Dad: A Zanesville man was living in Alamogordo, New Mexico in July 1945 when the Air Force tested the first atom bomb. They told him a fuel dump exploded, but later the truth came out.
Me: A man living in Korea in May of 2005 was told “Hochi Ta Mi Ka Nana”, and later the truth came out.
Let’s cover the high lights of this weekend…
Friday morning, Missy brought in her autistic three year old. That was pretty cool. He played super-shy, so I didn’t get to talk to him. He kept hiding behind his mom. When it comes to kids who do stuff like that, I act like they’re an animal. I’m not sure that that is right. How do you act when your trying to coax a stray dog to come near you? Squat down, reach your hand out towards them, don’t make any loud noises or sudden movements, and maybe inch closer to them real slow. I do the same thing with kids. Maybe that’s a problem.
During lunch I bought Guild Wars and played it a bit.
Right before work, I was informed that Katie was about to get to the restaurant. When I got there, the door upstairs was open, so up I went, and inside still. Her dad was there, so I said I was looking for Katie, and he asked me if I called, I said I did. The question he was asking was “Does she know your coming?”, which the answer to that is “No,”, but that’s not the question he asked. She was in the bathroom, so I setup station next to the door in the hallway, and when she came out she was scared. A high point of my day. She had to stop to calm herself down. I’d apologize for scaring her, but I wasn’t sorry. I enjoy doing that to people, but I don’t really enjoy lying to Katie. Hrm, what would have been a accurate apology? “I’m sorry that I like surprising people and I’m sorry that you were a available victim.” That really doesn’t have the proper tone to it. Alright, no apologize. ;)
Stanley Stanley Stanley. Stanley got sent home from work Friday because the Powers that Be decided that he was high as a mofo and couldn’t work. He kept insisting that he just woke up. I knew that wasn’t true because I saw him talking to people outside the restaurant earlier in the day. For some reason, I still thought, after all said and done, that maybe he was just sleepy. I’m a doormat, remember? He was outside when I took some boxes out and talked to me. He said “They said my pupils are dilated, are my pupils dilated?” this was meant to be rhetorical, I think, but I looked anyway. I told him that I didn’t know if dilated was large or small. He said small. I said they did look small. He told me a bunch of stuff, I told him that if sleep was the problem, than I suggest tomorrow he gets some coffee up in him, or he’ll get fired. I think that went well.
The kitchen was bracing for overwhelming business on Friday night. It just didn’t happen. We did maybe ten or fifteen more people than we did on Thursday night. I didn’t like this, because if people are not eating out on Friday night, that means that all that business is getting heaped on the other two nights for the weekend. Some time around six or seven, Marco’s cell phone started ringing. It was Cindy, his girlfriend/ex-girlfriend/whatever. During the course of the night this half of the conversation happened about nine times:
Marco: I’m at work.
Marco: Yeah, I’m busy.
Marco: Until eleven o’clock.
Marco: Uh huh.
Marco: I’m busy.
Marco: I’ve got to go.
Marco: I’ve got work to do.
Marco: I’ve got to go. Bye.
Then after that conversation, she’d call back about twenty or thirty minutes later. She wanted to talk about things. Apparently they broke up a day or three before and he made it sound like that she was the one who did the breaking. Chances are things went like this, Cindy has a bunch of complaints (I’d imagine that it’s a mix of well founded and completely irrational complaints) about Marco and then Marco gets to the point where he says that “this isn’t working out” and that’s the break. I’d imagine that Cindy wouldn’t back down and escalate it from there. But that’s all guess-work. But, she called a whole bunch of times, every time with Marco telling her ELEVEN O’CLOCK. The conversations on his cell were not long or complex, but they did convey one very important idea, Marco is at work, claims to be busy (which he more or less was), and he doesn’t want to talk to you until ELEVEN O’CLOCK. This means: stop calling. Someone suggested she’s stupid. I suggested that’s female. Instantly I felt bad, because I do crazy things too. I mean not so obviously irrational things as given a set of instructions (don’t call back until 11) and then call back eight more times well before.
Little break from Friday night: Dad just came in as I’m typing, he’s got a box in his hands for me and he’s walking a bit hunched over and starts talking excitedly in a imitation I’m all too familiar with: “Mr McFly! Mr McFly! Your new book is here!” Thank you TBS for showing that movie four times a week. In the box are my new boots. I could have used them this weekend, as my hikers are like ice skates whenever there is water on the floor.
Anyway, back to Friday night… In the midst of the Cindy calls, I told Ryan to palm his cell, go out front to get a pop and call Marco’s cell. Marco was getting visibly annoyed every time that phone rang, so I thought it’d be funny. Ryan managed to get to his phone book and call Marco without moving from the spot he was. It was so funny. Marco went immediately into super annoyed mode when he heard his phone ringing, and then saw it was Ryan. He was ticked, but laughed. It was a high point of the night.
I sustained one of the better hair burnings of my tenure at the restaurant on Friday night. While doing some scallops I managed to singe my eyelashes, eyebrows, mustache, and sideburns all in one go.
My after work activities: Watched Cold Mountain with Katie until she decided she was too sleepy to continue, I took Katie home, bought some White Castle, and played Guild Wars until five in the morning.
Saturday was a bit of a shorter day as far as things worth mentioning go. I woke up around noon, and called Katie. She told me about a wreck she saw at Military and Dresden in which a car and a motorcycle collided and she was sure that the cyclist was dead, considering all the blood. She sounded shook up pretty bad. I got a shower, she came here, we went to White Castle, then back to my house.
Work was pretty darn busy. Two things during the night: the server Philip fell from favor with the kitchen, he kept bringing us trouble. I think Ryan wanted to get him in the eye with the chef’s fork. Oh, and the other thing. The grill. The grill is a total piece of s!@#. The bars are coming loose on the surface and there is a fairly bad gas leak under it. It’s the gas leak that’s what’s terrifying. I like lying on my back on the line, and looking up at the underside of the grill. It looks like something from the movie Backdraft. Well, Saturday night, it popped. There was a distinct flash, and Ryan and I spent the rest of the night being nervous around it. Sunday we found out the fire had burnt through something in the grill that was electrical, and it wasn’t a build up of gas. Still scary.
Sunday morning, I get up to do it all over again. We were super busy, and things kept going wrong. Later in the day I’d explain to my mom about how people hate it when things go wrong, in the kitchen things going wrong has become so commonplace that we get a bit nervous when things are going right. We wait for the axe to drop and are relieved when it finally does. Well, on this particular Mother’s Day, the axe dropped, but the new guy was on the job and didn’t get through the neck on the first try, so he had to do it about fourteen times to get the job done.
After work, I gave mom her gift ($50 FYE gift card) and ate some Salvage Burritos (they’re much like Salvage Sandwiches or Salvage Waffles, find anything that sort of works in the capacity of burrito/sandwich/waffle filling and hope it works). The rest of the night was spent just like the two before it, time with Katie, then playing Guild Wars.