So it’s Saturday. The kitchen was very busy tonight. Nearly two hundred people. Today at the hospital to visit Courtney, which was Riverside by the way, no one seemed amazed with the story of Katie nearly picking the secret baby name the night before… Actually during the delivery. Dad seemed amazed before we left the house, but Courtney and Hillary and Adrian seemed uninterested.
Courtney: Reagan can say Ella’s name.
Hillary: Did Reagan know her name? [Which was a big secret until the birth]
Hillary: Ugh! I should have asked her! [Ray is like eighteen months old]
During the trip dad and me talked about Katie a bit, which probably totaled up to equal about the same amount of dialog I’ve ever had with him about her, so that was good. Work overall was uneventful with the exception that I ensured that Katie would be working both Friday and Saturday night with me as a busser. She told me that she knows that I don’t want her to work there… Which isn’t true. I want her to not want to work there. Why? Because she got treated like crap last time she worked there. One of the people that treated her like she was an idiot was her own dad. If I got treated that way just once there, let alone about three times in one night, I’d be gone. If it was my own dad that treated me like that in front of everyone I’d probably resent him for the rest of my life. So on one hand I don’t really like her being there, probably not for the reasons she understands them to be, but on the other hand I want to make sure that I spend as much time as possible with her this spring break. So she’s home for spring break, and I have to work almost every shift that she’s actually home. Wednesday night I have off and will be spending it with her, and pretty much every minute outside of work that I’m not asleep… I thought that wasn’t enough. Maybe that’s weird, I’m not sure. We have only one position in the restaurant that Katie can work, and that’s busser, which is the lowest rung on the food chain. Some would say the dishwasher, which it is in the kitchen, but not the restaurant as a whole… And the kitchen knows to appreciate the dishwasher, while I don’t think that servers actually do. I’m getting away from my point though. We currently have two bussers. Each work one night: Friday and the other Saturday. Hugh was my first mark. It turns out that tonight was his last night and I had no worries there, Katie already was tapped for his night next weekend. Now we have to worry about Steve (yes there are three at the restaurant). I hunted him downing the basement while he was filling the ice buckets. I pegged this exact moment for the time to ask him, which was difficult, because I had to keep up on all of my work just so I could disappear from my station during the middle of a rush for several minutes. That moment is when he realizes that he is in the basement… alone… in the semi-dark… in a enclosed area… with me. Who he knows is a bit nuts. I told him that I’d pay him thirty dollars if he didn’t work next weekend. He bit without hesitation. Maybe I should have tried twenty first.
After more reflection on this through the night I decided that it wasn’t that crazy of a thing to do. I spend money while I’m with Katie, so why not spend some money to be with Katie. Katie told me that she really needed money so she needed to work… A reader might ask, why not just give her the money instead of Steve?
- She wouldn’t accept a hand out
- she’s not my personal charity
- I don’t want her to get used to having things handed to her any more than she is (don’t read this as me saying she’s spoiled, which she is more than some, but not as much as most)
- and most of all, it’s been a long time since I’ve been able to do my weekend fire dance and be able to see her.
My nights there are so much better just seeing her walk past. I don’t think she realizes that nine out of ten times she goes through my kitchen, I see her.