I was the average teenage dude working the average teenage job.
Seems that double shifts on the weekends was better than beggin’ for money from Mom.
It was a slow Sunday shift, in the morning around eleven,
But when those Church crowds got out to eat that place was anything but Heaven.
It was easy, I was happy, just busing tables and running,
For like two or three customers who had decided to fill their stomachs.
All of a sudden I heard a noise and looked up and out the window
To see an endless parade of vehicles that made the deli look like a pinhole.
And just like that, out of nowhere we got slammed
With an endless demand for sliced turkey and ham.
There were forks covered with napkins covered with sauce covered with pie.
I was the only busser scheduled and I thought for sure that I would die.
I watched them scowl as they waited and howl as they ate.
The smell of bleach pervading seemed to subtly suffocate.
Brim down, clean tubs, bustin’ out and grabbin’ plates.
We were slammed but I was jammin’ there was no time to waste.
Keep your eyes on the prize and keep your cool stay slick.
If you can make it through the rush those tips’ll add up pretty quick.
I was grabbing some lids when all of a sudden


…kids
A swarm of those hazards, a whole bakers dozen
Not a one of them little things had more than two years out the oven.
Now the future of America was practicing making a mess.
That oldie nearly hit the roof when one crawled underneath her dress.
A cold slap hit my face and I peeled back that piece of meat.
Somebody yelled “FOOD FIGHT” and we took it out into the street.
After that a biker gang literally drove into the bar.
While I had my back turned somebody raided the swear jar.
I cursed under my breath and put another dollar in,
Only to see that when I turned around it was already gone again
“FORGET THIS” I yelled and went back to my bus cart.
Jammin’ like I was dancin’ like some kind of rough art.
The feisty food fight was finally finished, my shift was almost over.
I had just one table left to bus and the bikers were almost sober.
I finished (I’m getting’ outta here), cleared my cart and was about to escape my doom.
When I heard my manager speak that word of horror


…”Hey can you do the bathrooms?”
(So I put another few dollars in the swear jar.)