Very nervously, she whispers into my ear, “Who do I speak to about a situation in the ladies?”
And because in my many years of service at this restaurant I have already witnessed blowjobs in the coatroom, passed out women with their panties around their ankles in the elevator, coke lines snorted on the marble countertops of the vanities, and, explosive vomit in the great hall, I am certain that this time, someone has had a baby and abandoned it in full bloody afterbirth in the corner of a stall.
It’s not really my job as a pianist to handle this, but I do know how to play this request very well.
So I grab the most available busboy and after making sure the restroom is clear, I send him in and stand guard at the door.
He comes out perplexed.
“Dude, they’re out of hand towels and there was a turd in one of the bowls.
That’s all it was.
We stock and we flush.
Sometimes, that’s all we can do in any situation.