Mi Piel

The last few days have been really rough. I'm really starting to feel the pressure of the recession. I've been looking for a second job for several months on and off to no avail (minus the experience with CIC), and putting in as many hours as I can waiting tables at the restaurant. I'm working 3 double shifts (open to close) this week, and don't have another day off for another week or more.

The problem I'm running into is that business has slacked, presumably because people are pinching pennies like I am, and a great deal of people that come in are tipping less than 15%, if they leave anything at all. It is unbelievably frustrating to put on a happy face despite the burden of stress I'm carrying around driving me to be sick, refill drinks, take orders with a smile, and continue to be conscientious of their comfort while not hovering, only to find that a table full of adults left me a single, crumpled dollar each, as if tipping as an afterthought, rummaging around in their pockets to see what I'm worth. I want to grab their shoulders and shake them, while screaming at the top of my lungs,

"I make three dollars an hour, I live in this economy too, and I have a family!"

The reality of the last part of that statement has become even more real to me the last few weeks - it's not just me I have to worry about any more, my husband's well being is directly intertwined with my own, and if I fail, I bring him down with me. I'm increasingly aware of failure becoming a reality. I know because I'm young, the majority of the people that come to the restaurant assume that I'm a student, probably living on the government's dime, or worse, Mommy and Daddy's - people ask me all the time if I go to ASU. My reply of late is, "No, I work here for a living, " said with good humor at the beginning, but lately carrying a note of bitterness that I suspect isn't lost on the ones who ask. It's not that I resent my job - on the contrary, I love my job. I really love working in foodservice, and I like making people happy by serving them a meal they enjoy. What I resent is the reputation of college students spilling over into my life, cheating me of a decent tip because they assume I'm going to spend it on beer and weed.

Speaking of college students, the events leading up to my haggard mental state involved two such people, specifically the owner's daughter, Odie, and her BFF/roommate, Minion. Obviously not their real names, but changed for privacy and the preservation of my sanity.

To give you some background, I help manage the restaurant on certain days, and we close at 10 on weekdays. The night before last was like every other night - it was slow, so the restaurant was ready to closed by 9:45. My kitchen crew had already closed up food prep, the expo was busy in the back washing dishes, and I was just about to close my registers down.

I was in the process of sending the only other waitress home to her husband and small daughter, it was late, she was on her second job of the day (she has three, including financial advisor at the bank next door), and we were all tired. I was just coming off of a long doubleshift because one of the cooks had stormed out a few days prior, citing "disrespeck", and left several gaps in the schedule. I had 3 customers at the bar who'd ordered a little late but were hurrying for my benefit. I'd just wiped down my beer taps and was running a dry cloth over the chrome fixtures, and attempting to unwind the tight coil my mind had twisted itself into over the course of an overly long workday, when Odie, Minion and 8 of their closest friends from ASU barged in the front door in a cloud of cloying perfume, swinging Subway bags behind them. They plopped their ample rears in my barstools, and Odie began handing out beers, giggling like a buffoon, and unwrapping a behemoth of a sandwich.

Odie: "We're not staying long. We just came to have a few drinks."

Me: "Okay."

I stood behind the bar in stunned silence, dumbstruck by the madness unfolding before me.

Odie (around a mouthful of Subway): "Don't worry, noone's having food."

Before you think I'm a doormat, consider this - this is no ordinary jackass coming in 15 minutes before close - this is the owner's beloved, spoiled rotten, elephantine baby girl, and she's got him wrapped around her porcine pinky. The other waitress shook her head and stared at me in disbelief. I told her to go ahead and clock out - no reason for both of us to be late getting home.

Meanwhile, Odie's douchenozzle buddy was leaning over the bar, waving his arm at me, next to an overdressed sororstitute doing the same.

DNB: "Hey, BABE, get me an ashtray, wouldjathanks."

I wordlessly hand him an ashtray, shooting hate-daggers from my eyes in the hopes that one of them would materialize and hit him right where his brows joined together.

'Tute: "SCUSE ME!!! (yelling) I NEED A PITCHER OF YUENGLING, kthx."

Fuming, I grab a pitcher and start filling, glaring at Odie, who in a quest to look less like Chris Farley in a miniskirt, is currently debating the caloric content of Michelob Ultra with Minion while stuffing her face.

DNB: "BABE, BABE, get me another ashtray, wouldjathanks."

I furiously grab another clean ashtray from the stack sitting out to dry, and sling it across the bar to him, hoping this would be our last exchange. No such luck.

DNB: "EXCUSE ME, Sweetheart, I need a coke. COKE. I just need a COKE. (Pantomiming drinking)"

ME: "NO. I've already shut down the drink station. I'm not putting it back together."

DNB: "Wut? Ooooooh. So you guys close the restaurant but keep the bar open later?"

Me (struggling to keep sarcasm under control): "No, TECHNICALLY the bar's closed, too."

DNB (shooting me an 'I'm an uber-jock, worship at my feet' smile): "So you're just staying up just for us cause you're nice, right?"

Me (control lost - dripping with sarcasm): "YES, I'm staying late just for you, because I'm so NICE."

That night, Teping really WAS just a city in China, because they didn't leave me a dime.

Right before they left, Odie pulled me aside, and said, "Don't worry about ringing up the beer... just don't worry about it. "

At this point, I am angrier than I have been in a long, long time. I know that if I say anything at all, even one solitary word, I am going to lose it and tell this over inflated (in every sense) brat exactly what I think about her. The restaurant is so close to closing it's scary, we get more and more collection calls every day, and she's bringing her friends after hours to drink beer on her dad's tab. The ONLY reason she gives a crap at all about the restaurant is that she can play bigshot with her simpering, ridiculous 'friends', that would drop her like a hot potato if she didn't purport to have some kind of social status.

When my boss finally returns my call (I tried to call him twice as I saw the horde walking in), I was so upset my voice was quaking, and I'm fighting back hot, angry tears.

Me: "Hey."

Boss: "Hey, how's it going up there?"

Me: "It's... okay. Hey... did you know Odie was going to be stopping by?"

Boss (innocently): "Well, she said she was going to bring something by for me, why?"

Me: "Because she showed up 15 minutes before close with 8 people and they JUST left. (It was about 20 minutes after 10).

Boss: "Oh. Well, did they drink anything?"

Me: "Yep. Sure did."

Boss: "Did they pay?"

Me: "For a pitcher I poured, because I made a point of ringing it up, but Odie handed out a bunch of beer that certainly didn't get paid for. They left a mess, and I'm going to be really late getting home".

Boss: "Oh. Well, I'm sorry that happened. I'll have a talk with her."

Me: "Okay. See you in the morning."

I didn't end up leaving until 10 til 11, didn't get home until about 10:20 (I have a mountain commute), and ended up venting a vitriolic stream on my poor husband. I had a piece of homemade strawberry chiffon pie, a cream whiskey, and a hot shower, and managed to calm down enough to get some sleep.

By the time I walked into work in the morning, I was worked up again, and feeling confrontational, which is a big deal for me - I usually HATE HATE HATE confrontation, and avoid it at all costs, but I was just pissed off enough that I wasn't shying away from anything.

I walked up to the owner's girlfriend, Lou, where she was doing food prep.

Me: "Lou, did he tell you what happened last night?"

Lou: "Yes, and I'm not supposed to talk to you about it. But, Odie and Minion were ringing the phone off the hook last night, calling every five minutes. Odie said she had no idea who all those people were, they didn't come in together, and started out saying that no one drank any beer. Which changed to yes, they did drink beer, but everyone paid. She said they were outside waiting for a movie, and just happened to wander in when they did. She said they didn't even know each other except from the restaurant. Minion was telling the Boss how hurt and upset Odie was that you and Mae (the other waitress) would lie about her like that, and then Odie got on and told him how Minion never liked you because you're a liar."

I stood there, mouth agape, for what seemed like eternity, before letting loose with a rant of my own, that I'm sure sounded a little like this, "OhFORCHRISSAKES,Lou,I'veneverliedtoyouorBosswhichisaheckofalotmorethanthatcowcansay
whythehellwouldIlieaboutthemcominginitsnotlikeIwantedtostayanhourpastclosingbecauseIlove
beingheresodamnmuchandifithadbeenanyonebutyoutwoIwouldhaveleftmykeysonthedesklast
nightandmadeyesterdaymylastfreakin'daybutunlikeOdieIgiveacrapabouttherestaurant."

Lou: "Well, you need to tell him all that. Oh yeah, I went in the office this morning, and noticed one of the company checks missing.. you know anything about that? Did we have a vendor come by or anything?"

FLASHBACK: The night before, I'd walked by the office to see Odie hunched over the Boss' desk with the checkbook - I'd made a mental note to ask him about it, which was quickly deleted to free up memory for WTFaretheydoinghereafterhours.doc.

Me: "Nope, no vendor. But why don't you ask Odie what she was doing with the checkbook?"

Boss didn't come in until after noon, in the middle of the lunch rush, so my anger stewed in my stomach all day, a stubborn knot that wouldn't go away, defying my plaintive requests to stop making me nauseous. After everything finally died down, I found him in his office, checking his email. I ducked my head in.

Me: "Hey, Boss, you busy?"

Boss: "Uhh... well, not too busy... come on in."

Me (closing the door behind me): "We need to talk about what happened last night. What have you heard?"

Boss: "Well, not too much. What happened?"

I recount the events of the evening, fighting to quell the fury threatening to escape at any given moment.

Boss: "Well, Odie told me she didn't know those other people, and that they paid for all of their beer."

Me: "I'm not interested in arguing with you or her (*snap, snap, snap*! It felt good to speak my mind), there's no reason why Mae and I would lie about it. But if we'd have come in on a night she was closing, she would have screamed bloody murder. It was disprespectful and rude. Just because I don't go out and party and drink myself stupid with her and her other buddies that work here, doesn't mean I don't have a life to get home to. I want to spend time with my husband, and leaving an hour after close isn't helpful."

Boss: "Well, I told her that, and I told her that one of you is lying, and I don't know why you and Mae would lie. I have a way of checking the tickets. *Pauses to gauge my reaction*."

Me: "That's a great idea, why don't you do that.. there should be three. One for the pitcher, and two for the customers that were still in the bar when they came in."

He spends a moment clicking around in the point of sale system on his computer, muttering to himself under his breath as he sorts through invoices.

Boss: "Here we go... tickets after 9.. let's see.. nothing for almost an hour... then 3 tickets... about 50 dollars worth... "

Me: "30 boneless, a large fry, 6 longnecks, and the pitcher of Yuengling."

Boss: "That looks right... Odie better feel lucky she's not here right now. "


VINDICATION!


The prize was short lived, however - I had a break before I had to be back for another double .. on my way back to the restaurant I got pulled over and issued $450 worth of tickets for not having my North Carolina Driver's License, even though I was told I had a year, and a bogus one for not stopping at a stop sign. I'd turned out in front of the policeman's unmarked car, causing him to slowdown - he tailgated me for half a mile, and smugly told me, "This is going to be expensive for you" as he wrote my tickets. As much as I wanted to, I didn't cry, though. Not the whole day.

All this, following filing our taxes and owing a few thousand dollars that we don't have for the sale of my husband's house last year...

*sigh*.

I went to bed extremely upset yesterday, and pretty down in the dumps. I got to sleep in this morning, and woke up at about 10:30. I laid in bed for a few minutes, wondering what we're going to do and feeling as though my chest was being crushed in a vice, when I heard the most forlorn, sad little meows from outside the door. J, my husband, leaves the door to our bedroom closed when he leaves for work in the morning, because our cat, Henry (better known as Munky, or The Munk) bats my feet and wakes me up. He was sitting by our door and crying to be let in, however, and I got up to let him get in bed with me. As soon as I opened it, he was off like a little, hairy, black rocket, making himself at home in our plush comforter. I got back in bed, rubbing his head, and he curled around my head, tucking his head under my chin and purring, lifting his nose periodically to nuzzle my cheek. In my raw emotional state, it was the straw that broke the camel's back, and I started crying. I expected him to run away, but he stayed there, curled around me like a furry traveler's pillow, tucking his little face into mine, as if to assure me that everything would be alright. I didn't realize how much I needed a release of emotion, and I immediately felt some relief. In typical Munk fashion, he jumped down from the bed, and made his way to his food bowl, tail held high behind him, and began asking for his breakfast.


There's now a leak in our ceiling, but I have a feeling everything's going to be okay.


It has to be.