OK, I quit my job and played golf for a week or two. I woke up, got a cup of coffee, and was trying to figure out what to do that day when my lovely wife said to me If you don’t find a job today don’t bother coming home. I thought I’d look for a job next week, but I now had to find one today, BUMMER

I was dressed casual nice wearing khaki slacks and a polo shirt, not looking too dressy I stepped off the bus. I walked across Farragut Square and right up the steps to the club. A nice receptionist told me to have a seat and to wait for the manager Betty and that she would be right with me. A few minutes later a nice-looking middle-aged women named Betty appeared and took me into her office. She didn’t ask what I thought would be regular employer questions, she asked me if I had exprience and I said yes. She asked how much experience I had, and I told her I has at least fifteen years. And then she asked why I wanted to work there, and I replied that if I didn’t find a job that day that I couldn’t go home. She started laughing and told me I was hired and that I started the next day. She also explained that it was just a service bartender job and it paid # 15.00 per hour and I was expected to work from 10-s Mon-FRI. I politely thanked her and said I could now go home. She laughed again and said I’ll see you tomorrow.

Through the yard and up the back steps to the bus stop I went. Landing at the local drinking hole I ordered a croissant and coffee and looked through the want ads. Plenty of jobs for astrophysicist, engineers, government workers, but zero bartending jobs available. My good pal Chris was working that day and he told me that the Army Navy cub was in need of said bartender. Just a bus ride away. A short bus ride away. 75 cents for a bus ride. So, I caught the bus to downtown.

Tomorrow. I showed up at 9:30. I went in through the main entrance and was immediately told that all employees entered through the back door through the loading dock, Out I went and around to the loading dock. This place had real security guards, with real guns, and they had to sign you in and out every day. Not sure why but I would find out later. Into the kitchen where the soo chef named Reginald pointed me to the service bar. It wasn’t stocked at all. The garnish tray was a mess, and there were only a few beers in the cooler. No wine to speak of and the liquor was woefully shall I say lacking. Thank god I got there early. Just as I got the place in ship shape (note the naval lingo) The orders started coming in. I had no idea how huge this place was. It sat about 125-150 customers; seven servers worked the lunch shift which died out around 2:00.

The drinks were easy, mostly manhattans and martinis with a few glasses of wine and a few beers here and there. I started cleaning up about 2:30 and was done by 3:00. Not knowing what else to do I started a deep dive cleaning of the beer and wine cooler. I restocked the fruit, wiped everything down and went to the employee lounge for the last half hour. Gathered myself and went to leave, To the gourds. To get signed out they had to search my bag. I asked why and they told me that there was expensive artwork and things that they didn’t want stolen.

Next day. Arrived at 9:30, signed in by the guards, found the service bar, and started working. I asked where they kept the booze and Reginald took me to the storage room. He had the key and helped me lad a kitchen cart full of the booze. He seemed very nice and told me if I needed anything I should ask him. I stocked the shelves and the coolers, that were shiny and got ready for the rush. Around 11:00 the dishwasher showed up and started working too. He was quiet and appeared to be a little bit handicaped. And his handicap became even more obvious as the day went on. Lunches were busy. Very busy and I saw all eight of the servers stack and stack and stack tray upon tray in the dish pit. When I was done around three, I headed back down to the break room leaving him there with a pile of dishes on trays so high I thought he’d never get done. I felt bad, really bad. So bad I told my wife about it and she asked why I didn’t help him. All I could say was that it wasn’t my job. Sad Huh.

Day three. 9:30. Stocking the bar and getting ready for the rush. Then the same handicapped dishwasher came in. Same time as yesterday. he slowly started working. Same results. Around one the pile grew higher and higher. By two it was Everest. At two-o-five I started to help him. I washed and he caught the dishes coming out of the machine. I only had to make a few more drinks and then back to the pit by three we had the whole counter busted out and he only ha dan hour or so left. His first words spoken to me were THANKS. I went to the break room and got my stuff and then back to the guards who searched my bag and signed me out.

Day four went along like day three. around two I went to help the handicapped guy with the dishes. It got easier as we found a silent rhythm. Around 2:30 we were busting out the the pile when a woman with a clipboard came over and asked me who I was. I told her I was bill. She asked what my job was and I told her I was the bartender. Then I asked her who runs this place and why they have this handicapped guy working all by himself. And as I”M putting my big size 11 shoe all the way into my mouth she slowly, ever so slowly lowers the clipboard to display her name and the words executive chef. I just stare at her title knowing that I had just lost my job. Then she smiles at me and asked, who told you to help him. I said no one and that he needed help, so I helped him. Then she smiled again and said, well, that’s the first time anyone from the front of the house has ever helped anyone from the back of the house. I replied, I don’t know what kind of restaurants she was used to working in, but where I worked everyone did everything until the work was done.

She smiled again and walked away. ten minutes later Reginald appeared with a ny strip mashed and green beans on a hot plate and said I don’t know what you did but that the chef was impressed. Also, he said the anytime I wanted anything to eat he was instructed to make it for me. Go figure he said.

The next week they hired someone to help that poor kid. I never washed another dish, but I ate like a king for the rest of my tenure at the Army Navy Club