Welcome to the Seagull~ [open log]
Who: Gino Weinberg [ginolicious], C.C. [x_grey_witch] & open!
What: Long work day is long. Gino needs excitement and happy fun tiems.
Where: The Seagull - a popular little beachside restaurant in Despina.
When: Early afternoon.
Warnings: Um... it's Gino. That's enough to warrant a warning. And my posts are tl;dr.
There were days when Gino Weinberg would walk through the door of the Seagull, take a deep breath, and think, Yup, today is going to be great. He would go about his job with a big smile, cheerful as can be to customer and co-worker alike. His antics would make people laugh, and his friendly suggestions and tendency to strive to please would make even the grumpiest person who came in cheer up. And not to mention he attracted all kinds of young ladies with that handsome face, that tall, blonde-and-blue-eyed prettyboy physique. The tips were great, and the work was fun.
...And then there were the days like today. The moment Gino came in, his manager was standing at the front counter with a scowl and shouted, "GINO! Hurry your skinny ass up, would ya?! Get over to table three!"
"Good morning!" Gino replied. Just because he was yelling didn't make him exempt from a proper friendly greeting, right? He took long strides past the front area, lined with cushions for people to sit on if they had to wait, rounded the corner into the main dining area... and froze.
The place was a disaster. Broken dishes littered the floor, food all over the hardwood floor, bottles of condoments overturned, saltshakers tipped over on tables and spilling their contents over the edges onto the floor... Table three, the one he had been asked to report to, housed what Gino was sure caused the mayhem: a single young mother with half a million children.
Perhaps things wouldn't have been so bad that day if the lady had been more responsible. She sat talking on her cell phone the whole time she was there and paid only token attention to her kids, who in their impatience to have breakfast would get up and run around if they thought they could get away with it. Even while Gino took their orders, the woman kept babbling on the phone; at one point, she even snapped at Gino for interrupting her. Gino simply smiled and waited. Not put off at all! Not yet.
Between dealing with other tables and cleaning up the mess, he ran back and forth from the Disaster Table (as his co-workers called it) constantly, bringing drinks, refills, meals, sides, replacements when someone would insist their food wasn't right, and was cheerful through it all. He tried to soften the blow by being friendly with the children and trying to play with them a little. Paper and crayons were brought out for them to color with. At one point, he even surrended his brown puppy keychain for them to toss around. Their mother paid no attention to any of it.
All in all, it wasn't too bad... until they left and Gino found that not only was there no tip on the table, but they'd taken his keychain, too. Well. That was a bummer. But at least they were gone. And he could always buy a new keychain! He figured that the kids needed some toys anyway. Probably their mom spent her shells on the phone bill instead of a new doll, for crying out loud. "Once you're finished cleaning up, you can take a break," the manager told him, clearly grateful that he had had Gino to weather that storm for them.
Cleaning up took an hour. The lunchtime rush had begun pouring in before he had even finished. His break had lasted five minutes. And his manager was pissed again, for reasons Gino could not even fathom. But it was no matter. He moved to Table Five where someone had just been seated. "Hi there! Welcome to the Seagull! My name is Gino, and I'll be your waiter. How are you today? Can I start you off with something to drink?"
He ought to think about shortening that introductory spiel a little.
What: Long work day is long. Gino needs excitement and happy fun tiems.
Where: The Seagull - a popular little beachside restaurant in Despina.
When: Early afternoon.
Warnings: Um... it's Gino. That's enough to warrant a warning. And my posts are tl;dr.
There were days when Gino Weinberg would walk through the door of the Seagull, take a deep breath, and think, Yup, today is going to be great. He would go about his job with a big smile, cheerful as can be to customer and co-worker alike. His antics would make people laugh, and his friendly suggestions and tendency to strive to please would make even the grumpiest person who came in cheer up. And not to mention he attracted all kinds of young ladies with that handsome face, that tall, blonde-and-blue-eyed prettyboy physique. The tips were great, and the work was fun.
...And then there were the days like today. The moment Gino came in, his manager was standing at the front counter with a scowl and shouted, "GINO! Hurry your skinny ass up, would ya?! Get over to table three!"
"Good morning!" Gino replied. Just because he was yelling didn't make him exempt from a proper friendly greeting, right? He took long strides past the front area, lined with cushions for people to sit on if they had to wait, rounded the corner into the main dining area... and froze.
The place was a disaster. Broken dishes littered the floor, food all over the hardwood floor, bottles of condoments overturned, saltshakers tipped over on tables and spilling their contents over the edges onto the floor... Table three, the one he had been asked to report to, housed what Gino was sure caused the mayhem: a single young mother with half a million children.
Perhaps things wouldn't have been so bad that day if the lady had been more responsible. She sat talking on her cell phone the whole time she was there and paid only token attention to her kids, who in their impatience to have breakfast would get up and run around if they thought they could get away with it. Even while Gino took their orders, the woman kept babbling on the phone; at one point, she even snapped at Gino for interrupting her. Gino simply smiled and waited. Not put off at all! Not yet.
Between dealing with other tables and cleaning up the mess, he ran back and forth from the Disaster Table (as his co-workers called it) constantly, bringing drinks, refills, meals, sides, replacements when someone would insist their food wasn't right, and was cheerful through it all. He tried to soften the blow by being friendly with the children and trying to play with them a little. Paper and crayons were brought out for them to color with. At one point, he even surrended his brown puppy keychain for them to toss around. Their mother paid no attention to any of it.
All in all, it wasn't too bad... until they left and Gino found that not only was there no tip on the table, but they'd taken his keychain, too. Well. That was a bummer. But at least they were gone. And he could always buy a new keychain! He figured that the kids needed some toys anyway. Probably their mom spent her shells on the phone bill instead of a new doll, for crying out loud. "Once you're finished cleaning up, you can take a break," the manager told him, clearly grateful that he had had Gino to weather that storm for them.
Cleaning up took an hour. The lunchtime rush had begun pouring in before he had even finished. His break had lasted five minutes. And his manager was pissed again, for reasons Gino could not even fathom. But it was no matter. He moved to Table Five where someone had just been seated. "Hi there! Welcome to the Seagull! My name is Gino, and I'll be your waiter. How are you today? Can I start you off with something to drink?"
He ought to think about shortening that introductory spiel a little.