I nearly forgot! Last night's Customers of the Night:
1) A young lady with whom many people on the staff were obviously familiar. She looked remarkably like Sarah Vowell, which might be the only thing that kept me from choking the shit out of her for being a condescending cunt. The girl who was training me was, as I said, very sweet, and though she was not terribly well-spoken, did her best to convey certain facts pertaining to the Young Lady's order. The Young Lady responded by being simultaneously smug, condescending, and unhelpful. She talked on her cell phone at the bar, which I already find kind of grating (and rude), but the volume was preposterous and the subject matter- again, fucking smug. Trying to make a big show of her worldliness, she was. She even went so far as to question whether we had given her "real" B & B. Fucking seriously. As if we might have somehow mistaken the letters (and also as if she hadn't fucking watched us pour it from the bottle two feet away from her). Not to mention that if you aren't my dad, or at least my dad's age, do you really even drink B & B, much less critique it? Seriously? My Trainer was completely oblivious to the attitude she was being shown, and I didn't bother to point it out to her. I mean, why burst her bubble, right?
2) This guy wasn't even a customer of mine (er- ours. I was training). He came down after we had already closed and the only people in the bar were myself, My Trainer, and a chef whose name I have forgotten- I'll call him The Tall Chef for now. The guy was slightly inebriated, and loudly but politely asking to see a manager. I told him I would find the Manager right away, but as I was turning to go he started to tell me why he wanted to see The Manager. It seems that the man's waiter had spilled a beer in his lap.
"But I'm not even mad about that. No- I have worked in places like this before, so I know how things can happen. And he cleaned it up right away and he was great. And he got me another beer and everything. The thing is, my bill came-" he paused here, either for effect or to belch, I couldn't be sure-" and he charged me for the beer."
"I'm terribly sorry sir. I'm sure it was an error. We'll take care of it right away."
"No. He took it off the bill. He took it off before he ran my credit card. But the thing is, it should have never been on there."
"I'm sure it was merely an oversight. You know, accidents happen, and people get flustered. I'm really sorry that it happened. I will get The Manager."
Except I couldn't get The Manager, because I had no idea where he was or how to page him. So I asked My Trainer to. She made a couple phone calls.
"He's on a break," she said, loudly enough for the man to hear. (Remember the thing she did with the milk? Yeah.)
"But he's on his way here, right?" I said, looking at her and flicking my eyes at The Customer in a wink-wink nudge-nudge fashion.
"Uh... yeah. He'll be right over."
Luckily The Customer and His Wife were feeling celebratory. So I went on about my business, wiping down and cleaning up the now closed bar. The Tall Chef ordered another beer, and when The Customer noticed his chef's uniform, started chatting him up.
"Aw, man," he slurred. "You the chef?"
"I'm one of them," replied TTC.
"Aw, maaan," he slurred again. "The food tonight was eexlnt."
"I'm glad you enjoyed it."
"Yeah, the meal was perfect. I have no complaints about the meal."
"Thanks," replied TTC, turning slightly in his seat in a useless attempt to close the conversation.
I can't remember the details of the conversation that followed, mostly due to exhaustion, but suffice to say that it was long and jovial, and we discovered that The Customer and His Wife (who was standing in the background smiling uncomfortably and looking at the exit the whole time, and who, it is worth mentioning, was never introduced or brought into the conversation by her new husband) were on their honeymoon, that they were congratulated by each one of us when he announced it (four times), and that by the time The Manager had returned (probably from smoking, but I don't know for sure), the guy was considerably deflated. In fact, The Tall Chef was in mid sentence when The Manager returned, and The Manager spent a minute or two poking his head around corners looking for an angry customer before one of us finally cut in and introduced them.
The end of the story is rather boring. The guy repeated his complaint several times, each time stressing that he didn't "expect anything," but that he "thought we should know" because he has "been in the business." What he got was a business card from The Manager and the promise of a free meal should they ever return. Thank the gods they live a few hours away. Hopefully we'll never see them again.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
New job is pretty good so far. Humbling moment #1:
"You need a keg changed? Oh, I got it. You just have to be careful not to push down until it's all the way turned", I said, turning and not pushing down, "or you'll get sprayed", I finished, spraying myself completely with beer.
"Um... yeah. Like that."
Apparently the system at the Local Restaurant is different than the one I spent eight years with.
Moment of horror/hilarity: My trainer this evening, who is as sweet as can be, has not been doing this long herself. Going to make a cappuccino, she pulls out a half gallon of milk and, while pouring it into the pitcher, looks at the date and says loudly in front of the twelve or so customers at the bar "This is dated the 14th. It's the 17th, right?"
Actually, it was the 18th at the time. It was a "sell by" and not a "use by" date, but still breaking the rules according to the He@lth Dept. She then checked every other container in the fridge, and made a show of dumping them all out directly in front of everyone, while a whispered "Not out loud! Not out loud!" as loudly as I dared. Luckily the only guy at the bar who was paying attention thought it was funny.
I took the dogs to the river again today, and Wyatt was all Micha3l Ph3lps and everything. I'm very proud. If he continues to improve, I may just buy him a bong.
The b.h. was already asleep on the couch when I got here. He got up long enough to point out the tortellini and garlic scape pesto in the fridge and then promptly went upstairs and passed out. Now I'm having a Smuttynose IPA and enjoying some No Reservations to wind down. Tomorrow I work at the Health Food Store from 11 to 3, then the Local Restaurant from 4 to close again. So you may not here from me again until Thursday. Buenos Noches, amigos. I'm really going to have to learn to say that in French.
"You need a keg changed? Oh, I got it. You just have to be careful not to push down until it's all the way turned", I said, turning and not pushing down, "or you'll get sprayed", I finished, spraying myself completely with beer.
"Um... yeah. Like that."
Apparently the system at the Local Restaurant is different than the one I spent eight years with.
Moment of horror/hilarity: My trainer this evening, who is as sweet as can be, has not been doing this long herself. Going to make a cappuccino, she pulls out a half gallon of milk and, while pouring it into the pitcher, looks at the date and says loudly in front of the twelve or so customers at the bar "This is dated the 14th. It's the 17th, right?"
Actually, it was the 18th at the time. It was a "sell by" and not a "use by" date, but still breaking the rules according to the He@lth Dept. She then checked every other container in the fridge, and made a show of dumping them all out directly in front of everyone, while a whispered "Not out loud! Not out loud!" as loudly as I dared. Luckily the only guy at the bar who was paying attention thought it was funny.
I took the dogs to the river again today, and Wyatt was all Micha3l Ph3lps and everything. I'm very proud. If he continues to improve, I may just buy him a bong.
The b.h. was already asleep on the couch when I got here. He got up long enough to point out the tortellini and garlic scape pesto in the fridge and then promptly went upstairs and passed out. Now I'm having a Smuttynose IPA and enjoying some No Reservations to wind down. Tomorrow I work at the Health Food Store from 11 to 3, then the Local Restaurant from 4 to close again. So you may not here from me again until Thursday. Buenos Noches, amigos. I'm really going to have to learn to say that in French.
After getting crappy and then crappier news yesterday, I decided to go outdoors to distract myself and enjoy the weather a bit. It has been in the upper eighties and lower nineties for several days now, which is apparently what summer is supposed to look like here (as opposed to the constant rain we've been having for the last two months).
I put the dogs in the car and headed out to a local nature center. This one has a very large prairie, grown up tall with walking trails cut through, and is on the bank of a river. We walked around the paths for awhile, with both of them stopping every three feet to inspect the smells of the other dogs that had already been through. The field is full of goldenrod right now. I wish I had brought my camera (maybe today), because it hadn't occurred to me how much it would change as the summer wore on. Anyway, it was beautiful and not very crowded, and we all enjoyed ourselves.
By the time we got to the river we were all pretty sweaty. Despite the presence of a father and his two small daughters, we managed to get down the bank and into the water without too much ruckus. Because of the lack of rain, the river is quite slow right now, and low enough that even Wyatt (who stands 16 inches tall at the shoulder) could wade in without trouble.
Wyatt has never been a swimmer. His odd breeding (half corgi, half German Shepherd, we think) makes for a strange body type and legs that simply can't propel his barrel-shaped body very well. Also, the first day we got him from the pound, we thought it would be best to take him and Kilgore to the park so they could be introduced on neutral ground. That park also happened to be on a river, and since Kilgore is an avid swimmer he raced right in, and Wyatt followed right behind him and then had considerable trouble getting back out. The event obviously stuck with him, and ever since he has been more inclined to lie in wait on shore for Kilgore and then pounce on him as he emerges from the water.
Yesterday, though, I was able to convince him to walk in the river with me. I let Kilgore have a lot of slack on his leash (enough to swim around but not so much that he could play with the children), and focused on getting Wyatt to try swimming again. The river is really pretty in this particular spot, and clear enough so you can see where it gets deeper and how much deeper it gets. The boys wear harnesses rather than traditional collars now (more control and less choking, we've found), so I was able to use it like a handle (picture a fat, fuzzy, suitcase) and pull him through the deeper parts, his legs pumping and tail twisting furiously until he propelled himself (with my help) to the next spot where his feet reached the bottom. He was uneasy at first, but I think as he got used to it he liked it. Of course, I don't imagine him ever swimming on his own, because he was definitely listing, but it was good exercise and a nice way to cool off. I'm hoping to get back there today.
I start my new bartending gig this evening. Fairly certain that my days at the "Local" Health Food Store are numbered, because the restaurant wants me to work the same days that I already work over there. Hate to quit the LHFS, but I can't keep driving 40 miles each way to work 3 days a week. As for the new job, I think I may have mentioned that it's a nice restaurant and walking distance from the house, so I'm hoping it goes well. I'll keep you posted. Wish me luck.
I put the dogs in the car and headed out to a local nature center. This one has a very large prairie, grown up tall with walking trails cut through, and is on the bank of a river. We walked around the paths for awhile, with both of them stopping every three feet to inspect the smells of the other dogs that had already been through. The field is full of goldenrod right now. I wish I had brought my camera (maybe today), because it hadn't occurred to me how much it would change as the summer wore on. Anyway, it was beautiful and not very crowded, and we all enjoyed ourselves.
By the time we got to the river we were all pretty sweaty. Despite the presence of a father and his two small daughters, we managed to get down the bank and into the water without too much ruckus. Because of the lack of rain, the river is quite slow right now, and low enough that even Wyatt (who stands 16 inches tall at the shoulder) could wade in without trouble.
Wyatt has never been a swimmer. His odd breeding (half corgi, half German Shepherd, we think) makes for a strange body type and legs that simply can't propel his barrel-shaped body very well. Also, the first day we got him from the pound, we thought it would be best to take him and Kilgore to the park so they could be introduced on neutral ground. That park also happened to be on a river, and since Kilgore is an avid swimmer he raced right in, and Wyatt followed right behind him and then had considerable trouble getting back out. The event obviously stuck with him, and ever since he has been more inclined to lie in wait on shore for Kilgore and then pounce on him as he emerges from the water.
Yesterday, though, I was able to convince him to walk in the river with me. I let Kilgore have a lot of slack on his leash (enough to swim around but not so much that he could play with the children), and focused on getting Wyatt to try swimming again. The river is really pretty in this particular spot, and clear enough so you can see where it gets deeper and how much deeper it gets. The boys wear harnesses rather than traditional collars now (more control and less choking, we've found), so I was able to use it like a handle (picture a fat, fuzzy, suitcase) and pull him through the deeper parts, his legs pumping and tail twisting furiously until he propelled himself (with my help) to the next spot where his feet reached the bottom. He was uneasy at first, but I think as he got used to it he liked it. Of course, I don't imagine him ever swimming on his own, because he was definitely listing, but it was good exercise and a nice way to cool off. I'm hoping to get back there today.
I start my new bartending gig this evening. Fairly certain that my days at the "Local" Health Food Store are numbered, because the restaurant wants me to work the same days that I already work over there. Hate to quit the LHFS, but I can't keep driving 40 miles each way to work 3 days a week. As for the new job, I think I may have mentioned that it's a nice restaurant and walking distance from the house, so I'm hoping it goes well. I'll keep you posted. Wish me luck.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Holy cow, I stayed in bed until almost nine today. Of course, I had to get up because KG jumped up and ran down the stairs, barking like mad, and then Wyatt got up and peed in the hallway, right in front of my bedroom door, so possibly sleeping in was not my best plan.
Anyway, we've all been outside and now I have a cup of coffee and I have checked faceb00k so I feel better. I got a message that somebody we knew in Athens died last week. I don't know how it happened or when, but I feel awful about it. He wasn't a guy we hung out with or anything, but we were regular customers at his job and he was just really, really great. I think if we were going out more regularly, and if he and his wife went out more regularly, we definitely would have hung out. But instead he was just a very bright spot in our errand running- part of what I miss about Athens and now a part that we won't have again. Sigh.
I have a few things to do today, including illicitly shipping some b33r to my former boss. After they receive it in GA, they will pack a box and return it to me with some stuff I bought while I was there.
Guess I will go have my day off now...
Anyway, we've all been outside and now I have a cup of coffee and I have checked faceb00k so I feel better. I got a message that somebody we knew in Athens died last week. I don't know how it happened or when, but I feel awful about it. He wasn't a guy we hung out with or anything, but we were regular customers at his job and he was just really, really great. I think if we were going out more regularly, and if he and his wife went out more regularly, we definitely would have hung out. But instead he was just a very bright spot in our errand running- part of what I miss about Athens and now a part that we won't have again. Sigh.
I have a few things to do today, including illicitly shipping some b33r to my former boss. After they receive it in GA, they will pack a box and return it to me with some stuff I bought while I was there.
Guess I will go have my day off now...
Friday, August 14, 2009
I got a text from my good friend T this morning. He had sent it at midnight (11pm Chicago time) last night, as Slobberbone was hitting the stage. His report included some of the songs in the set and the fact that he had managed to convert two more friends. Fuck I miss them. T, Slobberbone, and the converts. I really don't see myself moving back to Chicago permanently, but the idea that I could see my favorite bands more regularly is really intriguing.
I had a doughnut yesterday that the b.h.made in pastry class. It was delicious. He is enjoying school immensely, and I am reaping the rewards of his education daily. Earlier I had a chocolate eclair, and right now there is fennel being cooked in white wine on the stove. It smells amazing. Luckily I have managed to fit in a walk with the dogs every day since we've been back (it has been mercifully dry for most of the week), so I'm probably not in any danger of porking out. Yet.
Right now I'm drinking a Long Trail Double Bag Ale and listening to Slobberbone's Barrel Chested. Life is good.
**I nearly forgot the challah bread. Yep, he made that, too. And in somebody else's oven, so I don't even have to deal with heat or cleanup.
I had a doughnut yesterday that the b.h.made in pastry class. It was delicious. He is enjoying school immensely, and I am reaping the rewards of his education daily. Earlier I had a chocolate eclair, and right now there is fennel being cooked in white wine on the stove. It smells amazing. Luckily I have managed to fit in a walk with the dogs every day since we've been back (it has been mercifully dry for most of the week), so I'm probably not in any danger of porking out. Yet.
Right now I'm drinking a Long Trail Double Bag Ale and listening to Slobberbone's Barrel Chested. Life is good.
**I nearly forgot the challah bread. Yep, he made that, too. And in somebody else's oven, so I don't even have to deal with heat or cleanup.
The week has gone by more quickly than i realized. I just figured out that it is Friday, which means that I get to sleep in until 8am tomorrow. Woo hoo! I may even watch some television, just to be crazy.
Honestly, I don't mind being up at 5:30 in the morning. The problem is the getting up. Once I am more or less awake and my face is washed, I feel pretty good. And I enjoy the Local Co Op job so far because I get a sense of accomplishment when we empty pallets and fill shelves and make everything look full and tidy. One of my co-workers is the Vermonty version of Kevin Sweeney, which some of you will find highly amusing, and his surly demeanor makes me feel right at home. Like K, he is actually a very nice guy, he just has no patience for bullshit. I can appreciate that. Anyway, there are several people with whom I work that I can see myself actually hanging out with, which is encouraging. My manager sent me on a task the other day with these words:
"You're going to be working with Sybil. I hope you are a patient person. If you have any problems, remember that she is not your boss and that she is not training you. You already know how to do the job. Come straight to me if there is any trouble."
I walked off to frozen foods with some trepidation. Sybil, it turns out, is not bitchy or bossy at all. Rather, she is a five foot tall bundle of eccentricity and clinical craziness that has worked at the LCO for many, many years. She laughs often and loudly, like Mrs. Krabappel on crack. She has several physical ailments, none of which prevent her from hopping up a ladder and hoisting boxes (many that outweigh her) over her head. The problem is that she repeats herself constantly and talks to me like I am a small child. I am fairly certain that this is more an indication of her mental capacity than her opinion of mine. In any case, we got through the frozen stuff without any trouble. I went back to my manager and he sent us over to do another section together.
"That should take you about two hours, and then it will be almost time for you to go," he said cheerfully.
Um- yeah. That was a long two hours. This morning I got wise and set myself to a task on the other side of the store from Sybil. I recognized the shattered look on the guy who she was partnered with today when I passed him at the recycling bin. I felt no guilt.
Honestly, I don't mind being up at 5:30 in the morning. The problem is the getting up. Once I am more or less awake and my face is washed, I feel pretty good. And I enjoy the Local Co Op job so far because I get a sense of accomplishment when we empty pallets and fill shelves and make everything look full and tidy. One of my co-workers is the Vermonty version of Kevin Sweeney, which some of you will find highly amusing, and his surly demeanor makes me feel right at home. Like K, he is actually a very nice guy, he just has no patience for bullshit. I can appreciate that. Anyway, there are several people with whom I work that I can see myself actually hanging out with, which is encouraging. My manager sent me on a task the other day with these words:
"You're going to be working with Sybil. I hope you are a patient person. If you have any problems, remember that she is not your boss and that she is not training you. You already know how to do the job. Come straight to me if there is any trouble."
I walked off to frozen foods with some trepidation. Sybil, it turns out, is not bitchy or bossy at all. Rather, she is a five foot tall bundle of eccentricity and clinical craziness that has worked at the LCO for many, many years. She laughs often and loudly, like Mrs. Krabappel on crack. She has several physical ailments, none of which prevent her from hopping up a ladder and hoisting boxes (many that outweigh her) over her head. The problem is that she repeats herself constantly and talks to me like I am a small child. I am fairly certain that this is more an indication of her mental capacity than her opinion of mine. In any case, we got through the frozen stuff without any trouble. I went back to my manager and he sent us over to do another section together.
"That should take you about two hours, and then it will be almost time for you to go," he said cheerfully.
Um- yeah. That was a long two hours. This morning I got wise and set myself to a task on the other side of the store from Sybil. I recognized the shattered look on the guy who she was partnered with today when I passed him at the recycling bin. I felt no guilt.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Well, that didn't go exactly as planned.
Our plane was delayed due to oil leaking from an engine. I have no problem with that. You know, I think when you're hurtling through the air at hundreds of miles per hour in a giant metal tampon you should probably have as much oil as you need for both engines to run properly. But the lady at the counter told us that our connecting flight was waiting for us, and it really, really wasn't.
We spent Thursday night not in Athens seeing Donnie play, but at the Westin in Baldimer. Had we known that we would be there in advance, it might have been fun, but instead it was overpriced nachos and two bottles of Sam Adams before falling into bed. They had scheduled us on a 1pm flight, but we got on stand by for the 6:40 am and were in Athens by 10:15. We ate at El Sol (now known as Senor Sol, but the food is exactly as we remembered it) and then went for a cup of coffee at D and S's house. D and the b.h. had to leave pretty quickly because they had booked recording time. I went out by myself for a few hours, and then met MT for supper at El Sol. Seriously. There are no Mexican restaurants in the Green Mountain State, likely because there are no Mexicans.
We went out early and met Jenn, Jamie, Shayne, and a bunch of other troublemakers for a few drinks. I was home late. The b.h. was already asleep.
We met his family for breakfast, then I went to get my hair did. I am gloriously blonde again, thanks to Shayne. After that we made a quick trip to Reed's Odds and Ends, then off to the rehearsal dinner thingie at Sandy Creek Park. It was hot. We met people. I wedged myself between the b.h.'s least favorite relatives and him and babbled until they couldn't wait to get away.
We went out again on Saturday night, saw The Heap at the Watt, showed the b.h.'s cousins a good time, introduced them to some of our friends, and went home earlyish. The wedding was lovely and hectic, and we got home late and got up early again to get to the airport. It was all as hectic as it sounds.
I worked my first real shift at the Local Co Op today. I got up at five-thirty. So far so good. Now I'm enjoying a Stone 13th Anniversary Ale and looking forward to an early night.
Our plane was delayed due to oil leaking from an engine. I have no problem with that. You know, I think when you're hurtling through the air at hundreds of miles per hour in a giant metal tampon you should probably have as much oil as you need for both engines to run properly. But the lady at the counter told us that our connecting flight was waiting for us, and it really, really wasn't.
We spent Thursday night not in Athens seeing Donnie play, but at the Westin in Baldimer. Had we known that we would be there in advance, it might have been fun, but instead it was overpriced nachos and two bottles of Sam Adams before falling into bed. They had scheduled us on a 1pm flight, but we got on stand by for the 6:40 am and were in Athens by 10:15. We ate at El Sol (now known as Senor Sol, but the food is exactly as we remembered it) and then went for a cup of coffee at D and S's house. D and the b.h. had to leave pretty quickly because they had booked recording time. I went out by myself for a few hours, and then met MT for supper at El Sol. Seriously. There are no Mexican restaurants in the Green Mountain State, likely because there are no Mexicans.
We went out early and met Jenn, Jamie, Shayne, and a bunch of other troublemakers for a few drinks. I was home late. The b.h. was already asleep.
We met his family for breakfast, then I went to get my hair did. I am gloriously blonde again, thanks to Shayne. After that we made a quick trip to Reed's Odds and Ends, then off to the rehearsal dinner thingie at Sandy Creek Park. It was hot. We met people. I wedged myself between the b.h.'s least favorite relatives and him and babbled until they couldn't wait to get away.
We went out again on Saturday night, saw The Heap at the Watt, showed the b.h.'s cousins a good time, introduced them to some of our friends, and went home earlyish. The wedding was lovely and hectic, and we got home late and got up early again to get to the airport. It was all as hectic as it sounds.
I worked my first real shift at the Local Co Op today. I got up at five-thirty. So far so good. Now I'm enjoying a Stone 13th Anniversary Ale and looking forward to an early night.
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
Monday, August 03, 2009
Saturday I worked a regular shift at the LHFS, and Sunday I did the same. Then I came home, ate a quick bite of the lovely meal that the b.h. had prepared for us and his friend Ben, who is our new dog sitter, and then gussied up and ran out the door for yet another job interview.
I had gotten a phone call from John Something, the GM for all of the restaurants at the Culinary School. After having spent several days playing phone tag (and trying not to seem desperate) with the manager of a Local Restaurant (one of those run by the school), I was relieved. It turns out he had gotten a different application that I filled out at another of their establishments, and he was impressed. He wanted to see me as soon as possible. Apparently I have not completely wasted my post-college years after all. So the GM got in touch with the Other Manager, who called me right away, and I set up an interview for 8pm last night. The interview was quick. Manager Dave finished up by saying
"Normally interviews last a lot longer, but you have a lot of experience and I've had a long week."
Score!! I start on the 18th. Meantime, I am finishing up at the Restaurant I Don't Enjoy and heading for Athens. I could not be happier. I now have four jobs. Last shift at the old restaurant is tomorrow (a double, of course).
Today was nice, for a change. I slept in (9;30ish), got up and went to the bank, bought some new shoes (for work), and when I came home I got a call that the b.h. was out of class early. Having only seen him for a couple hours this week, I was thrilled. We took the dogs to a park in town and went for a long hike in the woods. The weather was just awesome today. On my way to work, I got a call from my boss at the Local Health Food Store. Turns out he doesn't need me to come in on Wednesday, which means I have a whole day off to get ready for our trip.
Upon our return I start at the Local Co-op. Neat.
Don Chambers solo in Athens on Thursday. We should fly in just in time. No shows on Friday night that I am hell bent on seeing, i will probably check out The Heap at the 40 Watt late night after a few drinks with friends. Very excited.
I had gotten a phone call from John Something, the GM for all of the restaurants at the Culinary School. After having spent several days playing phone tag (and trying not to seem desperate) with the manager of a Local Restaurant (one of those run by the school), I was relieved. It turns out he had gotten a different application that I filled out at another of their establishments, and he was impressed. He wanted to see me as soon as possible. Apparently I have not completely wasted my post-college years after all. So the GM got in touch with the Other Manager, who called me right away, and I set up an interview for 8pm last night. The interview was quick. Manager Dave finished up by saying
"Normally interviews last a lot longer, but you have a lot of experience and I've had a long week."
Score!! I start on the 18th. Meantime, I am finishing up at the Restaurant I Don't Enjoy and heading for Athens. I could not be happier. I now have four jobs. Last shift at the old restaurant is tomorrow (a double, of course).
Today was nice, for a change. I slept in (9;30ish), got up and went to the bank, bought some new shoes (for work), and when I came home I got a call that the b.h. was out of class early. Having only seen him for a couple hours this week, I was thrilled. We took the dogs to a park in town and went for a long hike in the woods. The weather was just awesome today. On my way to work, I got a call from my boss at the Local Health Food Store. Turns out he doesn't need me to come in on Wednesday, which means I have a whole day off to get ready for our trip.
Upon our return I start at the Local Co-op. Neat.
Don Chambers solo in Athens on Thursday. We should fly in just in time. No shows on Friday night that I am hell bent on seeing, i will probably check out The Heap at the 40 Watt late night after a few drinks with friends. Very excited.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Goddammit this makes me homesick. Brilliant work, lovely song, and featuring not only one of my favorite clubs but also a favorite bartender. I'll be there in six days.
Yesterday was ridiculous. I got out of bed as early as possible before I had to leave to work a double, because I wanted to make sure and get the dogs out and give them some attention before I left. I have no recollection of the alarm going off at 4:30 when the b.h. got up, and didn't see him at all. So i took care of the dogs and inhaled a quick bowl of cereal and bolted out the door without any coffee.
When I got to the restaurant, Marge was there setting up. She asked me if I knew how to set up the kitchen ("I haven't seen you in so long I don't know what you know") and I said I did, so she went to water the plants and wipe the tables on the deck while I took out all of the things that I swore I had just put away a minute ago (It had actually been Tuesday night, but time flies when you are not at the job you dislike intensely). I went downstairs to retrieve some supplies, bidding good morning to The Boss Wife, who completely ignored me. Oh, that's right. She has been informed since I saw her last that I have given my two week notice. Hmm.
I ground through lunch, doing extra sidework and being asked by the manager every two minutes how I was doing. The funny thing is, had she done this on Monday night I would likely not have quit. Anyway, by the end of my second shift, I was starving and exhausted, and yes, I had some money in my pocket, but after twelve hours it should have been more.
When I got home the b.h. was already in bed, and I was wide awake and alone, not having had a single meaningful conversation all day. Luckily T was awake when I texted him, so he called me back and we chatted for a few minutes. I woke up when the b.h.'s alarm went off this morning, just long enough to say hello and get a good look at him before he was off to class. Three more shifts.
When I got to the restaurant, Marge was there setting up. She asked me if I knew how to set up the kitchen ("I haven't seen you in so long I don't know what you know") and I said I did, so she went to water the plants and wipe the tables on the deck while I took out all of the things that I swore I had just put away a minute ago (It had actually been Tuesday night, but time flies when you are not at the job you dislike intensely). I went downstairs to retrieve some supplies, bidding good morning to The Boss Wife, who completely ignored me. Oh, that's right. She has been informed since I saw her last that I have given my two week notice. Hmm.
I ground through lunch, doing extra sidework and being asked by the manager every two minutes how I was doing. The funny thing is, had she done this on Monday night I would likely not have quit. Anyway, by the end of my second shift, I was starving and exhausted, and yes, I had some money in my pocket, but after twelve hours it should have been more.
When I got home the b.h. was already in bed, and I was wide awake and alone, not having had a single meaningful conversation all day. Luckily T was awake when I texted him, so he called me back and we chatted for a few minutes. I woke up when the b.h.'s alarm went off this morning, just long enough to say hello and get a good look at him before he was off to class. Three more shifts.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
I am having yet another bout of insomnia. I seem to fall asleep for about 45 minutes or an hour every night, and then wake up like a vampire on a day pass. I have no idea why. Anyway, I was just effing off over on faceb00k and saw that Jamie had posted this little gem, with a special shout out to yours truly, as I am such a fan of the word. She's so thoughtful.
Monday, July 27, 2009
*Fair Warning: If you have never worked in the service industry, a lot of this may not make sense to you. And even if you have, all Iam about to do is bitch, so you may want to skip this whole post.
Quitting. For real.
Tonight I was in a section that had eleven tables. All of them have at least four seats, and several of them have six. The waitress who has the most experience who was working tonight had eight tables, and three of them have only two seats each. The manager was new. But she also knows that I am new, since we trained at the same time. Now, I may not be an expert, and I certainly have never run my own restaurant, but it seems to me that when you have a very busy place you should consider having a busboy or two.
At this restaurant, the waitstaff is responsible for taking orders, making all non-alcoholic drinks, putting together soups, salads, and some appetizers, firing each ticket, delivering food, delivering the check, taking payment, running a credit card or making change, removing all dishes and trash, wiping the table down, sweeping the floor (when there have been children, which is often the case), wiping it down with sanitizer and re-setting the silverware.
I was triple sat twice in fifteen minutes, and then the new manager/hostess was scolding me for not clearing my tables. I was already on the verge of snapping, and then another waitress came up to me and said "This is exactly what happened last Monday!"
That was the point at which I decided I was done. Because apparently these people do not learn from their mistakes. Or maybe they just don't care. I however, am incapable of feeling good about giving less than good service.
On the bright side, more lessons in How Not To Run A Business.
Thank the gods for Dogfish Head Squall. I was smart enough to put one in the fridge earlier.
Now I'm going to watch Ugly Betty and try to forget the night.
Quitting. For real.
Tonight I was in a section that had eleven tables. All of them have at least four seats, and several of them have six. The waitress who has the most experience who was working tonight had eight tables, and three of them have only two seats each. The manager was new. But she also knows that I am new, since we trained at the same time. Now, I may not be an expert, and I certainly have never run my own restaurant, but it seems to me that when you have a very busy place you should consider having a busboy or two.
At this restaurant, the waitstaff is responsible for taking orders, making all non-alcoholic drinks, putting together soups, salads, and some appetizers, firing each ticket, delivering food, delivering the check, taking payment, running a credit card or making change, removing all dishes and trash, wiping the table down, sweeping the floor (when there have been children, which is often the case), wiping it down with sanitizer and re-setting the silverware.
I was triple sat twice in fifteen minutes, and then the new manager/hostess was scolding me for not clearing my tables. I was already on the verge of snapping, and then another waitress came up to me and said "This is exactly what happened last Monday!"
That was the point at which I decided I was done. Because apparently these people do not learn from their mistakes. Or maybe they just don't care. I however, am incapable of feeling good about giving less than good service.
On the bright side, more lessons in How Not To Run A Business.
Thank the gods for Dogfish Head Squall. I was smart enough to put one in the fridge earlier.
Now I'm going to watch Ugly Betty and try to forget the night.
T left on Friday, and I headed to work at the restaurant. I always feel a sense of impending doom as I am driving there, but I usually snap out of it once I get going. I still don't like it, but I am able to tuck my soul away in a the corner of my bag while I slug it our for five hours or so. This was easily my best night so far, with almost no mistakes. It was also the least busy, so I didn't make much money. This may have been partially due to the fact that they had a "band" playing, as they are wont to do on a Friday night. The woman and her husband play "hits from the sixties, seventies, and eighties," accompanied by a guitar and a guy who sat at a table eating dinner next to them and performing the more-than-occasional solo on harmonica. I do not, in theory, have a problem with any of these things. I do, however, feel that people who go out to dine with their families on a Friday night might not want music blaring at them from the next room.
The Boss Wife has some rules which I find baffling. We are supposed to use a tray to carry food to table, even if there are only two plates and it would be easier and less dangerous to simply carry one in each hand. Her reasoning is that "This isn't a diner," which I believe means that she thinks using a tray is classier. I have two issues with this logic (probably more, if I took the time to think about it): One, when you carry the tray. you have to set it down before you remove plates from it anyway, and sometimes you are setting it down out of sight of the tables, so all they see is the waitperson carrying the plates anyway; and Two, we accept fucking coupons. Various kinds of coupons, discounts, frequent diner cards, and two-for-one deals, which again, I don't have a problem with in theory (Actually, that's a lie. The food is way too expensive and we should lower the prices and leave them that way, thereby eliminating the bullshit involved with handling and processing these various "deals" during a busy shift), but you can't act all hoity-toity about your establishment and then ask diners to pick a card from a deck and possibly win five dollars off of their bill. Seriously. Like we don't have enough to deal with just trying to time the food, drinks, and payment for multiple tables.
So I'm kind of over that place, in case you couldn't tell. Another problem is that we have satellite radio streaming in the dining room, and the Husband Boss always wants it on the same station, which includes various "hits" from the nineties through now, and I hear the same songs, every single night. The ones I recognize I already heard ad nauseum during my stint at the Sports Bar in Chicago in the late nineties- you know, V3rtical H0rizon, The G00 G00 D0lls, 3 D00rs D0wn, etc. The new stuff is even worse, because it seems as if most of them are just ripping off all the same people. When I ask a co-worker "Who sings this?" I almost always find that it's a "winner" from that fucking "Merkin Id0l" show. Ugh. That plus the three large screen teevees, one of which is always flashing the latest paranoid fantasy from F0X "News", and you can see why it's difficult for a woman to wind down at the end of the night. I have been sleeping like crap (except for the couple nights when T was here and we just talked until we almost dropped anyway).
The good news is that I got a call last week from a nice Local Restaurant. This place has actual bus people, food runners, and a sense of decorum (we ate there with T on Wednesday). Also, there are no teevees is the dining room. I called that guy back on Friday, and I am waiting a call from him.
Since my car is about on it's last leg anyway, I need to get a job that I can walk to. I had to buy a new tire on Thursday, which was much less difficult than it could have been. I actually bought a used one, so it was under forty bucks. Got it done up in Barry at a tiny shop. They had me in and out of there in about fifteen minutes, so T and I still had plenty of time to get to the Shelburne Museum.
So this week I have Restaurant, Restaurant, a day of orientation at the Local Food Co-Op, potentially a half day that evening at the "Local" Health Food Store, then two doubles at the Restaurant, then a full day (maybe two) next weekend at the Local Health Food Store again.
Which means you may or may not be hearing more from me this week. Try to survive.
The Boss Wife has some rules which I find baffling. We are supposed to use a tray to carry food to table, even if there are only two plates and it would be easier and less dangerous to simply carry one in each hand. Her reasoning is that "This isn't a diner," which I believe means that she thinks using a tray is classier. I have two issues with this logic (probably more, if I took the time to think about it): One, when you carry the tray. you have to set it down before you remove plates from it anyway, and sometimes you are setting it down out of sight of the tables, so all they see is the waitperson carrying the plates anyway; and Two, we accept fucking coupons. Various kinds of coupons, discounts, frequent diner cards, and two-for-one deals, which again, I don't have a problem with in theory (Actually, that's a lie. The food is way too expensive and we should lower the prices and leave them that way, thereby eliminating the bullshit involved with handling and processing these various "deals" during a busy shift), but you can't act all hoity-toity about your establishment and then ask diners to pick a card from a deck and possibly win five dollars off of their bill. Seriously. Like we don't have enough to deal with just trying to time the food, drinks, and payment for multiple tables.
So I'm kind of over that place, in case you couldn't tell. Another problem is that we have satellite radio streaming in the dining room, and the Husband Boss always wants it on the same station, which includes various "hits" from the nineties through now, and I hear the same songs, every single night. The ones I recognize I already heard ad nauseum during my stint at the Sports Bar in Chicago in the late nineties- you know, V3rtical H0rizon, The G00 G00 D0lls, 3 D00rs D0wn, etc. The new stuff is even worse, because it seems as if most of them are just ripping off all the same people. When I ask a co-worker "Who sings this?" I almost always find that it's a "winner" from that fucking "Merkin Id0l" show. Ugh. That plus the three large screen teevees, one of which is always flashing the latest paranoid fantasy from F0X "News", and you can see why it's difficult for a woman to wind down at the end of the night. I have been sleeping like crap (except for the couple nights when T was here and we just talked until we almost dropped anyway).
The good news is that I got a call last week from a nice Local Restaurant. This place has actual bus people, food runners, and a sense of decorum (we ate there with T on Wednesday). Also, there are no teevees is the dining room. I called that guy back on Friday, and I am waiting a call from him.
Since my car is about on it's last leg anyway, I need to get a job that I can walk to. I had to buy a new tire on Thursday, which was much less difficult than it could have been. I actually bought a used one, so it was under forty bucks. Got it done up in Barry at a tiny shop. They had me in and out of there in about fifteen minutes, so T and I still had plenty of time to get to the Shelburne Museum.
So this week I have Restaurant, Restaurant, a day of orientation at the Local Food Co-Op, potentially a half day that evening at the "Local" Health Food Store, then two doubles at the Restaurant, then a full day (maybe two) next weekend at the Local Health Food Store again.
Which means you may or may not be hearing more from me this week. Try to survive.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Young's Double Chocolate Stout and Snyder's of Hanover pretzel rods. I have some renta teevee to watch, but right now I am enjoying the sound of the rain outside and the relative quiet inside.
It has been a busy week. T arrived on Tuesday while I was at work, and he and the b.h. had dinner together at a fancy-ish place in town. I brought home a veggie burger and fries for myself, plopping on the couch on my arrival and announcing to T that he was going to have to do the talking while I inhaled my dinner.
He did, and it was amusing. T and I are the same age, and he has some issues, shall we say, with the ladies. It seems that he has a feast or famine kind of problem, and th past three years have been far more of the latter than the former. Until about two weeks ago, when multiple women came crashing into his life from various directions. The one he seems most inclined toward is fifteen years younger than us, which is all very amusing. So his story was plenty long enough for me to finish eating, and I think I was likely through my first beer and cigarette by the time he was through. (Though I am not a real smoker, I have a tendency to binge on occasion, those occasions usually occurring when I am either on vacation or hosting a smoker on theirs).
We stayed up until about four, and just as we were both starting to wind down, there was a short bark and Kilgore went crashing into the screen door, which he somehow managed to go through without breaking despite the fact that it has been latched. It was dark in the porch, and it happened so fast that I wasn't even sure he had gone out. I went over and felt at the door to see if he had gone through the screen, and when I saw that he hadn't, I stood up, puzzled, and called his name. I heard him in the yard, and when I unlatched the door he came flying back through it, all foaming at the mouth and rolling around rubbing his head on the floor. Just as we were trying to figure out what the hell had happened, the smell hit us.
I thought something was on fire. It smelled like burning plastic, and I flipped on the porch light and picked up the ashtray, looking all around the table for something melting. No dice. The dog was still foaming at the the mouth a bit, so I went in the house, an him upstairs, ordered him into the shower, and rinsed his head and mouth thoroughly with warm water. Then we all went to bed.
The next day, T and I were on our way into the house from the car when my neighbor John came up the drive.
"Just wanted to warn you in case you walk your dogs at night. There is a new family of skunks in the neighborhood."
"You don't say." I explained the incident from the previous night.
"Well, that explains the dead one I found in Wes and Linda's yard."
I guess it does. Last night T and I and the dogs were out on the porch again late into the night. At one point, unnoticed by either dog (Wyatt was snoring and KG was loudly chewing a rawhide bone on the other side of the room), something scratched at the screen door. I got up slowly, leapt over to it, and shut it as quickly as possible. There will be no skunk retribution on my watch.
It has been a busy week. T arrived on Tuesday while I was at work, and he and the b.h. had dinner together at a fancy-ish place in town. I brought home a veggie burger and fries for myself, plopping on the couch on my arrival and announcing to T that he was going to have to do the talking while I inhaled my dinner.
He did, and it was amusing. T and I are the same age, and he has some issues, shall we say, with the ladies. It seems that he has a feast or famine kind of problem, and th past three years have been far more of the latter than the former. Until about two weeks ago, when multiple women came crashing into his life from various directions. The one he seems most inclined toward is fifteen years younger than us, which is all very amusing. So his story was plenty long enough for me to finish eating, and I think I was likely through my first beer and cigarette by the time he was through. (Though I am not a real smoker, I have a tendency to binge on occasion, those occasions usually occurring when I am either on vacation or hosting a smoker on theirs).
We stayed up until about four, and just as we were both starting to wind down, there was a short bark and Kilgore went crashing into the screen door, which he somehow managed to go through without breaking despite the fact that it has been latched. It was dark in the porch, and it happened so fast that I wasn't even sure he had gone out. I went over and felt at the door to see if he had gone through the screen, and when I saw that he hadn't, I stood up, puzzled, and called his name. I heard him in the yard, and when I unlatched the door he came flying back through it, all foaming at the mouth and rolling around rubbing his head on the floor. Just as we were trying to figure out what the hell had happened, the smell hit us.
I thought something was on fire. It smelled like burning plastic, and I flipped on the porch light and picked up the ashtray, looking all around the table for something melting. No dice. The dog was still foaming at the the mouth a bit, so I went in the house, an him upstairs, ordered him into the shower, and rinsed his head and mouth thoroughly with warm water. Then we all went to bed.
The next day, T and I were on our way into the house from the car when my neighbor John came up the drive.
"Just wanted to warn you in case you walk your dogs at night. There is a new family of skunks in the neighborhood."
"You don't say." I explained the incident from the previous night.
"Well, that explains the dead one I found in Wes and Linda's yard."
I guess it does. Last night T and I and the dogs were out on the porch again late into the night. At one point, unnoticed by either dog (Wyatt was snoring and KG was loudly chewing a rawhide bone on the other side of the room), something scratched at the screen door. I got up slowly, leapt over to it, and shut it as quickly as possible. There will be no skunk retribution on my watch.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Customer of the Night #4592
They sat outside. It was fifteen minutes to closing time. I went out with some menus. He was wearing oversize glasses and a white, wide-brimmed hat. Had he opened his mouth and revealed a blue-blood Southern accent, I would not have been surprised. He didn't. Who does he remind me of?
"Always gotta have somebody come in late and be a pain in your ass," he smiled.
Kurt Vonnegut. That's who he reminds me of. I waited in him in Chicago in 1997. It was awesome.
"You're fine," I smiled, and I was mostly telling the truth. I had plenty of sidework left to do, so why not make a few more dollars in the meantime, right? They ordered cocktails, and the women each had a snack. They were nice, and funny, and chatty, and it was a great way to end the night. They asked me where I was from (lots of people do when you refer to them as "y'all" up here), asked where I was living, recommended some restaurants. And then he told me a secret: There is a back route from my house to Burywater, where I work. This is huge, because the restaurant is on a very small highway in a very touristy area, just a stone's throw from Neb and Gerry's Ice Cream. I thanked him profusely for the tip, adding that should he feel a warm feeling tomorrow at around 4:45, it would be love I was sending him while not sitting in traffic. The traffic has been pretty crappy already, and due to the incessant rain, this tourist season has reportedly been light. So you can imagine what it will be like in the fall.
They hung out for awhile, and I learned that they are regular customers. That makes me happy.
Yesterday I decided it would be a great idea to take one of our area rugs outside and wash it. Turns out I was totally wrong, and now it shows no sign of drying any time soon, and it's probably going to smell worse than it already did. Ah well. Live and learn.
"Always gotta have somebody come in late and be a pain in your ass," he smiled.
Kurt Vonnegut. That's who he reminds me of. I waited in him in Chicago in 1997. It was awesome.
"You're fine," I smiled, and I was mostly telling the truth. I had plenty of sidework left to do, so why not make a few more dollars in the meantime, right? They ordered cocktails, and the women each had a snack. They were nice, and funny, and chatty, and it was a great way to end the night. They asked me where I was from (lots of people do when you refer to them as "y'all" up here), asked where I was living, recommended some restaurants. And then he told me a secret: There is a back route from my house to Burywater, where I work. This is huge, because the restaurant is on a very small highway in a very touristy area, just a stone's throw from Neb and Gerry's Ice Cream. I thanked him profusely for the tip, adding that should he feel a warm feeling tomorrow at around 4:45, it would be love I was sending him while not sitting in traffic. The traffic has been pretty crappy already, and due to the incessant rain, this tourist season has reportedly been light. So you can imagine what it will be like in the fall.
They hung out for awhile, and I learned that they are regular customers. That makes me happy.
Yesterday I decided it would be a great idea to take one of our area rugs outside and wash it. Turns out I was totally wrong, and now it shows no sign of drying any time soon, and it's probably going to smell worse than it already did. Ah well. Live and learn.
Monday, July 20, 2009
"Are those the customers from hell?" asked my boss The Wife, from behind the line in the kitchen. All I had done was punch in an order for mozzarella sticks with extra marinara.
Crystal, the other waitress, nodded, grimacing.
"Make sure you go with her to take their order," she said, gesturing at me and shaking her head sympathetically.
When they came in the front door, the man went immediately over to the hostess stand, which was empty at the time, and grabbed himself a stack of napkins. I rushed over and asked if I could help him, explaining that there would be place settings on the table.
"I always grab extra," he replied, making his way without invitation to a table in my section. The hostess was nowhere in sight. I grabbed a pair of menus and followed him and his wife.
"Can I bring you a beverage to start with?" I was trying my best not to sound the way that I felt. He immediately blew out and dismantled the candle and holder, leaving the pieces separate and lined up against the wall.
"She's going to have the house Chardonnay, and I want unsweetened iced tea, with extra lemons and an extra glass of ice."
Oh. I see.
So you can imagine that it was no surprise to me when The Wife Boss called them the Customers From Hell. I suppose I was kind of surprised at her volume when she said it, given the fact that she knew they were seated about five feet from the kitchen door. It made me like her more.
They ate overcooked burgers with overcooked bacon on top. He wanted no bread with his, but ordered rice on the side(?). He wound up finishing her french fries. Whatever.
After work Amy, the hostess/manager asked me how I was doing. She seemed eager to encourage me, worried that I wasn't going to stick it out. She's kind of right, I suppose. I mean, I interviewed for a full time gig down the street last week, and if they offer it to me I will take it. Health Insurance and all, you know. But I will probably have to continue waiting tables anyway, for the money. I just hope I am able to get some sleep soon. I have this problem, which has happened before when I was a waitress, where I go to bed and my mind races, and just as I'm falling asleep something will jar me awake and I suddenly find myself in a panic, my mind racing.
"Shit! Did I forget that guy's side of mayo?" And so on. I don't know if other wait people do this, but it has plagued me for my entire adult life. Even after I hadn't waited tables for years. Some people have dreams that they are back in school and they have a test and they haven't studied for it and know they are going to fail. I have nightmares that I keep getting more tables and I can't keep up. I'm hoping that the rise of high-gravity beer will help me through this time.
The Local Health Food Store is still a mixed bag. My boss has no organizational skills whatsoever, and also seems to be burned out, so it seems unlikely that it will get any better. On the other hand, in addition to a nice discount I am able to take home a whole lot of free food every week, so I feel compelled to stay on there at least one day a week- unless of course I get this other full-time gig, in which case I'm going to have to quit. I don't know if I mentioned it before, but the Local Health Food Store has a program where they allow employees to take food that is unsellable (for various reasons- bruising, effed up packaging, one day past the sell by date)for free. And there is always a lot of it. Last week I brought home two whole local organic chickens. Saturday I brought home two local organic pork chops for the b.h., as well as a couple pounds of local, organic, grass-fed beef. I also snagged a couple pounds of local organic zucchini and crookneck squash, a bunch of organic broccoli, a bunch of organic asparagus, and a large package of local organic romaine lettuce. On top of that I got a few small containers of organic rice pudding and some local organic ricotta cheese. All for free. So yeah- I'll be hard pressed to give that up.
Looking forward to a visit from my good fiend T this week. He should be arriving tomorrow evening while I am at work. Luckily I have managed to get Wednesday and Thursday off, so we will have plenty of time to goof off. The list of visitors and potential visitors keeps growing. I love it. I may be gone a couple days, but will hopefully have some good photos of Random Weirdness when I return.
Crystal, the other waitress, nodded, grimacing.
"Make sure you go with her to take their order," she said, gesturing at me and shaking her head sympathetically.
When they came in the front door, the man went immediately over to the hostess stand, which was empty at the time, and grabbed himself a stack of napkins. I rushed over and asked if I could help him, explaining that there would be place settings on the table.
"I always grab extra," he replied, making his way without invitation to a table in my section. The hostess was nowhere in sight. I grabbed a pair of menus and followed him and his wife.
"Can I bring you a beverage to start with?" I was trying my best not to sound the way that I felt. He immediately blew out and dismantled the candle and holder, leaving the pieces separate and lined up against the wall.
"She's going to have the house Chardonnay, and I want unsweetened iced tea, with extra lemons and an extra glass of ice."
Oh. I see.
So you can imagine that it was no surprise to me when The Wife Boss called them the Customers From Hell. I suppose I was kind of surprised at her volume when she said it, given the fact that she knew they were seated about five feet from the kitchen door. It made me like her more.
They ate overcooked burgers with overcooked bacon on top. He wanted no bread with his, but ordered rice on the side(?). He wound up finishing her french fries. Whatever.
After work Amy, the hostess/manager asked me how I was doing. She seemed eager to encourage me, worried that I wasn't going to stick it out. She's kind of right, I suppose. I mean, I interviewed for a full time gig down the street last week, and if they offer it to me I will take it. Health Insurance and all, you know. But I will probably have to continue waiting tables anyway, for the money. I just hope I am able to get some sleep soon. I have this problem, which has happened before when I was a waitress, where I go to bed and my mind races, and just as I'm falling asleep something will jar me awake and I suddenly find myself in a panic, my mind racing.
"Shit! Did I forget that guy's side of mayo?" And so on. I don't know if other wait people do this, but it has plagued me for my entire adult life. Even after I hadn't waited tables for years. Some people have dreams that they are back in school and they have a test and they haven't studied for it and know they are going to fail. I have nightmares that I keep getting more tables and I can't keep up. I'm hoping that the rise of high-gravity beer will help me through this time.
The Local Health Food Store is still a mixed bag. My boss has no organizational skills whatsoever, and also seems to be burned out, so it seems unlikely that it will get any better. On the other hand, in addition to a nice discount I am able to take home a whole lot of free food every week, so I feel compelled to stay on there at least one day a week- unless of course I get this other full-time gig, in which case I'm going to have to quit. I don't know if I mentioned it before, but the Local Health Food Store has a program where they allow employees to take food that is unsellable (for various reasons- bruising, effed up packaging, one day past the sell by date)for free. And there is always a lot of it. Last week I brought home two whole local organic chickens. Saturday I brought home two local organic pork chops for the b.h., as well as a couple pounds of local, organic, grass-fed beef. I also snagged a couple pounds of local organic zucchini and crookneck squash, a bunch of organic broccoli, a bunch of organic asparagus, and a large package of local organic romaine lettuce. On top of that I got a few small containers of organic rice pudding and some local organic ricotta cheese. All for free. So yeah- I'll be hard pressed to give that up.
Looking forward to a visit from my good fiend T this week. He should be arriving tomorrow evening while I am at work. Luckily I have managed to get Wednesday and Thursday off, so we will have plenty of time to goof off. The list of visitors and potential visitors keeps growing. I love it. I may be gone a couple days, but will hopefully have some good photos of Random Weirdness when I return.
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