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God, I don't
know how I feel right about now.
It was an amazing weekend. I was able to enjoy my first beautiful
Valentine's Day EVER. Turns out, I didn't have to work that
day either, so I had a whole day to enjoy having a Valentine.
Very wonderful. Of course, the next day I show up at work at
9:04pm (according to the clock at the restaurant that runs five
minutes fast), and the general manager approaches to me to ask
where I've been. I thought it was a joke about my being four
minutes late (really one minute early), and I just laugh. "You
were supposed to be here at eight."
"No,
I wasn't. I'm supposed to be here at nine. It's nine now."
"No, eight."
"No, I'm positive.
I have it written down in three different places. Where's the
old schedule? Do you still have it? I know it says nine."
So, I bump into Amie, another waitress. "Where were you?"
She asks lightly, with no malice in her tone and just curiosity.
"What is everybody talking about? I was supposed to
come in at nine!"
"The schedule says eight."
I'm all determined and excited to throw the schedule back in
everyone's face with a big fat 9 in print, but alas, I go to
the schedule to see an 8 printed plainly in the line of my name.
I do NOT know how I fucked that up. No, I DO know. Our schedules
are printed and hung in grids. All the servers names down the
left column, the days across in rows, our schedule printed accordingly.
Now, it's all the same font, the rows are all white backgrounds
- no alternating. I was writing down my schedule for the week
without following my finger across, and as I was looking down
and up, I looked at the server's schedule directly below me
on the list - whose schedule was IDENTICAL to mine other than
the SINGLE difference - she comes in a 9 to work in the lounge
downstairs and I come in at 8. 8 and 9 are sort of similar looking
too, not to mention the fact that we BOTH had "MET"
printed right next to the number where no one else's did. So,
I confused them a week ago - I fucked up, THE DAY after they
let me off of work as sort of a favor. Great. I'm so flustered
about it and totally PMSing, that I fuck up the first table
I had that night about a million times, forgetting to say "No
bleu cheese" on one girl's plate, but taking the bleu cheese
off of another girl's plate who wanted it. I was just a mess,
so I started crying. Got to love being a woman.
I was sad that my beautiful weekend was nearly over, and I had
to RETURN to work at 9am for Sunday brunch (a shift that actually
isn't as horrible as I thought it would be except for the fact
that it begins at 9am, and I'm a night girl.) The place was
COMPLETELY packed, and I just couldn't get through to the bar
to get drinks to bring to my tables. I was literally climbing
over people, ducking beneath them - finally just checking them
and resisting the urge to scream, "Will you get the fuck
out of my way, you fucking bitch!" about a hundred and
four times. I was just livid about the whole thing.
Rumor then had it that one of the owners wanted me fired for
coming in late. It's not like I slacked off and came in whenever
I damn well pleased. I mean, I didn't know I was supposed to
come in at 8. Totally aware that it was my stupid mistake, absolutely,
but it's not like I'm "careless," you know? Don't
know for sure if I was wanted fired, but Amie overheard
the owner say to the manager, "I don't care WHO it is,
if that type of thing happens AGAIN, you FIRE THEM!"
So Amie asked me, "Did he yell at you?"
"Who?
No. No one yelled at me. Why do you ask that?"
"Oh," Amie replies, "I heard them say..."
and told me the story. I'm pretty positive that it was me they
were talking about, especially because this particular owner
is known for having less than zero tolerance for tardiness.
See, I hate people who are late. I would find it ironic if I
were fired for that when I thought I was on time, as always.
Then there's that part of you that says, "Go ahead and
do it." I mean, of course you don't want to be fired. If
it had happened, I would have cried, made a scene, the whole
bit. But there isn't a server out there who doesn't wish that
they'd be fired at one point. I mean, no one wants to wait tables
forever - not unless you work at one of those places that you
make $600 night. But even then, you don't want to be a servant
forever. You want to be respected. However, the money is pretty
good and the co-workers are even better, so you can't just walk
away from a situation like that. However, we all know that when
you're screwed, a motivation kicks in to get a better life,
to not be in this position where you can be fired completely
for coming in an hour late when you've never done a thing wrong
before it. One of the best bartenders in there was fired because
he missed a meeting he didn't know existed for bartenders one
Saturday morning. This guy was liked by all the servers, he
was quick making all the drinks, and he was always on time for
his shifts. Maybe I don't know, and there were other problems,
but he missed a "mandatory meeting" and then he was
out. I don't know if that's the best way to build a good team
- firing good workers for situations like that. I missed a mandatory
meeting that I didn't know about because I was in LA when it
was announced and no one called me to tell me about it. I thought
I was fired when I didn't do anything wrong. I actually believe
I was considered to be fired for that. I think I'm getting some
strikes against me in this place, and it feels like a time bomb
ready to go off.
Back to the secretly wanting to be fired. So, no one wants to
serve. If you do lose your job waiting tables at one place,
most likely, you won't look for another restaurant unless being
a waiter is all you aspire to be. You would go home, sulk a
bit, get all scared about money, and then think, "Fuck
this, I want more for myself." Ideally, that's what would
happen. Rachel Green quit Central Perk under her friend's suggestion
because it was supposedly serving as a security - never allowing
her to get the motivation for work for more. Unfortunately,
I do not remember what the conclusion was to that episode. She
freaks out that lost that job, was about to take it back, then
I think she got another one. I don't know. Either way, I don't
want to get fired really...well, no more than everybody wants
to get fired who hates listening to, "Can you get me this,"
"Can you get me that," "Um...this is too salty,"
"Um...I asked for a lemon with this???" "I said
ON THE SIDE," "Yeah, could I get some more coffee?"
"We would like a round of waters, please," "Can
we smoke here?" "Where are the bathrooms?" "How
many sides do I get again?" "I don't want ice in my
sprite," "Can I get alcohol in my vodka tonic? I mean,
this tastes like ALL tonic," "Can I just sit here?"
"Um...yeah, can we all have separate checks?" "These
fries are soggy, I specifically asked for well done fries?!"
"Why do you close at 1 again?" "We have more
people coming, so we'll just hold onto this table too,"
"Do you have any other seasonal beers?" "We're
just going to leave our coats here." "I'd like milk,
but she wants cream," "No, I don't want anything this
second, come back in five minutes and I'll be ready for you,"
"I would like two sip straws with this." But I must
reiterate - you need the money, you like the other servers.
You can't just quit, and getting fired is scary. So, you work
hard, and if you get enough bad nights, enough bad looks from
your bosses, enough shit spilled on you - you hope someone will
end it all for you.
I swear to God, you just fucking grow to hate people, even the
nicest people. You can't help but turn into a people-hating
monster by the end of the night. Then there's the Real World
factor...
On Friday, we were at dinner, and the bartender of this restaurant
looks EXACTLY like a cross between Christopher Reeves and Adam
West. A superhero combo. Nice. So, I ask him if he's ever heard
that. He rolls his eyes, mutters, "Everyday" before
I could finish my question and immediately starts to ask for
an order from someone else. This terse reaction was so stunting
that we looked at each other and whispered, "Whoa, did
you see that? He hates that." I was obviously offended
by why a dick this guy was when we were paying him a compliment,
and I was a bit annoyed. I thought about it and decided that
it was Valentine's Day, and he's working like I would have been.
He either can't be with his Valentine or he hates this day in
general, so let's not give him shit.
Well, Superbartender has the personality of the entire Mickey
Mouse Club compared to what a bitch I become at 12:45am after
500 Thursday/college night, "Aren't you that girl..."
questions screamed at me all night. "Yes, I am, yes, I'm
waitressing, I will NOT tell you who won the Challenge, so leave
me the fuck alone unless you're paying me for a drink AND plan
on tipping me 20% or more, motherfucker."
If I get one more "Hey, YOU! Look at me right now,"
from some goddamn "fan" I'm going to start breaking
bottles over people's heads. Also, one would think the Real
World factor would help out in the tipping world - but some
of the bigger "fans" of the show give some seriously
horrible tips. Maybe they just don't know how to tip, and I
explain the math of it in the Completed Thought about waitressing
that I haven't posted yet because it needs a lot of editing
(apparently, it's a little too angry, not enough funny - and
now is NOT the time to fix it considering this mood), but until
then, the world would have to learn to do the math on their
own.
Don't get me wrong, I don't mind people asking me about the
show or saying hi. It's nice sometimes, but it's HOW you ask,
and NO ONE asks politely or with any remote sense of respect
on those goddamn Thursday nights. (I refuse to work another
Thursday night, and you can't fucking make me.).
Weather - we're reaching some all time lows these past few days.
Nightmare. Of course, with our whole huge heat bill problem,
I'm sitting here blowing into my damn hands as I type this because
they are freezing, and it hurts to move my fingers too much.
That's ridiculous. Not. So annoying. I HATE being cold.
My throat hurts - the smoke factor in the restaurant. We've
already discussed this before, so I won't go into it now.
Also, I'm feeling a bit lonely. A typical feeling for the afternoon
I had. I don't like going to the airport as much as I have to,
or at least not the second time going to the airport in one
trip. It always leaves me lonely.
My room is pretty messy and I couldn't begin to clean it.
I'm STILL haunted by some certain regrets from my time spent
in New York. Just when you think you pass it and it's over with,
someone new discovers it and leaves you feeling all ashamed.
I mean, when you close a door on something, it's a shame when
someone sticks a foot in there leaving it perpetually wedged
open. Whatever, I was younger, I was still in college, I THOUGHT
I was playing things safe and being "classy." Next
thing you know, you feel dirty and stupid again.
I do not recommend doing this show. I feel horrible for people
who had things worse than me. It's like you can't ever apologize.
whatever, I'm not getting into this right now. This isn't even
the forum to discuss it, it's just on my mind and thoughts are
streaming.
I'm going to find my coziest of clothes and head on over to
my sister's for a sleepover. As much as I just adore my bedroom,
it feels very strange in here tonight, and I don't want to be
here. Also, I think my fish are freezing. Poor Jack and Tyson.
I can't do anything to warm them up either. DAMN HEAT BILL.
If Jack ever does eat, he won't let me watch like I used to.
I think it's like a rebellion or something. Tyson isn't too
happy either, no matter what I do. Maybe I don't talk to them
much. I wish I had a better place to put them, somewhere lit
better.
Okay, time to leave the ice box.
I'm hoping I'll get the tape tomorrow for the show to post by
tomorrow night. If not, I'll get it up Tuesday morning.
New additions coming to the site soon...keep checking in. |
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