While grabbing a bottle of wine from high up on the shelf above the bar tonight, the bar back fell down. Five or six bottles of wine fell down on top of him from like ten feet up in the air, landing with a low, guttural thunk and shatter on the ground below.
The bar back was fine -- he was walking just a few minutes after it happened, went back to the office to chill out for a while. We sent him home and when he said goodbye, he had a few cuts here and there but said he was okay. I felt sick to my stomach for the next hour in any case, it was so freaking scary.
Everyone in the restaurant saw it happen, and several of my tables asked me, "Is he alright? Is he okay?" through their martini haze.
"Yes, yes," I assured them, pretending everything was as it should be, acting like nothing ever happened. I wasn't quite sure if that was true though, and it wasn't until I saw him clocking out that I was sure that he hadn't been pummeled to death by half a case of Mencia fallen from the sky.
It's kind of thing that just doesn't happen at an office job.
Incidentally, a similar debacle occured last time we did RW in March. A different bar back broke about 30 glasses over our already scant Sunday night supply of Iggy's bread. We had to throw it all away while cleaning up, just moments after 20 people sat down in the dining room, all passionate about sopping up their soggy tapas sauces with bread that we did not have.
Did someone put a hex on the opening night of Restaurant Week? Involving bar backs, glass, and utter inconvenience?
I totally hate Restaurant Week.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
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