I had one that I call my italian nightmare.
We were not allowed to write the number 17 on anything in the restaurant. We had to write 16 +1. So needless to say, when we had to do inventory, or a party of 17 people came in or even if it was the 17th day of the month, things got a little complicated. He thought that if you spelt the roman numerical value backwards, it spelt death. Of course my bithday is march 17th, to which he imformed me that I was cursed.
We also were not allowed to write in red ink of any kind, and if we did, we were fired on the spot.
He too would throw things at you and scream at the top of his lungs if he needed somwthing, usually in italian or some other language, but never english.
I finally had it when I went to season a tenderloin and he grab to salt and pepper and dumped on my head because I was using my left hand. I gently imformed him that we wipe our asses with toilet paper in this country and wash both hands after we're finished, maybe he should try it sometime so he could have the use of both hands. Than I threw the tenderloin in the pan with my left hand and walked off line.
I've had worse since then but he will always remain my italian nightmare  |