I can see the moon from my bedroom window. And its not just as though I'm standing there, being cliche, watching it disappear and resurface through the clouds and the fog. I'm lying in bed and the shades are drawn and I am watching it from the place where I will drift off the sleep.
I've never experienced this, and I realize now why people make such a big deal about that big hunk of cheese in the sky. I feel like I could die right now.
Read more!
The Restaurant 2 - The Island
Labels:
restaurant
The Restaurant
The Island
Like most restaurants, the staff typically hangs out long after the shift is over. I began feeling like the Gollum of the restaurant, there for the gold and not much else. Seeking my angle in, I strategically eased myself into the lives of the staff without making it seem too obvious.
Like myself, many of the people at the restaurant were already in committed relationships. The Princess and her Prince were engaged and lived close by, and were notorious for hosting many after-hour parties. “Burt” had a girlfriend who occasionally came in to have dinner. Also coupled were “Brandon” and “Tiffany,” two bartenders who had been committed for years.
My strategy was clear – ask people about their favorite topic: their personal lives. I started questioning about their relationships and began to serve as the unofficial love counselor for anyone lusting after a fellow co-worker. It was entertaining and it was fun, but it was also somewhat predictable.
You see, I have this theory called “the island.” Have you ever devoted so much time to a job that you began to feel as though you and your coworkers were stranded on a deserted island? Almost instantaneously, crushes a-la High School Musical begin popping up everywhere, between people who may or may not have found each other attractive otherwise.
Two new servers landed on the island about a month after I did. “Mandy” was from the same neck of the woods as I was and we immediately bonded over a common dialect (“hella” and “jankie,” anyone?). “Cole” was also from California, good-looking, and with a personality that made people want to be around him. Michael, the lead server, who was quickly becoming one of my better friends, took a liking to Cole.
Flirtation is always a key ingredient to getting through a long day of service. I couldn’t agree more, but, being in a committed relationship already, I directed all my attention to pimping out my newfound co-workers.
Mandy had a big thing for “James,” a server who had been at the restaurant since the opening. James was probably the most friendly, down-to-earth person I had met at the restaurant so I thought he would be a great match for her. When Mandy announced her interest in James, I was excited because I thought they would make a great match.
A few nights later the Princess announced a get-together at her place and I finally scored an invite. The Princess’ soirees were the highlight to any long day at work, but it was especially enticing this night because of the staff that was working – Michael, Cole, Mandy, James, a few other favorites like “Pete” and Anne.
It was as if Dionysus himself was smiling down on us in the shape of vodka martinis and Coronas. The Princess and her Prince distracted us with shaken cocktails and spoke joyfully about their wedding arrangements; but only a keen eye would have caught the way that Mandy and James were sitting, pressed together like books on a shelf that none of our drunken eyes could read.
As people began to throw in the towel at the after-hours drink-a-thon, I stepped towards the bedroom to use the facilities. But as I turned the corner, I saw Michael leaning into Cole, their faces pressed together, their arms linked up like a sticky spider’s web. Cole’s eyes bulged dramatically as he caught my gaze. He pushed Michael back and turned into the bathroom and slammed the door shut.
Michael twisted around suddenly, his eyes glazed over, as though he had drunk too much. He took a step towards me, and asked, “What did you see?”
I shrugged, smiled, and turned, to approach the rest of my co-workers, who were scraping together their belongings and sobriety. Michael came at me from behind, grabbed my shoulder and whisked me around.
“Don’t you say one f—king word about this, okay?” Michael’s face was bright red and his eyes predatory. “Just remember – I make the schedule.”
It was not much of a threat, but a threat. It was the price you have to pay sometimes when you make your own moonshine on a deserted island.
As the Princess walked Michael, Cole and I out, she made a suggestive comment about James being eager to walk Mandy home. They both lived in the same direction, but it was quickly becoming apparent that they definitely were on their way to working some overtime very soon. Mandy later confirmed my speculations the next shift we worked together.
And as for Michael and Cole? Well, lets just say that we both worked brunch the next morning, and Michael was definitely wearing the same clothes he had been wearing the night prior. Read more!
The Island
Like most restaurants, the staff typically hangs out long after the shift is over. I began feeling like the Gollum of the restaurant, there for the gold and not much else. Seeking my angle in, I strategically eased myself into the lives of the staff without making it seem too obvious.
Like myself, many of the people at the restaurant were already in committed relationships. The Princess and her Prince were engaged and lived close by, and were notorious for hosting many after-hour parties. “Burt” had a girlfriend who occasionally came in to have dinner. Also coupled were “Brandon” and “Tiffany,” two bartenders who had been committed for years.
My strategy was clear – ask people about their favorite topic: their personal lives. I started questioning about their relationships and began to serve as the unofficial love counselor for anyone lusting after a fellow co-worker. It was entertaining and it was fun, but it was also somewhat predictable.
You see, I have this theory called “the island.” Have you ever devoted so much time to a job that you began to feel as though you and your coworkers were stranded on a deserted island? Almost instantaneously, crushes a-la High School Musical begin popping up everywhere, between people who may or may not have found each other attractive otherwise.
Two new servers landed on the island about a month after I did. “Mandy” was from the same neck of the woods as I was and we immediately bonded over a common dialect (“hella” and “jankie,” anyone?). “Cole” was also from California, good-looking, and with a personality that made people want to be around him. Michael, the lead server, who was quickly becoming one of my better friends, took a liking to Cole.
Flirtation is always a key ingredient to getting through a long day of service. I couldn’t agree more, but, being in a committed relationship already, I directed all my attention to pimping out my newfound co-workers.
Mandy had a big thing for “James,” a server who had been at the restaurant since the opening. James was probably the most friendly, down-to-earth person I had met at the restaurant so I thought he would be a great match for her. When Mandy announced her interest in James, I was excited because I thought they would make a great match.
A few nights later the Princess announced a get-together at her place and I finally scored an invite. The Princess’ soirees were the highlight to any long day at work, but it was especially enticing this night because of the staff that was working – Michael, Cole, Mandy, James, a few other favorites like “Pete” and Anne.
It was as if Dionysus himself was smiling down on us in the shape of vodka martinis and Coronas. The Princess and her Prince distracted us with shaken cocktails and spoke joyfully about their wedding arrangements; but only a keen eye would have caught the way that Mandy and James were sitting, pressed together like books on a shelf that none of our drunken eyes could read.
As people began to throw in the towel at the after-hours drink-a-thon, I stepped towards the bedroom to use the facilities. But as I turned the corner, I saw Michael leaning into Cole, their faces pressed together, their arms linked up like a sticky spider’s web. Cole’s eyes bulged dramatically as he caught my gaze. He pushed Michael back and turned into the bathroom and slammed the door shut.
Michael twisted around suddenly, his eyes glazed over, as though he had drunk too much. He took a step towards me, and asked, “What did you see?”
I shrugged, smiled, and turned, to approach the rest of my co-workers, who were scraping together their belongings and sobriety. Michael came at me from behind, grabbed my shoulder and whisked me around.
“Don’t you say one f—king word about this, okay?” Michael’s face was bright red and his eyes predatory. “Just remember – I make the schedule.”
It was not much of a threat, but a threat. It was the price you have to pay sometimes when you make your own moonshine on a deserted island.
As the Princess walked Michael, Cole and I out, she made a suggestive comment about James being eager to walk Mandy home. They both lived in the same direction, but it was quickly becoming apparent that they definitely were on their way to working some overtime very soon. Mandy later confirmed my speculations the next shift we worked together.
And as for Michael and Cole? Well, lets just say that we both worked brunch the next morning, and Michael was definitely wearing the same clothes he had been wearing the night prior. Read more!
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Friday, August 22, 2008
Doveman - "Sunrise"
Labels:
lyrics
And after finding out
I tried to make it right.
to call the party off
to teach you how to fight.
strange then to know one day
your heart just stopped.
And when I sing alone
it's only in my head
I know it all by heart
remember every word
you ever said
But sometimes the best laid lies
just turn around on you.
And when I call your name
its only in my sleep.
I can't repeat it now
I've promises to keep.
And sunrise is when you know
the day is lost
again.
And in your arms
salvation's not so far away.
we're getting closer
closer every day.
And I swear that I can see forever
in your eyes.
and I swear that I can see forever
in your eyes.
and I swear that I can see forever
in your eyes.
and it's paradise.
and it's paradise.
and it's paradise. Read more!
I tried to make it right.
to call the party off
to teach you how to fight.
strange then to know one day
your heart just stopped.
And when I sing alone
it's only in my head
I know it all by heart
remember every word
you ever said
But sometimes the best laid lies
just turn around on you.
And when I call your name
its only in my sleep.
I can't repeat it now
I've promises to keep.
And sunrise is when you know
the day is lost
again.
And in your arms
salvation's not so far away.
we're getting closer
closer every day.
And I swear that I can see forever
in your eyes.
and I swear that I can see forever
in your eyes.
and I swear that I can see forever
in your eyes.
and it's paradise.
and it's paradise.
and it's paradise. Read more!
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Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Jobz, or a lack-there-of
Labels:
restaurant
So, I'm a server, but as of lately, I have not been affiliated with any restaurants. I was fired from the Heights, my previous place of employment. The following is a piece I wrote for my internship, www.princeofpetworth.com, and it will be part of a series. Here is the first entry.
The Restaurant
The First Two Days
Like lots of writers these days, I am also a server in a restaurant. This information is relevant to the site because, up until recently, I was a server in one of the most influential restaurants in Columbia Heights.
Working at this place was fun because of the people – from my colleague who I will dub “the Princess” because she refused every alias I offered her, to “Mitch,” one of the newer arrivals, who’s personality made everyone act like inmates serving life sentences whenever he came around. I made many friends and some enemies, but it was all so interesting because we were all local, part of the fabric that made the neighborhood so diverse and rich. It was also intriguing because the patrons at the restaurant were mostly neighborhood people, so we were like flies on the wall, so to speak.
I began my work here on the second day of January – swept in by the snow and the rain, a little frantic because my prior restaurant experience had not been so enjoyable. The staff, from what I noticed up front, was attractive and friendly, yet tightly knit – like a potato sack I desperately wanted to cut into with my personality and strong work ethic.
I did my best to show my “best” personality – I smiled more than I usually do, I made more conversation than I usually would with strangers, and I made inappropriate jokes that made the rest of the staff exchange worried glances. Being a recent arrival from California, I was also in the market for friends, so there was even more incentive to win them all over.
After food tasting with “Michael,” the lead server, and after a shift of training on the expo (food) line, I was standing at the computer to take all the orders the servers had taken at their respective tables. It was my job to input the orders into the computer, course the meals, and recheck all the items to be sure that they were correct.
However, mid-shift, I was distracted by the gaze of two faces that I recognized – a gay couple I had bartended for the previous month at their private holiday party. They approached me to briefly catch up, and I explained that I was in training to be a server at the restaurant. They told me that they were meeting one of their friends from their holiday party, and introduced me when he came in.
But I already knew who he was. See, I recognized him from the party – a young, handsome Cuban with Prada glasses who had been tearing up the carpeted dance-floor with some modelesque waif who lit up the room like a mirror ball. I had also seen him before, in Columbia Heights, walking hand and hand with another Kate Moss, maybe two weeks after the party, and was surprised to see that he had already updated, upgraded, and changed the flavor. We performed the necessary courtesies, and I told them to enjoy their meal.
They remained at the bar for several minutes after, perhaps because there was a wait and because the hostess, “Anne,” who doubled as a server, was only allowed to seat complete parties. When the fourth member of their party arrived, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut anymore, for the it was a new girl, beautifully clad, maybe five-foot ten-thousand, who came around and kissed Prada on the mouth and beamed at his friends.
I turned to the nearest server, Michael, and giggled slightly. “See that guy?” I asked, pointing at Prada. “The one with the girl?”
He nodded, uninterested. “Yeah?”
“That guy is a player. He’s been with three different girls in a month. And look at how comfortable they are. They all probably think he’s they’re boyfriend.”
Michael snickered, then turned to “Ron,” who turned to “Drew,” who turned to “Carly,” who took the information to Anne up at the host station. You see, the information may not have been all that particularly interesting, but when you’re working, gossip is the distraction of choice.
Seconds after the information got to Anne, I saw her small frame, her bouncing blonde hair, and her full lips, glossed and in a tight frown bee-line for me next to the computer in the wait station.
“What did you say about that guy? The one at the bar?”
“What?” I asked. When she’s angry, Anne’s presence is ice water hitting you in the face.
“The guy at the bar. With the girl? What about him?”
“Oh. I just said that I’ve seen him with three different girls in a month. Once at this party I bartended at, another at –“
“That guy is my roommate’s boyfriend.”
The rest of my second night at this restaurant was purely damage control. You see, Anne was one of those people who everyone drifted to, like a sieve to catch food at the bottom of a sink – and I was definitely just going to wash right though. Any chance of me developing meaningful friendships with the staff seriously became jeopardized.
This was day two at the restaurant.
....
I have two job prospects right now. Vinoteca, and Commonwealth. Please, let me know what you think. Read more!
The Restaurant
The First Two Days
Like lots of writers these days, I am also a server in a restaurant. This information is relevant to the site because, up until recently, I was a server in one of the most influential restaurants in Columbia Heights.
Working at this place was fun because of the people – from my colleague who I will dub “the Princess” because she refused every alias I offered her, to “Mitch,” one of the newer arrivals, who’s personality made everyone act like inmates serving life sentences whenever he came around. I made many friends and some enemies, but it was all so interesting because we were all local, part of the fabric that made the neighborhood so diverse and rich. It was also intriguing because the patrons at the restaurant were mostly neighborhood people, so we were like flies on the wall, so to speak.
I began my work here on the second day of January – swept in by the snow and the rain, a little frantic because my prior restaurant experience had not been so enjoyable. The staff, from what I noticed up front, was attractive and friendly, yet tightly knit – like a potato sack I desperately wanted to cut into with my personality and strong work ethic.
I did my best to show my “best” personality – I smiled more than I usually do, I made more conversation than I usually would with strangers, and I made inappropriate jokes that made the rest of the staff exchange worried glances. Being a recent arrival from California, I was also in the market for friends, so there was even more incentive to win them all over.
After food tasting with “Michael,” the lead server, and after a shift of training on the expo (food) line, I was standing at the computer to take all the orders the servers had taken at their respective tables. It was my job to input the orders into the computer, course the meals, and recheck all the items to be sure that they were correct.
However, mid-shift, I was distracted by the gaze of two faces that I recognized – a gay couple I had bartended for the previous month at their private holiday party. They approached me to briefly catch up, and I explained that I was in training to be a server at the restaurant. They told me that they were meeting one of their friends from their holiday party, and introduced me when he came in.
But I already knew who he was. See, I recognized him from the party – a young, handsome Cuban with Prada glasses who had been tearing up the carpeted dance-floor with some modelesque waif who lit up the room like a mirror ball. I had also seen him before, in Columbia Heights, walking hand and hand with another Kate Moss, maybe two weeks after the party, and was surprised to see that he had already updated, upgraded, and changed the flavor. We performed the necessary courtesies, and I told them to enjoy their meal.
They remained at the bar for several minutes after, perhaps because there was a wait and because the hostess, “Anne,” who doubled as a server, was only allowed to seat complete parties. When the fourth member of their party arrived, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut anymore, for the it was a new girl, beautifully clad, maybe five-foot ten-thousand, who came around and kissed Prada on the mouth and beamed at his friends.
I turned to the nearest server, Michael, and giggled slightly. “See that guy?” I asked, pointing at Prada. “The one with the girl?”
He nodded, uninterested. “Yeah?”
“That guy is a player. He’s been with three different girls in a month. And look at how comfortable they are. They all probably think he’s they’re boyfriend.”
Michael snickered, then turned to “Ron,” who turned to “Drew,” who turned to “Carly,” who took the information to Anne up at the host station. You see, the information may not have been all that particularly interesting, but when you’re working, gossip is the distraction of choice.
Seconds after the information got to Anne, I saw her small frame, her bouncing blonde hair, and her full lips, glossed and in a tight frown bee-line for me next to the computer in the wait station.
“What did you say about that guy? The one at the bar?”
“What?” I asked. When she’s angry, Anne’s presence is ice water hitting you in the face.
“The guy at the bar. With the girl? What about him?”
“Oh. I just said that I’ve seen him with three different girls in a month. Once at this party I bartended at, another at –“
“That guy is my roommate’s boyfriend.”
The rest of my second night at this restaurant was purely damage control. You see, Anne was one of those people who everyone drifted to, like a sieve to catch food at the bottom of a sink – and I was definitely just going to wash right though. Any chance of me developing meaningful friendships with the staff seriously became jeopardized.
This was day two at the restaurant.
....
I have two job prospects right now. Vinoteca, and Commonwealth. Please, let me know what you think. Read more!
0
comments
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
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