G.L.Piggy [at] gmail.com
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“Server nightmares” are a common topic of discussion among my co-workers. I used to have them quite often when I started waiting tables, but they’ve slowly dissipated over the years. I hadn’t had one in a long time until the other night.
A brief write up on occupation dreams and how every occupation has them. Share yours in the comments section. Here’s mine:
Had a server nightmare last night. Very detailed. I was waiting on a 15 top which was sitting around a giant wooden table with wooden picnic benches. It was a birthday party and there were several people there who didn’t know what they wanted to drink or to eat, and they were all moving around and switching tickets thus screwing up my ‘system’ for keeping track of the tabs. As I’m bringing out drinks one by one I get sat a table of 9. It takes me at least 20 minutes to get the drinks for the other table and I tell the 9-top that I’ll be right with them. I never make it back because I somehow flash into a supermarket aisle where I’m forced to enter the food orders of my larger table on a point-of-sale system that is set up on a set of monitors in the supermarket aisle. I get hung up on the order because two of the diners ordered dishes called “Rwanda” and “Botswana”. In my dream I spend 30 minutes looking for the “African food” section on the food ordering system, and, of course, I can’t find it. So because I can’t complete these orders – my coworkers are stacking up behind me waiting in line to use the computer that is set up in this random supermarket – I have to switch computers. To do this I have to physically set up the other computer terminal. Unscrew and re-screw cords and monitors and what-not. In the back of my mind I realize that I’ve been entering these orders for about two hours and still haven’t checked back on the other table. It’s also 10 minutes until closing. Also, the new computer terminal is made out of wood. It has the food ordering system uploaded on it, but it also doesn’t have “Rwanda” or “Botswana” on the menu. My restaurant is ’86′ Rwanda and Botswana apparently. This makes sense considering I work at an Italian restaurant. I look over at a TV playing nearby and see news that the right fielder for the Texas Rangers (in my dream), a guy named ‘Miles’ something, just died after running head first through the outfield wall while going after a fly ball. He caught it.