This is a compilation of several nights. Also, this is less dialogue and more story-telling than usual.

Because of our holiday schedule, we have run out of all kinds of food for the past two Sundays. We were closed for Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, New Year's Eve, and New Year's Day, so we had under-ordered toppings and under-prepared dough on purpose. We just didn't count on being as busy as we were.

The Sunday before Christmas Eve, the Trans-Siberian Orchestra ordered 27 pizzas and 16 salads from us. My mom, who thought this was simply awesome, as she loves their "music," was not amused when I told her that I desperately tried to spell out "Your Music Sucks" in toppings on their pizzas. However, if it wasn't for their order, we would have had a very slow night. Also, they tipped me $45 when they picked up the food. I still think their music sucks, but encourage them to come back next year. Maybe hit me up with some free tickets for Mom? I'll throw in extra toppings, yo.

The biggest problem this caused was that, upon completing their order, we were out of pizza dough (meaning no pizzas, strombolis, or calzones could be made,) out of salad mix, and wings, and dangerously low on bread. This meant we could make appetizers only, so we decided to just shut down the kitchen and do a good deep-cleaning. I even washed my hands for once. (Insert rim shot here) This did not stop one guy at the bar from repeatedly ordering a slice of pepperoni pizza. His main three clues should have been this: The lights were off in the kitchen, we had told him multiple times we were out of food, and I was sitting next to him at the bar.

Christmas Eve morning, I came in to help out with a catering order. Brian (the owner) and I were both very tired and slightly hungover. We were the ones who had made the large order the night before. The first thing he said to me when I walked in?

"Doesn't it feel like we just finished doing this?"

The next thing?

Bri: Hey Josh...do you think people in Nome, Alaska sing "There's no place like Nome for the Holidays!"
JT: blank, hungover stare
Bri: What about people in Rome? Think they sing "There's no place like Rome for the Holidays!"
JT: starts to giggle Hey...how about Mad Max? Think he sings "There's no place like the Thunder Dome for the Holidays!"

It turns out that his wife, Kelly, overheard the whole conversation. She thought we had already been drinking.

Our new waitress is borderline retarded, or incredibly stubborn. Either way, she has yet to learn our menu, and she has been there for well over a month now. Also, we're a pizza and wing joint - our menu is pretty damn simple. As a result, I lost my temper with her Sunday night. It was the first time most of my coworkers had seen me angry. We were unusually busy, I was the only one in the kitchen, and I was having to remake orders left and right because she was screwing them up. If I wasn't remaking orders, I was having to chase her down and explain for the fiftieth time why I couldn't make something that we were out of.

She actually told one of her tables that their pizza was taking too long because it got too hot and melted. I am not making this up. She said the pizza melted. This particular table was full of friends of mine, and they hated her. I actually wound up running food to them because she was too busy texting on her phone at the waitress station. So, when 10 o'clock rolled around, and she sent in a ticket with four separate items I could not make, I lost it. The following conversation may not be exact, but it's pretty damn close.

JT: Randi! Get over here!
Randi: What?
JT: (hands her the ticket) Explain to me why this pisses me off so much.
Randi: blank stare
JT: What are we out of?
Randi: Mushrooms?
JT: For starters, yes. What toppings go on a Bud Man pizza?
Randi: blank stare
JT: Damnit. Pepperoni, Italian Sausage, Mushrooms, Onions, and Extra Cheese. We're also out of sausage, which means I can't make the Village Special, Stromboli, or Barnyard.
Randi: Oh. When did we run out of sausage?
JT: We were out when I got here...four hours ago! Please, please, please learn the menu and pay attention to the 86 board. We're too busy for me to keep doing this.
Randi: Whatever.

As you can all probably imagine, I have a new least favorite waitress.

When I first go to work last night, we were incredibly slow. No food orders in the window, almost no one at the bar. Suddenly, the oven made a loud, deep booming noise.

JT: Ben, you owe me five bucks. I told you babies exploded if we left them in the oven too long.

Finally, towards the end of the night, someone brought up politics. It went from bad to worse.

Harris: So...is everyone going to watch the Iowa Primary tomorrow? I think it's important for Ron Paul to win it.
Eric: Shut up, you rich little Republican.
Harris: Sure, I'm a rich little Republican. That explains why my dad is going to vote for Hilary.
Ben: Your dad is a lesbian???

In an effort to cut this off before people got genuinely mad with each other, I said the first thing that came to mind (which never ends well.)

JT: You know who I'm going to vote for? Hitler.

Unfortunately, I said this quite loudly as there was a lull in the otherwise loud music in the bar. Heads turned towards the kitchen. Not to be stopped, Ben picked up where I left off.

Ben: Hitler, huh? Why is that?
JT: Family values, man. He had a hell of a youth program.
Ben: That is true...you know, everyone always focuses on the negative with Hitler. No one ever talks about all the good things he did.
JT: Exactly. For instance, I haven't heard Mitt Romney talk about looking for the Spear of Destiny, or the Lost City of Atlantis. Who is our candidate for searching out mythical items and places that are rumored to be imbued with magical powers?
Ben: You make a strong argument.

With that, we all went back to work like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

I love this job.

JT out.