The Whore Quits

 I’ve worked for a lot of crazy people, but this broad, Cynthia, definitely takes the cake. In fact, working for her was one of the few jobs that I quit in my life. You see, I don’t usually quit jobs, I get fired. If you quit, you can’t get unemployment. So that gives you an idea of what a psycho she was because if someone can get me to quit a job and risk not getting unemployment, than you had to do something really wrong.

It all started when my sister Kris was living in LA for awhile. Somehow she got hired as Cynthia’s assistant/catering manager. Cynthia owned a restaurant and had wealthy, repeat customers because as crazy as she was, the food was excellent. Of course, the restaurant isn’t there anymore, and I’m not sure if that’s because she had two lawsuits brought against her by two of her waiters that sued her for sexual harassment. She always hired hot waiters and then tried to sleep with them. I guess that didn’t work out for her.

Want a job Cee? There's food involved...

While Kris was working for her, she got me a job helping out with the catering. One job was catering a lunch for a bunch of executives at Paramount Studios, and in Hollywood, no matter what it is, if it involves studio executives, you better not screw it up. They are the “gods” of Hollywood (big eye roll).  Kris and I arrived in the dirty, brown, rickety van that Cynthia used for catering. You would think with such a successful business, she’d spring for a decent van, but it was hideous.

We brought in all the food and chafing dishes to the conference room where the catered lunch was being held. (sidenote: don’t you think it’s odd that something that holds food is called a “chafing” dish?  Doesn’t the word “chafing” conjure up unpleasant images, like really fat thighs rubbing together? Or is that just me?) There was a beautiful wood table where the executives would be dining and we brought a table cloth to cover it. When the assistant came in, we commented on how nice the table was and she said, “I think we should take the tablecloth off.” So, Kris grabbed it, rolled it up and threw it in the corner. The next thing you know, one of the executives who planned it, came in and said “Where’s the tablecloth?” What could we say? “Oh, you mean that ball of rolled up material in the corner?” But we said, “Ok, no problem, we’ll put it on.” The problem was that since we didn’t fold it, it was so wrinkled, there was no way we could use it. We immediately went into panic/problem-solving mode. Kris flew back to the restaurant in the rickety van and picked up a new tablecloth while I continued to set up the food. By the time she got back, some of the food was gone and the executives weren’t even in the room yet. I couldn’t help it, I was hungry and it was so good. But don’t worry, I left enough for the executives. When Cynthia called them to ask them how everything was, the only thing they said was that the tuna was slightly over-cooked. I personally thought it was delicious. 

After Kris left LA, I took over and started working as Cynthia’s assistant and catering manager. The job itself wasn’t bad because the parties were usually fun. I catered one party at a beautiful house in Beverly Hills where Cher used to live.  Now, that’s D list. Kathy Griffin hangs out with Cher, I catered a party where she used to live. In fact, that’s not even “D” list, that’s a list for which there is no letter of the alphabet. It’s closer to a “shit list.” But most of the people had money so at least the tips were good.

One time I was driving back from a catering job with one of the male models she hired. He was handsome but dumb as a rock. We were in my pickup truck and had all the equipment in the back. I was driving down the 101 freeway, when all of the sudden, I looked in the rearview mirror and chafing dishes were flying out of the back of the truck onto the freeway. These are metal dishes with sharp edges and I’m sure could do some serious damage if it hit a car. I said, “We have to get off the freeway, the cops are gonna get us.” I got off the first exit and realized when I got back to the restaurant that I had lost about five chafing dishes on the freeway. I hope no one got hurt. Imagine that story. “What happened to your car?” “I was driving down the freeway, when all of the sudden a chafing dish came through my windshield.”

chafing?

I haven’t told you yet what a crazy bitch Cynthia was. She would scream at anyone and everyone; her employees, delivery people, customers who pissed her off, anyone. She was a nasty person who would insult and berate people and no one liked her, but everyone loved her food.

This is how she got me to quit; it was during the summer and it was really hot outside. I was working in the office in the back of the restaurant and asked her if I could wear shorts to work. She said it was fine as long as I didn’t come into the restaurant because it didn’t look professional. A few days later I came to work wearing shorts that I bought at the GAP.

Cynthia came walking into the office and I could tell she was in a bad mood. The first thing she said was, “What are you wearing?” I said, “What do you mean?” She said, “You look like a whore.” I said, “Excuse me?? You said I could wear shorts when it was hot out.” She said, “Go home and get changed, you’re not getting paid for today and don’t ever come in here again looking like a whore.” I looked at her for a second and then I got up, dropped the keys (to the office) on the desk and walked out. And that was the last time I saw her.

But I couldn’t just let that go. I had to exact revenge because I was so pissed off, and since when do whores shop at the GAP? What I really wanted to do was throw a brick through the windshield of her BMW, but I knew that it would attract attention and I didn’t want to risk getting caught. But what I did do, was waited until the weekend when I knew it would be busy, and drove down to the restaurant and parked on a side street. I crept down the alley behind the restaurant where she parked her car, I was dressed in all black so no one would see me (like a ninja), and then I took a few really long nails and stuck them in her tires. And then I ran off. I know it wasn’t much, but I had to do something.I also thought she might know it was me if I did anything too drastic, but I bet you I caused a few slow leaks in that whore’s beamer.

The moral of the story is: Don’t call me a whore or you will have to buy new tires for your car.      Have a nice day 🙂

I have nails!

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About Death To Hollywood

I am a writer/comedian that was kind of pressured into doing a blog. I didn't really know much about blogs which is why I resisted. But now that I have one, I still don't know much about them. I like to tell funny stories that are true. Hopefully, you like to read those kinds of stories. If not, go read something serious and boring.....
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8 Responses to The Whore Quits

  1. barskii says:

    “Chafing” Reminds me of Riding Horses in South Texas on a very hot summer day.

    after that day, three of us walked funny, said it was the cowboy effect – ouch !!!

    A pair of shorts on a beautiful Woman – gives no one a reason to degrade Her.

    Happy New Year Celeste !!!!

    ~ Blake ~

  2. Josephine says:

    A nice follow-up to yesterday’s posting, you crazy woman, you! LOL

  3. The elder sister says:

    Cee, I think you have cornered the market on weird bosses!!! But do you have a picture of your Gap whore shorts? I want to know what they look like in case I might have a pair!!! I can’t go to cub scout camp with whore shorts on!!!!!

  4. Kris says:

    Cee…..I love it! She was the crazy one…..a nut, so mean to people and very jealous of pretty women……you were a threat to her and her little model waiters……for some reason, she was always nice to me…..does that mean I’m not pretty?? She would come up with the strangest, immature responses to just about everyone. She was a sick woman!!! We had some fun and I will never roll up another table cloth in my life:) Just in the event I need to use it. The chafing dishes flying out of your truck is great…..the visual is so funny. The nails in the tires….Hi? are you the great grandaughter of John Patrick Donohue?

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