Trent and the producers

Once again, all of the names have been changed to protect the innocent. And the self-absorbed.

Remember my last post about strawberry lemonades and fruit teas? Well yesterday I dealt with the other end of the beverage-making process: I was the lunch shift bartender. But I'm using the term "bartender" quite loosely. See, on weekday lunch shifts, I make approximately fifteen alcoholic beverages over the course of about five hours. So I wouldn't really call myself a bartender, per se. I mean, I am the person who stands behind the bar, but instead of making awesome beverages, I handle a steady stream of to-go orders and serve the occasional bar guest. Well, that's at least what I attempt to do between the countless requests for tea and lemonade flavorings that come staggering in every three minutes or so. 

Mid shift, Trent came by for a squirt of peach syrup for his sweet tea. Again. 

"Already?" I asked.

"Already." Trent replied and handed me the glass.

"Wow, they must be thirsty. It hasn't even been five minutes!" I pump the syrup into the glass and hand it back to him.

He puts the mixing tin over the glass and shakes the drink, mixing the flavoring in thoroughly. "Yeah. Well apparently they're movie producers. And they're very thirsty because they've just finished up producing a movie." He smiles as if the awesomeness of his guests had rubbed off on him.

"Oh, that's cool!" I gave him a smile that implied I cared far more than I actually did, and instinctively rolled my eyes after he turned away. Trent thinks he's hot stuff and is determined to be the center of attention, and I usually just smile and laugh to humor him and then disregard half of what he says. Want an example?

An hour or so earlier, I walked into the kitchen and saw Trent for the first time that day. Instead of exchanging hellos and pleasantries, Trent flashes me his cocky, crooked smile and says, "I have sad news for you. I'm leaving [ our restaurant ]. I got a job at [ another restaurant, but a much nicer one, where he could probably make enough tips to not struggle for minimum wage like at our restaurant ].  I'll be leaving in February."

I looked at him with surprise, as I had assumed it would be a little more demanding to get a job serving at [ the nicer restaurant ]. Trent has only been with us for about three months or so, and we're his first ever serving job. Most nice places require more experience than that. Our own managers haven't even moved him up to the cocktail area, big party sections, or closing/leadership sections yet, so I'd assumed he wasn't that strong of a server. I didn't realize a place like [ the nicer restaurant ] would actually hire him. With all of this surprise running through my head, I simply said,

"Oh! Wow!"

I guess Trent took my shock for sadness and decided to comfort me. "I know," he said dramatically, pulling me in for a hug. "You won't get to see me very much."

I return the hug, and over his shoulder I am rolling my eyes in annoyance at his ego. I give a huge mental shrug. Trent's leaving? Fine by me. Do you know how many dozens of servers I have seen leave [ our restaurant ] within three, four months of working here? I am no longer phased by this concept.

Trent just keeps talking though, "But we can still hang out at Dalton's apartment and get drunk again sometime."

Uh, what? That happened one time, like a month ago. A group of us servers together just chillin' for a fun night of board games and movies. Not everyone was even drinking, and even those who were didn't get drunk. Don't make it sound like it was some crazy party. All I wanted to do was just hang out with Eloise and Hermione and Dalton. I didn't even know you were invited till I showed up and saw you. And call me Rhett Butler 'cuz frankly, my dear, I didn't give a damn. 

What I actually said, though, was, "Sweet." And I walked away.

That's one of the blessings about working in a restaurant. There's usually so much hustle and bustle in the kitchen that most conversations you have with the other servers are held in one- or two-minute snippets, so walking away mid conversation isn't really considered rude, but rather standard procedure. I mean, we all got stuff to do, man... table 108 needs a fourth side of ranch, and the cheapskate lady at 112 needs more lemons and Splenda so she can make her own lemonade for free. Ain't nobody got time for that! a full conversation! Constantly doing things for your tables means you can always duck out of an unwanted conversation gracefully. Score!

Anywho, I decided to walk back from the kitchen into the bar and was careful not to trip over Trent's ego along the way.

As Trent came back to the bar for about seven more peach teas--all for one guy, mind you--he told me that the guys at his table have been telling him some interesting behind-the-scenes information on the filming of these movies. I thought nothing of it, really, given that I've seen tons of celebrities in my restaurant.. I mean, we get a lot (read: a handful) of famous rappers (read: YouTube wannabes) eating in our restaurant and bragging about their success. One of them even filmed something in our restaurant (Really? Our restaurant? You must be really ghetto. Or desperate. Or both.).

Actually, it turns out that these guys were legit. They are the producers for Iron Man 3 and some other cool stuff.  So now when Dalton, Eloise, Hermoine, and I go to see Iron Man 3 in theaters in May--without Trent, hopefully--and they're all like "Whoa, that was so cool! How did they do that?!?"  I can be all like "Uh, peach tea. Duh."


[ degreed waitress ]