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Goals and Aspirations
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: People
- Hits: 1330
He's got this list of goals and aspirations that he shares with me. Ive seen it before, I just like to see if it's changed any...
He wants to be a musician, a painter and artist, a writer of books, an evangelist, he's just got to work on some personal issues first...
Maybe that's why I like him so much. We have a lot in common....
He tells me that he wants to become a police officer. That takes me by surprise, the last time we spoke he wanted to become a Chef like his father...
I ask him, "Why do you want to become a police officer?"
"I've got my reasons" he tells me meaningfully.
I'm not crazy...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Conversations
- Hits: 1167
As soon as you hear that phrase, be on your guard. It almost always means the person is, in fact, crazy.
But I try to be tactful...
"Crazy is no longer really in popular usage in Psychiatric circles" I tell him... "There's much better labels. More descriptive. And, hey, aren't we all a little crazy to be working here?"
- "But I'm not crazy" he tells me.
"I didn't say you were." I counter.
- "I know. But I thought you should know. I love you. And I'm not crazy."
"That's good." I say. "You know, the nice thing about aluminum foil is you can make these cool hats that block satellite waves from reading your mind...."
He looks at me. He has no sense of humour. "I'm NOT crazy...."
Crush
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1858
It's Friday night and I've sent everyone home.
Everyone home but her.
She's free to go as well, the others, as soon as they got word, they disappeared. But she's decided to stay. She sits up on the counter in the kitchen.
And I have a bad feeling about this. I have a suspicion.
Still, she betrays nothing, and I tell her she can go, I've got it all covered but she doesn't mind hanging out, keeping me company, and so we make light conversation. About our kids and ex's and other trifles.
It's a little awkward. I don't want to jump to any conclusions but there's the suspicion....
And it would be a really bad idea. It's a small restaurant, everyone is somehow or another related to everyone else, a liaison here would be a marriage into the family...
I've watched her, know her, well enough anyways, to know it wouldn't be a happy marriage.
I think of ways to dissuade her. Change the topic maybe, discuss my abundant and twisted perversions; my heart of darkness, but that wouldn't do it, it never does, it merely piques their interest....
And so we chat lightly, about the weather, smoking, until she's bored of waiting and leaves and I'm off the hook.
The Week Before Xmas
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1985
Note: The week before Christmas to New Years were frantic. That's life in hospitality. The notes below were made in the few brief moments I found for myself, in no particular order they're my attempt to catch up...
Friday, 18 December 2009 - White Gloves Girl
We're trying out a new hostess. She's big, blonde, young, perhaps 26 or so, in a tight fitting dress. She's of that pear shape, on top, everything is normal, but around the belly things begin to get out of control, she resembles nothing so much as "2 pigs wrestling in a blanket". She's pleasant enough, her job is to meet and greet the customers, take their coats, take them to their tables. Not too tough.
She's a bit dramatic. Checking into the washroom she comes out wearing a pair of white gloves. And when the customers have been sat and the lobby is empty she stands in the middle of the marble foyer and pretends to conduct the opera playing through the restaurant's sound system. The staff watch in astonishment.
Monday, 21 December 2009
The book looked slow on Saturday when we left, we had hopes business would be slow the final week before Christmas. Well, maybe not slow, but manageable. We were wrong. The restaurant is full, reservations pour in, the phone rings incessantly.
That night, end of service, about 9:00 PM, the owner and his son have it out. There are still tables in the restaurant, they can hear everything. Salty language, "Fuckin-a" and other assorted Italian curses, the son is being loudly chastised and then fired. The customers look at me, eyes wide, I'm keeping busy in the front of the house, it seems a good idea to avoid the kitchen...one of them asks if it's "Gordon Ramsey we have in the Kitchen", another if I intend on doing anything...I ask them if they'd like to go to the kitchen and try to patch things up, none of them offers.
Tuesday, 22 December 2009
Nothing noteworthy, just damned busy.
Wednesday, 23 December 2009
The day starts with the owner going to and fro from his car, he's at the restaurant early, he's filling the private room with gifts. It's the last day of business before our Christmas break, we've had attempts from Customers who want to come in on Xmas Eve, Xmas Day, Boxing Day, it's with some glee we tell them we're closed, "yes, even waiters have lives, you should get one too....".
The owner, he's been of a mind to open Boxing Day, but it's too late, the plans have been made....
The private room, where small functions are held, is where he's dumping all the gifts. Loads of gifts, dozens of brightly wrapped presents. One for every member of staff...
We'll have our party between service.
We're crazy busy, get our cheques, I hasten to the bank to cash mine, it's "coming up Milhouse" today, they cash and clear it; I'll be able to pay my rent. Albeit a month late, but it reduces my Xmas stress considerably.
When the lunch has ended the owner calls me into the office, he needs to prepare a card for his customers. Something generic on the computer, he wants to send out best wishes, and I help him search for images....
He draws my attention to the screen; he's noticed various photos of nude women keep popping up during our searches, I hadn't noticed, I work enough on computers to not be too alert to other peoples problems, he insists that I fix it, and I purge the browser history, set it to delete on exit, and the images disappear.
But there's the problem of the search toolbar, common search phrases auto-populate, and as I test this out I discover that, amongst other curious phrases, my own name has been googled...and this is worrysome.
I'm a fan of freedom of speech, but knowing you're being googled, deliberately searched for, it puts a muzzle on it. Still. maybe it was only done before I was hired - not an ongoing thing, and how interesting am I, given the other, more interesting searches that could be, have been done....but still, it's censure, it's caution in updating the blog....
We have a break between service, open our presents. And even though I've just started, barely 2 weeks in, he's gotten me a present as well.
A box of chocolates, a Panatone (Italian Dessert Cake) and a nesting wallet set. I'm touched, I expected, needed nothing, but he's gone to some effort to see that every one in the restaurant has gotten a few gifts from him. He shows me how the wallet works, pulls out a hidden strap and swings it gaily from his wrist, I assure them that's a feature only the Italians would use...he pats the leather and says "nice" now, as if I was showing it to him, it's worth it for the show that accompanies it...
It's human, it's decent.
The night passes, long, but it's the final night of work before our 4 day break and so we struggle through - it's busy, always busy, there's loud crying and sobbing from the kitchen, too much wine at the staff celebration, but there are the 4 days off to be looked forward to...
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