SPIELBERG, BATMAN, & POCAHONTAS

It was 1993. I was a waitress at "THE DIVE", a restaurant owned by Steven Spielberg and 3 other Hollywood bigwigs. I'd met Spielberg when I initially got hired. He was my hero. I'd just seen Schindler's List and I thought he was the greatest director on the PLANET. After working at "The Dive" for a year and a half, Mr. Spielberg actually knew my name. One day he called the manager to inform us he was coming in to celebrate his nephew's birthday. He wanted to reserve a private section of the restaurant to avoid being disturbed. I was assigned to be his waitress. 
I was nervous. I'd waited on him before, but not for a special occasion like this. I dropped a tray of wine glasses 5 minutes before they arrived. The crew helped me vacuum up the glass and re-set the tables just before they showed up. Fifteen people (mostly kids) entered the restaurant and were taken immediately to my station, which was empty other than the large table I had set up for them. 
I was serving Cokes and Sprites and Lemonades to the kids when Spielberg took me aside. I was shitting my pants but tried to remain calm. He told me there was a birthday cake for his nephew in the back of the kitchen. He wanted me to bring out the cake when they were done eating, and sing Happy Birthday with all of the servers in the restaurant. 
"No problem, Steve! You can count on me!" (I'm totally kidding. I didn't say "Steve".) In fact, I was so nervous I didn't reply at all. I just nodded my head and wiped the sweat from my eyebrows before it dripped into my eyes.
Everything was going GREAT. The food was perfect, the kids were laughing and having a great time. Mr. Spielberg looked relaxed and pleased. 
I cleared the tables and re-set them with dessert plates and forks. Spielberg looked at me and winked. That was the "sign" to bring out the birthday cake. I ran to the back of the kitchen. All of the other servers were waiting to come out with me and sing "Happy Birthday." (Just an F.Y.I.- this is the WORST part of being a waitress. NOBODY likes to sing Happy Birthday, it's totally ANNOYING and we HATE IT.) 
I lit the birthday candles on the cake.
"Is everyone ready?" I asked.
I held the cake with two hands as we all started singing and marched toward Spielberg's table. When I looked up, Spielberg was waving his arms at me. Something wasn't right. He was standing behind his nephew as he mouthed the words, "That's not our cake!"
HOLY FUCKIN SHIT 
I couldn't believe it. OH MY GOD I had to think FAST.
"HOLD ON EVERYONE!" I interrupted.
The room got quiet.
"That was FABULOUS! Great dress rehearsal! We're ready for the real deal now! Hold that note- we'll be right back!"
I detoured everyone back into the kitchen. They were all talking at once. 
"You brought out the wrong cake?"
"Where is SPIELBERG'S CAKE?"
"Amy- you didn't notice it was a POCAHONTAS cake? His nephew is a BOY!" said "Tricia", a snooty blond waitress, who relished this moment. I wanted to bitch-slap her. 
Jose', my busboy, said, "I saw a BATMAN cake earlier- maybe that was it?"
"Where is it? Who took the BATMAN cake?! OH MY GOD THEY'RE WAITING FOR US!" I was close to tears. This was the WORST thing that could possibly happen. How could I tell Spielberg his nephew's cake was missing?
At that moment, "Felicia", a new waitress, came running into the kitchen with a flaming BATMAN cake. The candles were almost out, and the wax had smeared BATMAN into a blue pulp. Felicia was supposed to have the POCAHONTAS cake. I was supposed to have BATMAN. 
We switched up. Both of the cakes looked like shit. I tried to re-light the candles. It didn't matter that my hands kept dropping matches into the cake because the wax covered them up.  
I was going to FAINT. 
"Let's go everyone!"
We marched back out of the kitchen and started singing "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" again. My fellow servers were belting it out, (on my behalf, I'm sure) trying to save my sorry ass from this nightmare. 
The kids were oblivious. They didn't care. They were running around and blowing whistles and singing and none of them looked at the cake until the song was over. The room got quiet so the birthday boy could make his wish before blowing out the candles.
I felt like I was stuck in a really bad movie. We all looked at the melted pile of wax and blue gunk that used to be BATMAN. SPIELBERG was FUMING. His nephew didn't seem to notice. He made a wish but all the candles had burned out before he could blow on them so I tried to save this moment as well...
"Whoopsie! The candles were so excited, they blew themselves out!" (DUMBEST THING I'VE EVER SAID.)
I whipped out a giant lighter. The flame was too high. The candy decorations caught fire and flamed up like a firecracker. I had no choice but to slam my hand on top of the cake to put it out. Now the kid wasn't happy. He started WAILING.
I was frozen in my place. All of the other servers ran back to their stations. 
I tried to console the little boy... 
"I'll bake you another one, honey! You can come back tomorrow and we'll do this again!" I didn't even know what I was saying.
My manager appeared and grabbed my arm.
"Just leave the floor, Amy. I'll talk to Spielberg."
Spielberg didn't fire me. (I couldn't believe it.) I was traumatized for a long time. I had nightmares about flaming blue cakes and BATMAN BURNING and Schindler's List and Spielberg lighting my hair on fire while crowds of people watched and applauded. 
I used to love BATMAN, and Pocahontas too. Now I HATE THEM. Almost as much as I hate singing Happy Birthday.