The first incident happened almost two months ago. It was a normal day at work and then I dropped a salad fork. Tines down. You see, some of our salad forks are actually slightly sharpened at the end of the tines. So imagine a miniature (dirty) pitchfork plummeting toward my perfectly pedicured toes during the middle of a busy shift.
It hurt. Not like a bitch, but enough. I gasped and I kept moving because I had no option. It was busy. I looked down at my feet and there was blood. A significant amount of blood. And no option to slow down.
That's a brief summation of the actual event. I had no choice but to be brief as I had 3 new tables to greet and absolutely no assistance. I slapped a bandaid on and cleaned it later. For those of you not in the service industry, when your server goes missing for what you imagine is half an hour, just keep in consideration that maybe she's going pee or just possibly attending to a pitchfork wound. So, basically, fuck off and relax.
I still have two tiny tine-hole scars in my fourth toe.
And then NYE happened.
I was merrily going about my business and then POW!
Instant pain. I chucked something against the wall in reflex and I believe screamed an obscenity. This time it was unexpected. (Not that I expected the first incident, but at least I could watch it unfold in slo-mo before me. Not the same wtf moment.)
Then I looked down. There in the rubber kitchen mat, stuck propped up at a 40 degree angle, was a dinner fork. It was like a medieval style weapon set out to guard the moat and waiting for approaching enemies.
Like my foot.
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