86'd
I was sixteen years old in 1984. A friend of mine suggested we get jobs together at a local Mexican restaurant. It was a small, family owned chain of restaurants with a history of stories of the mother, son and daughter owner / management.
I did not know much about restaurant food cooking and I was too young to serve alcohol, so I was hired as a dishwasher. I did not mind the work. Money is money. I was given a regular schedule Wednesday, Friday and Saturday nights. I started on a Wednesday and I worked my first week.
I was just my luck that I developed a case mononucleosis by Monday morning. I was in bed for 10 days. I missed school, sports and work. I got the OK to return to school by the next Thursday. I returned to work the Friday after that.
When I arrived at work, I walked to the back and found my time card at the bottom of the time card holder. I punched in and started washing the dishes that had accumulated after lunch and before the dinner rush started. Everyone walking past me was giving me odd looks, like I had three heads or something. I thought it was because they heard I mono and thought I might still be contagious.
After about a half hour, the assistant manager walked up to me and asked what I was doing. I told him I was washing dishes. He asked if I was scheduled. I said I work Wednesday, Friday and Saturday nights and this was my second week. I showed him the doctor’s note allowing me to return to school and work. He then asked if I had a timecard and if I punched in. “Yes I punched in,” I said. He then asked where was my timecard. I told him I found it at the bottom of the timecard hold with the rest the totaled timecards from the previous week. He looked puzzled. “The strange thing about it” I said, “there was a large ‘86’ written on it.” :confused:
That is when I first learned the restaurant expression of being “86’d”. :eek:
Add this link to...
Tell a friend
Comments