Sunday, May 29, 2005

this is not a dramitization

ah, the drama of resturant work.

yesterday i pulled into the parking lot, speeding a bit, and noticed four police cars arranged around the door. i had a fleeting surge of hope. maybe we had been robbed and the diner would be closed.
no such luck.

apperently before i arrived a man, his girlfriend, and her younge child had been causing problems. the man began the day by passing out in the lot. our manager attempted to wake him, failed, and called the cops. the cops roused him put him in the cruiser where he began to jack off.

nothing like being arrested to get your mojo running.

the women entered our resturant with her child while her boyfriend was enjoying himself in the police car and started eating off the salad bar, literally. she had a spoon and was dipping into the food.
she did not have the money to pay for anything.

another women spoke with her for a bit. we all assumed she was from social services. she promptly removed the child from the situation. moments later, the crazy lady left the diner, climbed on the hood of the car housing her child and screamed to get the child back. the "social worker" accelerated, knocking crazy off onto the asfault. the police did not see this display but heard the noise.

they followed the "social worker" who was not and arrested her for marijuanna possession.

still crazy remained in our parking lot for another hour. as did the police. she never did pay her 7 dollar food bill. though she did attempt to aquire money from every employee.

inside we had a biit more drama to deal with. one of our servers, just moments after clocking in, started shaking. her pulse sky rocketed and her eyes became unfocased. classic signs of and overdoes. i tried to help her, getting her water and asked about what she had inbibed that day. no questions were answered.

she jumped up from the chair and said that she needed her purse. she ran out the door and down the street.
she did not come back.

i closed last night due to her sudden departure. i will also close tonight.

Friday, May 27, 2005

i love my job

when in a resturant, make up your damn mind. order promptly and correctly.

do not change your mind 10 mins later expecting me to be grateful.

several customers thought it necessary to alter their order repeatitly throughout their stay.

there was a table of 4 older women. i approached the table, asked for their drink orders and if they were ready to order. i work in a glorified burger joint. decision making should not take too long.
they were not ready.

i brought the drinks and asked it they were ready to order, still no.

i checked on other tables, went back, "have you decided what to order?"
of course not.

about 10 mins later they finally ordered. 4 cheese burgers with fries. i now know why it took so long.

i rang in the order and went to check on some nearby tables. they waved me over. "is there tarter sauce on the cheese burger" "yes"
"oh, i don't like tarter sauce."

i went to the kitchen called back the change. i recived a scowl from our cook.

i walk back onto the floor. a wrinkled hand beconed me over.
"can i change my fries to onion rings?'

back to the kitchen. more looks of angst.
the food is already finished.

i take the food, two changes later, to the women. i set the plates down, smile, and ask politely if there was anything else i could do.
i different gray haired demon looks at her lunch with distaste and says "i didn't realise there was tarter sauce on the burgers. can i get one without?"

i wanted to sceam "of course there's tarter sauce! this place is known for it's tarter sauce. your evil friend aksed about the tarter sauce. she re-ordered because of it. the menu listed tarter sauce. you know the menu, you statred at it for half the day!"

however, i smiled and said, "one burger with no tarter sauce comming up."
"well, since you have to re-make it, can i get a fish sandwich instead?"

i wanted to jump over the booth and strangle her old and haggered neck.

my tip, 2 whole dollars. i'm rich now.

Thursday, May 26, 2005


if you work in a resturant long enough you begin to notice patterns.

yesterday was diet coke day.

it seemed that every diet coke drinker decided to come in and sit in my section. the day before was hot tea day. i rarely serve hot tea. once a week is normal. the other day i must have served at least 15 cups. (hot tea by the way is an evil substance to order in a resturant. the server must work much too hard to accomplish the task.)

today was coffee and boobies day.

i can not count how many breast references there were today from my customers. people laughing about cleavage, a woman dropping ketchup on her boob, getting tarter sauce on my own chesticals. why is everyone talking about boobs today? and why are they drinking coffee while doing it.

hours upon hours

i have just come off of hours and hours of pain and suffering.

yesterday i was schedualed to work the evening shift. however, as luck would have it one of our servers was fired leaving a week of empty shifts. i picked up the morning shift. painfully it was as an opener, but i was first off that night, so, 13 hours would not be that bad.

then the phone rings. the closer that night calls off. still not my problem. i am a double, i am first out, i am not a closer.

then the phone rings. another server calls off. guess what, she was the second closer.

my manager walks up. he opens his mouth. i have been on my feet for 12 hours at this point. i am tired, hungry, and sore.
i don't even bother leeting him speak. "your buying me dinner," i say as i walk away.
i am the closer now.

about an hour passes, my manager approachs. something tells me this is not going to be a social conversation. within just a few seconds i am aggreeing to open this morning as well.

i hate the fact that i need money. i hate the fact that my managers know it. they know i will pick up the shifts if they ask enough times. i try to get out of it. i weasle and beg, but we all know that at the end of the day i will still be at work and they will all be laughing.

Tuesday, May 24, 2005

fresh meat

we have a new girl at the resturant.

she seems nice enough, quiet, young, naive. typically she needs help.
"what is in a tossed salad?'

today she followed me around like a lost puppy. attempting to make small talk. forgetting to run her food. forgetting tables.
"is that my section?"

she has yet to learn the art of joking with a table, anticipating their needs, recognizing when their glass is empty.
"you need a refill?"

she has no clue where anything is or how to do her sidework. and though i tell her, it's in one ear and out the other.
"don't tell me, i'll remember this one..."

i like her, she'll be a great server.

Sunday, May 22, 2005

loose ends in the smoking section

first, the wicked witch is gone. they fired the cowardly evil coworker today. she claimed that she had nothing to do with the phone call, that her boyfriend has been trying to get her fired for a few weeks now. first. get over the excuses. your an adult. second, if your boyfriend is trying to get you fired, the same man that punched you in the face a few days previous, he should not be your boyfriend.

i am just glad she's gone. her drama pulled down the place.

moving on, i had an interesting table today. an older couple came in. the man was hooked up to an oxygen tank. he had a walker. "hi welcome to the resturant, how many?" "two" "somking or non?'

they reply, "smoking"

the man is the smoker. now we all know what smoking will do to us. many of us choose to ignore the medical warnings with the idea that it won't happen to us. however, this man is at death's door. the explosive oxygen tank next to him should be a constant "no smoking" sign.

he unhooked his tank to take a long draw on a camel unfiltered.

with the crackle of the tobacco i could hear tar settling in his lungs.

his hacking coughs echoed though the building. i delivered several extra napkins, as a repository for the gooey lung juice.

no one in the resturant took a smoke break for at least three hours.

Saturday, May 21, 2005


i hate racists.

today at work, along with the usual nonsense that goes on, racism reared its ugly head. my manager is a great guy. he's actually helpful, will seat the door, take drink orders, and jokes with the staff. he is a decent and intelligent human being. he is also black. one of my redneck co-workers hates him. he is the only black man on staff and he has the power.

this little b***h wrote an email to corrperate, using her boyfriends name and her own address might i add, claiming that he called a guest a cracker and used profanity in front of the guest insulting a server.

this is somthing i know he would not do. and he did not do. the only servers on shift the night of this "incident" were shocked at the alligations and had no clue where it came from.

i never truely liked this woman, but i could tolerate her. i could work with her in a friendly and cohesive manner. tomorrow, if she is not fired by the time i get there, i will not be able to look her in the face. not a civil word will cross my lips.

how can a person hate on the base of race? how can people still believe that skin color has anything to do with the person.

maybe these people just hate themselves, or their lot in life so much that they need to project that loathing on someone else.

i hate people. i hate racists. get a life people. find something else to hate like bunnies or the goo that collects between your toes.


living on the generosity of others is a painful experience.

i am a waitress. golf claps please.

tonight i worked for 8 wonderful hours and made a grand total of 39 dollars. the night was slow, granted but not slow enough to warrant what i walked out with. it didn't help that the last two hours brought in only two tables. it's a family diner in a quiet neighborhood and we are actually open until midnight on the weekends.

i had a table of four tonight. they seemed like a nice group. they laughed at my corney jokes, kept up with my cloudy wit, and made a point to compliment my service to the manager. i walked to the table with a bounce in my step expecting a decent tip. on the table sat a dollar fifty. this did not even reach 5 percent.

i hate people.

does everyone realise that waiters only make 2.13 an hour, most of which goes to paying taxes.
my last paycheck was an exciting 58 cents. i framed it.

Thursday, May 19, 2005


i just figured out how to add pictures to this thing. this is a picture of an ultra lite that i flew in while still in arizona. it was one of the coolest things i have done in a long time. i want to learn how to fly now. the greatest part, noone sitting next to you, no security, no armrests, no small children, and no tiny bathrooms!

ultra lite

Getting home

In the air again I remember how much I truly hate to fly. I am in no way afraid of planes or the idea being a few miles above the ground with nothing to stop your decent into a loud and fiery death if something “unexpected” occurs.

Turbulence is fun.

The captain’s voice on the speakers, “there is weather out the right window”, I am on the left, “we may experience a few small bumps. Everyone should sit with their seat belts locked.” What about my tray table?

The plane shakes. I think of what a martini must feel. Shaken not stirred.

I am not at all afraid of the flight. I hate flying because of the forced small talk required in these situations. “Pretty shaky.” “They call this a few bumps.”

No matter how you try you will never sit next to someone normal on a plane. The entire basis for normality is skewed by the gravity-defying act of air transport. You may think yourself a normal and likeable person but as soon as you climb the steps into the cabin you become your neighbor’s nightmare.

The armrest becomes a battleground.

“There is a beautiful view of St. Louis out the right side window”
I am on the left. Cornfields.

As the turbulence the need for small talk diminishes and the ranging battle for the armrest continues during a period of awkward silence.

My ass is sore.

I need to piss.

Bathrooms on planes are a joke. As a woman in a public restroom you have a choice, to sit or hover. Airplane bathrooms are discussing. Just behind port o potties and truck stops. We all know what does and could occur in the bathrooms of the sky. So I choose to hover. The problem, hovering requires a person to squat over the pot while leaning forward. The “room” is much too small to make such a maneuver.

I cross my legs.

“For those of you lucky enough to be sitting on the right side of the plane, you will be able to see a hundred hot air balloons in flight.
I am on the left. Nothing but clouds.

Saturday, May 14, 2005


yesterday completed the real and true reason for the trip into the desert. my little sister graduated from college. she's two years younger and is finishing her degree program just days after me.
the graduation was interesting. the best part had to be the fact that there was not enough seating for all the family members. approximatly 100 people were stuck outside while their son or daughter was walking in their cap and gown. there were also many people in the hallways, restricted from the precedings. how can a college only have seating about half of their student's families?

Okay, that was the true reason for my visit to the area. now, there are another 5 days before my flight takes me out of here. tomorrow is an old family favorite. the classic trip to the grand canyon. all day tomorrow i will be cooped up in a van with several tourists, my mother, and my little sister. i guess mom is attempting to get in all the good old fashion family fun in before i move north. what next?

Wednesday, May 11, 2005


Airport security

I am currently sitting in the Columbus international airport. People milling around, attempting to make time pass more quickly. Now, after hours of staring blankly at the walls I have discovered a great way to pass the time. Turn the security checkpoint into a spectator sport.
There is nothing better than the pained expressions on the faces of passengers and the bored pointed look of those going through the motions of a job they know is lacking in reality.
I turned “extreme security check” into a sport as well as a drinking game. One drink every time they pat down a person over the age or 70. Two drinks if the person is in a wheel chair.
My 82-year-old grandmother who is in a wheelchair was patted down, wanded, and swabbed for explosives.
I, on the other hand, was wearing an “anarchy” tee shirt with a bad religion jacket, and more electronics in my bag than any sane person should carry was passed through without a second look. I guess granny looks the part of a hardened (hard of hearing, maybe) criminal.

The flight

I know that I am not the first to say it, but dear god there should be an age minimum on planes. Maybe a special sections at the back for the short and bouncy.
I have two small children behind me. They seem to be playing lasers from the safety and constraint of their seats.
On the one hand I feel I cannot be too upset about these two wiggling masses of noise. They are, for the most part, behaving. There have been no tears or screaming for the past 3 hours.
However, the other hand holds 2 wonderful hours of a 3 year olds whistling. Now they have moved on to blasting each other with invisible, but ridiculously loud, “hand” guns. Not to mention the mandatory kicking of the seat and slamming of the tray table.
The whistling is back.
Anyone have any morphine. It’s not for me…

Monday, May 09, 2005


i am heading out of town tomorrow, off to fun in the sun of arizona. today it was in the 90's out there. something hit me when i figured out how frigging hot it is in my destination city. i have been thinking and planning on moving to a state where glaciers rain supreme and have gotten rid of most of my summer clothing. i am mentally prepared, or at least sort of prepared, for the move and now this shock to my system is looming. at least i can get a tan, i guess.

Sunday, May 08, 2005


yesterday i graduated college. this moment we six years in the making. after 4 colleges and as many majors i finally picked one, stuck with it and aquired a diploma. there was the general nervousness before the ceremony. i was sure that i would fall or trip or do something equally stupid. but as the moment for the walk drew near i realised that there is no real pressure. this was my moment and anything i do is absolutly fine. most people were standing still, tense. as i walked down the line i "high fived" everyone i passed, or at least everyone with enough of a sence of humor to go so in front of a stadium or people.
anyway, i am done. college is over. now i am in the process of getting ready for my job and am starting to work on my next degree. this sounds goofey, but i now want a degree in biology as well as a masters in education. i have no idea what i want to do with the rest of my life and so i think the plan, at least for now should be to become a life-long student. we'll see how this goes.
tuesday i leave for arizona to watch my younger sister graduate from college as well. it should be a good time.

Friday, May 06, 2005

getting ready

well, when i first got the job in alaska i was freaked out. i wanted to get everything done right away. i even pulled out a suitcase. i talked to my friends and have started giving away my stuff. (everything in my apartment must go. i can only take what i can carry to this far off land so i have been attempting to cn my friends into taking everything away.) then i remembered, i am stuck here in kentucky for another 3 months.
it has taken every ounce of self control to keep myself from packing everthing up right now.
ok, so what do should i do for the next few months. i want to leave now. i don't want to sit around here and wait for the move day. i want to quit my job at the resturant. (i hate food service. it is the bain of my exsistance. people are evil and attempting to live on the generosity of others is a painful way to get along. i give massive props and sympathy to those that successful make a career of it.)
that is enough ranting and raving for the time being.

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