The Waiter Dream

Everyone I know who's ever carried a tray has this dream from time to time.

You arrive late for work, due to circumstances out of your control. There are a lot of people in the restaurant, and to handle them the boss has had the busboys set up a number of tables in odd places - such as the parking lot, the alley behind the building, etc. You are responsible for most of them.

The bartenders are all drunk. The cooks are all stoned. The other waiters and waitresses are all playing grab-ass with each other. The busboys are all in hiding.

Every customer asks for something weird, like putting the mayonaisse on the outside of their sandwich, which you can't quite seem to get quite right. You forget about almost every table, and then remember to go check on them about an hour later, at which time they just sort of glare at you. Oh, and of course there's three feet of that mysterious dream jelly on the ground - the invisible stuff that somehow prevents you from moving at more than a slow, deliberate walk.

Then you wake up in a cold sweat.

When you get back to sleep, you most likely fall right back into the same dream, only now you're even more behind because of your little trip back to the real world.

This is why I tend to overtip in restaurants.