I promise I'm still alive...

What an adventure these past few months have been! What an emotional rollercoaster!

 

I apologize for not having uploaded any posts lately... I know a few followers of mine been hounding me lately for updates (Hermione and Eloise I'm looking at you!).

 

Between starting a graduate school program, moving into a brand new apartment, starting an exciting relationship with a co-worker and falling hopelessly in love, then getting dumped and having my heart ripped out of my chest while still having to see him pretty much every day at work complete with lots of drama, and injuring my hand on the clock while my managers mishandled the situation but thankfully allowed me to file workers' comp, and all sorts of other crazy adventures, this blog hasn't exactly been first on my priority list lately.



I promise to be uploading more posts soon though :-) I can happily say that my time off from posting has led to a nicely growing stockpile of stories waiting to be shared with you.

 

 

I mean, look at that hang loop! That is a niiiice hang loop!
Doesn't it just make you want to secretly slip a soup spoon through it?
Or tie a napkin flag to it?
If you jostle the shirt's wearer, just enough,
and at just the right moment, he won't even feel it.
Minutes of pure entertainment, guaranteed.
 
[ photo credit ]

I shall start with the story of "T-bone," the resident jokester of our serving staff. It is not uncommon to see a server's belt loops or shirt back loop secretly filled with soup spoons as they stand at the computer ordering their tables' food. It's always entertaining to see how long it takes for people to notice the spoons hanging there delicately.

 

 

 

Apron strings are a never ending source of entertainment as well...
....untying them...
...tying them in super-knots...
...tying them to someone else's apron strings...
...tying straws to them...
...tying napkins to them...
...tying spoons to them...
Need I say more?
 
[ photo credit:
T-bone's careful handiwork,
an inattentive server at the computer,
my phone's lovely camera,
and an absentee manager
so I didn't get caught with my phone out at work ;) ]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Or other simple, tried-and-true pranks, like asking for unnecessary favors from fellow servers... having them deliver cocktail sauce to a party eating chicken tenders, or a ranch to a table that hasn't even been sat. Confusion breeds hilarity. Or my personal favorite, T-bone once convinced a new, ditzy coworker that we serve a side of peanuts (the chopped, dessert-decorating kind) with every unsweetened iced tea. Standing by and watching these events transpire is always quite entertaining, and usually they are taken in stride by the prankees. Well 9 times out of 10, at least...

 

T-bone took his pranking to a whole new level last weekend, though.

 



Not quite, but almost!
 
[ photo credit ]



One of the tall tables in the cocktail room that night had a party of one gentleman who was, based on appearance only, generating much kitchen-gossip as he was undoubtedly a pimp. In his fifties probably, he definitely stood out in his shiny leopard print shirt, tiger-striped hat, extensive gold jewelry, and oversized fur coat. Just give him a cane and a hoe or two, and the image is complete.



He walked towards the exit where he cornered Yasmin, our exotically beautiful Panamanian new manager. He chatted her up, and from head to toe, her body language screamed "uncomfortable." She deftly retreated, uttering her friendly "Thank you for coming in tonight. Have a good evening," but not before he slipped her a little scrap of paper, asking her to call him sometime.

 

She scurried back to the back of the restaurant, and into the managers' office, and I scurried after her, barely concealing my laughter until we were out of sight.

 

I followed her into the office where I collapsed in hysterics and Yasmin threw the paper almost angrily into the trash can. The other managers laughed sympathetically as we shared the story. Joseph the manager (not to be confused with server/bartender Joseph) pulls the scrap out of the trash can once he learns of it and unravels it.  

 

"You have to call this number, Yasmin," he says, reading the words she had not read. "You have to settle this right now." He smiles slyly, and pushes the phone towards her. In leaning foward, I catch a glimpse of the pimp's "name" -- Cat Daddy --  and his phone number. And I double over in laughter all over again, not only at the ridiculous name, but also now at the realization that the phone number listed is that of our own restaurant. If Yasmin had called it, she not be contacting a pimp, but rather the host staff she oversees.

 

Turns out, T-bone had orchestrated the whole thing. "Cat Daddy" returned to his table and grinned good-naturedly as he watched as many of our servers who now knew of the situation blatantly came out to the cocktail room to see this pimp for themselves and bust out laughing unashamedly. Once Yasmin calmed down from her embarrassment, she too joined the laughter, and even admitted to both Cat Daddy and T-bone that it was a funny prank.

 

It's the little things that make this job worthwhile sometimes :)

 

 

[ degreed waitress ]

A(ballsy)broad

Once again, I had the what are you doing with your life? conversation with my guests.

Oh, joy.

They kept asking me questions between bites (it was somehow less awkward than it sounds, I promise), but unlike any other conversation on this topic that I've ever had with a guest, I never felt judged for my employment choice or demeaned in any way. This middle-aged married couple seemed legitimately interested in getting to know me. It was weird, well, at first, anyways.

We talked about my International Business degree. We talked about my love for traveling the world, acquiring new languages, and building cross-cultural relationships. We talked about my indecisiveness, my uncertainties. But most importantly, we talked about her life.

The two seated in front of me shared my international interests. The wife especially had vastly out-traveled me, thanks mainly to this story: At age 21, she was a single mother with a one-year-old daughter and an overwhelming urge to travel the world.  And what did she do?

She traveled the world.

Yup. With no plans and no goals, a young woman left all friends, family, and familiarity behind to travel extensively throughout Europe and Asia for the first time. For nearly a year. With an infant.

Why can't I find the balls to do that?

I mean, seriously. Why am I still here? I'm 23, educated, single, no kids, relatively little debt, and in a job that I can easily (and most days, gladly) leave. My wanderlust was my main reason for choosing the International Business major. My only positive academic memories from elementary and middle school are from my Spanish and Latin classes because I loved learning languages so much. My soul's sole craving right now is just to be a traveler.

Not a tourist, mind you. A traveler. There is a difference.

A traveler. My imagination soars into wild creativity building scenario after fantastic scenario. My gut clenches around what feels like a thousand butterflies. My heart leaps, racing over each Olympic hurdle of a rib.

I become a whole new person when I travel. I become bold, where I am normally cautious. I become an adrenaline junkie, where I am normally apprehensive. I become serene, where I am normally feisty. I become spirited, where I am normally lazy. I become conscientious of my surroundings, where I am normally inattentive. I become the better version of myself.

And yet, I'm still here. I find a way to talk myself out of it, every time -- How will I afford it? What will I do while I'm there -- will I just travel on my own, or will I seek out a job while there, or enroll in a service immersion program? How long would I stay? What would I do when I get back? Where would I even go? Would I be safe? What if I got lonely traveling by myself? What about all the friends I would miss? How would my mother get any sleep at night? blah blah blah... -- And then I take the easy road yet again -- the highway to my hellhole of a restaurant job -- and I am disappointed in myself for talking myself out of going, every time.

Why can't I find the balls to do that?

The question still rings in my head. Every time I look at table 114. Every time someone mentions traveling. Every time a guest/coworker/friend/parent asks me what I want to do next in life.

Why can't I find the balls to do that?

Why am I holding myself back from the one thing I want most?

Maybe one day, I'll just go.


[ degreed waitress ]