Reader, I nearly died…
this post contains uncensored partial waiter nudity
Waiting tables isn’t regarded as one of the most dangerous jobs in the world especially when you compare it against the far more life threatening industries such as deep sea fishing or being in an army or being a one time mildly successful child actor. Oh Corey Haim – Drugs? Booze? Death? Where did it all go wrong? The loss of another memory of my childhood so soon after the death of the magnificent Michael Foot is almost too much to take. Corey Haim? Michael Foot? Same sentence? How frightfully odd. And yet still Maggie Thatcher and Adam Sandler still walk/shuffle about on this mortal coil. Sigh.
But anyhoo back to the dangers of waiting tables. No, as I say, you aren’t likely to be dragged into the sea or be shot or suffer any other sort of grizzly death as a waiter. The most you are likely to suffer as a waiter is a nasty paper cut or a terrible case of cutlery polishing elbow. Chefs will try to injure/kill you on a daily basis by lobbing everything from hot pans to small children at you but no decent time served waiter will ever get hit. We are like the frigging Matrix man – all twisty moves and athletic jumps. They will try to hit us but they will never hit us. Fact.
But yet I did injure myself the other evening, an injury so ghastly that I drew blood. Stay clam, I’m okay now.
I was busying myself with the ever boring chore of polishing wine glasses when the blasted glass in my hand snapped into two or three pieces. One of these shards saw fit to launch itself through my shirt, through the forest of man hair and lodged itself into my generously proportioned tum tum. At first I didn’t know what was going on. Had I been shot? It was horrific. I’m no John Rambo I can tell you. The sight of blood doesn’t usually upset me, but it was my blood so I was rightly freaked out. Fair enough this wasn’t a scene comparable to, oh lets say, Hellraiser or Platoon or 28 Days Later but still it was real and it was happening. To me.
I slowly unbuttoned my shirt to reveal the hairy and bloody mess underneath. It was a most perturbing sight. Blood and hair and of course glass all massed together. I rocked back on my heels. I felt faint. I pulled the glass out in one swift Rambo-esque move. But unlike him I didn’t feel the need to go massacring any Asians of Afghanis, which would have been difficult anyway as the restaurant was closed at this point.
I dabbed a finger at my open sore and wondered what to do next. My hand quivered over the bottle of Remy but instead I opted for a cup of strong tea. Obviously when the manager d’jour stumbled behind the bar from his hiding place in the office, all shaky from all the coffee, he was more than a little curious as to why I was standing there with my shirt undone, drinking tea and trying to photograph myself.
“I’ve suffered a work place injury. The judge might be interested in these pictures”, I protested with extra special vigour.
“Get over yourself. I get bigger cuts shaving”, replied the flame haired key jangler. Ginger twat.
“But, but But…”
“But nothing. Put a plaster on it and please, for the love of god, button your shirt up.” He was shielding his eyes now, lest he look straight at my rotundness. Ah you can always rely of management to be there for you when you need it most.
I washed the wound but there was no way in hell was I putting a plaster on it, not without shaving round the area first of all. By the time I got home I wasn’t sure who I should sue first, my employer for lack of love and care or the manufacturer of the glasses. In the end I took Little Miss Manuel’s advice and just dropped it. She said I was making a mountain out of a graze.
Graze? She wasn’t there man….she wasn’t there….
the horror…and the cut
heh
51 Comments → “Reader, I nearly died…”
I once had a rubber band snap on me in work. I’m over it now.
Fucking hell! Not the cut, nay, scratch. That pic won’t load in Firefox so you made me open your site in…….Internet Explorer.
Any sympathy I might have had is blown.
p.s. LMM’s right. Pussy.
we share a common pain Ellie…we’ll start a facebook group
My eyes!
Put it away!
Try bleeding for seven days every single month, man. Every. Single. Month.
(Seriously, you should try it, you get to be narky and eat chocolate with impunity while it’s happening!)
I’m surprised that LMM didn’t take the opportunity to wax you before the application of a Disney plaster…
Dear god, I saw that snap on Facebook and thought it was a picture of a cat that had just been spayed. Please tell me that that is your treasure trail, that is way too hairy to be anything else.
not twitter: ie? crikey, how very 1999….listen man, it really really hurt for a bit…
I’ve got a friend who has this great turn of phrase that goes something like “For feck’s sake ye big jessie, I’ve a bigger hole in the end of me knob”, whenever someone receives any kind of wound.
Which is of course not relevant to the scenario at hand, merely a tangent of sorts.
Karen: yup, you win…
babaduck: ha, she did offer a mr men plaster! listen its only just grown back after the last incident
fat sparrow: i’m like a thicket….all over at that
silent koala: what a charming turn of phrase…i’ll use it a the next meeting of the WI…
Browser back to normal now. Must’ve been the shock.
Thanks for including the button. It helps illustrate just how small the nick was.
And that Karen must be really careless when it comes to glasses.
hahahaha….yes butter finger i assume
nick? nick? it’s at least a gash
Jesus man but yer a pansy! I cut my fingers open on a glass in work once and saw my own BONES! Now that’s a PROPER waiter’s/waitress’s injury
It was wonderful to see all those customers turning green at the blood pooled all over the floor…
I once had a glass break similarly… except the shard glanced across my wrist. My wrist, I say! It bled for what seemed like days. I was sure it was some sort of sign that the place I was working was going to kill me. The bleeding eventually stopped and I’m sure I milked the pity of the drunken barflies for a few extra dollars by sharing my battle wound. I still have the scar.
belfast barista: aye and i bet they still asked you for double frappa mochas with soy milk as you bled…
wendy: a scar on your wrist? i bet that scares people from even asking…ha!
I think they were all too busy gagging and running out the door! One guy keeled and looked like he was going to faint, it was awesome.
On the bright side, got 2 months paid off work since my hand was all stitched and splinted…on the bad- I can’t straighten the middle fingers of my right hand anymore, and they’re pretty arthritic now. My days as a barista are numbered.
Hmm…shoulda claimed, but it was 6 years ago. Hindsight, eh?
Don’t wait to get your claim in! You got photographic evidence, nowt a wee bit of photoshop, combined with visits to the doctor to tell of your ‘anguish and post-traumatic stress’, won’t fix to get you a few grand
BB: What? Holy fuck! I think it would take the special effects team from avatar to make it look claimable…
Hell if muppets can get money for stubbed toes, surely your cat-scratch is worth summat?
*scratches out own corneas to try and remove that image*
I’d wager it was your own fat porpoise hands that were too big for the glass, causing it to explode.
BB: I do have a mate who would crash his car into it, you know to make it look better….would have to give him a few hundred though…true bill…
Phil not Grant: **ring ring** hello, is that injury lawyers for you? pielord…
Congratulations Manuel m’dear! Where do you stand on Galway? Do you think you will go?
We may be in the same category but you have my vote anyway!
~faints
I’m booked and all. Bus down to Dublin and plane from there…going on the Friday. You have to go, keep up the Nordy numbers
yes, yes you should faint Cat…it’s the only appropriate response…you put the rest to shame…
Booked and all you say? Great stuff. I need to get my ticket but other than that I’ll be there. I’ll be knocking around Galway into the wee hours of the morning.
Have you been to one of these things before? Will you give away your secret identity?
Yes and yes…they make you wear name tags…well they don’t make you but they give you one. It’s good craic and you get to be bitchy about the winners with other losers….it’s totally like the Oscars….but with less tears and James Cameron…
Name tags? Oh Christ lol
I’m almost certain I know who is going to win the Humour Award so if in the unlikely event I’m a finalist, I’ll prepare myself to cry and bitch in the appropriate manner.
I might even bitterly weep over a bottle of Bucky…I haven’t quite decided.
I’m bringing you a Kinder Egg
I shall eat you kinder egg and hold your hair as you throw up ye buckie….heh
That’s the nicest thing anyone on the Internet has ever suggested doing for me *wipes tear*
King amongst men ye are
Cant claim for small scratch why not claim for stress and emotional damage!! You now suffer constantly due to your new found hyalophobia (fear of glass) You’ll never be able to take drinks orders again!!
(^_^)
Holy hell, get yourself to a vet or whatever it is you waiters do when sickening. And then get a tetanus jab. And a smallpox. And a yellow fever. And maybe some polio vaccine on a sugarcube (like when I was a wee nipper).
Did anyone offer you a pint of their blood? You know, to keep you going? I’ve got some spare if you want. I’ll send a bucketfull your way with some cling-film stretched over the top so nothing spills in transit.
Oh for the love of god didnt think you would have put a photo up!
white rabbit: obviously I don’t mean any of it and I’m more than likely to leave you floundering on the kerb….seriously…heh
weesumo: I am stressed and emotional….good point buddha boy…
Alf: I don’t think you’re taking this seriously Alf…hmmm
LMM: ah the lovely sympathy from my lovely LMM….[hugs]
I love that you and Silent Koala comment on each other’s blogs. Do you ever actually speak in real life or is all of your communication via the medium of the Comment button?
That is worth a week off with pay! In fact we should all take out waiter’s insurance in case such things happen. I stepped on a potato skin in the dish pit area and almost wiped out the other day.
Toria: we have spoken once in real life….once, there was a connection…a waiter to Koala connection…nice
steve: damn potato skins…it’s butter wrappers and veg in our place…I’m a fool for them every time…slip slip slip
I once put a staple through my thumbnail with a staple gun at work. It was as painful as it sounds.
why? why would you do that? or was it an accident, actually knowing you you were probably trying to impress a lady
I recently had a life threatening paper cut, there was blood everywhere and my heart struggled to pump what was left in my body. But a sit down with cup of tea and all was right in the world
Reminds me of that scene from Total Recall. Why not grab a still from that movie and append it te yer claim
‘Quaid…Quaid…’
I work in manufacturing. That cut is something I get just walking into the shop.
sparky: tea is all powerful…
blod: bwahahaha nice!
boxer: fair enough…you get the last word….but it reallt did sort of slightly sting for a bit
I, for one, am glad you didn’t perish because had you “pulled a Haim,” (as we say here in America) who would entertain me with witty and hilariously self-deprecating blog posts each day?
Tragedy avoided.
HARSH! No Kinder Egg for you! lol
No one wore name tags last year at the blog awards.
Oh dear lordy. I can imagine the most painful part of that wound would be the hair all pulling out when you take the plaster off.
I’d recommend a nice cup of tea and a sit down. And a Twix.
(I’m not a real doctor, you understand, so don’t go suing me if you die of Twix poisoing or anything)
Also, wow, you’re pale.
That is all.
MY EYES! MY EYES!