Who are you?

Over the years I’ve had a  lot of opportunities to learn about different jobs and careers. Through all of this experience, I have ultimately been on a quest to find out what I do want to do.  This has led to many revelations. I have figured out a lot of things I do not want to do; these jobs include washing dishes, working in a fish plant, being a secretary, manual labour of any sort and so on….

I have yet to really figure out what exactly I do want to do, though through process of elimination the list of possible career choices seems to get shorter and shorter.

In the past few months I have heard the phrase “I want you to be more like so and so” a few too many times.  Good ol’ so and so is always just rocking a solid program. So and so is always happier, more popular, a better employee and ultimately smarter… At least in the eyes of the people telling me to be more like so and so.

So I think I have found my answer. The quest is over. I finally know what I want in a job.

I want a career where nobody tells me to be more like so and so. I want a job where being me is just fine and so and so can just fuck right off.

Waiter rant

I just finished reading Waiter Rant, a book about the life of, who else, a disgruntled waiter. The guy has a blog, http://waiterrant.net/ but I found the book way more entertaining…

Anyway, in the back section he has an appendix which lists “50 ways to tell you’re working in a Bad restaurant”

I thought it was sort of ironic that the old job, which prides itself on being very professional but commits many of the offenses listed:

• 2. Your start working Friday and Saturday nights the first week (That’s because waiters quit with alarming regularity)
• 9. The employee bathroom is so gross it would be better just to have a hole in the ground
• 10. The toilet paper in the employee bathroom could double for sandpaper
• 12. There are always either too any waiters on the floor or not enough
• 16. Owner, GM or chef makes fun of a staff person’s significant others
• 19. You start drinking more
• 21. You have to pay the owner a percentage of the merchant fee on your credit card tips
• 22. The manager expects a share of your tips (illegal!)
• 24. There aren’t enough teaspoons, so you have to hoard them in your apron in order to have enough for dessert service
• 26. There’s never any soap or hand sanitizer around
• 28. The manager is constantly calling you to work extra shifts
• 30. Management tells you to work sick. (Good evening I’m typhoid Mary and I’ll be your server tonight)
• 31. If you lose a credit card slip, the owner takes the check amount out of your compensation until the credit card company transmits the funds into his account. You lose the tip.
• 33. Management makes you pay if a customer skips on the bill.
• 35. You’re working a double and management laughs when you ask to take a break.
• 37. The owner tells you that you’re part of a restaurant “family” and that “going above and beyond” to “exceed customer expectations” is expected. After a couple of shifts you begin to realize the Manson Family had more on the ball than these guys.
• 38. The restaurant is dirty.
• 39. Heavy turnover of staff. The place is a meatgrinder and you are the meat.
• 42. The fire exits are always blocked by extra chairs, tables or pieces of equipment
• 44. There’s no first aid kit
• 45. The owner’s never around when you need him and always there when you don’t

Yikes…..

What else is new

Well… It’s been a whirlwind few weeks.

We inherited a van, it’s pretty sweet to have wheels I must admit.

It’s just kind of funny I suppose. Getting your first car is supposed to be sort of a monumental experience/ life moment. I always thought it was supposed to be something that you worked for and made sacrifices for and picked out with great care… not something you just kind of end up with one day. Not that I am complaining at all, I just never thought my first car would be a big black mini van.

I suppose it’s fitting since I sort of have 2.5 kids now….

All that’s missing is the house in the ‘burbs….

Don’t get any ideas.

I have started the next (final??) chapter in my illuistrious love/hate relationship with the service industry. To say it was a sudden decision is kind of an understatement… I handed out resumes on a Tuesday, had a phone call Wednesday, an interview Thursday and a job on Friday… funny how things happen sometimes I guess. It was time to go.. and besides the new job will provide me with way better material to write about….. or something.

We’ll just say that it was time, 4 years is a long time anywhere, let alone a company that is like having a big disfunctional family that happens to be located in the biggest small town in the whole world. A drunken patron on my last night sat at my bar, with his larger than life personality and told me repeatedly that everything was going to be ok, because he just had a feeling about me. Strange as it sounds it was comforting.

I’ve felt pretty stuck for a long time; longer than I was willing to admit I think. Recently some pretty random people have been saying things to me through conversations that for one reason or another have made me face a few facts about various things. I realize that last sentence was pretty vague but it says it all really.

I keep waiting for things to change and go forward but it feels like I am just pushing up against a wall.  I feel like I am trying too hard and not hard enough all at once. Awhile ago a friend told me that if you throw enough shit against a wall eventually some of it will stick. I guess my arm is just getting a bit tired from the relentless shit tossing that I’ve been doing.

On the subject of other things… I planted a garden on my patio which I am pretty stoked about. Who needs to live in the country..

Whether or not anything grows we’ll have to see.

I caught the cats spooning this afternoon. FYI Darwin was totally the cheating spoon…..

The other man

There is another man in my life.

He’s black and arrived at my house at 10pm last night in a torrential rain storm, in the cover of darkness.

He’s very young and has a special place in my heart already, but he makes Darwin insanely jealous.

He weighs 2.5lbs and his likes include cat food, chasing string and sleeping. That is, when he is not holed up under the couch in fear of the Ginger Terror.

Note the disdain from Darwin....

I can feel it coming in the air tonight….

Tonight was one of those glorious early spring nights. The night was still and the chill of the winter air has finally turned into the promising and hopefully manageable  cold of early spring. The stars were out in full glorious force and all I wanted to do was sit outside with my feet up on the table, wrapped in a blanket and smell the air. Everything was fresh and crisp in the most pleasant way.

For as long as I can remember, whenever I was outside at night, I would look at the flashing lights of planes and wish that I was on them; not caring where they were going to and where they were coming from, but just wishing that I was going somewhere, anywhere. I would imagine these tiny dots were heading some place far more exciting than where I was,  if only for the simple fact that it wasn’t here. I still feel that way, especially on clear nights like tonight.

The music from the stereo was playing faintly in the background and the promise of warmer nights spent outside was finally tangible.

Darwin’s- or rather my- first kill

A couple of days ago we noticed a tiny furry creature inhabiting a corner of our kitchen. We decided setting any kind of traps may lead to an unfortunate incident with the other, slightly larger furry critter in our house. Now, it really should come as no surprise that I am kind of a sissy when it comes to killing things; unwanted or not. I think the majority of creatures with fur and tiny ears are kind of cute….

Anyway, lately, Darwin had developed a special fascination with our pot cupboard. It has 2 sliding doors that don’t quite match, and if left ajar enough, are just big enough for a ginger cat to slip through. When I came home from work today he was especially fixated with the cupboard. I didn’t really think a whole lot of it, until I kept hearing him repeatedly attacking the cupboard door trying to get in. Initially, I let him in the cupboard to see if his curiosity would be sated, but the clanging if him on the pots and pans was a bit much.  He seemed pretty intent on one corner in particular, but he also thinks another cat lives in our bedroom, right where the mirror is….

All night he was at the cupboard, jumping at it, meowing (more than usual) and staring deep into its depths. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and set out to investigate. I started pulling out pots and then…. There is was…. A tiny brownish grey mouse with little tiny ears and beady eyes.

Holy shit I said. The cat meowed in eager agreement.

Now, it just so happens that I was alone and left to my own devices, the man friend was away at a bachelor party.

Be cool I thought. You can handle this.

I pulled the remainder of the contents of the cupboard out and had the poor little guy cornered, until he turned around and made a break for the kitchen, nearly over my bare feet and then scurried under a clutter of pots.

Holy shit I said again. Only this time, I think  I may have added a few more adjectives in there.

I picked up an empty yogurt container (aka ghetto tupperware) and decided to trap the furry offender underneath.

Mission accomplished!

…Now what….

I did the only thing I knew. I called in the big guns. I called Kate.

After much laughter on both of our parts, I donned some sneakers, and some big yellow rubber gloves and managed to trap the poor little guy in the container.

I then took him downstairs and released him with attitude into the street, as directed…… I sure hope he made it to somebody else’s house…….

Needless to say, I came back inside and immediately poured myself a big glass of wine.

In the beginning… there was Darwin

So I’ve decided to re purpose this a bit in an attempt to write more and talk about writing more less… The recent addition of a tiny ginger kitten named Darwin has made my life more interesting..or it has at least yielded more stories for me to share. True to any life long love hate affair (see my first day at work in the hospitality industry…) the story of Darwin begins in a less than illustrious way.

I had finally convinced the man friend that getting a cat would be a good idea and so we began the search. After a few weeks of looking at some very adorable critters we were still catless. Then, one night after work I sat down to peruse and there he was.

His tongue was sticking out in his photo. His eyes were entirely black and he looked like pure trouble.

Hasty e-mails resulted in the lady who owned him telling me she had good vibes about me and that he was mine as soon as we could come pick him up.

One problem…. he was located in Aylesford which is about a 2 hour drive from Halifax.  No big deal. We struck a deal to borrow a car and we were all business….

Sunday morning rolled around and the forecast was calling for snow so we awoke bright an early after having a late night at work. We piled into the car and set off for our new man.

We found the place, and picked up our new terror from a somewhat crazy but totally friendly crazy cat lady (she had 14 of her own cats! 14!). He was totally willing to go and was cool calm and collected as we put him in his carrier and into the back seat of the car. All smiles, all easy.

Yeah right.

We made it approximately 3minutes before the crying began. The ad for him said he was a chatterbox, but wow. He started crying like we were torturing him or something. He was awfully loud for something so tiny. Ok, so no big deal a little mewing is not so terrible to deal with.

And then… then he shit in the carrier. Now, by this time, the snow had started to fly and it was freezing cold outside, and the fact that he messed himself only caused our tiny new bundle of joy to scream even louder. So here we were, speeding down the road, trying to beat the snowstorm, with the windows rolled down to dissipate the incredibly out of this world foul smell of kitten shit.

We eventually had to pull over at a gas station, try to clean the cat up as best we could and then continue on home to Halifax.

Shirtless (on Chris’s part… the cat needed something to lay on…), and incredibly unsure of our new decision we made it home in one piece, but just barely.

And that was the illustrious start of the ginger cat named Darwin……

The way it is

Sometimes the world works in weird ways.

Before I re-entered the illustrious world of food and beverage I pretty much had a job to be a high school recruiter for a college in the bag. I think I would have been really good at it, and when I have tough days at work I kick myself for turning it down. Truthfully, the money wasn’t that great and they seemed kind of disorganized in general and I think this year has just been one big lesson in a lot of things.

At any rate, the first function I worked at the hotel was the graduation party for the very same college.

My interviewers were there; the same people I had just called the day before and told that I was no longer interested in their job. They were very amicable and wished me well.

That’s just the way it is.

And so, last weekend there were two Christmas parties going on simultaneously. In one room, a big PR firm, in the other- a trucking company.

I have always joked that if all else failed, I would become a truck driver. I like to drive, don’t mind being in a vehicle for long distances and frankly the idea of me as a trucker is priceless.

I joked to my bartenders that I had a lot of pressure on me that night. Not only was it my first night running the proverbial show kind of solo, but I also had 2 groups of people to impress. My career of choice lay behind one set of doors, and my plan B lay behind the other.

Monday morning I got my acceptance to PR school.

I guess that’s just the way it is.

The worst night

Every once in awhile you just have one of those nights or days. You know the type, where nothing you touch works out well, or even ends up in a pile of rubble at your feet.

Last night was one of those nights.

The set-up is almost as wondrous as the absolute sideways turn the night took.

At the very posh hotel I work at, there is a suite that people or companies can rent out to entertain their guests. It is essentially set up like a luxury apartment, only hotel style. There is a giant TV, a big sitting room, a dining room, bedroom, bathroom etc. There is also a small bar type area that can be used for a private bartender to dispense drinks to the guests.  That is where I come in.  Last night was my first kind of experienc with something like that. When I walked into the room to set up I was pretty much in shock at the amount of booze. Dozens of 24s of beer, several 66ers of hard alcohol, coolers, magnums of wine, etc etc. It was pretty much like walking into the liquor store, but it was all free.. well free for the people in attendance.

The night started off slow and lame, not much to write home about really. I thought I was in for a long night of trying to busy myself so as to not look too bored and offput about being there. Then the wheels feel off the cart.

It started really when I stopped being able to keep up with the dishes and the drink requests, I can only move so fast. It escalated when a fine gentleman dropped a full beer on the tile floor behind my bar. It continued to go downhill when I ran out of ice and glasses at the same time… This all happened pretty much simultaneously. Of course, the suite is on the 3rd floor and the elevator works only when it feels like it, so I had to bust ass down the stairs. I procured ice, a mop and glasses and thought everything was under control. This is the point when I dropped an entire rack of glasses on the floor also behind my bar.

Awesome. Back down the stairs for the 3rd time in as many minutes to get the broom. Back up again to clean it up. Make the drinks, laugh at the drunken jokes, plaster a smile, don’t loose your cool.

Eventually they all left and I was left with the mess to clean up. Picture what your apartment looks like after a rager and then think 10 times worse. So I finally got everything under control, it was clean, my cart was piled high. (Side note about the cart, it is nicknamed after a mythical strong man and it is really hilarious to hear people in serious conversation refer to the cart as said mythical strongman…) I set off for the elevator.

I will admit, I was pushing it. Even strong men have a limit to what they can carry and I was pushing on it. I am more of a tetris girl than a janga queen.

I make it to the elevator, and even inside, and down to the main floor where I need to be. On the way out, the front wheel of my strongman cart hit the rut between the elevator and the floor. This caused my slop bucket full of all the dregs and discarded drinks, with a strainer full of straws and lime wedges and other assorted detritus to launch fully against the wall of the elevator and then soak the floor of the elevator entirely.

There were straws stuck to the elevator walls.

The glass candle holders on my cart also decided to make a leap for it and shattered all over the soggy booze and straw soaked carpet and got into the mix in fine style.

I cry laughed at this point. You know, the one where no tears happen but the laughter sounds like sobs rather than happiness.

There was nothing left to do but clean it up and drown my sorrows at the bottom of a pint of beer…..

The real pre-meal

As this is a fairly new outlet, there have been instances over the past seven years or so that I feel the need to chronicle. I have seen things I wish I hadn’t in regards to food.

I happen to believe that the act of sharing a meal with friends or family is something very special. Food plays such an important part in our lives and our celebrations and the act of breaking bread with people is a fairly intimate thing. I think food should be treated with respect and care and that the ingredients included should be the best that you are able to provide.

I have witnessed some truly grotesque displays of humanity when it comes to food. The most disturbing and disgusting thing you can ever witness is a dessert buffet.  I have had people literally rip whole cakes out of my hands because I cannot place them on the buffet quick enough. Nobody should need to eat 4 or 5 slices of rich cake in one sitting.  (And in fact most people do not) The amount of food I have been forced to throw away over my time in the service industry is downright depressing. I have had to throw away perfectly good dishes because they were not used and nobody was around to eat them. It is actually illegal to take the food from banquets or other events off property and give it away. There is too much liability associated with it; people could get food poisoning and then the company would be held liable and could potentially face a giant lawsuit.

The real point of this story though comes down to one night. A restaurant I worked at was hired to cater a wedding at an offsite location. Basically, we had to take everything that was needed to serve a dinner to a different site and set up a make-shift restaurant. This means we had to cook everything at the restaurant before we took it to this event and had little room for error. This is important to keep in mind.

Anyway, this event was a small intimate gathering for a wedding. It was clear that either the bride or groom (or maybe both?) had a less than classy past. The cliche mandatory-invite-but-wish-we-didn’t-have-to table consisted of about 25 people or so, A large number considering the total attendance was only about 50. Anyway, as luck or misfortune, depending, would have it, I was assigned to wait on these people. For those of you not in the know, generally speaking the best server gets the best tables at an event, or otherwise, gets the most difficult tables to deal with.  And to be clear, I have served my share of head tables….

Anyway… I myself am a small town girl with a rural past, though a not so embarrassing family. At any rate my charm and skills usually carry me through any situation. These people we just…. beyond words and comprehension however. The offer of still or sparkling water seemed to be more challenging than if I would have asked them the different between quantum physics methods. The salad course was untouched because and I quote, only rabbits eat greens.

The bride and groom had obviously spent a lot of time planning the menu for their event, and tried to find something that would appeal to everybody’s tastes. Their choice of a main course was a pork tenderloin with a nice dauphnoise potato and some seasonable vegetables. Not really your typical mass produced turkey dinner with mashed and peas as some weddings. Pork, cooked traditionally, is served medium rare. That is, a nice pink center that is warm with only the edges of the tenderloin cooked through.

The finer points of cuisine were not really appreciated by the Clampetts however. To them, the meal was under cooked and unacceptable. This was conveyed to me with as much grace as if I would have served them broiled baby face with a side of kitten with a puppy au jus.

Picture this: 25 people all handing me their meals at once to be sent back to the “kitchen” to be fixed. Remember that part where I mentioned we had no kitchen? And that we had limited food supplies? I told you that would be a key detail….

So I diligently take all of their meals that have been thrust into my hands and return to the kitchen. I do not know which toothless guest has gnawed on which undercooked piece of pork. I do not know who has slobbered over whose potatoes….. I do not know what to do. The chef and manager look at me with the same look in their eyes: pure bewilderment and even a bit of terror. I have 25 hungry people however, all demanding that I bring them new meals….

The chef flash fryed everything as best he could, reassembled the plates and then sent me back into the room.

Wide eyed and unsure of what exactly was going down, I had no choice but the serve the meals.

And so that night, Uncle Jud ate Auntie Mable’s already sampled pork tenderloin, and Bobby-Jim unwittingly shared Sally-Joe’s potatoes and the list of disgusting things I have done grew by one.