I've met up with the boys from the old job, "Everyone is coming...Party!" they said, and as I am too frequent with my unavailability I made the trip down to meet them.
The worst pub in Kensington, they find the lowest of dives and make it their regular haunt, less chance of being thrown out, behaviors that have them barred from a number of other restaurants and bars are somehow a little more discreetly ignored here.
Beers, greetings, catch-up with the old crew, introductions to the new faces, assurances that "IF I want my job back...he speaks highly of you", but I've been there, done that, and if ever there was a bridge to be burned this is it..."D---- is back", and they're now talking of the bosses daughter, in contact whenever she needs money or a new car, apparently she's getting divorced, living back with her father, 40 years old, the Nephew is complaining as she's taken on the 'ownership' role and has started leaving him chore-lists around the restaurant...I've mentioned his children before, everyone of them a complete fuck-up, one in an institution, the other in jail, this one seems to have found the fine balance between both...
Late, the bar approaches closing, we've met up with a gang of Russians, East Indians, Dutch, Mafias of every nationality, other recent immigrants or travellers, the Bosses Nephew, he knows everyone, if you drink at all you must have once had a drink once with him...they're on their cellphones, everybody's got a buddy and they're all making the call, money changing hands, then there's the house party...
An unfamiliar address, downtown, high-rise, penthouse...maybe 2000 square feet, and I'm trying to figure out who's place it is...what must the rent be? But they're not rentals, and the condo fees alone would be more than I could pay in rent...
"Mikey".
-"Who's Mikey" I ask the Nephew, and he tells me ... John's ------- son, and I know John from the restaurant, best friends with the owner, regular client, 5 years I've known him, met his daughter, his nephew, the heir-apparent to the business, I never knew he had a son ... this is why ... thirty-odd years old, no visible means of support, living in a million dollar penthouse downtown, oddly unfurnished apart from a curved screen HDTV, hardwood floors looking out over the city and Mikey's having a fit, he doesn't know me, thinks I'm an undercover cop, G--- and the Nephew are vouching for me but it's time for me to leave now anyways, these parties, they're out of my league ...
I think of the phrase "To those to whom much is given, much is expected", I can find no examples from the restaurant that justify this, a more apt phrase would be "Much will be given without expectation", the bosses' children, Cinderella, Matt, others, in Calgary the examples are too numerous to list, children squandering the wealth of their parents, Calgary's ruling class, the underachieving insolent children of privilege.