I was dreading going into work this morning. I had almost a week off because I was sick, and then had a few days off anyway, and was really getting into the Christmas spirit. The spirit was killed when I put on my black tennis shoes and khakis, but I headed to work anyway. We had a busy lunch, which is always great - more money! But as I was refilling the parmesan cheese at the end of my shift (yes, I have to do this) I started staring at a girl at one of the tables. I asked my co-worker, "Doesn't she look familiar??" I couldn't place her but just kept staring. Jokingly, my co-worker said, "Maybe she is some famous movie star...." My reply: "I really think she is!"
I discovered we were making a scene when a lady, who I assumed was the girl's mother starting nodding and pointing at her daughter. I went over and asked her, "How do I know that girl?" She whispered back, "She is Erin on 'The Office.'" The following was a show of what I can only call embarrassing behavior. I started talking to her mother exclaiming how much we love "The Office" and how we Tivo it when we are not available. (That was not important information for anyone to know.) Somehow or other, "Erin" got dragged into the conversation and started talking with us. Just three besties hanging out. Me, Erin and Erin's mom. I have to say, she was incredibly nice and apparently a great tipper as well.
I trapped her for at least 5 minutes while we talked, and discovered that her family lives in St. Louis and she is home for the holidays. (Mike later suggested that we find out where her parents live and stop by the house with some cookies.) I did consider asking for her autograph, but held myself back. As she left, we shook hands (I know - I touched her!) and I was still in awe of how nice she was. Then in a moment of weakness, I ran outside and yelled, "Erin! (So not her real name.) Tell John Krasinski I love him!" My cool factor may have plummeted after that, but the entire interaction made my day. Now I wonder who I will see at dinner!
Monday, December 21, 2009
Sunday, December 20, 2009
The Holiday Card Dilemma
How long is long enough for a Christmas card to be sent out picturing you and your significant other? Remember on Friends when Mona wanted to send a Christmas card out together with Ross after dating for two months? In the book of Michael Cherbonneau, Rule #64, "Thou shalt not send picture Christmas cards until thou are engaged." And so, after 6.5 years of dating, the photo shoot began.
Don't get me wrong. I always send out Holiday cards, and over the last two or three years have included some of our mutual friends. The difference is the PICTURE. Somehow or other, this makes the relationship more real and maybe begins to question the future. Regardless, Mike and I decided to send out Holiday Cards/Save the Dates together in one. Perfect idea - people have to stare at our faces for a month while reading over and over again when they should be planning to arrive at our wedding. The only problem is...December got a little crazy. By the time we got the tree up and decorated, it was December 15. Keep in mind, I like to have my cards out by the 5th of December, and was feeling extremely anxious with this 10 day extension.
I changed into my red dress, while Mike dressed in a button down and slacks. (Does anyone say slacks anymore? I am bringing it back.) As I applied the last touch, some red lipstick, I realized, "We have no one to take this picture!" If you recall, we don't have a lot of friends in the building as they all have at least 30 years on us. I trudged next door to our neighbors who we do see in passing, but I did back into their car. Things could go either way. After knocking twice, I considered who else's life I could interrupt for 30 minutes. The lady down the hall with a seeing eye dog and "prescription" marijuana? Our nosey friend Cookie, who would surely then believe she was invited to the wedding...or Elyse, the immigrant from West Germany who told us she likes to kill the rabbits with her shovel in the spring because they ruin her garden. Thank goodness my normal neighbor, Cathy finally opened up.
She looked me up and down and I watched the wheels turn in her head. "Why is she so dressed up at 2:30 on Tuesday afternoon?" "Do you think they want us to go get dinner with them? We hardly know them." "Are they going to make me keep their dang cat again?" When I finally explained that we needed a photographer, she jumped at the bit. She even offered her tripod, but I thought that would be a bit much. She entered our condo to find all the ornament boxes pushed to one side of the living room so they would be out of the way of the picture.
I gave her my camera, which she quickly took two or three shots from and decided it was not worthy. She informed us she was going to her camera because it was "easier to operate." The camera was a monster, but took some great photos and left us with a lot to choose from. She had us standing up, sitting down, beside the tree, etc. She was so helpful and later dropped off a bottle of champagne to celebrate our engagement. I have decided they are our new best friends in the building.
I uploaded the pictures to my computer and then realized that is about as far as my knowledge extends in the world of pictures and creations. I finally figured out Snapfish and ordered 300 Save the Dates. Wow!? You may be thinking. 600 guests is a lot to expect. Well, yes it is, but I continue to want to send an invitation to everyone, rather than just one part of the couple. I tried to do the same thing with our actual invitations, but my mother was there to stop me. So now we have 150 extra pictures of us hanging out by the tree. If you want to frame one in your house, you are more than welcome to it!
Hope everyone is having a happy holiday season and not putting off your shopping until the last minute like me!
Don't get me wrong. I always send out Holiday cards, and over the last two or three years have included some of our mutual friends. The difference is the PICTURE. Somehow or other, this makes the relationship more real and maybe begins to question the future. Regardless, Mike and I decided to send out Holiday Cards/Save the Dates together in one. Perfect idea - people have to stare at our faces for a month while reading over and over again when they should be planning to arrive at our wedding. The only problem is...December got a little crazy. By the time we got the tree up and decorated, it was December 15. Keep in mind, I like to have my cards out by the 5th of December, and was feeling extremely anxious with this 10 day extension.
I changed into my red dress, while Mike dressed in a button down and slacks. (Does anyone say slacks anymore? I am bringing it back.) As I applied the last touch, some red lipstick, I realized, "We have no one to take this picture!" If you recall, we don't have a lot of friends in the building as they all have at least 30 years on us. I trudged next door to our neighbors who we do see in passing, but I did back into their car. Things could go either way. After knocking twice, I considered who else's life I could interrupt for 30 minutes. The lady down the hall with a seeing eye dog and "prescription" marijuana? Our nosey friend Cookie, who would surely then believe she was invited to the wedding...or Elyse, the immigrant from West Germany who told us she likes to kill the rabbits with her shovel in the spring because they ruin her garden. Thank goodness my normal neighbor, Cathy finally opened up.
She looked me up and down and I watched the wheels turn in her head. "Why is she so dressed up at 2:30 on Tuesday afternoon?" "Do you think they want us to go get dinner with them? We hardly know them." "Are they going to make me keep their dang cat again?" When I finally explained that we needed a photographer, she jumped at the bit. She even offered her tripod, but I thought that would be a bit much. She entered our condo to find all the ornament boxes pushed to one side of the living room so they would be out of the way of the picture.
I gave her my camera, which she quickly took two or three shots from and decided it was not worthy. She informed us she was going to her camera because it was "easier to operate." The camera was a monster, but took some great photos and left us with a lot to choose from. She had us standing up, sitting down, beside the tree, etc. She was so helpful and later dropped off a bottle of champagne to celebrate our engagement. I have decided they are our new best friends in the building.
I uploaded the pictures to my computer and then realized that is about as far as my knowledge extends in the world of pictures and creations. I finally figured out Snapfish and ordered 300 Save the Dates. Wow!? You may be thinking. 600 guests is a lot to expect. Well, yes it is, but I continue to want to send an invitation to everyone, rather than just one part of the couple. I tried to do the same thing with our actual invitations, but my mother was there to stop me. So now we have 150 extra pictures of us hanging out by the tree. If you want to frame one in your house, you are more than welcome to it!
Hope everyone is having a happy holiday season and not putting off your shopping until the last minute like me!
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Sweet Home Alabama
If you ever move to Alabama, be prepared for the following two questions: "What team do you support?" and "What church do you go to?" (In that order.) When you move to Alabama, be aware that what people are asking is whether you favor the University of Alabama, or Auburn University. My parents are from Virginia, and while some may consider this the south, as it is below the Mason Dixon line, it really isn't. If you have been living under a rock, the University of Alabama just won the SEC Championship. Now, if you live in the south, you care about this. If you live in St. Louis, you are hard pressed to find any SEC games on television. Regardless, back to the beginning.
My parents like to remind me of the first Iron Bowl (Alabama v. Auburn) that I "celebrated" when I was enrolled in school. I had no idea of the rivalry as my parents went to Virginia Tech and my dad is more engrossed in the Red Sox. When I was told during gym class that I would have to show up on Friday wearing my Alabama or Auburn gear to determine which kick ball team I would be on, I freaked out. I'm really not sure what reaction my mother had, I was too young, but I ended up at school in a white shirt and a red bow in my hair. (We already had these staples and although I did not have a big "A" on my shirt, I looked enough of the part to join the team.) And so, another Alabama fan was born.
Each year after that, I was proud to wear my white shirt and red bow to school and claimed Alabama as my team when asked "who do you go for?" I had no idea when these games were on or who was playing, but my commitment was solidified. (Besides, orange just really isn't a good color on me. My mom must have noticed.)
When you drive into Alabama, you will see more bumper stickers, flags and other paraphernalia supporting one of these teams. My favorites (and one of my friends fits into this category) is when there is "A house divided." That is, one person in the household either went to Alabama or Auburn or has a strong support for them, while the other spouse supports the other team. Although you may think this is not a big deal, it is. I have no doubt that many a domestic dispute has begun after the Iron Bowl.
And so, the University of Alabama will play Texas in the National Championship. At this point, Nick Saban is God of Alabama and all is good in the world.
My parents like to remind me of the first Iron Bowl (Alabama v. Auburn) that I "celebrated" when I was enrolled in school. I had no idea of the rivalry as my parents went to Virginia Tech and my dad is more engrossed in the Red Sox. When I was told during gym class that I would have to show up on Friday wearing my Alabama or Auburn gear to determine which kick ball team I would be on, I freaked out. I'm really not sure what reaction my mother had, I was too young, but I ended up at school in a white shirt and a red bow in my hair. (We already had these staples and although I did not have a big "A" on my shirt, I looked enough of the part to join the team.) And so, another Alabama fan was born.
Each year after that, I was proud to wear my white shirt and red bow to school and claimed Alabama as my team when asked "who do you go for?" I had no idea when these games were on or who was playing, but my commitment was solidified. (Besides, orange just really isn't a good color on me. My mom must have noticed.)
When you drive into Alabama, you will see more bumper stickers, flags and other paraphernalia supporting one of these teams. My favorites (and one of my friends fits into this category) is when there is "A house divided." That is, one person in the household either went to Alabama or Auburn or has a strong support for them, while the other spouse supports the other team. Although you may think this is not a big deal, it is. I have no doubt that many a domestic dispute has begun after the Iron Bowl.
And so, the University of Alabama will play Texas in the National Championship. At this point, Nick Saban is God of Alabama and all is good in the world.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Stressors
Hello friends, I am back. I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving and is gearing up for the holiday season. I finally got the tree up last night and a few Christmas knick knacks that makes our condo just a little more fun to live in! By the way, one thing I have noticed up here is that very few people use live Christmas trees. I always thought live ones were the norm, but maybe I am wrong. Last year after a lot of discussion, I gave in and bought a fake tree from Target. The reasoning was that we live in a condo and Mike told me that live trees are fire hazards and not allowed. I still don't know if I believe him, but at least I have a tree.
So the question of the day is: How do you handle stress? Generally I run or yell at people and am able to deal with it that way. (The running is really best since I am in the "restaurant biz.") Regardless, generally after I finish running or yelling, I feel much better and am able to go on about my day. Since Thanksgiving, something has been building that neither running, yelling or crying can take care of. (Believe me, I have tried them all - poor Mike.) My body has begun to internalize my stress and I can barely move my neck due to the large knot surrounding my spine. Don't worry - I did first think that it was a brain tumor but it keep changes positions, so I am pretty sure I am in the clear as far as that goes.
I cannot for the life of me pin point what the problem is. However, last night as I was trying to go to sleep (ROLL TIDE!) I realized it is probably several things that I cannot fix and have all been building up to cause my neck to hurt. If you are already bored, you may want to stop reading, because I am about to list my issues.....
First, I have been stabbed in the back at my job. Not kidding. I found out the other day that one of my co-workers is trying to get me fired!! Here's how it went down. One of my best friends at work is the dishwasher...he takes care of me when I am running around by putting my dishes up, or telling me to calm down when he can tell I want to kill a rude customer. He is also my eyes and ears in the back which is where the managers talk about people. (They don't have an office and apparently think that no one that works in the kitchen is listening to them.) SO - the other day he reminded me to stay calm while I am working because one of the managers is trying desperately to get me fired. WHAT?? I have a feeling of who it is, but I was shocked because no one has sat me down to tell me any major things that I am doing wrong.
When I came back into the kitchen, I asked my buddy what I was doing wrong. He then dropped the bomb by explaining to me that one of my co-workers has been complaining about me to the managers. Seriously?? He then told me that it was someone that I have been out to have drinks with. Well, that is easy. I have only been out to have drinks once, and I knew exactly who he was talking about. So, I confronted another manager who, of course, played dumb. So we shall see. All I can say is that if I get fired from a pizza joint, I'm not sure my life can get any lower!
The next thing that I believe is contributing to the knot in my neck is our upcoming wedding. Don't worry, I am thrilled and truly can't wait for June 5th to arrive, but I don't like loose ends and there are a lot of them still out there. I have been having a lot of dreams about the wedding where everything goes wrong. Examples: My dad is no where to be found to walk me down the aisle; Mike is not at the alter when I get up there (Do you think I have abandonment issues?) Another favorite is when my bridesmaids show up in different dresses because they are going to someone else's wedding!! The list goes on and on and I always wake up thinking, "what the hell was that all about?" I just want every contract signed, sealed and delivered ASAP so I don't have to worry about them anymore.
I believe the final issue is that fact that I have been searching for a "real job" for over a year and have not been able to find anything. It is stressful knowing that your salary depends on how the people you are serving feel that night. Additionally, it appears that with the recession, people are not coming to eat pizza as often as they have in years past, and are willing to eat the pizza as long as the skimp on the tip. Aside from the money, I cannot handle my odd hours which leave me with no social life. I recognize it was not big in the first place, but even Mike and I are on different schedules, which makes things stressful. I have worked 6 days in a row and will be doing the same thing next week. It is exhausting.
So - that is what is going on. Sorry to unload everything, but I haven't really had a chance to get to the computer....I hope everyone is getting into the holiday spirit and enjoying shopping and spending time with friends and family.
Finally - Happy Birthday to my sister Laura!!!
So the question of the day is: How do you handle stress? Generally I run or yell at people and am able to deal with it that way. (The running is really best since I am in the "restaurant biz.") Regardless, generally after I finish running or yelling, I feel much better and am able to go on about my day. Since Thanksgiving, something has been building that neither running, yelling or crying can take care of. (Believe me, I have tried them all - poor Mike.) My body has begun to internalize my stress and I can barely move my neck due to the large knot surrounding my spine. Don't worry - I did first think that it was a brain tumor but it keep changes positions, so I am pretty sure I am in the clear as far as that goes.
I cannot for the life of me pin point what the problem is. However, last night as I was trying to go to sleep (ROLL TIDE!) I realized it is probably several things that I cannot fix and have all been building up to cause my neck to hurt. If you are already bored, you may want to stop reading, because I am about to list my issues.....
First, I have been stabbed in the back at my job. Not kidding. I found out the other day that one of my co-workers is trying to get me fired!! Here's how it went down. One of my best friends at work is the dishwasher...he takes care of me when I am running around by putting my dishes up, or telling me to calm down when he can tell I want to kill a rude customer. He is also my eyes and ears in the back which is where the managers talk about people. (They don't have an office and apparently think that no one that works in the kitchen is listening to them.) SO - the other day he reminded me to stay calm while I am working because one of the managers is trying desperately to get me fired. WHAT?? I have a feeling of who it is, but I was shocked because no one has sat me down to tell me any major things that I am doing wrong.
When I came back into the kitchen, I asked my buddy what I was doing wrong. He then dropped the bomb by explaining to me that one of my co-workers has been complaining about me to the managers. Seriously?? He then told me that it was someone that I have been out to have drinks with. Well, that is easy. I have only been out to have drinks once, and I knew exactly who he was talking about. So, I confronted another manager who, of course, played dumb. So we shall see. All I can say is that if I get fired from a pizza joint, I'm not sure my life can get any lower!
The next thing that I believe is contributing to the knot in my neck is our upcoming wedding. Don't worry, I am thrilled and truly can't wait for June 5th to arrive, but I don't like loose ends and there are a lot of them still out there. I have been having a lot of dreams about the wedding where everything goes wrong. Examples: My dad is no where to be found to walk me down the aisle; Mike is not at the alter when I get up there (Do you think I have abandonment issues?) Another favorite is when my bridesmaids show up in different dresses because they are going to someone else's wedding!! The list goes on and on and I always wake up thinking, "what the hell was that all about?" I just want every contract signed, sealed and delivered ASAP so I don't have to worry about them anymore.
I believe the final issue is that fact that I have been searching for a "real job" for over a year and have not been able to find anything. It is stressful knowing that your salary depends on how the people you are serving feel that night. Additionally, it appears that with the recession, people are not coming to eat pizza as often as they have in years past, and are willing to eat the pizza as long as the skimp on the tip. Aside from the money, I cannot handle my odd hours which leave me with no social life. I recognize it was not big in the first place, but even Mike and I are on different schedules, which makes things stressful. I have worked 6 days in a row and will be doing the same thing next week. It is exhausting.
So - that is what is going on. Sorry to unload everything, but I haven't really had a chance to get to the computer....I hope everyone is getting into the holiday spirit and enjoying shopping and spending time with friends and family.
Finally - Happy Birthday to my sister Laura!!!
Monday, November 23, 2009
Some Southern Charm
I have been told not to say "y'all" at work anymore. If you live in the south, I ask you to try to remove this word from your vocabulary for an hour. It's impossible. I have grown up saying "y'all" and asking me to stop is incredibly hard. The reasoning behind this is because I "don't work at a honkey-tonk." Well, that was a little offensive. I was even more appalled when they told me what word I could use instead. "Folks." "Hi folks, how are you?' Doesn't that sound a little bit red neck?? The reasoning behind this is that we are supposed to use only gender neutral terms. Apparently, "Hey guys" is insulting because it insinuates that we are catering to a male crowd. Who knows. Regardless, I am not cutting y'all out of my vocabulary even though it appears that some customers don't understand it.
It seems that my combination of a southern accent and the fact that I am a fast talker makes it difficult for the customers to understand me. Don't ask me how many times I have been asked to repeat something, and don't even get me on the phone. It is a recipe for disaster since the caller can't attempt to read my lips. I asked a gentleman if I could get "all y'all's" plates out of the way the other evening. He was sitting by himself at the table, but had several children that were running around the restaurant and clearly done eating. He asked me who exactly I was addressing when I said, "All y'all." I tried to explain but eventually just gave up and cleared the plates.
Finally, a little anecdote. Sorry I write about this restaurant so much, but let's face it, that's all I do. Anyway, I worked my first Friday night shift a few days ago. I was doing well, holding my own, until I decided to venture outside my section and "help" my fellow servers. There were multiple drinks up at the bar, so I grabbed a tray and headed towards a table of about 6 kids and 4 moms. The moms were partaking in a little alcoholic stress relief while the children ran rampant. As I got to the table, one of the moms distracted me by commenting on my engagement ring. As I began to talk about the engagement, I slowly forgot that I had a tray full of drinks in my other hand. Then I realized there was an odd wailing sound coming from the ground. I looked under the table and noticed that I was stepping on a small child. I don't know why she was sitting on the ground and not her seat, but that threw me over the edge. I started to apologize for stepping on the kid and watched in slow motion as a Bud Light fell off the tray onto the child. I apologized profusely and then ran away. (Remember - this wasn't even my table!)
Later I looked over and the child had no shirt on while she ran around with her buddies. The mom ended up buying a t-shirt from our establishment to keep her child from being naked. I didn't really say anything until the end of the night when I asked the table's server how they had tipped. He said he did well, so I felt it ok to confess my small act of clumsiness. As one of my friends stated, at least it wasn't red wine!!
It seems that my combination of a southern accent and the fact that I am a fast talker makes it difficult for the customers to understand me. Don't ask me how many times I have been asked to repeat something, and don't even get me on the phone. It is a recipe for disaster since the caller can't attempt to read my lips. I asked a gentleman if I could get "all y'all's" plates out of the way the other evening. He was sitting by himself at the table, but had several children that were running around the restaurant and clearly done eating. He asked me who exactly I was addressing when I said, "All y'all." I tried to explain but eventually just gave up and cleared the plates.
Finally, a little anecdote. Sorry I write about this restaurant so much, but let's face it, that's all I do. Anyway, I worked my first Friday night shift a few days ago. I was doing well, holding my own, until I decided to venture outside my section and "help" my fellow servers. There were multiple drinks up at the bar, so I grabbed a tray and headed towards a table of about 6 kids and 4 moms. The moms were partaking in a little alcoholic stress relief while the children ran rampant. As I got to the table, one of the moms distracted me by commenting on my engagement ring. As I began to talk about the engagement, I slowly forgot that I had a tray full of drinks in my other hand. Then I realized there was an odd wailing sound coming from the ground. I looked under the table and noticed that I was stepping on a small child. I don't know why she was sitting on the ground and not her seat, but that threw me over the edge. I started to apologize for stepping on the kid and watched in slow motion as a Bud Light fell off the tray onto the child. I apologized profusely and then ran away. (Remember - this wasn't even my table!)
Later I looked over and the child had no shirt on while she ran around with her buddies. The mom ended up buying a t-shirt from our establishment to keep her child from being naked. I didn't really say anything until the end of the night when I asked the table's server how they had tipped. He said he did well, so I felt it ok to confess my small act of clumsiness. As one of my friends stated, at least it wasn't red wine!!
Sunday, November 15, 2009
What Were You Protected From?
I have gotten into the bad habit of staying up late. Not 11 or 12 at night, but closer to 1:30 or 2. The problem is, I get in from work and want to wind down by watching a little t.v. before I go to bed. Before I know it, I have watched multiple DVRd shows and it is suddenly 2 am.
When we were growing up, watching tv was a revered activity. We were allowed one hour after school on PBS and then I was allowed to watch "Our House" on Sundays at 6 pm and Star Trek: The Next Generation with my parents. I don't remember anything about "Our House" except that it had Brenda from 90210 and the Quaker Oats guy in it. I will get back to the Star Trek issue. I was not allowed to watch cartoons. Each Saturday I would wake up, creep to my parents' door and knock while quickly asking, "Can we watch cartoons today?" I asked every Saturday, somehow thinking that this weekend would be the time that my mom and dad threw all their parenting beliefs out the window. But sometimes, when my parents were so exhausted, it actually did work, and my sister and I would let ourselves fall into the mystical worlds of magical ponies and Care Bears.
We read a lot growing up, which I think is a wonderful thing to instill in your child. I would still prefer to pick up a good novel than to flip through the tv with no idea of what will be on. The thing that we were allowed to do was watch movies. Usually once a week we would head to the local Movie Gallery where the three of us fought over which movie we would rent. I still am not sure why we were not allowed to watch cartoons when we were allowed to rent cartoon movies. But I was reminded of something the other night when I was up watching "Annie" at 2 am. My mother loves old musicals and would bring us "Oliver," "My Fair Lady" or "Annie" and attempt to convince us that this would be more interesting than watching "The Little Mermaid" for the 10th time. If we happened to give in, we would go home to watch a musical. We memorized the songs, and my best friend and I acted some of them out.
The funny thing is, I don't think that my mother's recollection of these movies was as clear as she believed. Have you seen "Oliver" lately? It is about a kidnapped orphan who spends his time in a bar with a whore and a killer. Ok, how about "Annie?" I was shocked the other night to see that the movie ends with Annie almost being pushed off an abandoned bridge! (And Ms. Hannigan is an alcoholic!) When I was younger, I remember thinking it was very odd that Carol Burnett was drinking all of her perfume throughout the movie. All I remembered from theses movies as a child were the songs. "The Sun'll Come Out Tomorrow..!" And let us not forget that I was allowed to watch Star Trek instead of cartoons. Each of those cast members are armed and dangerous! Destroying planets and space ships were weekly occurrences. Was that better than Mickey Mouse?
I still give my parents a hard time about this. I get it - you don't want the television to be a babysitter, and inspiring creativity through reading is important, but my mom still can't give me an answer as to what was wrong with My Little Pony. On that note, I guess I am going to go read my book.
When we were growing up, watching tv was a revered activity. We were allowed one hour after school on PBS and then I was allowed to watch "Our House" on Sundays at 6 pm and Star Trek: The Next Generation with my parents. I don't remember anything about "Our House" except that it had Brenda from 90210 and the Quaker Oats guy in it. I will get back to the Star Trek issue. I was not allowed to watch cartoons. Each Saturday I would wake up, creep to my parents' door and knock while quickly asking, "Can we watch cartoons today?" I asked every Saturday, somehow thinking that this weekend would be the time that my mom and dad threw all their parenting beliefs out the window. But sometimes, when my parents were so exhausted, it actually did work, and my sister and I would let ourselves fall into the mystical worlds of magical ponies and Care Bears.
We read a lot growing up, which I think is a wonderful thing to instill in your child. I would still prefer to pick up a good novel than to flip through the tv with no idea of what will be on. The thing that we were allowed to do was watch movies. Usually once a week we would head to the local Movie Gallery where the three of us fought over which movie we would rent. I still am not sure why we were not allowed to watch cartoons when we were allowed to rent cartoon movies. But I was reminded of something the other night when I was up watching "Annie" at 2 am. My mother loves old musicals and would bring us "Oliver," "My Fair Lady" or "Annie" and attempt to convince us that this would be more interesting than watching "The Little Mermaid" for the 10th time. If we happened to give in, we would go home to watch a musical. We memorized the songs, and my best friend and I acted some of them out.
The funny thing is, I don't think that my mother's recollection of these movies was as clear as she believed. Have you seen "Oliver" lately? It is about a kidnapped orphan who spends his time in a bar with a whore and a killer. Ok, how about "Annie?" I was shocked the other night to see that the movie ends with Annie almost being pushed off an abandoned bridge! (And Ms. Hannigan is an alcoholic!) When I was younger, I remember thinking it was very odd that Carol Burnett was drinking all of her perfume throughout the movie. All I remembered from theses movies as a child were the songs. "The Sun'll Come Out Tomorrow..!" And let us not forget that I was allowed to watch Star Trek instead of cartoons. Each of those cast members are armed and dangerous! Destroying planets and space ships were weekly occurrences. Was that better than Mickey Mouse?
I still give my parents a hard time about this. I get it - you don't want the television to be a babysitter, and inspiring creativity through reading is important, but my mom still can't give me an answer as to what was wrong with My Little Pony. On that note, I guess I am going to go read my book.
Monday, November 9, 2009
You Know You're Too Old When...
I am sitting at our kitchen table eating a Lean Cuisine and drinking wine. (Don't worry - that is not all I am going to eat...that is just all I have scavenged so far.) I had such a crappy day at work that I came home and starting calling people to see if they wanted to get a beer and some dinner with me. Too bad all three people I know up here have real jobs and are already in their pajamas. So, I opened a bottle of wine, (Mike is at school) and then got in trouble because I did not recognize that that specific bottle was bought in Iceland and we were saving it for a special occasion. Oops. I guess I am having my special occasion tonight!
This leads into the title of this post. You know you are too old to be waitressing when you come home from work and everyone you know is in their pajamas, or in bed. Additionally, I am a horrible waitress. I have only worked four days, but I get really frustrated when I can't pick things up right away, particularly when it is something that 18 year olds do on a regular basis.
I worked a double shift today. I made $14 at lunch (Yes, you read that correctly) and not much more at dinner. The problem is, I feel the need to make sure that entire restaurant is under control, and with that goes control of my section. We have a "team service" policy at the restaurant, which means that you never actually have a true server. One person may take your order, while another brings your food, and the last takes your check. I have a hard time letting go of controlling my tables and anyone elses, which leads to no one getting taken care of.
I got a lot of 10% tips tonight, and if you have been out to eat recently, that is not the norm. I would like to say that it is just a pizza place, but the place is run by the gestapo. Every little thing is an issue. "Is that coke halfway empty?" Must be filled. "How many napkins are on that table? There better not be more than the amount of people eating here." (I throw away a lot of napkins.)
So the whole thing about being too old for this...
1) You know you are too old to be a waitress when you work a double shift and then spend the next day in bed exhausted.
2) You are too old to be a waitress when your shins and feet are aching from the super cool black high tops you have worn for the past 6 hours.
3) My pet peeve - You know you are too old to be a waitress when 22 year olds come in and are snotty to you because Daddy's money is buying everything. Oh just wait, young ladies - Daddy will stop supporting you and you just might end up with an expensive degree working at a restaurant. I refused to go back to a table when some 20 something looked me up and down and then looked at her friend while I was serving them drinks. (Do you have any idea how hard it is to carry multiple glasses on a tray??)
And now I feel better. A few glasses of wine, and I am now on a bowl of noodles covered in ranch dressing. (Yum!!) I might just watch Heroes and head to bed. Thank goodness I have tomorrow off...Just remember....tip your servers, that could be you one day!!
This leads into the title of this post. You know you are too old to be waitressing when you come home from work and everyone you know is in their pajamas, or in bed. Additionally, I am a horrible waitress. I have only worked four days, but I get really frustrated when I can't pick things up right away, particularly when it is something that 18 year olds do on a regular basis.
I worked a double shift today. I made $14 at lunch (Yes, you read that correctly) and not much more at dinner. The problem is, I feel the need to make sure that entire restaurant is under control, and with that goes control of my section. We have a "team service" policy at the restaurant, which means that you never actually have a true server. One person may take your order, while another brings your food, and the last takes your check. I have a hard time letting go of controlling my tables and anyone elses, which leads to no one getting taken care of.
I got a lot of 10% tips tonight, and if you have been out to eat recently, that is not the norm. I would like to say that it is just a pizza place, but the place is run by the gestapo. Every little thing is an issue. "Is that coke halfway empty?" Must be filled. "How many napkins are on that table? There better not be more than the amount of people eating here." (I throw away a lot of napkins.)
So the whole thing about being too old for this...
1) You know you are too old to be a waitress when you work a double shift and then spend the next day in bed exhausted.
2) You are too old to be a waitress when your shins and feet are aching from the super cool black high tops you have worn for the past 6 hours.
3) My pet peeve - You know you are too old to be a waitress when 22 year olds come in and are snotty to you because Daddy's money is buying everything. Oh just wait, young ladies - Daddy will stop supporting you and you just might end up with an expensive degree working at a restaurant. I refused to go back to a table when some 20 something looked me up and down and then looked at her friend while I was serving them drinks. (Do you have any idea how hard it is to carry multiple glasses on a tray??)
And now I feel better. A few glasses of wine, and I am now on a bowl of noodles covered in ranch dressing. (Yum!!) I might just watch Heroes and head to bed. Thank goodness I have tomorrow off...Just remember....tip your servers, that could be you one day!!
Sunday, November 1, 2009
St. Louis Seasons
Right now seems the perfect time to tell you about the seasons in St. Louis. The leaves are turning, the weather is crisp and the sun is out. Sounds like a beautiful fall day, right? Don't be fooled. It is a beautiful fall day, but winter is coming, and it is coming soon.
Here's the deal. Birmingham, AL does not experience four seasons. We experience summer and fall. There are a few days of spring thrown in there that are always nice, and a few days when you need to grab your coat because it has gotten below 40 degrees. For the most part a heavy sweater and jeans will do. Oh yes, I owned wool pea coats, scarves and hats before I moved here, but let's be honest, it was all in the name of fashion. Did you know that scarves really were made for the purpose of keeping your neck warm?
Last winter was extremely difficult for me. I didn't know what to expect and when snow and ice started falling and the world did not stop I was horrified. If and when it snows in Birmingham, everyone lines up at the Piggly Wiggly to buy milk and bread and then either play in the snow or sit in their houses waiting for this tragedy to melt. Schools are cancelled. Work may be cancelled, and it is a perfectly legitimate excuse to call into work to tell them you are nervous about driving in the snow. (Keep in mind, the snow is usually about 1/2 an inch thick.)
Things are different up here. Last year I heard there was an ice storm headed to St. Louis, but I was still in the mindset of being in Alabama. Bad move. For some reason, I didn't have my car in the garage and when I woke up the next day, I found it covered in ice. On my way down to the car, I slipped on the ice covering the brick stairs and hit my head. However, I had to be at Pottery Barn Kids in less than 10 minutes and things were not looking good. I tried to shake my head out and headed carefully down to the car. When I say the car was covered in ice, I mean sheets of ice. Did I mention I didn't have an ice scraper? Even if I had, I don't know that it could have cut through at least an inch of ice that was on my windshield. Then I tried to get into the car. The freaking car was frozen shut! I had one leg up on the door while I yanked at the handle. When it finally popped open I jumped in and turned on the heat because, let's face it, I didn't have gloves on. (Disclaimer: my friend from Alabama was also trying to yank her car door open and the handle fell off. I am not the only one who had no idea what to do in this situation.)
I sat in the car and waited for the windshield to defrost. I waited. And waited. Nothing was happening because the ice was so thick. So I decided to use the old trick I learned in Alabama. I grabbed my driver's license and was headed out to scrape the windshield. (I know, it was stupid.) When I attempted to open the door, I realized I was now stuck INSIDE the car. I began panicking. (Keep in mind that my head was still cloudy from the incident on the stairs.) What in the world? I was now laying horizontally across my front seats trying to kick the door out. It worked. The driver's license trick didn't. When I got back in the car, I called my manager. She was annoyed that I was late and said to me, "Didn't you know there was an ice storm coming? It's been all over the news!?" Yes I knew. I just didn't recognize what a real ice storm meant.
When I finally got to work, my headache was getting worse and my eyes were fully dilated. I started crying (because that's what I do) and asked to go home. Again, manager not happy,but she let me leave. No one would let me drive because they were sure that I had a concussion, so I had to get a ride home with a co-worker that I had never met. I laid in the bed the rest of the day and tried to recover from my exhausting and terrifying morning.
So after that story can you see why I am dreading winter? I feel a little more prepared this year. I have scarves and boots that are made to keep me warm and I will never make the mistake of not parking in the garage again! People keep saying that since we had such a mild summer, the winter is going to be bad. What was last year??
I hope everyone had a wonderful Halloween and try to stay warm as the winter sets in!!
Here's the deal. Birmingham, AL does not experience four seasons. We experience summer and fall. There are a few days of spring thrown in there that are always nice, and a few days when you need to grab your coat because it has gotten below 40 degrees. For the most part a heavy sweater and jeans will do. Oh yes, I owned wool pea coats, scarves and hats before I moved here, but let's be honest, it was all in the name of fashion. Did you know that scarves really were made for the purpose of keeping your neck warm?
Last winter was extremely difficult for me. I didn't know what to expect and when snow and ice started falling and the world did not stop I was horrified. If and when it snows in Birmingham, everyone lines up at the Piggly Wiggly to buy milk and bread and then either play in the snow or sit in their houses waiting for this tragedy to melt. Schools are cancelled. Work may be cancelled, and it is a perfectly legitimate excuse to call into work to tell them you are nervous about driving in the snow. (Keep in mind, the snow is usually about 1/2 an inch thick.)
Things are different up here. Last year I heard there was an ice storm headed to St. Louis, but I was still in the mindset of being in Alabama. Bad move. For some reason, I didn't have my car in the garage and when I woke up the next day, I found it covered in ice. On my way down to the car, I slipped on the ice covering the brick stairs and hit my head. However, I had to be at Pottery Barn Kids in less than 10 minutes and things were not looking good. I tried to shake my head out and headed carefully down to the car. When I say the car was covered in ice, I mean sheets of ice. Did I mention I didn't have an ice scraper? Even if I had, I don't know that it could have cut through at least an inch of ice that was on my windshield. Then I tried to get into the car. The freaking car was frozen shut! I had one leg up on the door while I yanked at the handle. When it finally popped open I jumped in and turned on the heat because, let's face it, I didn't have gloves on. (Disclaimer: my friend from Alabama was also trying to yank her car door open and the handle fell off. I am not the only one who had no idea what to do in this situation.)
I sat in the car and waited for the windshield to defrost. I waited. And waited. Nothing was happening because the ice was so thick. So I decided to use the old trick I learned in Alabama. I grabbed my driver's license and was headed out to scrape the windshield. (I know, it was stupid.) When I attempted to open the door, I realized I was now stuck INSIDE the car. I began panicking. (Keep in mind that my head was still cloudy from the incident on the stairs.) What in the world? I was now laying horizontally across my front seats trying to kick the door out. It worked. The driver's license trick didn't. When I got back in the car, I called my manager. She was annoyed that I was late and said to me, "Didn't you know there was an ice storm coming? It's been all over the news!?" Yes I knew. I just didn't recognize what a real ice storm meant.
When I finally got to work, my headache was getting worse and my eyes were fully dilated. I started crying (because that's what I do) and asked to go home. Again, manager not happy,but she let me leave. No one would let me drive because they were sure that I had a concussion, so I had to get a ride home with a co-worker that I had never met. I laid in the bed the rest of the day and tried to recover from my exhausting and terrifying morning.
So after that story can you see why I am dreading winter? I feel a little more prepared this year. I have scarves and boots that are made to keep me warm and I will never make the mistake of not parking in the garage again! People keep saying that since we had such a mild summer, the winter is going to be bad. What was last year??
I hope everyone had a wonderful Halloween and try to stay warm as the winter sets in!!
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Happy Halloween!!
Unfortunately, I will be working tonight while everyone attends fun parties, but that is alright. I like Halloween, but it is not my die hard favorite holiday like it is for some. I think my lack of creativity ruins it for me. I am always amazed at the people that think of the most random things to dress up as, and spend weeks gluing things together, and adding that final ribbon so they can win that first place trophy for best costume. I wish I had that talent.
Because I don't, I am going to write about another side of Halloween that I think we have all recognized. American women seem split right down the middle as to whether it is ok to use Halloween as an excuse to dress up in your most provocative outfit and walk around. I am not one of these people. A friend and I were laughing the other day about how many costumes are sold each year simply by putting the word "Sexy" in front of the noun. "Sexy witch, sexy fairy, sexy mouse??" are just a few of the ones that I have seen. My friend bought the "Sexy Cruella de Ville" costume (not a joke) a few years ago just to use the wig.
Don't get me wrong, I tried the "sexy" look my freshman year in college. The problem was, I did not consider the multiple pounds I had put in in the first few months after leaving home, and the sexy nurse and sexy fairy that I tried to pull off were just a mess. And let's not forget that October 31 is well into fall. Those costumes do not allow for a sweatshirt to keep you warm!
Going to school in New Orleans was a treat for many reasons, but Halloween was a major celebration. We dressed up for a week and never felt out of place. You could wear a purple wig out a week before Halloween and people would just walk by without blinking an eye. (Four of us did this, along with purple eye lashes....) After that first year I began to think about what would be comfortable. Think about how much you walk when you are in college. So first on my list was how I could incorporate tennis shoes into my outfit. Sophomore year, my roommates and I went as a Happy Meal. I was the Big Mac, with two sets of fries and a milkshake in tow. We got those packets of ketchup and mustard and glued them to barrettes for our hair, threw on a pair of jeans and were good to go.
Junior year I was several things, including a green M&M, but the most memorable was an incredibly politically incorrect cab driver. If I ever run for office, those pictures will need to be burned. However, once again, I was able to make jeans a part of the costume. I think my senior year my roommate and I went as jailbirds. We bought prisoner costumes and walked around. The felt like pajamas, I kept on my tennis shoes and I was comfortable all night.
As we have gotten older, it seems like Halloween is more fun for my friends who have kids. Who doesn't want to see a little 2 year old dressed up in something that she cannot pronounce? Instead, I look forward to completing a long day at work, coming home and drinking a glass of wine. Maybe I will just throw on a witch hat to be festive. Enjoy the day and be safe!!
PS - Happy Birthday R.K. Coley!!!
Because I don't, I am going to write about another side of Halloween that I think we have all recognized. American women seem split right down the middle as to whether it is ok to use Halloween as an excuse to dress up in your most provocative outfit and walk around. I am not one of these people. A friend and I were laughing the other day about how many costumes are sold each year simply by putting the word "Sexy" in front of the noun. "Sexy witch, sexy fairy, sexy mouse??" are just a few of the ones that I have seen. My friend bought the "Sexy Cruella de Ville" costume (not a joke) a few years ago just to use the wig.
Don't get me wrong, I tried the "sexy" look my freshman year in college. The problem was, I did not consider the multiple pounds I had put in in the first few months after leaving home, and the sexy nurse and sexy fairy that I tried to pull off were just a mess. And let's not forget that October 31 is well into fall. Those costumes do not allow for a sweatshirt to keep you warm!
Going to school in New Orleans was a treat for many reasons, but Halloween was a major celebration. We dressed up for a week and never felt out of place. You could wear a purple wig out a week before Halloween and people would just walk by without blinking an eye. (Four of us did this, along with purple eye lashes....) After that first year I began to think about what would be comfortable. Think about how much you walk when you are in college. So first on my list was how I could incorporate tennis shoes into my outfit. Sophomore year, my roommates and I went as a Happy Meal. I was the Big Mac, with two sets of fries and a milkshake in tow. We got those packets of ketchup and mustard and glued them to barrettes for our hair, threw on a pair of jeans and were good to go.
Junior year I was several things, including a green M&M, but the most memorable was an incredibly politically incorrect cab driver. If I ever run for office, those pictures will need to be burned. However, once again, I was able to make jeans a part of the costume. I think my senior year my roommate and I went as jailbirds. We bought prisoner costumes and walked around. The felt like pajamas, I kept on my tennis shoes and I was comfortable all night.
As we have gotten older, it seems like Halloween is more fun for my friends who have kids. Who doesn't want to see a little 2 year old dressed up in something that she cannot pronounce? Instead, I look forward to completing a long day at work, coming home and drinking a glass of wine. Maybe I will just throw on a witch hat to be festive. Enjoy the day and be safe!!
PS - Happy Birthday R.K. Coley!!!
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Been Busy!
Well, I haven't forgotten about y'all. Things have just gotten a little crazy for a few reasons. I will start with the least fun and move on to the fun stuff!
1) My job. Holy moly. I have been working like a mad man because a) the pizzeria is understaffed and b) I am trying to make as much money as possible. As I told you before, I have now been promoted to server and have started my training. I am actually pretty terrified because I broke two glasses throughout the night yesterday just attempting to clean tables! The hilarious thing is since this "promotion" I am suddenly in the waitress' clique. People who used to walk by me without saying a word are now speaking to me. I am slowly moving up the restaurant chain. My parents should be so proud.
A few things I would like to remind you of the next time you go to dinner. When you ask the hostess how long the wait is, she has absolutely NO IDEA. She is literally spewing numbers out of her mouth and hoping that people will get up in time so that you don't come yell at her. I have no idea how long it is going to take a table to chew their food, nor did they tell me whether they came for a quick meal or to catch up for several hours. Yelling at me about the people who are not moving will not help your situation and I may just skip you!
In addition to that, do not use your children as a prop because you are hungry and grumpy. I would never have believed that parents would stoop so low, but I have encountered multiple parents who have no shame. They come to me with this pathetic look on their face informing me that their child is about to faint because he/she has not eaten. When I look over and see the child running around the restaurant (or wheeling with those super annoying tennis shoes) I have a hard time believing you. If your child is legitimately hungry, quite honestly this is not my problem. You chose to bring them to a restaurant at 8:30 without giving them a little snack before hand. Don't blame the hostess.
Finally, I am over the cute kid act. I don't care how cute your child is. I am not a babysitter. Parents seem to think it is adorable to watch their child run around the restaurant or bang on the windows into the kitchen. I have seen parents take pictures. This is not a joke.
Regardless, I will continue to move up the food industry's ladder until a real 9-5 job comes along.
2) The next thing that is going on is that I am trying (and I stress the word trying) to sell my house in Mississippi. Don't worry, it is not just sitting on the market. I have a buyer and almost all the closing papers have been signed. However, without going into detail, I have alienated the title broker who was working with me because I told her she was incompetent, and since then have alienated their in house lawyer by expressing my feelings of incompetence by the previous worker, as well as questioning the attorney's ethics. We are all now communicating by email.
3) Finally - did you know I am planning a wedding??!! I am having so much fun, but it is hard not to get carried away by the ads for things that you "must have" at your reception/ceremony etc. We have nailed a lot of things down, but it is hard because I am not in Birmingham. Lucky for me, my sisters (maids of honor) are there. Julia returned from Iceland for a quick week before she leaves for the Caribbean (who ever thought I would write that sentence??) She was able to plot out logistics and crunch numbers with my mother. My entire family has participated in tasting and deciding on our wedding cake, and my youngest sister and mother will be sampling the food for the reception. So, if you show up to the wedding and are disappointed with the selection, don't blame me!!
I have 10 bridesmaids. I know, it is a lot, but if you are realistic, we have been dating so long that I have had time to accumulate more friends than the average bride. I asked my girls, got the dresses and am planning parties. In the meantime, Mike has asked no one. We may have a lopsided wedding. Mike has also decided what song he wants our first dance to be. I am not telling you what it is, but this is also still very much up for discussion.
That's about it. I have to head back to work at 3:30 today. I am staring at the vacuum cleaner that I pulled out about 5 days ago but have not actually used....maybe today. Have a great rest of the weekend!
1) My job. Holy moly. I have been working like a mad man because a) the pizzeria is understaffed and b) I am trying to make as much money as possible. As I told you before, I have now been promoted to server and have started my training. I am actually pretty terrified because I broke two glasses throughout the night yesterday just attempting to clean tables! The hilarious thing is since this "promotion" I am suddenly in the waitress' clique. People who used to walk by me without saying a word are now speaking to me. I am slowly moving up the restaurant chain. My parents should be so proud.
A few things I would like to remind you of the next time you go to dinner. When you ask the hostess how long the wait is, she has absolutely NO IDEA. She is literally spewing numbers out of her mouth and hoping that people will get up in time so that you don't come yell at her. I have no idea how long it is going to take a table to chew their food, nor did they tell me whether they came for a quick meal or to catch up for several hours. Yelling at me about the people who are not moving will not help your situation and I may just skip you!
In addition to that, do not use your children as a prop because you are hungry and grumpy. I would never have believed that parents would stoop so low, but I have encountered multiple parents who have no shame. They come to me with this pathetic look on their face informing me that their child is about to faint because he/she has not eaten. When I look over and see the child running around the restaurant (or wheeling with those super annoying tennis shoes) I have a hard time believing you. If your child is legitimately hungry, quite honestly this is not my problem. You chose to bring them to a restaurant at 8:30 without giving them a little snack before hand. Don't blame the hostess.
Finally, I am over the cute kid act. I don't care how cute your child is. I am not a babysitter. Parents seem to think it is adorable to watch their child run around the restaurant or bang on the windows into the kitchen. I have seen parents take pictures. This is not a joke.
Regardless, I will continue to move up the food industry's ladder until a real 9-5 job comes along.
2) The next thing that is going on is that I am trying (and I stress the word trying) to sell my house in Mississippi. Don't worry, it is not just sitting on the market. I have a buyer and almost all the closing papers have been signed. However, without going into detail, I have alienated the title broker who was working with me because I told her she was incompetent, and since then have alienated their in house lawyer by expressing my feelings of incompetence by the previous worker, as well as questioning the attorney's ethics. We are all now communicating by email.
3) Finally - did you know I am planning a wedding??!! I am having so much fun, but it is hard not to get carried away by the ads for things that you "must have" at your reception/ceremony etc. We have nailed a lot of things down, but it is hard because I am not in Birmingham. Lucky for me, my sisters (maids of honor) are there. Julia returned from Iceland for a quick week before she leaves for the Caribbean (who ever thought I would write that sentence??) She was able to plot out logistics and crunch numbers with my mother. My entire family has participated in tasting and deciding on our wedding cake, and my youngest sister and mother will be sampling the food for the reception. So, if you show up to the wedding and are disappointed with the selection, don't blame me!!
I have 10 bridesmaids. I know, it is a lot, but if you are realistic, we have been dating so long that I have had time to accumulate more friends than the average bride. I asked my girls, got the dresses and am planning parties. In the meantime, Mike has asked no one. We may have a lopsided wedding. Mike has also decided what song he wants our first dance to be. I am not telling you what it is, but this is also still very much up for discussion.
That's about it. I have to head back to work at 3:30 today. I am staring at the vacuum cleaner that I pulled out about 5 days ago but have not actually used....maybe today. Have a great rest of the weekend!
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
So You Want to Run a Marathon
Four days after completing the Chicago marathon, I say, "Go for it!" We had a wonderful time before the race exploring Chicago and feeling the energy of the city. The awesome thing about this race is that approximately 45,000 people run it every year. This makes for quite a crowd when you start running, but also ensures that you are never on long stretches of road by yourself. Additionally, all the people running have people cheering for them. There were TONS of people on the road wherever we went, which really helped to motivate me and keep me going. (I will tell you that the people that thought cow bells would be helpful in my racing were wrong.)
We left for Chicago Friday night and I watched the outside temperature drop as we drove further and further north. A cold front had already come through St. Louis, but not once had I whipped out gloves or a hat to run this year. When we checked in, it was 35 degrees. The next day I bought a new pink cap and some super professional running gloves. (One of those is laying on the street somewhere along the 26.2 miles I crossed.)
We got up Sunday morning for the race, which began at 7:30. By then my nerves had calmed, as I thought I was going to throw up the entire weekend. I kept wondering what in the world had motivated me to be standing in the middle of a freezing cold town, about to run the distance between two small cities. I decided the day before that I was going to run with a pace group. This is when you choose a time that you want to finish in and then stick with the group who will keep you on pace for the race. Let me tell you, if this is your first race, screw the pace group. I signed up for the 4 hour 30 minute, planning to beat Oprah's time of 4 hours and 28 minutes by speeding up at the end. Looking back, the words, "Speeding up at the end" are laughable. I suggest you simply run to finish. About halfway through the race, I ripped the 4:30 sign off my back because I was annoyed that I had drifted two pace groups behind.
One thing people told me was not to start out to quickly. Well, even if I wanted to, this is impossible. Imagine a line with 45,000 people in it beginning to move. We were in the middle so even as the gun went off, we were not moving. They give you these handy little chips to tie to your shoe to track your actual time, rather than the Nigerian at the front of the line.
Some things people forgot to tell me: You are going to have to go to the bathroom if you are running for almost 5 hours and drinking water/Gatorade at every stop. I am not going to go into detail about this, but I was annoyed because as I waited in line, the time ticked on. I kept track of how long I was actually running with my own watch.
Second, you may have heard me talk about chaffing. I thought I would be fine because I wore leggings, and my muscular thighs would not be able to run together. No. Somehow after that long, your body will find ways to tell you what you are doing is ridiculous. I have the imprint of my sports bra rubbed across my torso.
Thirdly, not one training program suggests that you run the entire 26.2 miles before the race. The max that I have seen suggested is 22 miles. My max was 19. Regardless, you are warned that you may hit the dreaded "Wall." This is when your body essentially stops working with you because it is so annoyed by what you are doing to it. I would say that 20 miles was right about when that hit me. Suddenly my legs felt like lead and the thought of continuing on for at least another hour was miserable. It all becomes a mental game at that point. So, I continued to get my Gatorade, but found that when I walked through the station, starting back up was like trying to lift up a car. I stopped walking through and just threw liquids towards my face after that.
Then there are people on the sidelines yelling, "Don't stop now! You are almost there!" I appreciated the support, but I wanted to yell back that 5 miles was not "almost there" in my book. Seeing the finish line would be "almost there." When I got to mile 25 I saw Mike. I was so relieved and happy that I started crying, but I couldn't stop because I knew I wouldn't be able to start again. When you see the sign for 26 miles it is such a relief, yet such a tease because you still have that .2 to go. Luckily for us, the designers of the race made our .2 miles straight uphill. How sadistic is that? But I made it. I may not have beaten Oprah, but I ran the whole way and now have a time that I want to beat on my own.
So, I will give myself some time, and hopefully start training for another one at some point. It is addictive, and I think everyone should do it!
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Question
So, I just took a quiz (albeit on Facebook) and it says that my ideal job is to be a teacher. I have to confess, this is something I have considered in the past. Thoughts? I am really struggling with my path right now....
There's No Business....
Well, things have going pretty well at the restaurant, so I haven't had to much to report. Then over the past week...explosion. It all started with good news. My manager pulled me over to discuss me being promoted to SERVER!! (It's the little things people.) A ton of people have quit so there is now an opening for me to actually serve food rather than cleaning bathrooms, windows and menus. My manager was very serious as she spoke to me about this apparently major change. I would have to find people to cover my shifts. (Check. Already have to do that.) I would be working more. (Awesome. I have been complaining that bill collectors are going to come take me away.) I told my manager to consider me ready.
During this transition, I am still completing my duties as a peon. The other day I heard a noise that sounded like a cross between the exorcist and a baby. As I turned around a noticed a child with a little bit of spit up on his chest. I didn't think twice about it until the mother called me over. She showed me the floor underneath their table was covered in vomit. (If you read this blog regularly, you will recall that the same thing happened to me while I was working at PBK.) I went to get my manager. I was trying to call "not it" but I was the only peon working that evening. My manager informed me that he is willing to do pretty much anything, but when it comes to vomit, he cannot handle the smell. As I was searching for a mop, the bartender told me that he would take care of it. Direct quote from my new favorite bartender: "Jenny, you don't make enough money to do this. I'll clean it up." I was amazed and so happy! However, we still had to apologize to the customers in the restaurant because of the horrible smell. And, oh yes, the parents fled the restaurant as soon as the bill was paid and never offered to help.
Then came yesterday. I ran across the street because I was already late (by 3 minutes.) A different manager (I have 3) tapped the clock to show me that it was in fact 5:03. That's annoying. I began my chores, and was wiping down some windows when a lady came out of the bathroom to tell us that the toilet was flooding. WHAT? I began to think, "Well, that sucks for the women that come here for dinner tonight! I guess they will have to call a plumber." Nope. Did you know that server assistant also stands for plumber? I am not kidding. Keep reading. My manager who would not clean up the vomit grabbed a mop and started trying to mop up about 3 inches of water. I simply suggested that he use towels rather than a mop, and somehow I had recruited myself to help clean up the mess.
First, the manager tells me to go find a mop. I found the handle, but couldn't find the moppy part. I asked the manager what a mop head looks like. He looked shocked, but when is the last time you mopped with an industrial sized mop head? Believe me, they look different. So, I bring my mop into the bathroom and sort of try to act like I am doing something without actually getting into the mess. After a few minutes of moving the water around, my manager suggested we get some towels. (Brilliant.) So please picture me. I am squatting down, latex gloves on, while throwing towels around the bathroom. I let my manager actually rub them in that filthy water and then squeeze them out. I suggested that we get one of those big "Careful - Wet floor" signs and was able to manipulate my way out of the job. I took my gloves off and hid behind the desk while he finished up. I'm sorry, but that is so not part of my job description.
So, I continue on my quest for a 9-5 job. One which allows me to interact with the majority of the public and does not allow me to sleep until noon each day. One which allows me to go to dinner with the few friends I have and ensures me that I will have weekends off. The quest continues, but until then, I am quite sure there will be more entertaining stories to come.
During this transition, I am still completing my duties as a peon. The other day I heard a noise that sounded like a cross between the exorcist and a baby. As I turned around a noticed a child with a little bit of spit up on his chest. I didn't think twice about it until the mother called me over. She showed me the floor underneath their table was covered in vomit. (If you read this blog regularly, you will recall that the same thing happened to me while I was working at PBK.) I went to get my manager. I was trying to call "not it" but I was the only peon working that evening. My manager informed me that he is willing to do pretty much anything, but when it comes to vomit, he cannot handle the smell. As I was searching for a mop, the bartender told me that he would take care of it. Direct quote from my new favorite bartender: "Jenny, you don't make enough money to do this. I'll clean it up." I was amazed and so happy! However, we still had to apologize to the customers in the restaurant because of the horrible smell. And, oh yes, the parents fled the restaurant as soon as the bill was paid and never offered to help.
Then came yesterday. I ran across the street because I was already late (by 3 minutes.) A different manager (I have 3) tapped the clock to show me that it was in fact 5:03. That's annoying. I began my chores, and was wiping down some windows when a lady came out of the bathroom to tell us that the toilet was flooding. WHAT? I began to think, "Well, that sucks for the women that come here for dinner tonight! I guess they will have to call a plumber." Nope. Did you know that server assistant also stands for plumber? I am not kidding. Keep reading. My manager who would not clean up the vomit grabbed a mop and started trying to mop up about 3 inches of water. I simply suggested that he use towels rather than a mop, and somehow I had recruited myself to help clean up the mess.
First, the manager tells me to go find a mop. I found the handle, but couldn't find the moppy part. I asked the manager what a mop head looks like. He looked shocked, but when is the last time you mopped with an industrial sized mop head? Believe me, they look different. So, I bring my mop into the bathroom and sort of try to act like I am doing something without actually getting into the mess. After a few minutes of moving the water around, my manager suggested we get some towels. (Brilliant.) So please picture me. I am squatting down, latex gloves on, while throwing towels around the bathroom. I let my manager actually rub them in that filthy water and then squeeze them out. I suggested that we get one of those big "Careful - Wet floor" signs and was able to manipulate my way out of the job. I took my gloves off and hid behind the desk while he finished up. I'm sorry, but that is so not part of my job description.
So, I continue on my quest for a 9-5 job. One which allows me to interact with the majority of the public and does not allow me to sleep until noon each day. One which allows me to go to dinner with the few friends I have and ensures me that I will have weekends off. The quest continues, but until then, I am quite sure there will be more entertaining stories to come.
Monday, October 5, 2009
The Conference
If you are wondering what I did this weekend, I promise you will never guess. For the second year in a row, I attended a knitting conference with my mother and sister. Yes, you read correctly. There are actual places where people get together in order to knit. My mom started knitting several years ago and has made some amazing things for us. She has also met some really neat people through the store where she buys her knitting supplies. And so, every October, several groups of knitters from around Alabama drive to Fairhope, AL to stay in the Grand Hotel and knit chemo caps at night. (Not creepy like vampires, but they just do other things during the day.)
The best part is that I really get a mini vacation with my mom and whichever sister is around at that time. Last year Julia and I had a great time sitting by the pool sipping frozen drinks and exploring the spa area. This year, Laura, my mom and I also enjoyed the spa area, and searched for (and found!) a wedding dress and mother of the bride dress. I am not really going to go into the part because I don't want this blog to be a count down until the day of our wedding. Besides, you know something had to go wrong that I would have to write about.
If you recall, my marathon is in exactly 6 days. I am so scared, particularly since my running schedule has waned over the past few weeks. This weekend I was supposed to run 8 miles. Once we found the dress shop, I realized that it was only 4 miles from our hotel. My excellent plan was to run to the shop and straight back. I think there was only 1 turn, so it was a no fail plan. Except. I got up Sunday morning and noticed it was dreary outside, but knew that I had to get that run in. (I skipped the previous week's 12 miles.) Anyway, I started running and was doing fine. Then I noticed I was running...and running...and the dress shop didn't seem to be getting any closer. I still don't know where it went when I finally turned around. As I headed back to the hotel, I began to question whether I had seen large architectural structures before. Did I pass the Fairhope Library on the way out? I didn't think so. Where did the Fairhope Hospital come from?
I finally waved down a cable guy when I was completely turned around. I know, "Stranger Danger" but I had no idea where I was and it was raining! The cable guy told me I was 7 miles away from my hotel. I had been gone for 2 hours. He asked if I wanted to use his phone to call a cab. I asked him if he knew any cab numbers there. Negative. Then I tried to call my mom's cell phone. I thought my sister picked up and she sounded super excited to talk to me. Then I realized I had punched in one of my best friend's numbers. Dang speed dial. I don't know anyone's numbers anymore. Finally, we called information and called our room. My mom got directions to the BP that the cable guy was about to drive me to. (I know.)
Did you think the story was over? Nope. I went into the BP and asked for a Gatorade, assuring the cashier that I would pay as soon as mom arrived. I kept walking in and out of the gas station because it was freezing in the store, but it was freezing and raining outside. I was miserable. 30 minutes later, I decided to attempt to call my mother's cell phone. Of course, she has gotten lost. The BP lady offered to bring me back to the hotel and I accepted. I never paid for the Gatorade. I am not proud of my actions and do not recommend them to anyone, but I had a streak of luck.
I made it back to the hotel and slept the entire way home. All in all it was a successful weekend with just that one incident. See how much trouble exercise can be??
The best part is that I really get a mini vacation with my mom and whichever sister is around at that time. Last year Julia and I had a great time sitting by the pool sipping frozen drinks and exploring the spa area. This year, Laura, my mom and I also enjoyed the spa area, and searched for (and found!) a wedding dress and mother of the bride dress. I am not really going to go into the part because I don't want this blog to be a count down until the day of our wedding. Besides, you know something had to go wrong that I would have to write about.
If you recall, my marathon is in exactly 6 days. I am so scared, particularly since my running schedule has waned over the past few weeks. This weekend I was supposed to run 8 miles. Once we found the dress shop, I realized that it was only 4 miles from our hotel. My excellent plan was to run to the shop and straight back. I think there was only 1 turn, so it was a no fail plan. Except. I got up Sunday morning and noticed it was dreary outside, but knew that I had to get that run in. (I skipped the previous week's 12 miles.) Anyway, I started running and was doing fine. Then I noticed I was running...and running...and the dress shop didn't seem to be getting any closer. I still don't know where it went when I finally turned around. As I headed back to the hotel, I began to question whether I had seen large architectural structures before. Did I pass the Fairhope Library on the way out? I didn't think so. Where did the Fairhope Hospital come from?
I finally waved down a cable guy when I was completely turned around. I know, "Stranger Danger" but I had no idea where I was and it was raining! The cable guy told me I was 7 miles away from my hotel. I had been gone for 2 hours. He asked if I wanted to use his phone to call a cab. I asked him if he knew any cab numbers there. Negative. Then I tried to call my mom's cell phone. I thought my sister picked up and she sounded super excited to talk to me. Then I realized I had punched in one of my best friend's numbers. Dang speed dial. I don't know anyone's numbers anymore. Finally, we called information and called our room. My mom got directions to the BP that the cable guy was about to drive me to. (I know.)
Did you think the story was over? Nope. I went into the BP and asked for a Gatorade, assuring the cashier that I would pay as soon as mom arrived. I kept walking in and out of the gas station because it was freezing in the store, but it was freezing and raining outside. I was miserable. 30 minutes later, I decided to attempt to call my mother's cell phone. Of course, she has gotten lost. The BP lady offered to bring me back to the hotel and I accepted. I never paid for the Gatorade. I am not proud of my actions and do not recommend them to anyone, but I had a streak of luck.
I made it back to the hotel and slept the entire way home. All in all it was a successful weekend with just that one incident. See how much trouble exercise can be??
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
At Last
Pigs have flown. Hell has frozen over. If you are not on Facebook and missed the memo, Mike and I are engaged!!! I am still getting used to this major change in our relationship but I am thrilled (and a little overwhelmed.) So, if I have not called, emailed or texted you back, please give me a little time and I promise that I will get in touch with you.
Do you want to know the story? I have always been very adamant that I would not write about my engagement when it happened because it is such a private moment. However, I think I can manipulate the story so that you get the gist. Sorry, no pictures of the ring will be posted. Ms. Manners would be appalled!
This all happened exactly 6 years and 10 days after our first date. Mike and I planned to get dinner and were trying to figure out where to go. We got ready and went down to the garage where Mike informed me he had forgotten his keys. I didn't think twice about this and suggested that we take my car. Instead, he asked me if I wanted to walk to dinner. Now this was a little out of the ordinary. Every time I go for a run/walk/any form of exercise I try to get Mike to go with me. He used to play tennis, and has since informed me that he is not a runner, and has never taken me up on any of my walking invitations. I was so excited that he wanted to walk with me and we headed outside.
The issue Mike had not considered is that we live at the bottom of an incredibly steep hill. We started the hike and I did note that the conversation was pretty awkward. I attributed this to the fact that Mike and I were both sweating and catching our breath as we continued to climb. About halfway up, Mike suggested we go get the car, but I made him keep going. He also informed me that we must have walked at least a mile at that point. I run that hill and sadly had to tell him that we had only walked about .1 miles.
We finally made it to the top directly underneath a lamp post. Mike stopped walking, which I assumed was because he was catching his breath. I later learned that there was was another couple coming towards us, which almost thwarted Mike's plan. I turned around and told Mike to hurry up because I was hungry. (Oops.) When I turned around again, he was on one knee asking me to marry him. I cannot tell you how excited I was. My aunt said when I called her, she was afraid I was going to hyperventilate and that I wasn't making much sense. I could not stop shaking and crying.
Of course, we had to walk back DOWN the hill to call our parents and let me digest the surprise. Apparently, he asked my father for permission in December 2008. (I know.) He had had the ring since May! I can't imagine how many times he wanted to get the ring and throw it at me when I was complaining about the fact that we were still not engaged.
And so the planning begins. The great thing is, I have been planning for quite awhile now, so I have a pretty good idea of what I want. We are still waiting on the date and the venue to make sure they are available. More than anything, I just keep staring at my ring to make sure that it is really there. Last night at work, I discovered that maybe the pizza industry isn't so bad. After I cleaned the windows, my ring was even more sparkly. Maybe 409 is another form of jewelry cleaner!
Do you want to know the story? I have always been very adamant that I would not write about my engagement when it happened because it is such a private moment. However, I think I can manipulate the story so that you get the gist. Sorry, no pictures of the ring will be posted. Ms. Manners would be appalled!
This all happened exactly 6 years and 10 days after our first date. Mike and I planned to get dinner and were trying to figure out where to go. We got ready and went down to the garage where Mike informed me he had forgotten his keys. I didn't think twice about this and suggested that we take my car. Instead, he asked me if I wanted to walk to dinner. Now this was a little out of the ordinary. Every time I go for a run/walk/any form of exercise I try to get Mike to go with me. He used to play tennis, and has since informed me that he is not a runner, and has never taken me up on any of my walking invitations. I was so excited that he wanted to walk with me and we headed outside.
The issue Mike had not considered is that we live at the bottom of an incredibly steep hill. We started the hike and I did note that the conversation was pretty awkward. I attributed this to the fact that Mike and I were both sweating and catching our breath as we continued to climb. About halfway up, Mike suggested we go get the car, but I made him keep going. He also informed me that we must have walked at least a mile at that point. I run that hill and sadly had to tell him that we had only walked about .1 miles.
We finally made it to the top directly underneath a lamp post. Mike stopped walking, which I assumed was because he was catching his breath. I later learned that there was was another couple coming towards us, which almost thwarted Mike's plan. I turned around and told Mike to hurry up because I was hungry. (Oops.) When I turned around again, he was on one knee asking me to marry him. I cannot tell you how excited I was. My aunt said when I called her, she was afraid I was going to hyperventilate and that I wasn't making much sense. I could not stop shaking and crying.
Of course, we had to walk back DOWN the hill to call our parents and let me digest the surprise. Apparently, he asked my father for permission in December 2008. (I know.) He had had the ring since May! I can't imagine how many times he wanted to get the ring and throw it at me when I was complaining about the fact that we were still not engaged.
And so the planning begins. The great thing is, I have been planning for quite awhile now, so I have a pretty good idea of what I want. We are still waiting on the date and the venue to make sure they are available. More than anything, I just keep staring at my ring to make sure that it is really there. Last night at work, I discovered that maybe the pizza industry isn't so bad. After I cleaned the windows, my ring was even more sparkly. Maybe 409 is another form of jewelry cleaner!
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Life Goes On
Well, I'm back. I am somewhat disappointed in my lack of blogging lately, but I have to tell you I am so exhausted that all I want to do when I get home is get in the bed. I have been working a lot of double shifts which are tough just because you are on your feet for a long time. (Thank goodness for Dr. Scholl's inserts!) Additionally, my race is only three weeks away so I have been running a lot. Just to give myself a pat on the back, I ran 19 miles yesterday! For any of you who have watched people train for marathons and they inform you of the extensive miles they are running, I have a few things to tell you. First, there ARE water stops and bathroom stops, so you do get to stop every couple miles. I know there are people out there that run the whole way, but I need to keep hydrated. Also, the LONG run is not really very fun. Yes, there is a huge sense of accomplishment when you finish, but every part of my body hurts the day after. Even that weird "poor man shiatsu" stick does not make things better!
From now on, I will be "tapering" so I will be shorter distances to ensure that I do not hurt myself before I head to Chicago. It is amazing to me that I used to have a hard time completing 4 miles and am about to embark on a terrifying journey that requires much more strength and determination that 4 miles does. I truly am scared.
I am not going to go into work. It is fine, nothing has changed. The only difference is that I have a huge pile of cash sitting in the kitchen that needs to go to the bank. I look like a drug dealer, or perhaps a lady of the night!
I want to tell you about my adventure Thursday night. I always thought I was an outgoing person, ready to try new things. I had an epiphany Thursday night. I am not adventurous. For this I blame my parents. (Of course.) I think because we were a flock of girls, my dad took charge and took care of us. We followed and knew we would end up where we were supposed to be. I think this is part of the reason I have had a tough time in St. Louis. I don't know why, but I prefer to run errands with other people and don't really like to try new things on my own. The reasoning is, I don't really know the area and am afraid of what could possibly happen.
Ok, so Wednesday night, Mike's best friend from birth (literally they were born a few months apart) came to visit. He was in town for business, so that worked out well. Thursday night I was working and the boys went to the casino. Mike told me to call him when I was taking out the trash at the restaurant. (That is when I make my secret phone calls!) The plan was to meet somewhere after work for a late dinner. When I called him, he told me he was playing poker and to call when I got home. Did you know you are not allowed to use cell phones when you are in a gaming facility? Apparently, people can cheat with their phones, so they are prohibited. I did get in touch with Mike when I finally got off work and he suggested that I meet them downtown.
Here, downtown is not a 10 minute drive. Mike suggested that I take the metro. I had never tried this method of public transportation in St. Louis, but never heard anything good about it. Also, it was 10 pm. I didn't want to drive and have 2 cars downtown, so I headed for the metro stop. This is where everything started to go downhill. I bought my ticket and walked down the stairs. I knew I needed to go East, but nothing was appropriately marked, and of course, I ended up on the wrong side. After I watched 2 trains go by on the other side, I walked back up and down to wait on my train. I waited. And waited. More suspicious characters began to gather as I stood out like a sore thumb. I began calling and texting Mike about how what a stupid idea this was but he was not answering because he was at the poker table.
Just as I was typing, "I am going home" a train pulled up. I took a deep breath and hopped on. I kept giving myself pep talks, but I was upset and more than a little nervous. (Please keep in mind I was exhausted and hungry and probably the best choice would have been for me to stay home.) Then a shifty couple sat down next to me. I listened as the girlfriend asked what all the papers were that her boyfriend was holding. He explained that they were papers from his public defender and one showed all the drugs he had on him when he was arrested. This is when I started tearing up. (Not kidding.) I was mad at myself for getting upset and figured that this made me look weak, but I kept on crying.
When I finally got to my destination I walked towards the restaurant where we were supposed to meet. I was in full tears as I walked up to the door. For some reason, there were 2 bouncers standing outside of the sushi restaurant. (FYI: If you encounter a girl in tears, do NOT try to talk/flirt or do anything aside from what she wants.) One of the bouncers said, "Hey little lady, where do you think you are going?"
Me: "I want some sushi."
Bouncer: "Well, you can't just go walking in like you own the place."
Me: "Really? To get sushi?"
Bouncer? "Some ID please."
I handed him my license.
Bouncer: "Alabama? What are you doing so far from home little lady?"
Now I am mad. I pushed passed them and headed for the restaurant. I heard one of the bouncers say, "Oh, all you wanted was sushi? You aren't trying to get into the club?" How many times did I say I just wanted to get some sushi???
When I walked into the restaurant, Mike could not understand why I was a basket case, but promised me that I would never have to ride the metro again. The waiter informed me I looked like I needed a glass of wine, and I tried to calm down. An hour later we were done with dinner. The boys wanted to go back to the casino and I wanted to go home. I hopped in a cab and mourned the $50 I spent for an hour of raw fish!
From now on, I will be "tapering" so I will be shorter distances to ensure that I do not hurt myself before I head to Chicago. It is amazing to me that I used to have a hard time completing 4 miles and am about to embark on a terrifying journey that requires much more strength and determination that 4 miles does. I truly am scared.
I am not going to go into work. It is fine, nothing has changed. The only difference is that I have a huge pile of cash sitting in the kitchen that needs to go to the bank. I look like a drug dealer, or perhaps a lady of the night!
I want to tell you about my adventure Thursday night. I always thought I was an outgoing person, ready to try new things. I had an epiphany Thursday night. I am not adventurous. For this I blame my parents. (Of course.) I think because we were a flock of girls, my dad took charge and took care of us. We followed and knew we would end up where we were supposed to be. I think this is part of the reason I have had a tough time in St. Louis. I don't know why, but I prefer to run errands with other people and don't really like to try new things on my own. The reasoning is, I don't really know the area and am afraid of what could possibly happen.
Ok, so Wednesday night, Mike's best friend from birth (literally they were born a few months apart) came to visit. He was in town for business, so that worked out well. Thursday night I was working and the boys went to the casino. Mike told me to call him when I was taking out the trash at the restaurant. (That is when I make my secret phone calls!) The plan was to meet somewhere after work for a late dinner. When I called him, he told me he was playing poker and to call when I got home. Did you know you are not allowed to use cell phones when you are in a gaming facility? Apparently, people can cheat with their phones, so they are prohibited. I did get in touch with Mike when I finally got off work and he suggested that I meet them downtown.
Here, downtown is not a 10 minute drive. Mike suggested that I take the metro. I had never tried this method of public transportation in St. Louis, but never heard anything good about it. Also, it was 10 pm. I didn't want to drive and have 2 cars downtown, so I headed for the metro stop. This is where everything started to go downhill. I bought my ticket and walked down the stairs. I knew I needed to go East, but nothing was appropriately marked, and of course, I ended up on the wrong side. After I watched 2 trains go by on the other side, I walked back up and down to wait on my train. I waited. And waited. More suspicious characters began to gather as I stood out like a sore thumb. I began calling and texting Mike about how what a stupid idea this was but he was not answering because he was at the poker table.
Just as I was typing, "I am going home" a train pulled up. I took a deep breath and hopped on. I kept giving myself pep talks, but I was upset and more than a little nervous. (Please keep in mind I was exhausted and hungry and probably the best choice would have been for me to stay home.) Then a shifty couple sat down next to me. I listened as the girlfriend asked what all the papers were that her boyfriend was holding. He explained that they were papers from his public defender and one showed all the drugs he had on him when he was arrested. This is when I started tearing up. (Not kidding.) I was mad at myself for getting upset and figured that this made me look weak, but I kept on crying.
When I finally got to my destination I walked towards the restaurant where we were supposed to meet. I was in full tears as I walked up to the door. For some reason, there were 2 bouncers standing outside of the sushi restaurant. (FYI: If you encounter a girl in tears, do NOT try to talk/flirt or do anything aside from what she wants.) One of the bouncers said, "Hey little lady, where do you think you are going?"
Me: "I want some sushi."
Bouncer: "Well, you can't just go walking in like you own the place."
Me: "Really? To get sushi?"
Bouncer? "Some ID please."
I handed him my license.
Bouncer: "Alabama? What are you doing so far from home little lady?"
Now I am mad. I pushed passed them and headed for the restaurant. I heard one of the bouncers say, "Oh, all you wanted was sushi? You aren't trying to get into the club?" How many times did I say I just wanted to get some sushi???
When I walked into the restaurant, Mike could not understand why I was a basket case, but promised me that I would never have to ride the metro again. The waiter informed me I looked like I needed a glass of wine, and I tried to calm down. An hour later we were done with dinner. The boys wanted to go back to the casino and I wanted to go home. I hopped in a cab and mourned the $50 I spent for an hour of raw fish!
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Back to the Daily Grind
Well, I am feeling much better and wittier than ever. When I tried to blog last week I was putting myself to sleep. All I did was sleep, and watch television. Again, the house looks like a bachelor pad, but Mike did help by doing some laundry and a couple loads of dishes. (We had a lot of bowls backed up because I was eating so much soup.)
And so today, I returned to my favorite pizzeria across the street. There are usually 3 server assistants (SA's) on the weekend because it gets so busy. Lucky for me, one girl called in sick and the other blew a tire on her way to work. I was alone to man the door AND the floor. It was quite a chaotic night. First, they keep telling me," just keep an eye on everything. That's how you will know what to do." That is the least helpful criticism I have ever received. Instead, I end up running around like a chicken with my head cut off trying to complete all the jobs that I see unfinished.
Today I got in trouble while I was attempting to communicate with my manager across the restaurant. Now bear with me, this has a point. There is a system that we use so that one SA on the floor can tell the SA at the door that a table is bussed and set for the necessary amount of people. So, I was trying to find out from my manager how many people needed to be seated at a specific table. I kept holding up 2 fingers, then 3, then 2 again. She finally acknowledged me by slicing her hand across her throat in a very aggressive motion. I knew I was in for a talking to. Manager came over almost immediately to inform me that when she is speaking with a customer I am not to interrupt her. Yikes!
Another thing I have noticed is that there are cliques in the restaurant industry. If you have future plans to leave the wait staff and do not wish to serve the minions for the rest of you life, you are not in the clique. There is one girl, whom I call the Bully, who ignores me and blatantly invites all the servers to do special things with her. "Hey! You guys want to get a pizza?" "Hey guys, let's go out tonight!" I am never invited on these outings, nor am I allowed to eat their pizza. No one even cared to ask what sort of pizza I like. That's fine, I got my salad and went home.
That's enough about silly work. Obviously I am still trying to look for a 9-5 salaried job, but something else fun occurred this weekend. Mike and I celebrated our 6 year dating anniversary. Here is one positive about St. Louis. People do not freak out when they hear that you have been with your significant other for more than half a decade. I have heard more people tell me they dated their now husband for 7, 8, or 9 years before they got married. While that is not the path that I am willing to take, it does make me feel better!
Saturday afternoon I didn't have to work and we got up to walk around and scavenge some lunch. We were not aware that the St. Louis Art Fair was going on down the street (seriously) but that ended up being perfect. We walked around there and got some food. We got some good people watching in too. Picture this - an at least 70 year old man, walking around in jean shorts, a denim button down, a Hermes type scarf and black HIGH HEELS!! I could not believe it. I was pretty impressed with how well he was walking in them and kept asking Mike how in the world he could have found shoes his size. Mike was in shock and and had no answers to my flying questions.
We had dinner reservations at a French restaurant that sits on the rooftop of a building. It was a gorgeous night and we got free champagne because of our anniversary! After dinner, Mike decided he wanted to go to the casino. It was right across the street so we headed over there. While I was in the bathroom texting (sorry friends) Mike was buying the tickets or whatever is required to enter the doors of the gaming industry. When I came out, we got in line. I quietly whispered that I didn't have my ID with me. Oops. Rookie mistake.Before we left for dinner, I packed a little clutch, and as we were running late, I forgot my ID and credit card. I tried to sweet talk the lady into letting me in, but she was not interested in my excuses, or the fact that I am well over the legal gambling age.
So, we headed home. We had a wonderful night. It is always so fun to spend some quality time together - especially now that I am working hours that none of the rest of the world works. Hope y'all had a fabulous weekend!!!
And so today, I returned to my favorite pizzeria across the street. There are usually 3 server assistants (SA's) on the weekend because it gets so busy. Lucky for me, one girl called in sick and the other blew a tire on her way to work. I was alone to man the door AND the floor. It was quite a chaotic night. First, they keep telling me," just keep an eye on everything. That's how you will know what to do." That is the least helpful criticism I have ever received. Instead, I end up running around like a chicken with my head cut off trying to complete all the jobs that I see unfinished.
Today I got in trouble while I was attempting to communicate with my manager across the restaurant. Now bear with me, this has a point. There is a system that we use so that one SA on the floor can tell the SA at the door that a table is bussed and set for the necessary amount of people. So, I was trying to find out from my manager how many people needed to be seated at a specific table. I kept holding up 2 fingers, then 3, then 2 again. She finally acknowledged me by slicing her hand across her throat in a very aggressive motion. I knew I was in for a talking to. Manager came over almost immediately to inform me that when she is speaking with a customer I am not to interrupt her. Yikes!
Another thing I have noticed is that there are cliques in the restaurant industry. If you have future plans to leave the wait staff and do not wish to serve the minions for the rest of you life, you are not in the clique. There is one girl, whom I call the Bully, who ignores me and blatantly invites all the servers to do special things with her. "Hey! You guys want to get a pizza?" "Hey guys, let's go out tonight!" I am never invited on these outings, nor am I allowed to eat their pizza. No one even cared to ask what sort of pizza I like. That's fine, I got my salad and went home.
That's enough about silly work. Obviously I am still trying to look for a 9-5 salaried job, but something else fun occurred this weekend. Mike and I celebrated our 6 year dating anniversary. Here is one positive about St. Louis. People do not freak out when they hear that you have been with your significant other for more than half a decade. I have heard more people tell me they dated their now husband for 7, 8, or 9 years before they got married. While that is not the path that I am willing to take, it does make me feel better!
Saturday afternoon I didn't have to work and we got up to walk around and scavenge some lunch. We were not aware that the St. Louis Art Fair was going on down the street (seriously) but that ended up being perfect. We walked around there and got some food. We got some good people watching in too. Picture this - an at least 70 year old man, walking around in jean shorts, a denim button down, a Hermes type scarf and black HIGH HEELS!! I could not believe it. I was pretty impressed with how well he was walking in them and kept asking Mike how in the world he could have found shoes his size. Mike was in shock and and had no answers to my flying questions.
We had dinner reservations at a French restaurant that sits on the rooftop of a building. It was a gorgeous night and we got free champagne because of our anniversary! After dinner, Mike decided he wanted to go to the casino. It was right across the street so we headed over there. While I was in the bathroom texting (sorry friends) Mike was buying the tickets or whatever is required to enter the doors of the gaming industry. When I came out, we got in line. I quietly whispered that I didn't have my ID with me. Oops. Rookie mistake.Before we left for dinner, I packed a little clutch, and as we were running late, I forgot my ID and credit card. I tried to sweet talk the lady into letting me in, but she was not interested in my excuses, or the fact that I am well over the legal gambling age.
So, we headed home. We had a wonderful night. It is always so fun to spend some quality time together - especially now that I am working hours that none of the rest of the world works. Hope y'all had a fabulous weekend!!!
Thursday, September 10, 2009
HI
Hey Guys
I just wanted to give you the heads up that I have basically been in the bed since Saturday with some sort of crud. I was pretty sure it was Swine Flu, but Mike nixed that. I will write more when I am feeling better.
Really you haven't missed much - a lot of working, running and laying in bed. OH - I did drop an entire tray of glasses at work on Wednesday. Everyone in the restaurant turned around and some woman freaked out like her foot had been sliced open. (There was no scratch!) That may have set me back a few months as far as becoming an actual waitress!
Will write more soon. I am still here!
I just wanted to give you the heads up that I have basically been in the bed since Saturday with some sort of crud. I was pretty sure it was Swine Flu, but Mike nixed that. I will write more when I am feeling better.
Really you haven't missed much - a lot of working, running and laying in bed. OH - I did drop an entire tray of glasses at work on Wednesday. Everyone in the restaurant turned around and some woman freaked out like her foot had been sliced open. (There was no scratch!) That may have set me back a few months as far as becoming an actual waitress!
Will write more soon. I am still here!
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
This is Wearing Me Out!
I am not sure why, but this job may be the most exhausting one I have ever had. It's not like I am using my mind, but I am on my feet through the shifts and supposed to be "keeping an eye on everything." Do you know how hard that is to do? As soon as I have bussed one table, someone else has left, there is a bell going off for me to get a pizza and bring it to another table, and someone has walked in the door for me to seat. It appears that as I have gotten older, my ability to multi-task has decreased significantly.
I didn't fall asleep until 3:30 last night and had to be at work at 11. I was chugging Red Bull and trying to pull myself together when I finally ran across the street. My manager asked me how I would feel about training someone tonight. I said, "If you feel comfortable with that, that is fine with me!" Then she informed me that I would be training on the floor, because I seem to be more at ease on the floor than at the door. When you are at the door, all you have to do is welcome people and seat them. Apparently I am not as sociable as I thought and much better at manual labor.
I think the problem I have with the door is that I cannot handle stupid people. Listen to some of the questions and issues I dealt with Sunday night. "Umm, can we order our pizza now so that it will be ready for us when we sit down?" No. Where can you do that?? Also, our restaurant has a rule that if you have a party of 6 or more and the restaurant is busy, half your party must be there before their name can be written down. We don't take reservations (it's a pizza place - come on) we just quote times. So this lady comes in and tells us she is going to have a party of 14. Great. She was with her daughter, but no one else was there. I explained the rule to her, and she immediately started arguing. "I got here early so that I could save a table." I continued to repeat the rule, but let's be honest, you can only repeat yourself so many times. Finally, she says, "I can look really pitiful..." My response: "Yes ma'am, and so can I."
Finally, another lady decided to come during peak dinner hours (around 6:30) with 5 or 6 kids in tow. She also had several other adults with her. I gave her a quote time of about 15-25 minutes. Well, that didn't happen. People were sitting and enjoying each other's company rather than leaving. After 25 minutes, the lady came up to me and started yelling that it was ridiculous to quote a time that wasn't correct. How in the world am I supposed to know exactly how long a table is going to take to eat? She had no argument, which made me even more mad, so I just turned around. Then she started yelling that her kids were going to have a melt down. The kids looked perfectly fine playing - I think that mom was about to have a meltdown. We even brought them out grapes, strawberries and cheese to munch on. No one else got that kind of service! The manager offered her a beer on the house, but she denied it. I kind of wanted to force it down her throat. She needed to relax.
Oh yeah - good thing I have two shirts (which will be deducted from my first paycheck, as well as my apron.) As I was dumping trash from a plate today, a cup of salad dressing somehow flipped up in the air and landed all over me. As soon as I thought I had gotten all of it off, I spotted a new stain. I am staring at one right now that I didn't discover in time. Ok, I am going to take a nap before I head back across the street at 5 to "train." Hope you are having a great day!
I didn't fall asleep until 3:30 last night and had to be at work at 11. I was chugging Red Bull and trying to pull myself together when I finally ran across the street. My manager asked me how I would feel about training someone tonight. I said, "If you feel comfortable with that, that is fine with me!" Then she informed me that I would be training on the floor, because I seem to be more at ease on the floor than at the door. When you are at the door, all you have to do is welcome people and seat them. Apparently I am not as sociable as I thought and much better at manual labor.
I think the problem I have with the door is that I cannot handle stupid people. Listen to some of the questions and issues I dealt with Sunday night. "Umm, can we order our pizza now so that it will be ready for us when we sit down?" No. Where can you do that?? Also, our restaurant has a rule that if you have a party of 6 or more and the restaurant is busy, half your party must be there before their name can be written down. We don't take reservations (it's a pizza place - come on) we just quote times. So this lady comes in and tells us she is going to have a party of 14. Great. She was with her daughter, but no one else was there. I explained the rule to her, and she immediately started arguing. "I got here early so that I could save a table." I continued to repeat the rule, but let's be honest, you can only repeat yourself so many times. Finally, she says, "I can look really pitiful..." My response: "Yes ma'am, and so can I."
Finally, another lady decided to come during peak dinner hours (around 6:30) with 5 or 6 kids in tow. She also had several other adults with her. I gave her a quote time of about 15-25 minutes. Well, that didn't happen. People were sitting and enjoying each other's company rather than leaving. After 25 minutes, the lady came up to me and started yelling that it was ridiculous to quote a time that wasn't correct. How in the world am I supposed to know exactly how long a table is going to take to eat? She had no argument, which made me even more mad, so I just turned around. Then she started yelling that her kids were going to have a melt down. The kids looked perfectly fine playing - I think that mom was about to have a meltdown. We even brought them out grapes, strawberries and cheese to munch on. No one else got that kind of service! The manager offered her a beer on the house, but she denied it. I kind of wanted to force it down her throat. She needed to relax.
Oh yeah - good thing I have two shirts (which will be deducted from my first paycheck, as well as my apron.) As I was dumping trash from a plate today, a cup of salad dressing somehow flipped up in the air and landed all over me. As soon as I thought I had gotten all of it off, I spotted a new stain. I am staring at one right now that I didn't discover in time. Ok, I am going to take a nap before I head back across the street at 5 to "train." Hope you are having a great day!
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Nostalgia
Not too much has been going on here..I was off work for 2 days so no new stories from there. Yesterday I cleaned the house (a serious clean) and Mike made dinner (Steak, potatoes and sausage.) I had to make asparagus so we would have something somewhat healthy on the plate. Anyway, we ended up watching Snatch and going to bed. Today has been pretty useless. Mike is preparing for his 2nd Fantasy Football draft and I am going to watch a movie. Are you yawning yet?
Recently I have been thinking a lot about my mother's mother. I am not sure why, but random things seem to conjure up images and memories of her. She passed away when I was 16 and I wasn't able to go to her funeral because I had torn my ACL. That is a whole other post. Anyway, My Memere, (french for grandmother) lived with us for at least 6 or 7 years. When my grandfather, (Pepere) passed away I was 6 years old. Memere had severe arthritis, making it difficult for her to live by herself. She moved from their quiet apartment in Arlington, VA to Birmingham, AL with 3 crazy kids under the age of 6, my stressed out mother and my out of town father. He traveled a lot when we were growing up, which I am sure made things even more stressful for my mom.
Anyway, the point of this post is not to be depressing. I have just been reminiscing about all the things we did together that became routine. Memere moved into the office downstairs, which we had redone to include a small bathroom and an area for her "kitchen." She made her lunch and breakfast there, and then joined our family for dinner. One of the things I loved about Memere is that she seemed to enjoy me visiting her. (maybe she was just being nice). On the weekends when I woke up, I would head to Memere's room. My parents were pretty strict with us as far as television watching and our diet when we were growing up. We didn't drink sodas, or eat white bread. (I guess those were the major things, but it seemed pretty serious at the time!) I would head into Memere's, where she would be making breakfast. White toast and butter - this was heaven for me! I had to go ask my mom if I could please have some white bread with Memere, and when permission was granted, I would run back there to smother my toast in butter. That stuff was so good! Then we would sit and watch what was on t.v.
Memere was a very devout Catholic. For awhile while her joints were still in somewhat good shape, we would drop her off at the Catholic church down the street for mass. I often attended, especially on Saturday nights when there was a folk band or something like that playing. Once she became more limited by her disease, she would watch mass on T.V. That wasn't as exciting for me, so I generally did not sit through it. However, one time I thought I would be helpful and bring her some Communion, because she was unable to take it from the priest. It did not occur to me that I was not a priest and somehow this could be offensive. I cut up some graham crackers into circles and poured some cranberry juice. When I brought "communion" into her room, she was so mad. I never understood until later what the problem was.
That was the only time I really remember her getting mad at me. (She had a lot of other opportunities.) We would watch The Golden Girls, Wheel of Fortune, and Rescue 911 together. I don't know if my mom just wanted me out of her hair, but do you remember Rescue 911? That is not appropriate for a child under 10 to be watching. However, when I was in Memere's room, all bets were off and I could defy my parents (after asking permission) as much as I wanted.
I used to give Memere manicures and roll her hair. It was a regular salon in there! When my parents went out, Memere was in charge. One evening while my parents were painting the town red, my sisters and I were playing upstairs. While we were playing, we spotted a roach. If you have ever lived in the deep south, you know about these roaches. They are generally at least 2 inches long, and they FLY. Although we were used to seeing them, we always screamed when we saw them, particularly when they decided to fly at you! We screamed for Memere to come kill the roach, which was selfish because she could barely climb the stairs. We then got her a chair to stand on while she swiped at the roach with a broom. And then, she fell. She ended up breaking her arm and we had to call 911. (Good thing I had watched all those shows!) It was scary for all of us and I have always felt bad about that.
Memere grew up speaking French. Her parents were from Canada, so she spoke English at school and French at home. While my mother was growing up, Memere and Pepere would speak in French when they didn't want the kids to understand them. (My parents did that too - we all took French in high school. We also quickly learned the french word for ice cream when we were young.) Memere had this old school speaker phone that she would talk to her sisters and friends on. (She was one of 8 children.) I would sit by her door and listen to her as she spoke French fluently to her sisters. Who knows..she could have been talking about me, but it was amazing to listen to.
I am not sure how to conclude this post. I have just been thinking a lot lately about how little you know about your grandparents and extended family if they die while you are still young. I would love to have conversations with her now, to see what she truly thought about living in our crazy house and about her incredible life. There is no doubt that she touched more people than she probably ever considered.
Recently I have been thinking a lot about my mother's mother. I am not sure why, but random things seem to conjure up images and memories of her. She passed away when I was 16 and I wasn't able to go to her funeral because I had torn my ACL. That is a whole other post. Anyway, My Memere, (french for grandmother) lived with us for at least 6 or 7 years. When my grandfather, (Pepere) passed away I was 6 years old. Memere had severe arthritis, making it difficult for her to live by herself. She moved from their quiet apartment in Arlington, VA to Birmingham, AL with 3 crazy kids under the age of 6, my stressed out mother and my out of town father. He traveled a lot when we were growing up, which I am sure made things even more stressful for my mom.
Anyway, the point of this post is not to be depressing. I have just been reminiscing about all the things we did together that became routine. Memere moved into the office downstairs, which we had redone to include a small bathroom and an area for her "kitchen." She made her lunch and breakfast there, and then joined our family for dinner. One of the things I loved about Memere is that she seemed to enjoy me visiting her. (maybe she was just being nice). On the weekends when I woke up, I would head to Memere's room. My parents were pretty strict with us as far as television watching and our diet when we were growing up. We didn't drink sodas, or eat white bread. (I guess those were the major things, but it seemed pretty serious at the time!) I would head into Memere's, where she would be making breakfast. White toast and butter - this was heaven for me! I had to go ask my mom if I could please have some white bread with Memere, and when permission was granted, I would run back there to smother my toast in butter. That stuff was so good! Then we would sit and watch what was on t.v.
Memere was a very devout Catholic. For awhile while her joints were still in somewhat good shape, we would drop her off at the Catholic church down the street for mass. I often attended, especially on Saturday nights when there was a folk band or something like that playing. Once she became more limited by her disease, she would watch mass on T.V. That wasn't as exciting for me, so I generally did not sit through it. However, one time I thought I would be helpful and bring her some Communion, because she was unable to take it from the priest. It did not occur to me that I was not a priest and somehow this could be offensive. I cut up some graham crackers into circles and poured some cranberry juice. When I brought "communion" into her room, she was so mad. I never understood until later what the problem was.
That was the only time I really remember her getting mad at me. (She had a lot of other opportunities.) We would watch The Golden Girls, Wheel of Fortune, and Rescue 911 together. I don't know if my mom just wanted me out of her hair, but do you remember Rescue 911? That is not appropriate for a child under 10 to be watching. However, when I was in Memere's room, all bets were off and I could defy my parents (after asking permission) as much as I wanted.
I used to give Memere manicures and roll her hair. It was a regular salon in there! When my parents went out, Memere was in charge. One evening while my parents were painting the town red, my sisters and I were playing upstairs. While we were playing, we spotted a roach. If you have ever lived in the deep south, you know about these roaches. They are generally at least 2 inches long, and they FLY. Although we were used to seeing them, we always screamed when we saw them, particularly when they decided to fly at you! We screamed for Memere to come kill the roach, which was selfish because she could barely climb the stairs. We then got her a chair to stand on while she swiped at the roach with a broom. And then, she fell. She ended up breaking her arm and we had to call 911. (Good thing I had watched all those shows!) It was scary for all of us and I have always felt bad about that.
Memere grew up speaking French. Her parents were from Canada, so she spoke English at school and French at home. While my mother was growing up, Memere and Pepere would speak in French when they didn't want the kids to understand them. (My parents did that too - we all took French in high school. We also quickly learned the french word for ice cream when we were young.) Memere had this old school speaker phone that she would talk to her sisters and friends on. (She was one of 8 children.) I would sit by her door and listen to her as she spoke French fluently to her sisters. Who knows..she could have been talking about me, but it was amazing to listen to.
I am not sure how to conclude this post. I have just been thinking a lot lately about how little you know about your grandparents and extended family if they die while you are still young. I would love to have conversations with her now, to see what she truly thought about living in our crazy house and about her incredible life. There is no doubt that she touched more people than she probably ever considered.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
The Mandarin Lounge
Well, I think I am 5 days in to my training? I was off yesterday, which was nice because Friday was crazy, and also the training day in which someone followed me around and critiqued me when I was done. It was exhausting. My critique was, "You did great, especially considering how busy it was, but just remember that you need to be aware of everything all the time." I just didn't know how to respond to that.
Friday night after I came home around 10pm, (pizza and salad in hand) I collapsed on the couch. I had already gone for a longer run that afternoon and was about to fall asleep. Then Mike calls from school and asks if I want to go meet his friends for a drink."It's 11:00" I said. "I know, but they are all out..." I felt bad, especially since I have been telling him that he needs to get out with people more, (including me), so I changed my clothes (I was still in my apron) and got ready.
We headed to a place named The Mandarin Lounge, where Mike's other classmates were gathered. Now as I have gotten older, I really prefer to hang out at someone's house or a low key bar with maybe an acoustic guitar in the background? I got nervous when we got in line to pay the cover (only for males, no cover for girls.) All the girls were wearing very tight,very revealing, silky outfits. I was just happy that I had decided to put on heels instead of flip flops! I was wearing jeans and a cute top from Banana, but I quickly noted that was not going to cut it. We climbed several flights of stairs because this place is actually on the top of some other restaurant so you can walk out on the roof. Neat idea, but there were some flaws. First, while we were hiking up the stairs, I started to hear the music. We were still about 2 floors away. I asked Mike if the music seemed loud. He actually did agree. Imagine how loud it was when we actually walked in. Once we found our friends, they told us we had just missed a dance off?? and a girl was dragging me to dance. My feet were hurting, my legs were tired and I just completely denied her my dancing skills.
It got better after we went outside, but some kid almost fell on me because he was so drunk. I enjoyed watching all the young 20 somethings in their outfits. I think they thought they were headed for a night out in LA, rather than STL. All in all, we had a good time, but at 1:30, a guy with a bullhorn (Not kidding) came out and started herding people back inside. They kept yelling that it was time to go and for everyone to get out. I put my completely full beer down and started heading for the steps. I heard a guy scream, "I'm getting married tomorrow!" That poor bride.
At the bottom of the stairs a guy was giving away wristbands so everyone could go to another bar that stayed open until 3 am. Brilliant. Send people who cannot stand up to another bar that is no where within walking distance. We finally got home and settled and when I looked at the clock it was 3 am. I could not believe it. I was exhausted and slept until noon the next day. (Ok, for those of you who know me, that is not completely out of the ordinary.)
I am blaming the Mandarin Lounge on me not completing my long run this weekend. I was so tired yesterday and promised myself I would run today. However, 16 miles is a long way to go by yourself, and I opted to sleep in this morning. Additionally, I have to work at 3 pm today. That kind of puts a wrench in any plans you have for the day. I am looking at the clock trying to figure out if I could go for a short run before work. I guess I will go change...hope you all had a great weekend. Tonight I will be followed around while I work the door. Friday, I was working the floor. I know, it's complicated stuff.
Friday night after I came home around 10pm, (pizza and salad in hand) I collapsed on the couch. I had already gone for a longer run that afternoon and was about to fall asleep. Then Mike calls from school and asks if I want to go meet his friends for a drink."It's 11:00" I said. "I know, but they are all out..." I felt bad, especially since I have been telling him that he needs to get out with people more, (including me), so I changed my clothes (I was still in my apron) and got ready.
We headed to a place named The Mandarin Lounge, where Mike's other classmates were gathered. Now as I have gotten older, I really prefer to hang out at someone's house or a low key bar with maybe an acoustic guitar in the background? I got nervous when we got in line to pay the cover (only for males, no cover for girls.) All the girls were wearing very tight,very revealing, silky outfits. I was just happy that I had decided to put on heels instead of flip flops! I was wearing jeans and a cute top from Banana, but I quickly noted that was not going to cut it. We climbed several flights of stairs because this place is actually on the top of some other restaurant so you can walk out on the roof. Neat idea, but there were some flaws. First, while we were hiking up the stairs, I started to hear the music. We were still about 2 floors away. I asked Mike if the music seemed loud. He actually did agree. Imagine how loud it was when we actually walked in. Once we found our friends, they told us we had just missed a dance off?? and a girl was dragging me to dance. My feet were hurting, my legs were tired and I just completely denied her my dancing skills.
It got better after we went outside, but some kid almost fell on me because he was so drunk. I enjoyed watching all the young 20 somethings in their outfits. I think they thought they were headed for a night out in LA, rather than STL. All in all, we had a good time, but at 1:30, a guy with a bullhorn (Not kidding) came out and started herding people back inside. They kept yelling that it was time to go and for everyone to get out. I put my completely full beer down and started heading for the steps. I heard a guy scream, "I'm getting married tomorrow!" That poor bride.
At the bottom of the stairs a guy was giving away wristbands so everyone could go to another bar that stayed open until 3 am. Brilliant. Send people who cannot stand up to another bar that is no where within walking distance. We finally got home and settled and when I looked at the clock it was 3 am. I could not believe it. I was exhausted and slept until noon the next day. (Ok, for those of you who know me, that is not completely out of the ordinary.)
I am blaming the Mandarin Lounge on me not completing my long run this weekend. I was so tired yesterday and promised myself I would run today. However, 16 miles is a long way to go by yourself, and I opted to sleep in this morning. Additionally, I have to work at 3 pm today. That kind of puts a wrench in any plans you have for the day. I am looking at the clock trying to figure out if I could go for a short run before work. I guess I will go change...hope you all had a great weekend. Tonight I will be followed around while I work the door. Friday, I was working the floor. I know, it's complicated stuff.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Training
I have hit rock bottom. For the past two days, I have been trained by two 17 year-old boys who are about to embark on the collegiate world. One is actually attended Stanford and the other is going to the University of Michigan. I felt like their big sister. They were asking me if they should rush and telling me about the girlfriends they had to break up with because they were moving. I feel like such a loser. As soon as I met both of them I started wondering if they were even old enough to legally work. I forgot how young you are when you are in high school! I am sure these kids were like, "Dude, what is that girl doing with her life?" I always throw law school and the bad economy in when people ask my what my story is, but that is just to make myself feel better.
Are you wondering what I have been doing in my training for the past two days? I have been learning that being a "server assistant" means "you clean and bus tables." SO not what I signed up for. Yes, I get to seat people and grab carry outs from the kitchen, but I really don't like this manual labor. A lady saw me cleaning the bathroom and said, "Oh you poor thing. They make you clean the bathrooms?" Yup, and that is just the beginning. I do more cleaning at work than our house has gotten since I lived here. I have to Windex all the windows. The best part about our restaurant is that there is a huge window where the kids can watch the cooks toss the pizza dough. Definitely cool for kids and families. Not so cool for the server assistant who has to clean off all the little fingerprints when we close. When we used to eat at this place, I always thought it was adorable to watch these kids lick, slobber and put their fingerprints all over the window because they are so excited. Tonight I was tempted to ask these children to please sit quietly in their seats or go eat some pizza.
Yesterday was pretty easy and I think I did ok. I learned how to bus tables, seat people, and bring out orders previously called in orders. As I did not feel that this is rocket science, I did try to go off on my own a few times. That poor 17 year old got in trouble. Our manager yelled, "Don't leave her alone! She doesn't know anything!" Ok..not sure it was necessary to yell that across the restaurant, but whatever. I tried not to touch anything else. I learned that the napkins have to be laid out on a specific side and the blade of the knife must be facing in. Even how the salt/pepper/Parmesan cheese/red pepper flakes are staged is assigned. There is even a system of what color straws go in different drinks! This is the thing I am having the most trouble with. Why should a black straw go in Coke, when the logo is red? Very confusing. I guess someone found it logical.
Tonight was a different story. I couldn't figure out if my little guy was annoyed that he had a shadow, or if he just isn't a sociable person. He did tell me he prefers to be on the floor as opposed to seating people because he doesn't like dealing with people. I guess that was my answer. Also, I don't stop talking, so he probably was a little annoyed. The problem was, he would just leave me. I would turn around for a second and he would be gone! (Remember, I am specifically NOT allowed to do anything by myself so I was feeling very lost and vulnerable!)
I decided that I could do SOME things by myself. I grabbed the water pitcher and started walking around checking to see if anyone needed a refill. Guess what. No one wants their waitress/server assistant to chat with them. They do not care about your lame jokes are attempts to socialize. I put the pitcher up. I then grabbed the iced tea (unsweet, of course) and started quietly refilling those glasses. I asked a 13 year old if she wanted more tea and her mom informed me that she was drinking apple juice. Ok, I said, did she want a refill? Yes. So now I am on a mission. This is something I have not encountered before. Where is the juice? I went and asked the cliquey 20 year old waitresses where the apple juice was. All four of them replied in unison, "Apple juice is not free refills." Crap. I meekly explained that I had offered this child a refill and she had accepted. Their eyes were huge. It looked like I had just informed them there was a bomb in the restaurant and everyone was going to die. One of them finally piped in and said, "You're going to have to __________." (The manager.) Instead, I ran to my 17 year buddy and explained what had happened. Then I chided him for leaving me alone and allowing this mistake to happen. (Of course it was his fault! :-))
We made it over to the manager who did not care and just asked me to tell them there would be a charge for the next one. Was it really necessary to make such a fuss? Later, I found myself alone again and saw that there were salads ready to be taken to tables. I checked the ticket to make sure everything was correct and picked up the salads. I guess my pal had noticed he lost me because he was suddenly right over my shoulder. "Where's the ticket for this?" he asked. "Right here" I respond. When we start looking at the ticket I showed him, it was completely wrong. How could this have happened? I JUST checked the ticket and it was right. My buddy said the kitchen must have made a mistake, but the salad guy was quick to assure us this was not his fault. The tickets are supposed to go on this sharp piece of metal when you are done with them. We were riffling through tickets and my mentor was searching all over the kitchen. Finally we found it in the trash can. Apparently I did not think the ticket was very important.
Those were the major mistakes of the day. Yes, I bought black high top tennis shoes at Payless today for $3o. I thought that was kind of expensive for a pair of black tennis shoes that will only be used minimally, but whatever. (I also bought a new pair of earrings and a ring - doesn't it feel good to pay less?) I have a shift tomorrow, and am going to be on my own while someone follows me around and critiques what I do. How does that not make someone nervous. I know I will make stupid mistakes because I am aware someone is watching me. And also, I cannot eat another piece of pizza. 3 days in of free pizza is too much. I will keep you posted. I am absolutely exhausted, even though my shift was only 4.5 hours. I may just end up liking the working world, however lame, after all.
Are you wondering what I have been doing in my training for the past two days? I have been learning that being a "server assistant" means "you clean and bus tables." SO not what I signed up for. Yes, I get to seat people and grab carry outs from the kitchen, but I really don't like this manual labor. A lady saw me cleaning the bathroom and said, "Oh you poor thing. They make you clean the bathrooms?" Yup, and that is just the beginning. I do more cleaning at work than our house has gotten since I lived here. I have to Windex all the windows. The best part about our restaurant is that there is a huge window where the kids can watch the cooks toss the pizza dough. Definitely cool for kids and families. Not so cool for the server assistant who has to clean off all the little fingerprints when we close. When we used to eat at this place, I always thought it was adorable to watch these kids lick, slobber and put their fingerprints all over the window because they are so excited. Tonight I was tempted to ask these children to please sit quietly in their seats or go eat some pizza.
Yesterday was pretty easy and I think I did ok. I learned how to bus tables, seat people, and bring out orders previously called in orders. As I did not feel that this is rocket science, I did try to go off on my own a few times. That poor 17 year old got in trouble. Our manager yelled, "Don't leave her alone! She doesn't know anything!" Ok..not sure it was necessary to yell that across the restaurant, but whatever. I tried not to touch anything else. I learned that the napkins have to be laid out on a specific side and the blade of the knife must be facing in. Even how the salt/pepper/Parmesan cheese/red pepper flakes are staged is assigned. There is even a system of what color straws go in different drinks! This is the thing I am having the most trouble with. Why should a black straw go in Coke, when the logo is red? Very confusing. I guess someone found it logical.
Tonight was a different story. I couldn't figure out if my little guy was annoyed that he had a shadow, or if he just isn't a sociable person. He did tell me he prefers to be on the floor as opposed to seating people because he doesn't like dealing with people. I guess that was my answer. Also, I don't stop talking, so he probably was a little annoyed. The problem was, he would just leave me. I would turn around for a second and he would be gone! (Remember, I am specifically NOT allowed to do anything by myself so I was feeling very lost and vulnerable!)
I decided that I could do SOME things by myself. I grabbed the water pitcher and started walking around checking to see if anyone needed a refill. Guess what. No one wants their waitress/server assistant to chat with them. They do not care about your lame jokes are attempts to socialize. I put the pitcher up. I then grabbed the iced tea (unsweet, of course) and started quietly refilling those glasses. I asked a 13 year old if she wanted more tea and her mom informed me that she was drinking apple juice. Ok, I said, did she want a refill? Yes. So now I am on a mission. This is something I have not encountered before. Where is the juice? I went and asked the cliquey 20 year old waitresses where the apple juice was. All four of them replied in unison, "Apple juice is not free refills." Crap. I meekly explained that I had offered this child a refill and she had accepted. Their eyes were huge. It looked like I had just informed them there was a bomb in the restaurant and everyone was going to die. One of them finally piped in and said, "You're going to have to __________." (The manager.) Instead, I ran to my 17 year buddy and explained what had happened. Then I chided him for leaving me alone and allowing this mistake to happen. (Of course it was his fault! :-))
We made it over to the manager who did not care and just asked me to tell them there would be a charge for the next one. Was it really necessary to make such a fuss? Later, I found myself alone again and saw that there were salads ready to be taken to tables. I checked the ticket to make sure everything was correct and picked up the salads. I guess my pal had noticed he lost me because he was suddenly right over my shoulder. "Where's the ticket for this?" he asked. "Right here" I respond. When we start looking at the ticket I showed him, it was completely wrong. How could this have happened? I JUST checked the ticket and it was right. My buddy said the kitchen must have made a mistake, but the salad guy was quick to assure us this was not his fault. The tickets are supposed to go on this sharp piece of metal when you are done with them. We were riffling through tickets and my mentor was searching all over the kitchen. Finally we found it in the trash can. Apparently I did not think the ticket was very important.
Those were the major mistakes of the day. Yes, I bought black high top tennis shoes at Payless today for $3o. I thought that was kind of expensive for a pair of black tennis shoes that will only be used minimally, but whatever. (I also bought a new pair of earrings and a ring - doesn't it feel good to pay less?) I have a shift tomorrow, and am going to be on my own while someone follows me around and critiques what I do. How does that not make someone nervous. I know I will make stupid mistakes because I am aware someone is watching me. And also, I cannot eat another piece of pizza. 3 days in of free pizza is too much. I will keep you posted. I am absolutely exhausted, even though my shift was only 4.5 hours. I may just end up liking the working world, however lame, after all.
Second Day
I have a lot to tell you about my second day of training, but I have to jump in the shower and then go buy my black tennis shoes. What I am wondering is, what color socks do I now wear? Black? Ugh. Will write more later. Hope everyone is having a great day!
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Are you on Pins and Needles?
Well, I literally stayed up until 11 pm last night studying specialty pizzas, salads and salad dressings. I was exhausted, but I have to say, it was sort of nice to use my brain again, even if it was that minute part that is involved in memorization. I felt pretty good about the material, but kept reminding myself that this was a 100% passage rate. Then I started thinking - wait, maybe they are just SAYING this to make people learn the material. I am going to make you wait to see what happened.
Today I had to wake up and buy my "uniform." Khakis, (do people wear those anymore? If you do, I am not insulting you, but I personally don't feel comfortable in them), a black belt (that I was mortified to buy) and black tennis shoes. That's right: tennis shoes that are black. I thought I could get away with black ballet flats and no one would notice, but I was caught. Then I tried the old, "But I don't even know where to buy black tennis shoes...do they even make those?" Yes my friends, they do. Please visit your local Payless or Target if you would like a pair. (My other point was, why buy all this stuff and then fail the test and not be able to return BLACK TENNIS SHOES!!)
So I am getting antsy. I am supposed to be at the restaurant at 2:30 and I showed up closer to 2:15. Remember I live across the street so I can just run on over there whenever I want. I do think this will be convenient when I am running late. Oh by the way - when I called yesterday to extend my test date some guy answered the phone. When I asked to speak to the managers I had met he told me they were not there. I asked if he could have them call me back and he replied, "Um, why don't you just leave a message? I am more than capable of taking one for you." Wow. Now I was scared to even meet this guy - today I find out he is, in fact, the third manager. Super.
Ok.So I am in the restaurant. I get seated in a booth with some water and kind of feel like I am about to take the SATs again. The only difference was the Beatles playing loudly in the background and people eating pizza all around me. They did, in fact, scramble the order of the pizzas from the study sheet we were given. Tricky! Good thing I am so old I was able to figure this out. After I finished, (and raised my hand like I was on a game show shouting "Done!") the manager took my test to the back. Judgment day. She came back and told me that I made one mistake. What? What in the world did I do? I wrote down that the Caesar dressing went on the Greek salad. My mind had zoned out because I was using so little of it that I had made the stupidest mistake. However....she let me pass because she said every other portion of the test was above and beyond what was expected and because I finished the test faster than she had ever seen anyone complete it. Law school people. This is where it can take you.
We went over all this paperwork like how I can't drink or use drugs at work. She then started to tell me about the policy of dating within the company. She stopped herself and said, "Let's be honest. There's no one here you want to date." Alrighty then. While we were going over the papers, I asked her if the "100%" rule was just a ploy to make people study. She said no! They are so serious about this restaurant!! The girl who came in after me to take the test kept stretching her arms and took an hour to finish. She passed but she later told me that the test was "really hard." She used to work at Hooters and just graduated from college after 9 years. Also, she said that she always wears a belt with her khakis. I think I offended her when I was dogging our outfits.
So, after two interviews, and a written test, I still have SEVEN (7) days of training. Today I stood in the kitchen and watched the pizzas coming out of the oven. I then had to identify them (see the transition of paper to real product?) Hooters girl and I stayed in the way as people rushed around us trying to get orders out. Hooters girl was wrong about pretty much every pizza that came out. Not sure how long she is going to last. The head kitchen guy told me his name is "Killer" and to come to him if I have any problems with the staff. Then he informed me he is a gynecologist on the side. I informed him that I just went over the sexual harassment part of the handbook 30 minutes before. I think we will make a great team.
So tomorrow I am back at 10:00 am. Too bad I won't be able to purchase those black tennis shoes before then. The best part about training is that after ever shift I receive a free pizza (which has to be half & half and be one of the specialty pizzas) as well as a salad, so that I will be able to tell customers honestly if I like the pizza. This evening I dined on a strawberry salad, the Green Lantern, and the Wimpy. Good thing I am training for this marathon. I also receive 50% off carry out orders. Am I enticing anyone to go into the restaurant business? I don't know what tomorrow entails, but I hope that I will soon be promoted to actual "server" rather than "server assistant" and start making the real money! I will keep you posted on my next assignment!
PS - Mike keeps making fun of my super awesome t-shirt. On the front it has the name of the restaurant, and on the back it says "Taking Pizza to the Next Level." That's all I have to say about that.
Today I had to wake up and buy my "uniform." Khakis, (do people wear those anymore? If you do, I am not insulting you, but I personally don't feel comfortable in them), a black belt (that I was mortified to buy) and black tennis shoes. That's right: tennis shoes that are black. I thought I could get away with black ballet flats and no one would notice, but I was caught. Then I tried the old, "But I don't even know where to buy black tennis shoes...do they even make those?" Yes my friends, they do. Please visit your local Payless or Target if you would like a pair. (My other point was, why buy all this stuff and then fail the test and not be able to return BLACK TENNIS SHOES!!)
So I am getting antsy. I am supposed to be at the restaurant at 2:30 and I showed up closer to 2:15. Remember I live across the street so I can just run on over there whenever I want. I do think this will be convenient when I am running late. Oh by the way - when I called yesterday to extend my test date some guy answered the phone. When I asked to speak to the managers I had met he told me they were not there. I asked if he could have them call me back and he replied, "Um, why don't you just leave a message? I am more than capable of taking one for you." Wow. Now I was scared to even meet this guy - today I find out he is, in fact, the third manager. Super.
Ok.So I am in the restaurant. I get seated in a booth with some water and kind of feel like I am about to take the SATs again. The only difference was the Beatles playing loudly in the background and people eating pizza all around me. They did, in fact, scramble the order of the pizzas from the study sheet we were given. Tricky! Good thing I am so old I was able to figure this out. After I finished, (and raised my hand like I was on a game show shouting "Done!") the manager took my test to the back. Judgment day. She came back and told me that I made one mistake. What? What in the world did I do? I wrote down that the Caesar dressing went on the Greek salad. My mind had zoned out because I was using so little of it that I had made the stupidest mistake. However....she let me pass because she said every other portion of the test was above and beyond what was expected and because I finished the test faster than she had ever seen anyone complete it. Law school people. This is where it can take you.
We went over all this paperwork like how I can't drink or use drugs at work. She then started to tell me about the policy of dating within the company. She stopped herself and said, "Let's be honest. There's no one here you want to date." Alrighty then. While we were going over the papers, I asked her if the "100%" rule was just a ploy to make people study. She said no! They are so serious about this restaurant!! The girl who came in after me to take the test kept stretching her arms and took an hour to finish. She passed but she later told me that the test was "really hard." She used to work at Hooters and just graduated from college after 9 years. Also, she said that she always wears a belt with her khakis. I think I offended her when I was dogging our outfits.
So, after two interviews, and a written test, I still have SEVEN (7) days of training. Today I stood in the kitchen and watched the pizzas coming out of the oven. I then had to identify them (see the transition of paper to real product?) Hooters girl and I stayed in the way as people rushed around us trying to get orders out. Hooters girl was wrong about pretty much every pizza that came out. Not sure how long she is going to last. The head kitchen guy told me his name is "Killer" and to come to him if I have any problems with the staff. Then he informed me he is a gynecologist on the side. I informed him that I just went over the sexual harassment part of the handbook 30 minutes before. I think we will make a great team.
So tomorrow I am back at 10:00 am. Too bad I won't be able to purchase those black tennis shoes before then. The best part about training is that after ever shift I receive a free pizza (which has to be half & half and be one of the specialty pizzas) as well as a salad, so that I will be able to tell customers honestly if I like the pizza. This evening I dined on a strawberry salad, the Green Lantern, and the Wimpy. Good thing I am training for this marathon. I also receive 50% off carry out orders. Am I enticing anyone to go into the restaurant business? I don't know what tomorrow entails, but I hope that I will soon be promoted to actual "server" rather than "server assistant" and start making the real money! I will keep you posted on my next assignment!
PS - Mike keeps making fun of my super awesome t-shirt. On the front it has the name of the restaurant, and on the back it says "Taking Pizza to the Next Level." That's all I have to say about that.
Monday, August 24, 2009
This Weekend
I just got an email from my friend who said she has been checking my blog and there have not been any postings since Thursday. Sorry faithful followers, I have no idea what I have been doing, but I do think about what I am going to write about while I am falling asleep. (Trust me, it works.) Anyway, when I noticed my email pop up, I was studying for my pizza test. (That is a sentence I hoped I would never have to say!) I decided a quick update wouldn't take up TOO much time!
I have given much thought to this pizza test as it has become a thorn in my side. I thought after taking the bar twice and finishing undergrad and law school, I would no longer be required to memorize information and regurgitate it. Welcome to my potential new job. I actually called this morning to extend my test. I previously agreed that 6 days would be plenty of time to study, as opposed to the week the company grants upcoming employees. Nope. I procrastinated (as I did in all the other memorization tests I have ever taken) and am now on number 9 of the 12 speciality pizzas there are to offer. (I also have to know salads and what is in each dressing.) I can assure you that I am not pulling an all nighter for this test (I need my brain fully functioning at 2:30 tomorrow afternoon!) But if I accidentally put pepperoni on the "Edgar Alan Poe" I hope that y'all will not be too disappointed in me. You would be amazed at how clean this place is due to my procrastination!
I guess part of what made my weekend a little more exciting is that Mike turned his comprehensive papers in!! Now they have to be edited by his committee, revised by him and then he starts his dissertation. I can't think about it in the long term because I get stressed, so I think it is a milestone that the papers are done. Anyway, this weekend, we were actually able to spend time together which was huge! It is also an adjustment. Suddenly I am not the sole controller of the television and Mike likes the Discovery Channel and the History Channel. He DVRd a show about mining for diamonds and suggested I watch it if I wanted a ring. (He was kidding...I think.) I calmly suggested that he go pull my suitcases out of the closet as I would be leaving the next day. I did try to watch the show, but it was so freaking boring I fell asleep. Sort of like this pizza test....
I know this is getting long, but I have one more thing to tell y'all. I am still having trouble falling asleep, but it is not as severe as before. Last night after tossing and turning for at least an hour and a half, I was asleep. Mike was in bed watching t.v, so I had my earplugs and eye mask on. Anyway, I suddenly felt a claw over my face. I woke up and Mike was holding my nose!! "What the H$#@ are you doing?" I yelled. "Oh, you were snoring." You have got to be kidding me. Do you know how many times I have listened somewhat patiently to him snore, but was just happy that he was sleeping soundly? And then he tries to smother me!! My mom thought this was hilarious. I got him back though this afternoon. He went to take a nap and I did the same thing to him. He did not like it. Just a little taste of your own medicine is often the best remedy.
Ok, I hope that y'all all had a great weekend. I guess I will go back to the pizza studying...or maybe I should go to the grocery store?
I have given much thought to this pizza test as it has become a thorn in my side. I thought after taking the bar twice and finishing undergrad and law school, I would no longer be required to memorize information and regurgitate it. Welcome to my potential new job. I actually called this morning to extend my test. I previously agreed that 6 days would be plenty of time to study, as opposed to the week the company grants upcoming employees. Nope. I procrastinated (as I did in all the other memorization tests I have ever taken) and am now on number 9 of the 12 speciality pizzas there are to offer. (I also have to know salads and what is in each dressing.) I can assure you that I am not pulling an all nighter for this test (I need my brain fully functioning at 2:30 tomorrow afternoon!) But if I accidentally put pepperoni on the "Edgar Alan Poe" I hope that y'all will not be too disappointed in me. You would be amazed at how clean this place is due to my procrastination!
I guess part of what made my weekend a little more exciting is that Mike turned his comprehensive papers in!! Now they have to be edited by his committee, revised by him and then he starts his dissertation. I can't think about it in the long term because I get stressed, so I think it is a milestone that the papers are done. Anyway, this weekend, we were actually able to spend time together which was huge! It is also an adjustment. Suddenly I am not the sole controller of the television and Mike likes the Discovery Channel and the History Channel. He DVRd a show about mining for diamonds and suggested I watch it if I wanted a ring. (He was kidding...I think.) I calmly suggested that he go pull my suitcases out of the closet as I would be leaving the next day. I did try to watch the show, but it was so freaking boring I fell asleep. Sort of like this pizza test....
I know this is getting long, but I have one more thing to tell y'all. I am still having trouble falling asleep, but it is not as severe as before. Last night after tossing and turning for at least an hour and a half, I was asleep. Mike was in bed watching t.v, so I had my earplugs and eye mask on. Anyway, I suddenly felt a claw over my face. I woke up and Mike was holding my nose!! "What the H$#@ are you doing?" I yelled. "Oh, you were snoring." You have got to be kidding me. Do you know how many times I have listened somewhat patiently to him snore, but was just happy that he was sleeping soundly? And then he tries to smother me!! My mom thought this was hilarious. I got him back though this afternoon. He went to take a nap and I did the same thing to him. He did not like it. Just a little taste of your own medicine is often the best remedy.
Ok, I hope that y'all all had a great weekend. I guess I will go back to the pizza studying...or maybe I should go to the grocery store?
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Are You an Angry Brooder or a Short Fuser?
The other night I was relaxing before bed, reading my book. Mike came in with his Discover magazine and I knew that "quiet time" was over. My boyfriend has a tendency to misread situations that require quiet, so I put my bookmark in place and started a conversation.
I informed him that I was still annoyed about the lady at the pizza place calling me old, as well as the manager at Cheesecake Factory being so rude. I continued on saying that I was planning on writing a letter to the big-wigs at Cheesecake Factory Corp, to let them know that their hiring staff in St. Louis, MO is doing a very poor and unorganized job. I had already told my mother all this earlier in the day. She told me I was wasting energy on things I couldn't do anything about and that I had other things to do. "Really?" I asked? "Like what? Study for my pizza test?"
Anyway, as I continued to drone on and on about how I SHOULD have handled these situations, Mike said, "You are an angry brooder!" I started laughing and informed him that this is something he should know about me by now. "I'm serious!" he says, and pulls out the Discover magazine. Of all the things I could have been talking about, I focused in on the article he had been reading. And so my science lesson began.
I am going to spare you the specific details, but I did find this interesting. Apparently, there are two ways that people handle anger. You either have an increased sense of memory regarding the issue you are incensed about and continue to ruminate about it, or you lash out immediately. I am pretty sure that I do both, but the article did not address that category. (I guess they are not sure how to study people like me.) Regardless, I was able to show my multi-talented gift this morning.
Over the past three days an unknown number has been calling me literally every 15 to 30 minutes. I do not answer the phone when I do not know the number, and believe that if the call is important, the caller will leave a message. After three days of these phone calls and no messages, I finally called the number back. A lady answered by saying, "Hello?" I explained that someone had been calling me incessantly from that number and I would like to know what was going on. She launched into a sales call, stating that I had signed up for a government grant (I have no recollection of this) and how she could help me get money for free! (Yeah, right.) I told her I was not in the least interested in her proposal and to please stop calling me. After I hung up, I started thinking about all the things I should have said to her. And so....I called her back.
When she answered, I asked her what her name was and why she continued to call every 15 minutes and never left a voice message. She launched into her grant proposal script again. I asked her to please stop talking about that and reminded her that I already told her I was not interested. I explained that calling people over and over again was annoying and asked to speak to her manager. She offered the phone number of her manager (where is this lady??) which I ignored and asked her again to take me off her calling list. We then hung up and for some reason, I felt much better about the situation.
I'm not sure where this leaves me in the short fuser/angry brooder category, but I have to say, I was very happy once I got off the phone. Maybe I am just a confrontationalist.
I informed him that I was still annoyed about the lady at the pizza place calling me old, as well as the manager at Cheesecake Factory being so rude. I continued on saying that I was planning on writing a letter to the big-wigs at Cheesecake Factory Corp, to let them know that their hiring staff in St. Louis, MO is doing a very poor and unorganized job. I had already told my mother all this earlier in the day. She told me I was wasting energy on things I couldn't do anything about and that I had other things to do. "Really?" I asked? "Like what? Study for my pizza test?"
Anyway, as I continued to drone on and on about how I SHOULD have handled these situations, Mike said, "You are an angry brooder!" I started laughing and informed him that this is something he should know about me by now. "I'm serious!" he says, and pulls out the Discover magazine. Of all the things I could have been talking about, I focused in on the article he had been reading. And so my science lesson began.
I am going to spare you the specific details, but I did find this interesting. Apparently, there are two ways that people handle anger. You either have an increased sense of memory regarding the issue you are incensed about and continue to ruminate about it, or you lash out immediately. I am pretty sure that I do both, but the article did not address that category. (I guess they are not sure how to study people like me.) Regardless, I was able to show my multi-talented gift this morning.
Over the past three days an unknown number has been calling me literally every 15 to 30 minutes. I do not answer the phone when I do not know the number, and believe that if the call is important, the caller will leave a message. After three days of these phone calls and no messages, I finally called the number back. A lady answered by saying, "Hello?" I explained that someone had been calling me incessantly from that number and I would like to know what was going on. She launched into a sales call, stating that I had signed up for a government grant (I have no recollection of this) and how she could help me get money for free! (Yeah, right.) I told her I was not in the least interested in her proposal and to please stop calling me. After I hung up, I started thinking about all the things I should have said to her. And so....I called her back.
When she answered, I asked her what her name was and why she continued to call every 15 minutes and never left a voice message. She launched into her grant proposal script again. I asked her to please stop talking about that and reminded her that I already told her I was not interested. I explained that calling people over and over again was annoying and asked to speak to her manager. She offered the phone number of her manager (where is this lady??) which I ignored and asked her again to take me off her calling list. We then hung up and for some reason, I felt much better about the situation.
I'm not sure where this leaves me in the short fuser/angry brooder category, but I have to say, I was very happy once I got off the phone. Maybe I am just a confrontationalist.
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