How I Almost Shut Down A Restaurant

Picture it. Spring, 2008. I was in my second year of college, and I recently took a job at the local Bob Evans. I figured it'd be an easy job with my experience at working at my family's bar. I was wrong.

It was one of the worst jobs I ever had. People can be freaks about their food if it's not done right. One man would make you reheat his pancakes over and over again if it got cold before he got to the pancake. And church flies often left fake tips in the hope you'd join their church. The church people were the worst.

One day, I was having some stomach issues. At the time, I suspected lactose intolerance, but I stayed in denial. I didn't mind risking it.

I don't remember what or when I ate that day, but it gurgled in my stomach through the morning rush. At least once, I had to clench to keep myself from ruining a customer's appetite.

Finally, the morning rush disappeared, and I could help clear off the remaining tables. Everyone was busy clearing tables, rolling silverware, and filling salt and pepper shakers. Management stayed in the back. I snuck to the back corner of the restaurant, far away from everyone, and passed gas silently.

I noticed a smell after finishing. I looked around the restaurant. Still, no one noticed me. I figured the smell would disappear,, and no one would know what I did.

Except the smell didn't go away

I took a bathroom break not long after, and when I came out, I heard some of the wait staff complaining about a smell. I didn't think anything of it at first. I went out front, and I noticed some of the management sniffing. Another manager walked across the restaurant sniffing along the walls.

"What's that smell?" I heard co-workers ask. They took turns sniffing around the restaurant to find the source.

"Ha! Sorry guys!" one waiter said jokingly, waving his hand over his butt. Management laughed it off, making comments no one could smell that bad. I tried hard to keep it together.

"A sewer line must've broke," I heard a manager say. "We might have to call someone."

Do you know how hard it is to hide it was you when everyone's walking around the restaurant sniffing everywhere? And then comes the question: Do I tell them I farted? How're they going to react? Would I get fired on the spot?

In the end, I didn't need to worry about it. Not long after watching them smell the whole restaurant, it died enough in there management started sending people home. I might've been too eager to go home that day.

Final thought

I hope I never find out if they knew it was me or not. It's already embarrassing know my gas made the managers consider calling a sewer line. It's also worse knowing they thought the smell was unnatural. Also made me wonder if you could get fired for the smell of your farts.

Now, it's a funny story. Part of me wonders what would've happened if the place did shut down. Would the company be butt-hurt about losing their church crowd? I'll never know.

Not long after that, I started taking the lactose intolerance more seriously. Do I have my times I still risk it? Oh, yes. But I'm more careful about it this time. Alfredo, chicken roll-ups, and macaroni and cheese will always be my dairy weaknesses.

Moral of the story: stay away from dairy products on a busy morning. You never know when you'll have your bosses sniffing around the restaurant.