Somethings are better left alone. They may be crappy, but they've been crappy for a long time and people have grown accustomed to the crappiness. Like the Restarante y Cantina. It's been a local mainstay for many years. It's been a cozy, family place with the best Mexican food in a ten mile radius; it's been a dirty,ramshackle hole in the wall where all the winos in a five mile radius can drown their sorrows for next to nothing. Those two things have kept this place going for the better part of a decade, and now all that's a changin, gracias a El Pechugon.
He seemed cool at first. A bit of a spaz, but cool. He's been making upgrades, bringing in new furniture, tearing up the nasty-ass carpet, etc. People seem to like him. He's chilled out a bit on the hardcore craziness he wanted us to do initially, like shaking people's hands as they leave (Ms. Morena doesn't do handshakes) or singing and wearing sombreros on a customer's birthday. We didn't get out of the new uniform, though. We now have to wear Hawaiian shirts. I don't know...I mean, Ive never actually been to the Yucatan peninsula, but I assume Hawaiian attire isn't all the rage there. Please correct me if I'm wrong.
We've lost a few of our Cantina regulars, and some of the new decor smacks of a Red Robin a la Carnaval, but overall it hasn't been too bad. I was starting to think maybe the Restarante y Cantina would be worth staying at a while longer until...El Pechugon started hitting on me. (Any woman of any age who's ever worked in any restaurant for longer than 3.5 minutes knows about this all too well). At first it was all sort of vague; I thought maybe he was just trying to get to know me, like he was with everyone else. None of his comments or questions were too obvious, although they bordered on questionable. Then I found out he was married with children, and I pushed the creepy flags back down. There could be no way this man was hitting on me - I had just met his family! (After 27 years and endless weird men stories, you'd think I'd stop being so damn naive.)
Pero, I was wrong. So wrong.
He seemed cool at first. A bit of a spaz, but cool. He's been making upgrades, bringing in new furniture, tearing up the nasty-ass carpet, etc. People seem to like him. He's chilled out a bit on the hardcore craziness he wanted us to do initially, like shaking people's hands as they leave (Ms. Morena doesn't do handshakes) or singing and wearing sombreros on a customer's birthday. We didn't get out of the new uniform, though. We now have to wear Hawaiian shirts. I don't know...I mean, Ive never actually been to the Yucatan peninsula, but I assume Hawaiian attire isn't all the rage there. Please correct me if I'm wrong.
We've lost a few of our Cantina regulars, and some of the new decor smacks of a Red Robin a la Carnaval, but overall it hasn't been too bad. I was starting to think maybe the Restarante y Cantina would be worth staying at a while longer until...El Pechugon started hitting on me. (Any woman of any age who's ever worked in any restaurant for longer than 3.5 minutes knows about this all too well). At first it was all sort of vague; I thought maybe he was just trying to get to know me, like he was with everyone else. None of his comments or questions were too obvious, although they bordered on questionable. Then I found out he was married with children, and I pushed the creepy flags back down. There could be no way this man was hitting on me - I had just met his family! (After 27 years and endless weird men stories, you'd think I'd stop being so damn naive.)
Pero, I was wrong. So wrong.
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