20 YEARS AGO IN RUSTLER HISTORY: When Marlton Rustler Steak House (the greatest job in this or any other universe -- and here's an arial view of the Marlton Rustler on Route 70 back in the day with the old Gino's next door) closed down in May 1986, those few, proud and faithful transferred to Cinnaminson Rustler (yeah . . . they couldn't compare in a million years). Let me set the scene. ***WARNING - THIS BLOG CONTAINS RUSTLERSPEAK*** Lil Ole Me was working the greeter box ("Party Hienyiew") and our own beloved Paulster Paul was working salad bar. Our own beloved Cheekies had already punched off and was waiting for me to get done work so we could go frolic somewhere. (I promise he wasn't going to "410" me"). I was watching the clock (as was my wont) since I had 10 minutes to go in my shift. There I was calling back the orders all these dates were placing("Uh....one yellow five, one brown two and a lunch at the Y please.") as I innocently placed those plaques down on the rabble's (read: customers) tray. One of the rabble was an old man slightly younger than the Milky Way Galaxy. Slightly. Anyway, Paulster Paul, being the dutiful and thrifty employee that he was, was dutifully and thriftily spraying down the salad bar with a spray bottle of filled with water. Suddenly, the old man squawked: "What's that you're spraying there, sonny?" "Water." replied Paulster Paul. "Hmh." snorted the oldster, "Smells like bleach to me." Annoyed at the persnicketiness of senile citizens, Paul repeated emphatically, "No. It's water!" But then Paulster smelled it. Oops. Yeah, you guessed it! Some idiot (read: Cinnaminson Rustler employee NOT originally from Marlton) left a bottle of bleach water up by the salad bar where no such bottle should ever be found. "Hurtin' for certain without a curtain like Richard Burton who's no longer flirtin'!" "Cerptsy," said Paulster, "Close down the salad bar for a while!" Cue the mad scramble to take every crock of salad bar goodness (now contaminated with bleach) off the salad bar and replace them all. Cue the ENORMOUSLY obese manager Big John to come wobbling out at a frenetic pace in full panic. Cue Cerptsy and Paulster to start giggling. That is, until Cerptsy realizes that he's going to have to stay on the clock an extra HOUR before the whole salad bar is replaced and he will have to postpone frolics with Cheekies. Major bummer, dude. The only bright spot was, of course, when Big John clobbered himself on top of his head with a rack as he was rushing the tall cart into the back room. Ah well, Cinnaminson Rustler was extremely lame anyway and, when they closed down a mere 3 months later, we weren't surprised (or that sorry).

Next time remind me to tell you about the time when a customer asked me if a potato comes with the meal and I answered, "Yeah, if they time it right!"