He drops the fuckin’ salad right on the poor lady’s head, man. Miraculously, it just sits there - exactly like it was on the plate - except it’s on her head! Everybody just stops. The whole room goes dead - even the executives just stare in disbelief. Now, Bruce, ( the guy who did this) finds this hilarious! He’s cracking up, and without missing a beat, goes:

“Excuse me madam, but would you like some dressing with that salad?”

He then picks up the little vinaigrette container on the table - and pours it right on her head!

NO WAY! No way, man!

I mean, he is dying laughing now. The nervous wreck of a manager is now practically paralyzed with shock and embarrassment.

Everybody is aghast.

The manager FINALLY pulls him off the floor into the kitchen, holds him there, and calls security. They roughly escort him out of the building. Three huge security guards.

Whoa - now that is one grandiose mind-snap, man.

Now, before you think I’m just making up crazy stories, let me give you a little background, ok? We’re waiters for this hospitality temp agency which does a bunch of corporate dining luncheons and dinners for various companies. It definitely can be fairly uptight and humorless, no doubt.

So this guy, Bruce, works with us - and he’s a bit of a dick…actually he’s a full-time dick, to be honest. Mid 40’s - despises EVERYBODY. An actor who’s had some bit parts in TV shows, maybe a movie, a lot of extra work. Really bitter guy, y’ know? Hates his life, hates that he is still doing this food service stuff - especially with us younger people. Very condescending.

So, this one day, he comes to the gig drunk out of his head; so totally plastered he can hardly walk. Just sucking down breath mints - but we all know what the deal is anyway. It’s this big VIP corporate luncheon at one of the World Trade Center Towers ( this is in the early 90’s - way before 9/11), the resident manager is always a bundle of nerves, but today he is a sweaty mess. His facial tics are out of control - and Bruce comes prancing in wasted.

Seems his agent supposedly got him some big role in a movie in Hollywood, he’s leaving for LA tomorrow, and will never have to work with us mere peons again. That’s the setting for the first course sweep salad to the tables - with salad plates in both hands, inches from the table.


The ironic ending to this story is that I’m walking down a Midtown street about a month later - and who do I see but - Bruce? The thing is - he’s a fuckin’ Good Humor Ice Cream vendor now!


Obviously, he pissed off somebody in Hollywood, too.

What an asshole.

Joe Montaperto

Writer, murderer, bon vivant par excellance - I pay the rent as a catering bartender, and sometimes shoot poison darts at white people from trees in Hoboken, while shouting UUUMMMBBAAAAGGGGAAAA!!