Round 7

Raging Server's got Round 7 of the round table up.

The Blur

Katherine: Is that enough to keep you busy for the next week?
Me: Or month, even.

It's recruiting time for the writing project which means brochures, postcards, mailings, press packs, and various other kinds of packs that need to be assembled, counted, sorted, stuffed in envelopes, tracked... well, you get the idea. The office is coated with a layer of various papers and mailing supplies, and I'm working my way down the list of what needs to be done. I'm almost out of breath just typing it.

On the bright side, the brochures I helped put together look good and in the past couple of days we've been able to make a visible dent in the To Do list.

Although, in the midst of all of this, we've begun to have candidates (those interviewing for two faculty openings) flying in and visiting/interviewing. The first candidate came yesterday. I was able to do lunch with her as one of the campus representative-type folk and go to her presentation to staff/students (i.e. the sales pitch). I'm ideally situated for the search because my schedule allows me to help out with making candidates feel welcome - I'm already slated for lunch will all of them - but I don't have the stress of being on the search committe or having to actually organize the visits. Lots of chaos on that front because there's just so much to do.

Today Katherine asked me if I'd be willing to pick one of the candidates up from the airport on the 14th, so I'm going to do a bit of chauffering as well. I'm looking forward to it. So far, having seen the search for David's replacement and having met the first candidate yesterday, I've met some really intelligent and interesting people. The rough part about the process is that out of the group of candidates, all of whom are great, they can only hire one. Tough call.

In any event, between SCWP recruiting, the candidates visiting, having classes, and teaching a class of my own, days on campus are flying by.

Another Amoeba Cat

Brilliant news! My porch cat(s) isn't the only one who's an amoeba.

As a Civilian

I very, very rarely step foot in the bar on days I'm not scheduled. Tonight I made an exception. Partly to pick up DVDs from Julia, partly to work on a story, and partly just to get out of the house.

I walked in, claimed a spot at the good end of the bar and tried to figure out what I wanted to drink. Generally, my strategy is to have Julia pick something for me, but she was kind of busy. Instead, I grabbed the book of shooters off the shelf. I figured it was my best bet because shots tend to be a lot of sweet things and, wuss that I am, that's pretty much all I drink. After a bit of deliberation, I opted for Blue Balls on the rocks (blue curacao, Malibu, peach schnapps and a bit of lemon juice). Apparently, most of the drinks I like have raunchy names.

Julia: Ali's had two blue balls since she's been here.
John: Oh, you give 'em to her?
Har, har. So funny.

Alex: You ready for your writers group tomorrow, then?
Me: Almost. I've got one more critique to finish.
Alex: Well, don't think too hard. If your brain explodes, I am not cleaning it up.

John's wife: *Yawn* I can't believe I'm so tired already.
Me: And just think, you've got eight more months of this.
John's wife: I can't wait.

Tonight was also a night where lots of people I know were about the place. Bartender John had the night off, but stopped in with his wife for a bit. They're thinking about a monkey theme for the nursery and both are hoping the kiddo comes out a boy. In the event of a girl, I'm going to laugh very hard. Then, there was Julia to chat with, Alex to throw stuff at (throwing stuff at coworkers is now one of my favorite games), Rob and Melissa (who wondered where I'd disappeared to now that I've cut way back on hours at the bar), a friend of my brother's, and his date(?) who I know from a class we were both in this past summer. It took me a good ten minutes to leave since I had so many folks to say goodbye to.

See? It is humanly possible for me to be sociable sometimes.

I Hate To Complain, But...

The nice thing about this one night a week at the bar gig is that I'm only there once a week. The bad part is I'm getting out of the habit of being there at all. Last night I had the thought, "Yeah, but do they really need me to come in?"

I got my first customers after I was there for half an hour, a couple in the soft section who hovered in between a friendly vibe and a superior one. I complimented the gal on her necklace 'cause it was pretty and it never hurts to get a few extra points. I got them their first round and then was bored again. I wandered over to the end of the bar. A couple of our regulars were hanging out with John and Brandi was getting in a few bites of a dinner salad.

John: Well, now that Brandi's back, doesn't it just seem brighter in here?
Brandi: Just shut the F* up.
Me: I think you're about to get stabbed with a fork.
John: Nah, she's got short little arms. And you'd protect me.
Me: You think so, huh?

Dave fed the jukebox a few dollars, so I picked out a couple songs. As soon as I walked away one of the customers made a beeline and started picking song after song. Bastard. Bar payout means staff gets to pick music, unless we like you and specifically say, "have at it."

Meanwhile the couple in the soft section has a had a few rounds. I walk over to check on them and the guy gives me this dead serious look. The world has ended.
Guy: I hate to complain, but I'm going to. (No, seriously, I wouldn't want you to do something you so despise. Please don't trouble yourself.) The first whiskey and soda I had was just right and so were the couple after that, but this one is really weak. Blah, blah, blah.
Me: Let me take care of it.
So, I take the guy's drink back to the bar. John makes the guy a fresh one, I watch him pour the usual amount of booze in. I take it back to the guy.
Me: Here's a fresh one for you. You wanna try it while I'm here and let me know if it's alright?
Guy: No, no. I'm sure it's fine. Thank you for being so helpful.

I've got about three tables at this point, and they're all fine. I walk over to the jukebox to see if there are any credits left on the $5 Dave gave it. I see a couple left, so I start looking for a song to pick. Suddenly, I hear this inarticulate clucking kind of noise from one of the two women (regulars who nobody likes but Dave) at the end of the bar. I turn. She stares at me. I stare back. In my mind I think, "Speak woman. Use words, I know you can if you try really hard." Finally, after looking at me like I'm severely mentally challenged, she informs me that her friend has put money in and those are her credits. Then she adds, "Well, go ahead and pick a song." Oh, your magnamity knows no bounds. Screw that. I walk off.

A new table wanders in, mine this time. Three women who want separate checks for their two drinks each. One wants a tomato beer with a Bud Light draft, but she wants to mix it herself and she needs a glass of ice to mix it in, and limes. Instead of bringing the customary one glass for her, I bring three. For the love of Bob, it's just a damn beer. Otherwise, they're pretty low maintenance. Eventually they pay, each of them saying, "Thank you so much." What is profusive thanks worth? One buck each. I wonder what "Thank you" is worth? $.75?

Another table.
Gal: The Shandy, the one with beer and Sprite, is that sweet?
Me: No, it just has Sprite in it. That won't make it sweet at all.

For [expletive]'s sake. I look at the clock. The clock says 7:30.

Back to the couple in the soft. As soon as I close in, the guy reaches out his hand and puts a $10 in mine.
Guy: Thank you for making the effort. This is for you, but don't share this with the bartender. This one was even weaker.
They were ready to close their tab and leave, so I just took the money, said "Thank you," and walked over to the computer to chuckle. I like the way the guy has this whole me and him vs. the bartenders image in his head. While I don't mind the perception that he and I are on the same side since it landed me a 20%+ tip, if only he knew how wrong he was... I told John. I thought it was funnier than he did. Of course, I wasn't the one being insulted, either.

Meanwhile, I had one of those nights where I look like everybody else. One of my customers handed John their credit card slip. Granted, our coloring is similar, but I have longer hair and lack a goatee. Then I had three different people mistake me for Brandi, including the drunk blonde woman who came up behind me, put her arm around me, and said, "Hey, can we get some beers over here?" as if I'd been ignoring her. Well, I had been. She wasn't my customer. Whups, my bad. Look, I know Brandi and I are the same approximate height, but she's darker complected, has black hair to my brown, and was wearing a long sleeved black shirt to my short sleeved maroon one. It's not that hard to keep us straight. And yet...

Later, 'round about one, I step behind the bar to get something and the random middle-aged drunk guys think I want to talk to them.
Guy: So, what's your story?
Me: It's late, I'm tired, and you've just become the last person in this whole place that I'm going to talk to.
Well, except I didn't say that. I just walked away without responding because when it's that late and people I don't care about demand my attention my manners evaporate.

I may actually end up heading back to the bar tonight, though as a patron. Julia got mad at me last night for only working Friday.
Julia: Hey, what happened to you and me on Saturdays?
Me: Remember how you had last Saturday off and I was stuck here all night with John?
Julia: Oh yeah.
Me: So there.
She also said she could bring the rest of Angel that I lent her in tonight. I figure it wouldn't kill me to stop in for a bit. I do have a story to work on, after all, and it's been a while since I've done bar pages. So, I go in, have Julia make me something colorful and girly to drink, write a few pages, and get the rest of Angel back. It could work. We'll see what happens come later tonight.

Coffee Shop Adventure

Today I was trying to make headway on writing a story and decided the only way I was going to was if I got out of the house. I ended up at a coffee shop downtown a little ways from the bar. As I was ordering my mocha latte, I heard my name being hollered from the back. Moments later, out comes Donny from the kitchen. He's worked at the coffee shop on and off and now he's back. We chatted a bit, then my coffee was ready and I went over to a table to work.

Meanwhile, it was pretty slow and every now and again I could hear the keys on Donny's belt loop rattle as he walked around in the other section of the shop. Then another staff member came in to start his shift and I heard, "I danced on the bar to Madonna."
M: They let you do that?
Donny: It was pretty late.

I lost the rest, until the loud, "It was all Ali's fault."
Me: Hey, Julia gets some of the credit on that one.
Donny: Whatever.

After a bit, I had written what I wanted to so I said my goodbyes. "Don't get too bored."
Donny: Now that M's here, we can cuddle.
Me: Have fun with that.

On the way out, I briefly contemplated stopping by the bar to double check my schedule for tomorrow. Theoretically, I'm due to come in at six, but the schedule tends to be fairly fluid and people don't always remember to call. I stepped out the coffee shop door, looked in the bar's direction, then turned the other way and headed for my car.

The Replacements

I went to my first Composition meeting yesterday, where all the folks currently teaching 101 and/or 102 get together and cover the necessary information. Since I've been on campus so long, I already knew most of the people there, so that was kind of nice.

Among all the news, Katherine gave us a set of dates. These are the dates when candidates for two faculty positions will be coming to campus and giving presentations (this is who I am, the scholarship I've done, and how I teach) to staff and students as part of the process of applying for the positions. The folks coming are those who made it to the short list and Katherine spoke positively about all of them, so it'll be neat to see them. I'm pretty sure I'll meet all of them, one way or another, as I'm certain they'll all get a tour of the SCWP office.

The whole process is fascinating. First you have the collection of applications which come in, then the faculty committee narrows that collection down to the candidates they most prefer, then there's some kind of interview, then the committee narrows the list down again, then they invite their top choices to visit campus, then the committee decides on their top choice and makes the offer to that person, then they wait for the person to accept or decline the offer, and then they announce to the public who'll be the new man/woman on campus. All-in-all the process takes a couple of months. Whew. And that's how you get a job in academia. I'm getting worn out just describing it.

Anyhow, over the next month or so the top candidates will be visiting. I'll be saying "Hi" to them, visiting the presentations, and possibly doing a few of the lunches/dinners where the candidates get to meet some of their potential colleagues and students informally. Last year, during the search for a new David, I went on a dinner with one of the candidates and it was quite fun. Depending on how much room is left at these dinners and lunches, I might end up going on a couple. I hope there'll be room.

Entertainment News: Holy Crap!

Heath Ledger's dead! I'm not much of a celebrity gossip gal, but damn, that's news. Apparently, it looks like an O.D./suicide. I haven't been so surprised by a headline in quite some time. I'm pissed. I am (was?) a Heath fan, and here he's done something incredibly stupid. I mean, seriously, what the hell? Bastard.

I May Come Down With The Plague, But At Least I'll Have Snacks

My folks stopped by last night on their way from a food show. Since my mom's a purchasing agent, she goes to these things every now again - basically a bunch of food vendors handing out samples and doing sales pitches for people who buy stuff for hospitals, prisons, etc.

Anyhow, my folks walked in the door, and bringing with them a double dose of cold germs and a bag full of weird food samples. I sorted through, taking out some things, like the teeny bottle of tobasco and latex gloves, and making a nice little pile of individually wrapped stuff which gets to go to campus with me now. At the moment, I've got enough snacks to where if I get stranded on campus during a blizzard, I can hold out for days.

They say feed a cold, right? I'm set.

My Round Table: New and Exciting Disoveries!

Well, gang, the latest and greatest (i.e. sixth) edition of the Round Table is being hosted by me.


Raging Server went on vacation this week, only to find that it's boring. Hey, I've been there. We get into such a routine of being at work all the time and suddenly you're faced with multiple days in a row without any prospects of getting stiffed on a tip and you just don't know what to do with yoruself. It's one of those funny paradoxes of being a server.

While Raging Server was bored, Upset Waitress was in a panic, because she lost her remote. On the bright side, during the mad search that ensued, she made some extra cash. That's one step closer to retirement.

Bitchy Waitress also had an adventure. It sounds like she's practically moved into her restaurant, too, as many hours as she's working - despite her recent statement about it being time for her to cut back. Well, at least she's not just sitting at home bored, right?

Tony's recapping a funny story about girlfriends, drunkeness, and cell phones. Remember kids, don't drink and add new contacts at the same time. It can get ugly.

Dennis is up to his usual investigative antics. Heads up, everybody, Chili's is hiring. And if you thought this news couldn't get any better, let me just add that not only are they hiring, they're also lowering their standards! Apply now and begin a bright and promising career.

Also in headlines this week, Cassy has found a fantastic video which made me giggle lots. The profanity has been included free of charge, so you may want to wait until you get home to watch this one.

Meanwhile, Manuel has been exploring fusion cuisine (Vietnamese-Swedish meatballs, anyone?) and found the perfect cocktail which will delight both carnivores and alcoholics alike. Party in Belfast tonight, bring your own beef.

So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish

When I talked to Marianne about this week, she wanted to make sure I wouldn't mind not being at the bar (i.e. not making the tips) for a week. I said I was totally okay with it.

Yesterday, while I was headed north on the Interstate to meet friends for dinner, my phone rings.
Julia: Did X call you? She can't come in tonight and said she'd ask you to cover.
Me: She hasn't called me.
Julia: (mutters something unflattering)
Me: I can't come in though, I've got plans.
Julia: Okay, see ya later then.
The funny part was that I figured me being scheduled for a Friday off would mean getting just such a call. Gotta love it when I'm right.

I ended up being the first person to the eatery and so there were a few minutes when I had two pushed-together tables all to myself. I felt important. Then Deb arrived and a few minutes later the waitstaff was doing their thing for somebody's birthday at a nearby table and Deb and I were entertained. We lucked out in the server lottery and had a waiter who was totally on top of things. A nice change from our typical chain restaurant experience.

Tonight I went in at six to find that Julia had the night off, so I was going to be the only female staff for the night. I plopped down at the bar next to Alex and said, "It's going to be one of those nights, isn't it?" I didn't get a table until seven thirty, so I was stuck talking to Alex and John to pass the time.

Me: So John, did your wife already nix any of those baby names you were thinking of?
John: Yeah, she looked at the list. Then she said, 'Gertrude?'
Me: I had to try. Jenny and Shane didn't go for it, so I figured it was worth another shot.

In the midst of all the baby talk...
Alex: You're next.
Me: I don't think so, bub. Kids are not in my game plan.
Alex: Yeah, uh huh.
So now Alex has claimed veto power in my life. Good to know.

The conversation quickly degraded, because two of those participating were male. Somehow, the topic turned around to John talking about the time he went to a diner that was a gay hangout, then it went to the question of "gay-dar," until finally it wound up with John impersonating Alex as a gay man.
John: Hi, I'm Alejandro and I'm attracted to men.
Alex: F* you.
Me: That's ironic.

John: Hey Ali, I think the kitchen fairy wants you.
Me: First you say Alex is gay, then you call him a fairy. Do I detect a general theme here?

During this lull we had the overly friendly toothless guy.
John: I catch about every other word, but he can't finish a thought anyway, so it doesn't really matter.
-Crazy man sat down, had a few pints, and accosted not one, but two innocent guys who came in for a beer. He did that thing where as soon as you came within a certain proximity, he assumed you wanted to be his new best friend. Normally, I have little sympathy for bar patrons. Tonight, however, I actually felt sorry for those two who accidentally sat at the wrong end of the bar. At one point, while I was walking past, I heard Toothless ask his new best friend, "Do you read the Bible often?" Yeah. You get the idea.

At one point, Like a Virgin came on the radio.
Me: Aw, where's Donny? Hey Alex, you get up on the bar and dance.

After a couple of hours it finally started trying to pick up. I got a few tables (two of which I could have skipped entirely). A fairly regular couple walks in. They're kind of lame tippers, but always pleasant and low-maintenance, so I give 'em a friendly greeting. They order two 10oz. beers. They always order 10oz. beers, and it's ridiculous.
Them: Oh, we don't want a pint, just a little one.
Me: Okay.
Them: Give us another round.
Me: Here ya go.
Them: Give us another round.
By the time all is said and done, they've gone three rounds with their little beers and they might as well have just split a pitcher. Can we say neurotic? To make things worse, a few times the bartenders have accidentally poured a pint instead of the 10oz. I bring 'em over and say, "Whups, the bartender made a mistake in your favor and you get more beer for the same price." Instead of the expected, "Hoorah!" I get a disappointed "Oh." Boggles the mind.

Annoying table 1 - two gals, two guys (one of whom is wearing a cowboy hat). The gals decided they wanted Patron margaritas. Not-cowboy paid for the round and decided I ought to have $1.50 on a $24.50 round. Gee, thanks. Round two - $1.00 on $23. Oh boy. Round three...
Me: Twenty dollars, please.
Not-Cowboy: Twenty even?
Me: Uh huh.
Not-Cowboy hands me a $20 bill.
*Sigh*

Annoying table 2 - a handful of trivia (i.e. Wednesday night crowd) rejects. A couple aren't too bad, the others are known amongst the staff for being monstrous pains in the ass who tip insultingly. Yay! They wander in one or two at a time, and I'm not too bothered until I see Ms. Special sit down. Ugh. When I worked Wednesays, she'd say to me every now and again, "Why don't you work Trivia" and I would say, "Because I'm not a bartender." Two weeks later, she'd ask the same question. For some reason, she seems to like me or something. Either that, or I'd just be a change of pace. F* if I know. Tonight she was there with guy-I-wanted-to-smack-in-the-face.
Guy: I want a tequila and grapefruit juice.
Me: What kind of tequila? We have....
Guy: Is that one a certain something?
Me: I'm not sure, lemme check. (Start to walk away from the table)
Guy-I-wanted-to-smack: Yes, I do want another.
('Cause I was asking, right? Dumbass thought it was his turn to talk to me, and acted all smug and "you don't know how to do your job and were about to forget me" when I was going to be right back to check on everybody else in just one [expletive] second as soon as I checked on the tequila to answer the guy's question.)

Of course, they committed one of the mortal sins - and then they paid and committed another, but that comes later. I would walk over to the table and this is what would happen:
Me: How's everybody doing?
Table: (Ignoring me, save one or two people who would look at me like I had two heads)
Me: (Walking away, 'cause people who ignore me are, by default, not in need of my services)
Then, two minutes later I glance over and one of the bastards is waving frantically in my direction. So, of course, I had to do something else first 'cause the bastards could wait.

Pay-up time comes and Ms. Special and her date add another chickie's drink to their check. I print out the check, drop it off. A few minutes later, I stop by the table to check on everyone and pick up some empty glasses. Ms. Special and GIWTS ignore me. I drop off the glasses, start walking toward the front to say hello to K.C. and Ms. Special and GIWTS are waving a card at me. A gift card, no less. I loathe them. Some places run gift cards just like a credit card and print out a little line that says "Tip" which allows the customer to tip the server off the gift card. Yeah... no such thing where I work (one of the downsides of not being a chain, I think). $30 tab, $0 for me.

Why don't I work trivia? Ha!

In other news, I scored a couple more bottles for my latest jewelry project: a Cockburn's and a Jagermeister, which means some dark green for smashing up and making into stuff. Kind of comical, too, 'cause I put the empty bottles into my bag and they clanged against each other a bit on my way out.
K.C.: You sound like an alcoholic.

And there you have it, the Saturday that shouldn't have been.

Dinner Expedition

This cutting back hours at the bar thing is wonderful. Not only do I have a chance to keep up with school demands this semester in a way that won't kill me, I also have tonight off. That's right, folks, a Friday night. It's especially beautiful because tonight's when a group of my friends are getting together and I'll be able to come this time.

We're going out to dinner at a chain, so I'm sure something interesting/comedic/hellish will happen. Maybe I ought to pretend it's somebody's birthday. *Ducks to avoid the rotten tomatoes suddenly flying through the air* Or, maybe not.

Back to the bar tomorrow (even though this was theoretically the week I wouldn't be at the bar at all) for a 6 p.m. to close shift. It'll probably be just me and Julia by closing time, since she'll likely send the other bartender home right away. A Saturday in January isn't a time when you need a full staff, and Julia and I have been doing Saturdays just her and me for a long ol' time now. We're a good team and things always go pretty smoothly. All I have to do is remember to play some Madonna if Donny stops in :)

The 5th

Here's the latest and greatest edition of the Round Table hosted this time by Dennis, who once did an interview whilst on a teeter totter.

As an added bonus, not only do you get to browse some fun posts, you also get a shovelful of dirt on all us apron-sporting folk.

Ali The Alien

It's only 2:00 p.m. and I've already been up for far too long. The past few days I've been on bar time, which means going to bed around 3:00 a.m. This morning I had to abruptly shift to teaching class time, with an extra dollop of getting ready for the first class time, so I was up and getting ready by 7:15 this morning. Ugh.

Today was my first Comp. 101 class. I said the introductory stuff, made the students introduce themselves, and made them answer questions while they did so. Questions like "What's your major?" and "What do you read?"

I kept getting those looks, the ones that say, "What planet did you come from?" Now we get to play the game called "Who's dropped? Who's added? How many of the students whose names I've learned are going to disappear?" I've never played that game before, but I hear it's fun.

Today I started learning names. I learned enough that when no one wanted to talk after I asked a question, I got to pick on people.
Me: Well Bob [name changed to protect the innocent], what do you think?
Bob: You know my name already?
Me: Yeah. Scary, isn't it?
I've got to thank my Ninja Waitress skills for that one. By the end of class I was calling a few people by name and thinking, "I think her name is --, but I don't want to call her by it and be wrong," for others. By the next class I ought to have them all down (save any newbies) because the university has this nifty thing where you can print up your class roster with students' school ID photos included.

I know I may be over-emphasizing the name thing a bit, but I'm keen on this idea that if they know I know who they are, there's an extra bit of accountability there. That's certainly been my experience. I'll work harder for a prof. who knows who I am than for one who has no clue.

Speaking of names, wanna hear something funny? When I took roll, I prefaced it by telling them if I mispronounce their name, or if they go by something else, they ought to tell me. I had one student tell me they'd rather go by something else. Then I had them all introduce themselves and about four introduced themselves by something other than what I had called them. It's a psychology thing. It's funny.

Jukebox Conversations

On many a slow Wednesday, Dave and I have talked about the jukebox. For all that it's just one part of the bar, it's an important one that can completely change the atmosphere and tone of an evening. Some people walk up to pick songs and I feel safe that they'll pick something good/appropriate. Our bar is well suited to music that's got a somewhat old school feel - classic rock, some not-so-steel guitar country, some oldies, a bit of soul, and the odd Irish/Celtic song are all good fits. Then we have those idiots who, at eleven thirty on a Friday night, decide it's time for Rammstein (Ah, the wonders of the new electronic jukebox). Good grief.

Dave: It's good to play something mellow at the end of the night. It helps get people in a going-home mood.

Some music selections surprise me, because sometimes somebody looks the type to play Beastie Boys and instead they pick some Dire Straits. While you can always guess, you just never know. You watch somebody go over to the jukebox and a little while later, say, Madonna starts playing.

Me: Hey Donny, did you pick the Madonna?
Donny: Not me. I think it was those guys. Too bad they didn't play Like a Virgin. I'd dance.

Donny: Hey Ali, did you pick this one? (Some annoying pop song sung by an undoubtedly blonde chick)
Me: No way. Does it really seem like something I'd pick?
Donny: I thought maybe.
Me: Nah. Now, if you hear some Dropkick Murphys or The Church then it was probably me.

Julia: You usually have pretty good taste in music. Except for that country garbage.
Me: You know, I was thinking about putting on some Blake Shelton or Joe Nichols, but for your sake I didn't.
Julia: Thanks.

(Whilst AC/DC is playing) Julia: Ugh, who picked this butt rock?

It's always interesting to see what comes out when you've spent a lot of Saturday nights watching people pick out music. You get to know what people like and get to think about which co-workers' CD collections you might like to listen to. Of all the staff, Dave is the one whose taste is the most similar to mine. Now, in the spirit of re-creating the bar experience for you, I've lately added some music to the sidebar. All of the songs I've stuck on The Jukebox have been played at the bar, and most of them get played fairly regularly. I figure I'll update it from time to time, but I make no promises as to how often. While I've tried to include a wide variety, I must admit that I'm exerting some editorial control and only including those I like (or at least can tolerate) and Dave's picks are more represented than those of my other coworkers. I know it's not entirely democratic. But that's why it's my blog, isn't it?

And finally, with some parting words that are often hollered out by/at regulars and staff:
Get AWAY from the jukebox!

In Need of a Pointy Bra

Tonight was unusual. Since Laura's still training, Marianne wanted two servers, so she scheduled me to come in at nine to help. It's been a long, long time since I've begun a shift that late, and a long time since there've been two servers on a Saturday. The timing worked out alright, though, since we got a bit of a rush around nine thirty. By then I'd already told Laura of my plan to send her home early, and since she's coming down with a bad cold, she was anxious to see the plan work. I told her to just hang on to the tables she already had and I'd take all the new ones. Then we got the rush. I was running just a bit, but it was more of a power walk than anything, and she kept asking if I needed help. I was entertained. She doesn't have any previous waitstaff experience, but I've been doing this for a couple years now. Yeah, I had six tables come in within about fifteen minutes of each other, but the advantage of working in a bar is that drinks are easier and quicker than food, so it was no problem. It was good that I was there, though. It could have been messy otherwise with a rush and a new person.

Me: Hi guys, what can I get for ya?
Younger gal: Amaretto sour.
Guy: A Sunshine Wheat.
Me: (to other gal) And a Smithicks and water for you?
Gal: Yeah.
Younger gal: Wow, how often does my mom come here?

Donny: I practice Mexican Judo. 'Cause Judon't know if I have a knife, and Judon't know if I have a gun.

Me: (to older gent) Excuse my reach. (to younger gent) Here's your lemon drop martini.
Older gent: (smiling) Are you getting in my way again?
Me: Uh huh. I've been known to do that.

Every now and again I mention pick up lines, but tonight I heard a fantastic one and I don't know if it can ever be topped.
Guy: Isn't that the smallest phone you've ever seen?
Me: Yup, it's teeny.

A while back, I started lending Julia and her guy friend my Angel DVDs. Julia got hooked, her guy friend got addicted. He sped through the DVDs as fast as I gave them to her, and last night he finished. He's not pleased at the lack of a season six.
Julia's guy friend: I can't believe that's how it ended.
Me: Yeah, I know.
Julia's guy friend: In fact, I think I'm mad at you.
Me: Hey, I'm not the one who cancelled it.

K.C. didn't come in tonight. He stayed home with the flu, and so Donny was the substitute doorguy. At some point, whilst a patron picked a Madonna song on the jukebox, he mentioned dancing to Like a Virgin. Specifially, he kind of dared me to play it and said he'd dance if I did.

A couple hours later a weird guy plays monstrous amounts of ABBA and leaves some credits on the jukebox. I tell Julia what's up and select Like a Virgin. Meanwhile, the weird guy leaves, but there's still - I kid you not - almost half an hour of ABBA to come. So, we keep waiting and listening for Madonna. We do last call. I start putting up chairs. Donny heads downstairs to give Dave #2 a hand. Finally, Madonna starts singing. In perfect synch, Julia and I charge downstairs and tell Donny to come up and get on the bar. Which he does.

Now, seeing someone you know jump up on the bar and dance to Madonna is funny any time. However, when it's nearly two o'clock in the morning, the experience is especially hilarious. That's the most I've laughed at closing time since probably forever. I just can't help but wonder if we can get him to do it again... Maybe with a conical bra, even. That would totally make my day.

Babies, Babies Everywhere

To start off this post, some cool news from bartender John - he and his wife are going to have a baby. They recently started trying and just found out last night that they'll be parents in about nine months. Tonight when it was dead I pulled out the phonebook and started a potential baby names list. He's looking for names with an "X" in them, so if y'all got recommendations... We've covered Xander, Roxanne, Max, Xavier, Felix, Xerxes, Rex, Jaxon, and Exxon (thank goodness John's wife has a say in the child's name, is all I've got to say).

Also while it was slow we got to watch as a guy put his coat on a chair at one of the tables so he could stand at the bar. Since it was slow, I let it be and watched him to see how long he'd leave it there. After about twenty minutes, he walked over to the chair, got something out of his coat pocket, then left the coat and went back to standing at the bar. He finally took it off the chair when he was ready to leave (another twenty minutes or so later). Now, I didn't know this, but apparently he owns the whole place. I have to admit, I was hoping it'd get busy so I could grab his coat and hang it on the coat rack without telling him. Then he could play the where's-my-coat? game, and I could watch. The arrogance of some people never ceases to amaze me.

Tonight was also my first night working with our newest hire, Laura. Thank George, she's not a flake. Unfortunately, she ended up with a horrible table. A couple comes in, sits down, and proceeds to argue with each other for two hours. At one point, the woman's in tears. They don't argue loudly, but they don't stop either. Since they're both upset, and since they decided to go to the bar to have their argument, Laura gets hit with a backwash of bad mood every time she goes over to do her job. It's been a while since I've been so boggled by people's behavior. What logic follows that when you want to argue with your significant other you should go out in public to do so? What gives? It took Laura about five seconds to dub them "The Bickersons."

I know it's too much to ask that people read the menu, but really, this was silly...
Me: Do you know what you'd like?
Guy: I'd like the beef & cheese sandwich.
Me: And what would you like for your side?
Guy: Oh, what do I get?
Me: You can have a salad, pickle and chips, potato wedges, coleslaw, or seasoned fries.
Guy: Um, do you just have some fries?
Me: You mean, like potato wedges or seasoned fries?

Then I got a table which included this woman who's quasi-regular and one who oozes a general "I'm not happy and you can't do anything to change that" vibe.
Me: Here's your popcorn, guys. But just so you know, that's the last of it.
Unhappy woman: Well, pop some more.
Me: Yeah, I would, but we're have no more popcorn to pop.
-'Cause obviously the only reason I'd say we're out is because I'm too lazy to make more.

One of our regulars came in with his not-regular wife. A while back he mentioned they were expecting, and Julia sent me on a mission.
Julia: Did she bring the baby with her, or is she still pregnant?
I went off to the table to take their drink order, and do some covert investigating.
Me: Okay, she's wearing a baggy sweatshirt and she's got stuff in the pockets, so I can't tell if it's just stuff in her pockets or her belly sticking out. But, she did order a cherry Coke.
A bit later, they stopped by to chat with Julia and we found out definitively that the baby is still in utero. No mini bar-regular yet.

Laura: Hey, when did John leave?
Me: A while ago. He called me and Alex bastards, then he left.
Laura: Yeah, that sounds about right.
-Should I be offended there? By "about right" did she mean that it sounded like something John would say, or did she mean that I'm a bastard?

Me: Howdy.
Donny: Hey.
Me: How's it going?
Donny: Well, I've been at the hospital for a couple days.
Me: Uh oh, what happened?
Donny: Wanna hear a funny joke? I'm an uncle. My sister just had a baby.

Apparently now is the time to have offspring. I don't know if it's just that I'm at the right age for my friends to all be doing the settle down and start a family thing, or what, but it seems everywhere I turn there's pregnant women and babies. So fear not, my friends, the human population is well assured of continuing for at least a little while longer.

Round Table by Tony

Tony's got the latest and greatest edition of the Round Table up. Stop by and check it out.

Playlist

Last night I had dinner with a couple of friends, and during the visit I was introduced to a fantastico website called Playlist. Now, I'm sure I'm way behind on the rest of the population on finding it, but I'm saying something about it anyway - just 'cause I'm so tickled that I can listen to lots more music from some of my favorite people. See, when it comes to my spending money priorities, CDs rate plenty low and even though I adore Flogging Molly, I don't actually have much of their music. Ditto that for folk like The Mad Caddies, Bowling for Soup, Joe Nichols, Blake Shelton, George Strait, Billy Joel, etc. Now, I still get to listen to their music beyond my DC collection. It's beautiful.

As an added bonus, I can now bring home the pile of CDs I've kept on campus to listen to whilst working in the SCWP office. Since they represent about half of all the music I own, it'll be good to have them home again.

A Lolcritter

A particularly fun one, especially since it's so frightfully late at night/early in the morning.

Promises, Promises

Tonight started slow with me sitting at the bar listening to one of our regulars gossip about two of our other regulars who're having relationship problems thanks to both of them screwing around on each other. Then I got a table with two whole people and after a while Marianne and Bob wandered in, meaning I got my last pay check signed and the new schedule got posted. I'm excited about the new schedule.

A new gal starts training next week and, after talking with Marianne a bit about the best way to work that, I now hypothetically have the following week off. I said, "Can I have that Friday instead of this one?" and she said, "Well, you'd be off the whole week then. Are you okay with that?" Uh huh, I'm totally okay with that :) Of course, two weeks is a long time in the bar world, and my time off is reliant on the new gal, so I'm not quite holding my breath yet.

Guy and gal wander in, looking lost. They stand around for a minute before gal heads to the bathroom and guy sits down in the soft section (i.e. stuffed chairs). Gal comes back from the bathroom, sits down and looks lost a little longer, so I head over.
Me: Hi guys, what can I get for you?
Guy: Oh, we're not going to stay.
Me: Oh, alright.
Guy: We'll be back later.
Me: Okay.
Guy: When there's more people.
Me: I'll be counting the minutes until you return. Indeed, my night won't be complete until then. Please, don't wait too long. I don't think I could stand it.

The looking lost theme continued, with people wandering in and staring dumbly about before sitting at a table, then moving to the bar, etc. It was strange, and Dave summed it up pretty well, "What's with everybody acting stoned tonight?"

There was a football game going on tonight. We had it on our television.
Guy: What's the score?
Me: I dunno.
Guy: You don't care, do you?
Me: Not even a little bit.

Early twenties guy from the soft section goes up to the bar, says to Julia: Can I get two snakebites? (Then he sees me) Uh, can you bring those over to our table? Is that okay?
Me: Oh, I suppose. I guess it's kind of the whole reason I work here and all.
-So, I bring 'em over. According to our drink menu, snakebites are a pint of half Strongbow, half Harp. The guys look at them, look at me, look at them, look at me again, and say, "Huh? We ordered shots."
Me: These are how we make snakebites, but I can take 'em back and get you the shots instead.
Guys: Um... (Stare blankly at each other for half an hour)
Guy 1: You want the beers too?
Guy 2: I dunno, what's it taste like? (another half hour)
Guy 1: We want the shots instead.
Me: Okay, no problem. What's in 'em?
Guy 1: VO and Rose's lime.
-I scoop up the beers and put them up on the bar.
John: These goners?
Me: Yup, they want snakebite shots.
John: Oh. Well, they're usually made with Yukon, and we don't have it, so we'll just substitute with [something I forget].
Me: They say it's made with VO, so go ahead and substitute with that.
John: VO? Really?
Me: That's what they said.
John: Alright then.

Flash forward to twenty minutes later. I ring in a Michelob Ultra, Sunshine Wheat, and Coors Light for the same table.
Julia: Hey, did they want those as beers or shots?
Me: Shots, I think.
Julia: One shot of Coors Light comin' right up.

Then the poorly-tipping braintrust says they're going downstairs to play pool. This was at around ten o'clock. They lied to me. They stayed upstairs until last call, the bastards. Julia and I spent the whole time playing the pretending not to see them game and they kept walking up to the bar to order. When I whined to K.C. about the dumbasses in the corner, he informed me that they had asked him a couple of times where they "could score some blow." Very classy.

Braintrust guy standing in my way, watching me enter stuff on the POS: Wow, you're fast at that.
Me: It's called two years of constant repetition.

Finally, we came to last call. The same braintrust guy was once again standing in my way, so I made extra effort to slam empty beer bottles into the trash in the hopes of startling him. Alas, he was too far gone on booze to get the desired effect. Instead of jumping at the sound, he just turned around and slurred at me.
Guy : Are you mad?
Me: Not particularly. (Which was the truth. It wasn't anger so much as it was almost two a.m. and I was at work and he was in the way and I had long since gone past the point of caring if anybody liked me at all.)
Guy: I just want you to know, I think you're really good. You're so fast with the computer.
Me: Thanks.
Guy: I don't want you to be mad. I'm gonna give you twenty dollars. A twenty dollar tip.
Me: Okay.
Guy turned to the chickie beside him. No cash was forthcoming. I told K.C. and Julia about my impending bonus. I said, "He's gonna give me $20 and then I can retire." He closed out his tab with Julia. $4 tip on a $47 tab. He stumbled out, completely forgetting the promised $20.

Alas, I cannot retire yet. Maybe next week, eh?

K.C. It's the perfect night to make out with a chic under the stars, and here I am, at work.
-Which really says it all, doesn't it?

Easing Back In

It's January, and thereby slow, so by nine thirty tonight I was turning on my TV at home to watch the Angel series finale (so terrible, too, because the show got canned right when things were getting interesting again). I love this whole getting off before midnight thing, it's awesome, though rare.

In celebration of my return, here are some new bar quotes.

Guy from dumb table: You won't believe what Debbie's saying about you.
-Not only that, I don't even care.

Me: Here's your change.
Guy: Just keep fifty cents, I'm on a budget.

Crazy woman who ordered a frozen strawberry margarita: I'd like another shot in this margarita, it tastes weak.
Me: Sure.
Dave: Another shot? Are you serious? I made it pretty strong already.
Me: Yup, another shot, she says.
Dave: Oh well, I guess she's got to have something to complain about.

Here's one that goes out in honor of all the nimrods who like to sit at dirty tables - A couple is at a table, they've had dinner and walk downstairs for a few minutes to check out the basement. While they are gone, a guy walks in, takes a look at all the tables (most of which are empty and cleaned off) and sits down at the couple's table. Before I can get over there, the couple comes back and shoos him off. Guy said, "Oh, I thought it was empty." I couldn't help but giggle.

Lastly, here's something much less funny. Tonight, Brandi told us about a friend of hers who works at a chain place up in Denver. Brandi's friend is in the midst of some trouble which makes me once again glad I don't work at a corporate place. At this place there's a regular who has crossed the line. He's a fan of explicit sexual comments and went so far one night as to make another patron cry. Brandi's friend cut the guy off and ever since he's got a vendetta against her and goes out of his way to make her miserable.

Here's the clincher: the gal's gone to management to complain about the guy. Management's response so far has been worse than ignoring the situation - not only do they take no action against the guy, but they make Brandi's friend be the one to wait on him. Isn't that lovely? It's so bad that, after working at the place for five years, this gal is on the verge of quitting. After telling the story, Brandi talked to one of our regulars who's also a lawyer.

Here's hoping for legal action against the management of that place.

Here Goes

After two delightful weeks away from the bar, I'm due back at four o'clock this afternoon. On one hand, I've adjusted to this whole pattern of not spending my nights beer wenching and I've grown fond of nights at home (or on a tropical island). On the other hand, I've pretty well hit that point of needing to get out of the bloody house because it's way too easy not to. Also, there's that whole boredom factor going on, too. I've run through my last batch of Netflix DVDs and it'll be a couple days until I get my new batch. I'm just about finished with the Angel quasi-marathon, and I have yet to hear back from Katherine on my comp. 101 documents. So, I've not got that much to do around here.

I'm also out of cash, thanks to my material consumerism in Mexico combined with two weeks off from the bar, which limits my going out to do stuff potential. So, all-in-all, it's time to put my apron and logo T-shirt back on and be nice to strangers again. Oh boy, I can't wait. At least it'll be good to see my coworkers again, not to mention getting my last pay check signed (Yup, they forgot, but it was Xmas Eve and I was about to leave the country, so I decided it could wait). I just wonder if it's going to be totally, monstrously dead tonight. Oh well, if it is I can just tell everybody about beach combing and make fun of them for having to work while I was getting my sun burn. :)

It's 2008 Now

Here we are, in first days of 2008. Ribeye's worn out, Tony's feeling melancholy and I can relate, 'cause it sounds like he is where I was a while back. Strange how the end of the year, a totally arbitrary time with little inherent significance, can have such an impact on us. Everybody's getting ready to overhaul their bad habits, and all I've got on that count is stuff I already figured on a month or two ago. Oops.

Flash back to New Year's Eve: I just got home from Mexico earlier that morning (2 a.m.) and I'm still tired. I had planned to stay up to ring in '08 by watching The Departed, but at 10:30 I say, "Screw that, I'm tired," and go to bed. I know, I know, anything but exciting.

Yesterday I thought about making lists, decided not to, watched The Departed, was impressed (I'm starting to develop quite the fondness for Leo and his latest work), ventured to the movie theater to see Sweeney Todd, was not so impressed, stopped by mom & dad's, then spent the rest of the day cooking and wire wrapping beach glass from the trip. I also fit in writing some course documents for comp. 101 so I could send them off to Katherine for her approval/revision suggestions. All-in-all, a full day, but nothing thrilling.

Now I'm listening to some old school Elton John (Honky Chateau and Don't Shoot Me, I'm Only the Piano Player - Xmas presents from the sibling, which he forgot to wrap, saying "Oh yeah, today's Christmas" mid-way through opening presents) trying to decide what to do with today. So many options, and a few near-impending housework chores (I cooked yesterday, remember, ergo many dirty dishes). Come about two o'clock it'll be time to call the bar and see if I'm supposed to be there tonight - almost always a 'yes' on Wednesdays, but given my recent conversation with Marianne about cutting back my hours, worth double checking before I just show up. Last night I realized that, if I don't work until Friday that'll make it two full weeks since my last shift. Funny how I didn't miss it at all.

I guess the point I'm working up to here is that this year's numerical switch-over has been almost totally irrelevant to me. Life goes on, etc. I think I pretty much already marked the change a couple of weeks ago when I finished the semester. Now I just have to remember to write '08 on my checks and such (ha!).

However you did, or didn't, celebrate the annual roll-over, here's hoping that the next twelve months prove themselves to be good to you. May all your customers be good tippers, and may those who aren't reap the rewards of karmic pay-backs. May the movies you watch thrill and delight you, and may you have many pleasant surprises.