you know what i hate? what i *really* hate? when somebody is really wrong about something, and you call them out on it, and they refuse to A) realize that they were wrong, B) admit their mistake, C) listen to constructive criticism about said mistake, and D) learn a single goddamned thing from the experience. no, please, practice being a stubborn bullheaded fuck. it's made you a lot of friends so far.
unfortunately these are the people who will probably grow to be much more successful than i could ever be.
7.26.2012
7.25.2012
aside
(1:49am, wed27jun)
i'm stepping back.
the sunlight hurts my eyes.
i'm headed for the trees.
come see me when you like.
in the mornings,
the fog makes
this place eternal.
i am a child and an old man;
scars healed, fresh,
open, and not yet there.
you've long since forgiven me,
and i've still never hurt you.
when you call me,
i'll be here.
i know you won't.
but you
might.
i never knew
that i could feel
so far from home,
so near my bed,
under the same moon
we all share.
a numbness creeps in;
shades of grey
sweep through our lives,
lead us away.
i'm stepping back.
tomorrow's a new day
to sleep through.
but i'll rise for a minute,
in the morning,
for the moment when
three words
can still always
make you
smile.
(2:01am)
7.24.2012
some clarity
let's talk about some stuff. things are changing, and i am tired of being vague, except about the things i feel obligated to be vague about - identities and such. you know.
let's back up a bit. a month ago, a coworker told me he was going to need a place to stay for two months. i said sure. i've since reconsidered my position a few times, in a few ways, but he helped me pick out a pretty goddamn nice suit so he's somewhat earned his keep so far. the suit will come in later. but through all of this, he has been an added distraction and annoyance in the house above all else and goddammit what was i thinking. oh well. like certain other things, it shouldn't last past august.
at around 5:30pm, saturday june 30th, my boss came into my store. when i say my boss, i mean the guy whose name is on the awning out front, on my paycheck, and on a fair handful of the stuff for sale in the store. he went to my manager, who had put in her one-month notice a week before. i'd made it known around the store that i wanted her job, and it seemed pretty well assured that i'd get it. it's something i'd wanted for a while, to get out of kitchens and more into a "making sure shit's getting done right" position; i'd still have had to learn an awful lot about food, but from a *tasting* aspect for a change. the word "salary" kept ringing in my ears too, let me tell you.
anyway. chef makes his way over to me. "i wanted the family," that's what we are, family, not staff - it's not the only mob-esque thing about his little empire - "i wanted the family to know first, we're closing the store."
well, shit. mind you this wasn't entirely unexpected - i'd been employed there since october, and i'd started seeing the signs around january. when head chefs and managers started leaving in the winter and spring, and the replacement staff was - like, at times, myself - somewhat unsuited to the task at hand, i could feel it in the air.
"i can't say i'm surprised, chef. when, may i ask?"
"closing time tonight."
i just expected more warning than that, that's all. i looked at the clock - two and a half hours til close - then at the crab cakes i was most of the way through making. it was a big batch, and the raw mix had real promise. crab cakes were somehow my thing, there. don't ask. i'd formed four of them, and had the makings ready for about twenty more.
"guess i can stop working on this, then, huh?"
he laughed a bit, i think - moreso it would've been his impression of a laugh, for as far as i can see the man lacks the ability to feel mirth - then offered me a job at the restaurant. there were appealing things about it - it would look fantastic on a resume, for starters. there were unappealing thing about it, which mostly centered around the crushed spirits of everyone who has spent any real time in close proximity to him, god bless their weary souls. i hadn't felt this effect as yet, but i had yet to spend extended amounts of time around the man.
i told him i had to think about it, and he asked if i wanted to help pack up the store, which i agreed to. the next few days, packing up and all, are better left out of this - for space and time, let's say the days were spent working hard between bursts of weird emotion at seeing a place i'd grown to love get dismantled before my eyes, my own hands taking apart countertops i'd scrubbed to a shine just nights before. there was no closure, no goodbye to the community, no sign left in the window to appease passersby. when july 4th dawned, we were already drunk, and the store was empty, and we'd all accepted jobs at the restaurant. for some it was a step up, for some a step down.
i skipped out july fifth. i couldn't do it. i'd told one of the other workers there, a hired hand i'd seen around the store more than once, that i'd help him with a construction job. it seemed more appealing than charlie trotter's, a good way to make some honest money, and maybe get a good workout in the process. i didn't go to that. i was hungover as hell, because i'd never had off work on the 4th of july since moving into the city. we climbed onto our roof, where we found most everyone else in our apartment building (despite the rather treacherous climb over a locked gate at the third story required to get up there), and enjoyed a panorama of fireworks. with a girl at my side it would've been magical; there were five, but they were lesbians. i managed.
but when i say i couldn't do it, i mean i couldn't do it. what i knew about the restaurant suggested that it was nothing like what i'd been trained for, nothing i'd ever wanted to be trained for, and not a direction i wanted my career path to go. it seemed like an undue amount of stress for minimal payoff - there was no pay increase, as such a prestigious position may have offered, but it was two more months of somewhat-less-than-guarenteed-employment. for, as i have not mentioned, the restaurant is closing at the end of august. this was announced back around new year's. so, beginning of july through end of august. two months.
the anxiety attacks the first night were incredible. i needed to borrow suit, dress shirt, slacks, tie, dress shoes. within the first hour i'd started to recognize the flow, but my own cycle of things i felt confident doing seemed rather small - and mind you this is not normal confidence - it should not take a man any amount of confidence to do something like place a plate at a table. however, this is fine dining we are talking about, and as i have come to learn, that is synonymous with codified madness. one does not simply place the plate at the table - one does it right. the first time. or get the fuck out. if this seems like an exaggeration, you have not met my boss. or worked in a fine dining establishment, which is apparently more about choreographed ballet than actual customer service, more about food as a sensory experience than as sustenance. but i found the cycle, and i can run it, but many of the steps ring hypocritical and/or counterproductive, designed to produce punishable missteps. though these, too, have a place in the dance.
the second week got easier than the first, and the third easier still, but here i am on the cusp of the new week, work 5p-1a tuesday thru saturday, and i know by the end of it i'll be running the treadmill like a champ. but the treadmill is ridiculous, and i am better than a piece of conveyor belt disguised as a rockette. it was last weekend when we found the suit, after hours of searching through the racks of various marshall's looking for that perfect slim-fit number that wouldn't break my nearly empty wallet, and that has made a difference; between that and the haircut, i'm starting to look goddamned respectable.
and it was with that in mind that i walked into an interview this morning - i should say monday morning, it's tuesday now. the interview was for a line cook job in what turned out to be a quiet little neighborhood cafe; however, during the hour of conversation, we began to talk more about management positions, and she sent me off saying i'd get a call for a second interview later that week. that call came later in the afternoon, and now on wednesday i get to go hammer out the details on what i apparently wanted all along.
but... in the meantime, i'm still at the restaurant. i'm getting edgy right now, thinking about going in there, and it's thirteen and a half hours away. coworkers insist i should stick it out, to say i was there at the end, that there's phenomenal experience to be had there and that we really do provide a once-in-a-lifetime experience for people. and we do. that's all true. there's been talk of not letting the madness win, to suffer through it to come out a better person afterwards. i don't know how i feel about all that. i've been in the fire for a while, and if i'm offered water, i'm not going to say, "no, i need these scars to prove i'm hardcore." i'm going to take that water and douse the flames. if i'm offered a management job on wednesday, then i'll finish out the week at trotter's, call it quits at exactly one month instead of two, and walk away without regrets.
i look forward to the three or four days off i'm going to give myself between jobs, no matter what. i have a story i want to write, and it's been there for long enough that one good long sit should let me flush out most of it. there are plenty of other things from the past few weeks that i have left out, but i need sleep.
be well.
let's back up a bit. a month ago, a coworker told me he was going to need a place to stay for two months. i said sure. i've since reconsidered my position a few times, in a few ways, but he helped me pick out a pretty goddamn nice suit so he's somewhat earned his keep so far. the suit will come in later. but through all of this, he has been an added distraction and annoyance in the house above all else and goddammit what was i thinking. oh well. like certain other things, it shouldn't last past august.
at around 5:30pm, saturday june 30th, my boss came into my store. when i say my boss, i mean the guy whose name is on the awning out front, on my paycheck, and on a fair handful of the stuff for sale in the store. he went to my manager, who had put in her one-month notice a week before. i'd made it known around the store that i wanted her job, and it seemed pretty well assured that i'd get it. it's something i'd wanted for a while, to get out of kitchens and more into a "making sure shit's getting done right" position; i'd still have had to learn an awful lot about food, but from a *tasting* aspect for a change. the word "salary" kept ringing in my ears too, let me tell you.
anyway. chef makes his way over to me. "i wanted the family," that's what we are, family, not staff - it's not the only mob-esque thing about his little empire - "i wanted the family to know first, we're closing the store."
well, shit. mind you this wasn't entirely unexpected - i'd been employed there since october, and i'd started seeing the signs around january. when head chefs and managers started leaving in the winter and spring, and the replacement staff was - like, at times, myself - somewhat unsuited to the task at hand, i could feel it in the air.
"i can't say i'm surprised, chef. when, may i ask?"
"closing time tonight."
i just expected more warning than that, that's all. i looked at the clock - two and a half hours til close - then at the crab cakes i was most of the way through making. it was a big batch, and the raw mix had real promise. crab cakes were somehow my thing, there. don't ask. i'd formed four of them, and had the makings ready for about twenty more.
"guess i can stop working on this, then, huh?"
he laughed a bit, i think - moreso it would've been his impression of a laugh, for as far as i can see the man lacks the ability to feel mirth - then offered me a job at the restaurant. there were appealing things about it - it would look fantastic on a resume, for starters. there were unappealing thing about it, which mostly centered around the crushed spirits of everyone who has spent any real time in close proximity to him, god bless their weary souls. i hadn't felt this effect as yet, but i had yet to spend extended amounts of time around the man.
i told him i had to think about it, and he asked if i wanted to help pack up the store, which i agreed to. the next few days, packing up and all, are better left out of this - for space and time, let's say the days were spent working hard between bursts of weird emotion at seeing a place i'd grown to love get dismantled before my eyes, my own hands taking apart countertops i'd scrubbed to a shine just nights before. there was no closure, no goodbye to the community, no sign left in the window to appease passersby. when july 4th dawned, we were already drunk, and the store was empty, and we'd all accepted jobs at the restaurant. for some it was a step up, for some a step down.
i skipped out july fifth. i couldn't do it. i'd told one of the other workers there, a hired hand i'd seen around the store more than once, that i'd help him with a construction job. it seemed more appealing than charlie trotter's, a good way to make some honest money, and maybe get a good workout in the process. i didn't go to that. i was hungover as hell, because i'd never had off work on the 4th of july since moving into the city. we climbed onto our roof, where we found most everyone else in our apartment building (despite the rather treacherous climb over a locked gate at the third story required to get up there), and enjoyed a panorama of fireworks. with a girl at my side it would've been magical; there were five, but they were lesbians. i managed.
but when i say i couldn't do it, i mean i couldn't do it. what i knew about the restaurant suggested that it was nothing like what i'd been trained for, nothing i'd ever wanted to be trained for, and not a direction i wanted my career path to go. it seemed like an undue amount of stress for minimal payoff - there was no pay increase, as such a prestigious position may have offered, but it was two more months of somewhat-less-than-guarenteed-employment. for, as i have not mentioned, the restaurant is closing at the end of august. this was announced back around new year's. so, beginning of july through end of august. two months.
the anxiety attacks the first night were incredible. i needed to borrow suit, dress shirt, slacks, tie, dress shoes. within the first hour i'd started to recognize the flow, but my own cycle of things i felt confident doing seemed rather small - and mind you this is not normal confidence - it should not take a man any amount of confidence to do something like place a plate at a table. however, this is fine dining we are talking about, and as i have come to learn, that is synonymous with codified madness. one does not simply place the plate at the table - one does it right. the first time. or get the fuck out. if this seems like an exaggeration, you have not met my boss. or worked in a fine dining establishment, which is apparently more about choreographed ballet than actual customer service, more about food as a sensory experience than as sustenance. but i found the cycle, and i can run it, but many of the steps ring hypocritical and/or counterproductive, designed to produce punishable missteps. though these, too, have a place in the dance.
the second week got easier than the first, and the third easier still, but here i am on the cusp of the new week, work 5p-1a tuesday thru saturday, and i know by the end of it i'll be running the treadmill like a champ. but the treadmill is ridiculous, and i am better than a piece of conveyor belt disguised as a rockette. it was last weekend when we found the suit, after hours of searching through the racks of various marshall's looking for that perfect slim-fit number that wouldn't break my nearly empty wallet, and that has made a difference; between that and the haircut, i'm starting to look goddamned respectable.
and it was with that in mind that i walked into an interview this morning - i should say monday morning, it's tuesday now. the interview was for a line cook job in what turned out to be a quiet little neighborhood cafe; however, during the hour of conversation, we began to talk more about management positions, and she sent me off saying i'd get a call for a second interview later that week. that call came later in the afternoon, and now on wednesday i get to go hammer out the details on what i apparently wanted all along.
but... in the meantime, i'm still at the restaurant. i'm getting edgy right now, thinking about going in there, and it's thirteen and a half hours away. coworkers insist i should stick it out, to say i was there at the end, that there's phenomenal experience to be had there and that we really do provide a once-in-a-lifetime experience for people. and we do. that's all true. there's been talk of not letting the madness win, to suffer through it to come out a better person afterwards. i don't know how i feel about all that. i've been in the fire for a while, and if i'm offered water, i'm not going to say, "no, i need these scars to prove i'm hardcore." i'm going to take that water and douse the flames. if i'm offered a management job on wednesday, then i'll finish out the week at trotter's, call it quits at exactly one month instead of two, and walk away without regrets.
i look forward to the three or four days off i'm going to give myself between jobs, no matter what. i have a story i want to write, and it's been there for long enough that one good long sit should let me flush out most of it. there are plenty of other things from the past few weeks that i have left out, but i need sleep.
be well.
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