I felt so liberated when I told them this tonight.
I think they might be happy with this guy being their 'prision chef'? That will work, right? Who doesn't like a good balony sandwich. Poor Bubbies.
I need a job now. I do not want to not be on my feet anymore.
My fucking feet are killing me.
I mean; I'm not like that fat lady in the office who never leaves her chair, it's just that because of years on those black rubber mats my feet are aching.
Oh, the Busted part.
I cashed my check, and I ran up to the New Dorp train station to catch the 7:29. Of course, because I was not waiting for the train, it came early.
By the way, these are above the ground stations. I now had 20 minutes to wait for the next train.
On minute 14 I lit a cigerette and about a minute later I saw this husky man in blue coming down the stairs. Instinctively, I put the cig out. Fatty did not give me a warning. He saw the shaved head and he thought he made a killing. He called for back-up. (He could not, I swear; get in on his radio to check my I.d)) I was soon ensconsed by 4 of NYC finest. I wanted to scream. This was like a Sarte experience. Or a Munch painting. Whatever. I got a ticket after an hour of waiting when tubby said it would take a minute.
P.S. There was a hotty Russian woman cop. She was blonde (like Oxiana Biulle) and she was looking at me like; "fatty is such a dick...he does not even know the code" He didn't. He had to ask the sargeant what the code was for smoking on the platform.---> FAT FUCKING DICK

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