Well, I had written an article for last week on St. Patrick’s Day from the standpoint of a bartender. I was pretty proud of it, but the email with the article never arrived at its target. Thank you, technology. Unfortunately, it was time-sensitive material and nobody really wants to read about a holiday that happened three weeks ago, even though some of you are still piecing together the events from that day. Guess we’ll have to keep that one on file for next March, assuming I’ll still be writing this column. Considering the fact that I’m pretty sure mine is the only column that often comes with a disclaimer paragraph attached to it, that’s a big “IF”.
Keeping with the time-sensitive holiday theme, I’ve decided to write about April Fool’s pranks this week. No, I don’t have some elaborate prank planned, and I won’t be tricking you in any way or throwing a surprise at the end. This is just a true story about a practical joke that just kept on going. It may not be the best series of pranks ever, but it went far beyond its original intent. I’ll start from the very beginning of how this one came to be.
Several years ago, I was working as a manager at a local restaurant and bar. I had applied there as a bartender, but they didn’t need one at the time so I was hired as management by default. Sometimes my resume is more of a curse than a blessing. After working there about two or three years, I decided it was time for a vacation. It was around Thanksgiving—a seemingly harmless time to take a week off. I made all the necessary arrangements: transportation, lodging; I notified all of the relatives I’d be visiting and put in my schedule request. It was to be a great family vacation and everyone involved, especially me, were very excited. All of my ducks were in a row for the trip. I’d spoken to my son, arranged everything with my ex wife, and even rented a car in case my aging vehicle would not survive the trek to the other side of the bridge. I couldn’t have been happier about seeing my parents (Mom was still alive then), my son, my siblings, and all my nephews and nieces. Just the thought of this trip had put wind back into my sails at a time when it was very much needed.
I arrived at work the Tuesday afternoon before Thanksgiving in a fantastic mood for what was to be my last shift for about ten days. I just needed to get through this closing shift, and then I was off for a much needed break. My good friend, and General Manager, had worked the day shift and I was coming on to relieve him and take over the restaurant for the night. He asked me why I was in such a great mood and I reminded him that after tonight I was on vacation, hence the reason for my euphoria. Without expression or hesitation, he said,
“Oh, I forgot to tell you. The owner said that no managers can take their vacations on a holiday week.”
He then quickly walked away and completed the necessary procedures to end his shift, after which he left for the evening without saying goodbye.
I stood there completely stunned by what I had just been told. To say that I was crestfallen would be a gross understatement. Had he gotten a running start and kicked me square in the groin, it would have had less of an impact. After a few minutes, my surprise and sorrow gave way to anger and resentment. It was a painfully slow night in the restaurant, so I had more than ample time to think and let my bitterness fester.
Throughout the course of the evening, I reluctantly made all of the necessary phone calls to cancel my trip. I called my son, my former spouse, my parents, my brother, and my sister. Each call ended with shear disappointment and hostility on the other end. With each painful call I became more and more enraged. By now, I was absolutely fuming! In my 20-plus years of work, I had never walked out of a job, or left without notice, but I was seriously contemplating it at this moment. At one point, I had even grabbed my keys and my coat and started toward the door.
My personal kryptonite that is my integrity got the best of me and I stayed to complete my shift. At the end of the evening, once the place was shut down and locked up and all staff had gone home, I went upstairs to the office and sat down at the desk. I stayed well into the wee hours penning my resignation letter. If you’ve ever read anything that I’ve written, then you understand that what could have been said in one page now took up seven. My intent was to leave this letter on the owner’s desk with my keys when I left for the night. But again, the two little guys on my shoulders battled it out and that little bastard in the white suit won AGAIN! Per his suggestion, I opted to deliver this letter in person.
I came to work the next day, letter in pocket with a level of confidence, and hostility I’d never possessed before. I had been up all night rehearsing my farewell speech, fueled by the thought that my entire family was ashamed of me, and the disappointment my young son must be feeling. The first person I saw was the owner who was very jovial and joking with some regulars. His happiness just fueled the inferno burning within me. He looked at me a bit befuddled and said,
“What are you doing here?”
For the first and only time, I answered him in a flagrantly insubordinate tone and said, “You tell me!”
To which he responded, “I thought you were on vacation.”
This is the point at which I realized I had been the victim of an awful joke. My G.M. in his haste to leave last night had forgotten to tell me that he was kidding. Just then, he walked in the door to work what would normally have been my shift. He too looked a bit perplexed to see me. Then he realized his mistake, not knowing how close he had come to being down a man.
I made a beeline for the door, half angry, and half excited. I stopped only briefly to unleash an arsenal of descriptive words upon my boss/friend which decorum will not permit me to print here. My last words to him as I exited were,
“I don’t know how, and I don’t know when, but this WILL come back to haunt you.”
I had an amazing vacation and got some much needed quality time with my family. But if nothing else, I AM a man of my word. So now let’s jump forward about five months.
I arrived at work on a Tuesday morning. I was the opening manager and it was the G.M.’s day off. I was sorting the letters for what was to go on the marquee like I’d done hundreds of times before when it occurred to me that the date was April first. A devious light bulb suddenly appeared above my head. The top line of the sign would read: “Congrats (insert his name and his wife’s name)”. The second line would read: “It’s Twins!” The owners of this place are pretty good sports with great senses of humor. So after reminding them of what had been done to me in November, my mischievous deed met with little to no resistance. I never realized just how many people read these signs while traversing Coastal Highway until I heard later how many phone calls my boss and his wife received on their day off together. Both his and her phones rang incessantly throughout the course of the day with congratulatory words from friends, relatives, and acquaintances. Almost all of them asking how the twins were, and saying, “we didn’t even know you were expecting.”
I was pleased with the outcome of my prank, but I, like he, did not prepare myself for its subsequent ramifications. Over the course of the next several years there were multiple occasions during which I found myself in the company of his wife. It quickly became glaringly apparent to me that this woman HATED me. She would be cordial to me, but it was clearly masking complete and utter contempt for me. At first, I wasn’t sure why, then I realized that my joke had not been well received by her. I was also unaware of the fact that she had never been told that my prank was a retaliatory measure. He failed to mention to her what he had done to me at my vacation time.
Let’s jump forward again. It’s now about five years later and I’m tending bar in another local establishment. They come in for a drink and she is still only faintly attempting to mask her disdain for me. I can’t stand the thought of someone hating me or being angry with me particularly when that person has innocently fallen victim to my sense of humor. What I had thought of as harmless was obviously still the sole source of a major grudge. They were seated at my bar, and I now saw my chance to apologize and make peace. I brought up the subject of what I had done years earlier and sincerely apologized to her for it. She hesitantly accepted. I then asked,
“Did he ever tell you why I did that?” She sat back in her stool, gave him a sideways glare and responded with an exaggerated, “NO!” He in turn sunk a little into his stool with a childlike grin, knowing he was about to be ratted out.
This is when I realized for the first time that she had never heard the other side of the story. So I told it to her start to finish in graphic detail not leaving out a single thing that her mischievous husband had done in the long and arduous process of kicking me under the bus. She listened intently to the whole story that now had spanned about six years. Upon completion of my story, she balled up her fist, punched him in the arm and called him the informal term for the central portion of the human posterior region. Ironically enough, one of the same names I had called him years earlier at the beginning of all of this. She apologized to me (I think more on his behalf then her own), and we remain good friends to this day. I think even she appreciates the joke now that she knows how it all started.
Let’s jump forward one last time to present day. My friend still works there as the General Manager. Ironically enough, my lovely wife now works there as well, as a bartender. She’s been there about five years and the two of them have become friends as well, sometimes to my detriment. About three weeks ago, a couple of random customers came in to the restaurant, approached him out of the blue, and asked, “How are your twins? They must be what, about ten or twelve by now?”
For a brief instant, he was completely caught off guard and had no idea what these people were talking about. Then he remembered, and against his better judgment, he relayed the story to my wife who was working at the time. She of course, wasted no time in sharing it with me.
So you see, it doesn’t necessarily have to be a really good or elaborate April Fool’s day joke to be memorable. But one that is still playing itself out almost thirteen years later is one that I’m pretty proud to be a part of. This man, though a dear friend of mine is very devious, so I won’t yet be brazen enough to say that I’ve gotten the last laugh out of this. Thanks for playing along.
Until next week,
Syd Nichols
