People

Details: Written by: Rod Boyle; Category: People; Published: 23 November 2014; Hits: 2418

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.

Details: Written by: Rod Boyle; Category: People; Published: 14 March 2014; Hits: 1687

Finally, then, the newest and latest version of the blog, exactly the same as the old blog but with substantial revisions to style.

Not that the new style is any sort of improvement, but I'm still working on it.

All of the information. articles, etc, from the other blog is here, only now it's a little more carefully hidden. Why not? If you know what you're looking for, you'll find it. Otherwise this is probably a good position from which to start adding new content (and in the meantime finding ways to reorganize the old...).

Cheers.

Details: Written by: Rod Boyle; Category: People; Published: 19 February 2014; Hits: 1437

Now he's my partner, my #2. He handles the drinks and desserts, I handle the food.

And for the first bit he was OK. No one else wanted to work with him, not the Talking Waiter, not the Nephew, and as he's of modest competence I was pleased. The "Of Modest Competence" is a complement of the highest order.

He's the talking, friendly half of the equation, the balance to my calculated aloofness and indifference. But he's too much. Every table, he fawns over them, asks them "What's the occasion?", as if being hungry weren't occasion enough to eat. He doesn't miss a single anniversary or birthday. He loves to sing "Happy Birthday", a sparkler in a complimentary piece of Tiramisu, He asks every customer their name and introduces us, I struggle to escape...

He's been pissing me off. He pisses people off, he's good at it, he's a scar above his eye where a waiter at his previous job took a bottle to him.

We're busy, the restaurant in 2 halves, my half - the other half of my half, the drink and dessert half, has disappeared. The Prime Minister with his entourage is in the restaurant, he's on the other side, Grovel is on the other side helping, wiping crumbs from the PM's lap. Grovel is of one of those ethnic minorities the PM would like to see less of in our country, this doesn't stop Grovel from his full out assault on ingratiating himself.

It's a gong show. The other side has 4 waiters, I have only myself.

It's shit. I'm not impressed. I tell Grovel that I'm going to take the Nephew the next week as my assistant, Grovel is at first offended, then ignores me, defensive, then apologizes...

I have to accept. We're a tight crew, no one wants him, not the Talking Waiter, not anyone.

***

The restaurant seems to have been polarized. People who don't want to sit in the Talking Waiter's section, finding his antics, anecdotes, opinions too much, his sales too forced, and the people who don't want Grovel, his affection, well, too unsolicited, too colored....

There's no doubt a few that don't want me, but my disdain doesn't have such a tangible aspect, it's hard to explain that you don't want to be left alone with your guests, and so that minority is left alone. On busy weekend nights we try to stack the sections according to the customers expressed and /or implied tastes.

***

We've a review in the local newspaper supplement, looks like one of those paid advertising reviews but apparently is legitimate, highlights our restaurant, we have several copies to show customers. After the initial rush of new customers the owner is standing by the bar, Grovel, ever the toad, has purchased his own copy, approaches the owner to "Please, sign it for me boss....for my collection...".

The owner begrudgingly agrees.

Grovel, he's old, they want to fire him, I don't care, just don't want to work with him anymore, he disappears when the going gets tough, his slender responsibilities ignored, he passively-aggressively kills time shining glasses at the bar while I fetch his desserts and set the tables, he's an equal partner in the tips but in responsibilities he's fuck-all (like so many others), he's pissing the others off, so close to retirement and possibly (although not certainly) ingratiated into his loyal customers hearts, his over-the top grovelling and capering in front of the customers despised by all the rest (even those who do the same), I've named him, the perfect career waiter, he's Grovel.

Details: Written by: Rod Boyle; Category: People; Published: 19 February 2014; Hits: 1575

He's a friend of a friend of the owners, a bit simple, he's dropping the owner's vehicle off after servicing, popped in for a cappuccino, sympathizing with the owner over his women troubles. He begins his own narrative:

Something like this. He got married. Suspected his wife was cheating. Hired a private detective. Proved his wife was cheating. Divorced with minimal alimony. He feels pretty smart.

He's a fucking idiot. Only an idiot would tell this tale, he tells it with no shame, he's exactly the sort of man any woman stupid enough to marry would cheat upon. It would be an easy choice: Kill yourself, or cheat on him. WYSIWYG. He's telling us this to make himself seem clever, hiring the private eye and all, but he's an idiot, and the owner sighs patiently waiting for him to finish his ordeal so he can begin his own...but the mechanic won't stop, won't spare us any detail, no matter how salacious, trivial or humiliating, he's proud to wear the horns, he's wearing the horns before he opens his mouth to make the proposal, the women (woman) having made her plans upon meeting him, he's damning himself twice with the retelling of this story but he doesn't get it, he'll be the cuckold as long as he lives and proud to tell the world, he's a fucking idiot...

In Nelson, This is a Job

The Insolence of Privilege

V 3.2

Grovel

The Mechanic

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