Fun Times: A Word From the Sibling

On Monday, whilst I was drying laundry on the line, I came back in through the back door and noticed it was scraping the floor. That was because the top hinge had come loose from the door and the middle was in the process of claiming freedom as well.

Long story short, I called my dad/landlord and Casey drove the two of them over in the now-drivable (sorta) DeSoto. While dad worked on the door, Casey drove me around the block. The funniest thing to happen to me all day, let me tell ya. There was the part where half the wiring is still hanging out of the dash, the part where we stalled, and the part where the gears didn't shift quite right and we heard a lound bang like someone had just body-slammed the car. The paint job is fantastico, though.

http://boogymanblog.spaces.live.com/blog/cns!3AEAE64D0CEFF605!488.entry

Fantastic Picture

Here's one from lolsecretz:

https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ3SU8aC37GzF56lVzDbpc2HtTWgNKPbtp9FIxM4GKW-uhtmcgoXnexv7rPSETLnDKns_vDV625DALGF8mA9Rz5FA4AgqaL7T0ZQjWPuvvA2IsruHBIgp77YIKdruWWzYNUlFq3w/s1600-h/perspective.jpg

Got Stuck

In preparation for the MAV I got a couple of vaccines today. Since mom was concerned that I was up-to-date on tetanus, I'm taking that as another clue. One doesn't typically need shots to stay in the country, and the timing can't be coincidental.

Let me just say, I loathe needles. While I consider myself an otherwise tough gal, when it comes to shots I turn into a big wimp. I think it has to do with the whole concept of seeking out pain, because while you accidentally stub your toe, you don't accidentally get a tetanus shot.

Thank George the gal who gave me my shots believes in a philosophy which she described as, "Just stick 'em quick." After sitting in the waiting area, psyching myself out about getting punctured, the shots were over fast and didn't actually hurt. *Whew* Now my arm's a bit sore, which will be great for when I go into the bar in a couple hours and commence with a night of carrying stuff. At least I have Bugs Bunny bandaids.

Ironically enough, when I walked over to the bookstore on campus for an SCWP errand, what's sitting by the front door but a Bonfils van and a sign advertising a blood drive today.

Clue #3

"There are some ancient Indian ruins near by that you can check out."
-Dad

Hrm... I'm thinking it might be Mexico. I'm down with that.

The Balancing Act

Thanksgiving break was wonderful. So much so that I'm already counting down the days until Christmas break. Usually, during a whole week of nothing to do but the bar, I find myself wrestling with boredom. Not so this time. While I credit part of that to being sick, I can't write it all off. My lack of boredom is a bad sign which serves to emphasize my need to make some changes.

First and foremost, I need to get away from the bar more. This three nights a week stuff is silly. We got a new person for a reason, and if she can't work both weekend nights (thanks to her other job) then it's time to push the owners to hire another newbie. Come spring semester, my goal is 1-2 nights at most.

At this point in the semester, housework has piled up from neglecting it for weeks on end. Over break I made a concerted effort to clean up and put all my beads in one place (versus scattered all over the living room). Since I put up Christmas decorations at the same time, it worked pretty well. My living room and bedroom got put to rights. Next comes the kitchen, office, and bathroom (which is half-way there already). I'm not the tidiest housekeeper, but once I hit a certain degree of clutter, I start feeling it in a feng shui kind of fashion. De-cluttering is a good start to my personal balancing project, and it's a nice way to see tangible progress.

Another step is having my Christmas party. This also doubles as an incentive to do other things, like clean the house, which are on my list.

Related, though indirectly, to the balancing project is the Mystery Adventure Vacation. Last year my parents thought it'd be fun for the family to go on a trip. Casey and I even got passports. The trip fell through, though. This year, my parents have revisited that idea and have decided to send the brother and I off on a trip to a destination unknown to us.

If you suspect a bit of trepidation on my part, you're right. Somehow a vacation that's out of my control makes me a bit uneasy. Knowing it's my mother's brainchild doesn't entirely quell that. This is the same mother who once bought me glittery jeans for Christmas because she thought it'd be funny. If you haven't noticed yet, I'm not the glitter type. At least it'll be my brother and I, sans our parents. Given the similarity in our temperments (as opposed to the lack thereof with our mother), I have faith that once we get to wherever it is we're going, we'll be able to do the metaphorical driving.

Working up to this vacation, my parents have decided it'd be fun to give us clues to figure out where we're going.
Clue #1: My parents want to go here themselves.
Clue #2: It somehow involves driving a golf cart. (That one makes me nervous)
There will be twelve clues in all and they'll be given to us at random intervals. Some of these clues will be red herrings. My mom is getting such a kick out of this, it's not even funny.

Whew, there's a long post. To sum up, these first steps across the stones feel right. Progress is progress, even if it's slow.

F*-Me Red

This weekend was a busy one. We had the post-Thanksgiving boozer yesterday and the parade of lights tonight (which goes right past our front door). Friday was busy and tonight was just as hectic. The weird part was that while the Friday crowd's ebb & flow was pretty normal, tonight our big crowd was pretty well done and gone by nine thirty. This made for a slow remainder of the night, which also made for a more sociable evening of me chatting with various folk who wandered in.

Yesterday...

Me: (Talking about putting up my Christmas decorations) They're all inside, you can't see them outside.
Alex: You can see them through the windows.
Me: Nah, I usually keep my blinds closed.
Alex: That's not what I've heard.
Me: That's it. You're not invited to my Christmas party.

Then, our downstairs bartender didn't show up on time. Someone called to get him there, the place was pretty full by then and we needed the basement opened. His explanation: "I forgot what day it was." The sad thing is, I can totally relate.

Luke: Hey, I haven't seen you in a while. I guess they finally let you out of your cage.
Me: Yeah, 'cause I've been taking so much time off lately, what with working here that extra day every week.

Then, today...

A couple walks into an Irish pub (aka my bar) and the guy asks me: Are you Irish?
Me: Nope.
Guy: I'm Irish.
Me: Jeepers, that must be exciting for you.
(Alejandro, aka Alex, our Mexican cook, was entertained by the guy's assumption)

There was makeup of some sort (eyeshadow maybe) that's been left at the server station for a week now. I figured it was time it was returned.
Me: Hey Alex, you forgot your makeup.
Alex: No, I think that's yours.
Me: Nah, I don't wear makeup.
Alex: Yeah right.
Then we argued a bit about it. Dunno why he didn't believe me. Let's face it folks, I'm too lazy for makeup and I figure most guys get along just fine without eyeshadow and lip liner, so why can't I skip it too? Inevitably, it didn't end there.

A few hours later, Julia had to run to Walgreens and while she was there, she picked up a new color of lip "stain." After our initial busy, busy, busy rush, the crowd had vanished and we started talking about closing early.
Me: So, what's a good time, you think?
Julia: (Holding out the lip stain) Try this on, then I'll tell you.
Me: Or, you could just tell me.
Julia: Nope. Try it on. (To guy sitting at the bar) This is the first time Ali's tried on lipstick in her whole life.
Guy: (impressed) Are you a Mormon?
Me: No, dude. She was being facetious.
What could I do? I put the stuff on. Dark red, mind you, a color Julia had some very crass comments about, even. Turns out my cosmetic endeavor was in vain. There was a crowd downstairs and we closed at the normal time. At some point in between, who should come in, but Alex who promptly pointed at me and said: Ha!

Nathan: I was twenty three once.
Me: A long, long time ago.
Nathan: (Without missing a beat) In a galaxy far, far away.

Tonight, post midnight, a handful of people I know/went-to-school-with-my-whole-life wandered in. One group was three guys I went to school with, though I only recognized the one right away. He would be the one who once made a dumb comment to me which prompted my friend Phil to turn to me and offer physical violence against the guy. I wasn't offended because I'd known this guy since elementary school and thought it was funny more than anything else. He's never been a bright one. Anyhow, he and two other guys I went to school with, plus girlie, wandered in. I said to Julia: I really don't wanna wait on them.
Julia: Just ignore 'em and they'll come up to the bar.
Later I spotted another two, though not with the same group. What gives? Why are they coming to my bar? Aren't there plenty in town they could go to and not make me have to look at them? Yeesh.

Then, just before that bunch came in, two gals and a guy walked in. One of the gals went to my high school (but was a year or two younger). The other gal is the older sister of my brother's friend who came in a couple of weeks ago for his 21st. The guy I met when I worked at the Raptor Center. As a bonus, he might be able to help me get in touch with a mutual friend who I'm kind of worried about. This threesome had just come from the bar across the street.
Sister of my brother's friend: It was full of dumb drunks. They thought they were being all smooth and (makes kissy face)... Ugh.
Me: Yeah, that's the thing with drunks. They tend to think they're being cooler than they really are.
SBF: Oh well. We like it better here anyway.

And here I'll finish this post with a non-politically correct joke from Donny.
Donny: Why doesn't Jesus eat M&Ms?
Me: I dunno, why?
Donny: Because they keep falling through the holes in his hands.

My Tree's Up

In my family, the tradition is to do Christmas decorating the day after Thanksgiving. This year I got going early. My Christmas decorations are pretty minimal. Mostly I've just got a little artificial tree, but hey, it's festive. Now I've just got to figure out what to do with the two other strings of lights I bought after Christmas last year.

The Navel-Gazing Post

This post starts in 2001 when a friend gave me a journal for Christmas. My first entry was on Christmas Eve and ever since, December 24 has been marked in my mind as a day for taking stock. I don't always write my yearly inventory down on the exact day, but it's always what I'm aiming for. This year I find myself making pre-emptive gestures toward that inventory.

Picture a river in your mind. Picture a wide path of stepping stones going across it. Now imagine that not all of the stones are stable enough to bear weight and there's no way of knowing which will hold and which will give. Now picture me in the middle of the river.

With every year that goes by, we face a series of choices and changes throughout it. This year has been a very eventful one for me. I had a boyfriend, got a fiancee, then had neither. I was a student, I applied to become a teacher, and got the TA. Both are good changes. Both have significantly changed my plans. Here I am, in need of a new plan, and I'm no longer even sure what my priorities are, but sure that they too need to change. Balance is important and it's something I don't currently have.

Meeting up with my friend yesterday emphasized that. Both of us are struggling with this idea of balance. She's having a rough time with school, I'm having a rough time with certain things outside of school. If you put the two of us together, I think you'd get a balanced person, but with physics and all, that's not a viable option right now. Which leaves us each to figure it out for ourselves. Next semester, my friend has decided to stop working and only be a student. She's got a plan to balance herself. I don't.

I have my reasons for what I do, and I like to think they're good reasons. I just have to admit that I get carried away. There's a reason I've got a cold again, just a couple months after my last one, and why it's taking such a toll. I tend to define things by what is possible instead of what is a good idea - Like, it's possible to work full time between two jobs and take 18 credit hours, but, as evidenced by the illness (followed by a vertigo spell) that knocked me flat right before/during finals week during my last semester as an undergrad, not the best idea. Still, I find myself in a similar situation right now. The lesson obviously didn't sink in. So, while I overload myself with school and work, other aspects of my life get neglected. In part, I think overloading gives me an excuse to avoid those other aspects.

On my writing blog, I said that this month my goal was to slow down. With that in mind, I managed to wrangle myself out of two Wednesday night shifts at the bar this month. A small step, but one made because of my goal. Then I talked about the strangeness of this week, a week off from school. I'm having to force myself to slow down even more and concentrate on doing things for myself this week. This is my second day "off," and I've managed to force myself to take my mind off of what I "should" be doing. Mostly. Being sick and having little energy for much beyond watching a lot of TV helps.

I'm over a month early for acconting for the year, but I'm in that mode of thought. It's all about priorities and the fact that mine usually align with doing what I think is the smart thing to do. I need to find a way to even out my priorities and find the balance between being smart and being brave.

People I Know: Lost Voices

Since graduating high school I have lost touch with the vast majority of everybody I knew in high school. This has been a largely purposeful loss as most of the people I knew then I wasn't overly impressed with. Yeah, I'm sure they're all brilliant, delightful, mature folk now that high school is over. Yet, I'm still okay with not talking to most of them.

Thus, I have stayed in touch with approximately three people I used to go to school with. One of them is my brother. Oddly enough, I've received phone calls from both of the other two within the week. Especially odd is that the first gal, who I speak to roughly twice a year, should call within days of the second gal. Go figure.

So, first gal: I've literally known her most of my life. We met in daycare when we were three. She called the other day (I hardly ever call her as she's fairly nomadic and her phone number changes often) to catch me up on the past six months - Her second child, a son, is born and healthy, she just started the culinary arts program at a local college, and her younger sister is doing well. This friend has had a rough life, and I credit the majority of that to her not-so-functional home life as a kid. I'm pretty sure there were times when she was growing up that my parents were more invested in her than her parents were. Now that she's out on her own, she's still working through those issues. No small feat, but she's making progress. It's always good to hear from her, even if my end of the conversation is mostly a string of, "Yeah? Really? No kidding? Uh huh."

Second gal: She and I are very different in most every way. We became friends because we were both in orchestra, but that's pretty much where the similarity stops. She comes from a big family, has a super outgoing personality, and is very athletic. Then you have me: small family, not so outgoing, and far more of a nerd than a jock. But, it works. She goes to school up north and usually staying in touch means shooting each other an e-mail every so often. However, she's back in town to visit her family over Thanksgiving and it looks like we'll meet up together sometime tomorrow.

The best part of hearing from both of these friends I talk to so infrequently is that both called during my fun cold. Today, when my second friend called, is the best part of a bad cold, the part where I essentially lose my voice. It's great. I'm just hoping it clears up a little by tomorrow so I can have better success in actually talking to this friend I rarely get to see.

Training

My bar is a small business owned by people who haven't really worked in the industry. Combine the two and you get a training method that is defined primarily by "this is how the computer works." For the most part, it works just fine. People who aren't going to catch on to the rest on their own probably wouldn't much catch on even if we did train them.

Heck, my own training consisted of putting orders in the computer for one of the waitresses for an hour or so for a couple of days after I finished my shift in the kitchen. Then, about twenty minutes in on my first official day on the floor the gal I was working with got a call, her father just went in to the hospital. A few blurry minutes of her closing/transfering tabs later and she was gone. Another gal who had the night off agreed to come in to help out, but she only could for about two hours. In the end, during my first-ever night as a waitress I was almost completely all on my own for a Saturday night. Talk about trial-by-fire. Thank George for patient bartenders who kept answering questions like, "What's VO?" without smacking me.

Last Friday the new gal started. Fortunately, happy hour was slow enough that I could ease her in and by the time we got busy enough that I needed her help, she could do it. Training the new gal has been unusual, not because she's the first person I've trained, but because she's the first person to be, effectively, my apprentice. I'm the only full-time waitress right now, so there's no one else to add to what I'm doing, thus, it's all on me. Now, new gal just finished bartending school, which taught her how to make some drinks, but left out the customer service part, or just about anything that has practical application.

Cut to yesterday: My sore throat has blossomed into a full-blown cold and I walk in to start my shift at 4:00 sounding like Darth Vader's frog. New gal's scheduled on the floor with me, but not until nine, which leaves me five hours of watching the clock just waiting for her to get there so I can let her take over. I thank my stars it's a slow Friday. Finally, new gal arrives and I tell her my plan to let her have everyone else who walks in. A couple more of my tables clear out, new gal takes the new tables, and I'm left with one that's a half-dozen people hanging out, having a good time, and going no place fast. Yet, they're tapering off, and looking about ready.

Julia: Are you gonna ask to go home?
Ali: Not yet.
Julia: You should. I wouldn't want you waiting on me.

Weekends are funny in that on Friday and Saturday you have to ask one of the owners if you want to leave. Specifically, you ask the one who's "in charge" on weekends. She doesn't like letting people go. "What if we get busy?" You get the idea. Usually, it works all right if the person who wants to go home has the person they're working with ask to send that person home. i.e. I want to go home, my co-server says, "Can I send Ali home?" Since it was just me and new gal, that strategy was not going to work, so it had to be all me.

I went over to the owner, had a nice painful cough right next to her (it hurt enough to make my eyes water) and asked to go home. She hesitated, and gave me that "why do you always want to leave?" look. I quickly made the point that I had one table, new gal had all the others, and even if I stayed, I couldn't really speak and therefore would be useless anyhow. It was that last point that saved me, and I was given the go-ahead on the condition that I talk to new gal before I go.

Fine by me. My table was just about ready to close their tab and if a lecture/pep talk was what it was going to take, so be it. Of course, there's a whole thing here that comes down to - the owner isn't impressed by how new gal is doing, and it's my job to tell her to do better, even though I think she's doing all right for a new gal. Sure, she hasn't hit her groove yet, but she's so green she's bendy. Anyhow, I pulled her back in the kitchen which was closed by then and thus quiet and easier for me to croak loud enough for new gal to understand me and gave her the run-down:
I'm gettin' out of here before I die, but that makes owner nervous. Don't take it personally, she always gets nervous about sending someone home, (even though happy hour has lately been busier than any other part of the night and we always have only one person during happy hour, usually me, and I manage just fine). If you need anything, ask Julia, she's your go-to gal. Don't ask the other bartender, she doesn't like anybody. Now, you're gonna be fine without me, just remember to keep a closer eye on your tables. The best thing you can do is keep walking around. Even if you're not "checking" on a table, keep looking for empties. That way, if the table does need something, you're there and it helps the bartenders by not letting dirty glassware pile up. Now, do you need anything from me before I go?
NG: Can I watch you close out your bank and see how you do it again?
Me: No problem. I'm going to cash out my last table and I while I'm doing that, I want you to do a walk around and check on each of your tables. Once they're all squared away, I'll close out my bank.

About twenty minutes later, she's caught up on her tables. It was interesting, because as soon as I told her to check on all her tables, it turned out that most of them needed something. One of the easiest things to do when you're new is underestimate how needy your tables are. It takes practice. So, while she delivered a ton of drinks all at once, I sat down by the front door to wait. As long as I didn't have to talk, I was fine hanging out. Besides, it gave me a chance to watch her a bit. She went from table, to bar, to table and back again, which is how I know that everybody wanted something. She also picked up a lot of empty glasses. She's green, but she's catching on. The fact that she did what I told her to with the glassware is encouraging.

When it comes to newbies, I put less priority on previous experience and more on the newbie's willingness to take suggestions and their ability to learn quickly. It's still too soon to tell about new gal for sure, but I'm optimistic.

Wow, this post got a lot longer than I expected, and already I'm thinking of other things to add to it, like comments about bartending school, serving styles, and co-worker personality dynamics/hazing.

I'll finish off with a bar quote, my only one for this week since I wrangled Wednesday off and called in for tonight:
Gal: This isn't Sunshine Wheat.
Me: (It sure looks like Sunshine Wheat) Are you sure? (Normally, not a question I'd ask, but I was sick and annoyed)
Gal: It doesn't have an orange on it. Sunshine Wheat has an orange on it.
Me: Let me see if we have any oranges.
Gal: Okay.
-Problem solved. Apparently, the type of fruit served with the beer changes the beer itself. Amazing!

The Angel Not-Quite-Marathon-But-Close

Doyle: Protect and serve. It's entirely my bag.

Over a month ago I preordered the super-duper, entire series, box-set of Angel. Last week, it came in the mail. Since then I've been too busy to do an outright marathon, but I've been able to go through about a disc a night and I'm nearing the end of Season One. Man, I'd forgotten how good it is and just how much they make fun of Angel/David Boreanaz. It goes kind of like this: Let's find a really good looking lead actor, then make fun of the way he looks, and his character in general, every chance we get. I'm entertained.

I think that's one of the reasons I love Joss so much. He creates these larger-than-life characters, but knocks them down to earth constantly to keep them from getting totally unbelievable, even if the character is a vampire.

Now I'm at the point where Doyle's dead, Wesley's arrived, and we just had some closure between Angel and Buffy. I keep trying to remember when the new characters make their appearance, and I'm already eager for Spike to move over (though, alas, that's very far off). Everything's better with Spike. In any event, I've got lots of hours to go yet and Thanksgiving break is just around the corner.

I'm back to the bar tomorrow (after enjoying last night off) and it could be ugly. I've got a sore throat going on and added a bit of a cough to it just in time to do happy hour by myself tomorrow and have the floor all night by myself Saturday. Hoorah for hoarse waitresses! As long as my voice doesn't go entirely, it should be all right. Painful, but all right.

Transgenic Gag

This is what happens when you cross Gag DNA with that of the Dancing Imp.

Translatable Skills

Today I ventured into Katherine's composition class and met a dozen students. I'm going to save most of my comments for the other blog, but I've got to say that all this waitressing is going to pay off in a way I didn't exactly expect.

During class I learned everybody's name, even if I only heard it once, and got a good feel for personality types. One of Katherine's comments during our debriefing afterward, when I mentioned my impression of one particular student, was, "Yup, that's him exactly."

It makes sense, in fact it's so obvious I wonder why I didn't draw a stronger connection before, that waitressing is so much like teaching. When you look at the day-to-day skills effective teachers have, they're really comparable to those of a good waitress. Good teachers remember their students' names, can handle a variety of personality types, know how to lead students to refining their ideas, even when the student isn't all together clear on basic concepts ("Yes, but what's your argument?), and are constantly aware of a large number of people and what they're doing. Good servers remember who had what to drink/eat, can handle a variety of personality types, know how to lead customers to refining their order ("What kind of vodka would you like in your cape cod?) even when customers aren't all together clear on basic concepts ("What would you like for your side?" "Oh, I get a side with that?"), and are constantly aware of a large number of people and what they're doing.

After today, I'm suddenly feeling more prepared for teaching next semester. While I'm still venturing into new territory in terms of designing a whole syllabus and all, part of it's going to be the same exact thing I do each and every weekend. And, with teaching, at least I'll have greater variety in my wardrobe.

The Ameoba-Like Cat

So, where there originally was one cat, now there are two. It's like Sam has divided and produced a duplicate. A few nights ago I pulled up in my driveway and saw kitty twins. No pic. of the both of them, but here's another solitary feline photo:

I'm a Tipper! and Anatomy Wars

Tonight, before the arrival of the screaming girlies, one of my brother's friends came in with two friends to celebrate his birthday. It's the big 2-1 ladies and gents (or was, anyhow). Brother's friend and his buddy ordered a variety of drinks, trying out a bit of everything I think, while the gal drank water and had some grins at their expense. It's funny to watch people who aren't used to having alcohol do a few rounds. Since he was my brother's friend, and a fellow English major at the University, I did what I could to take good care of them and give them a little extra attention. My favorite line:
Brother's friend's friend (pointing): He's drunk.
Brother's friend: No he's not. He's drinking water. (Grabs some popcorn). He's eating popcorn.
-I almost interjected with a line about how it's a bad sign to refer to yourself in third person, but I opted to refill his water glass instead.

Guy: Sorry to bother you, but where's your bathroom?
Me: Just down the hall, to your right.
Guy: Thanks. (walks off)
Alex: What'd he want?
Me: He wanted to know where the bathroom was. (I glance over) And now he's going past the bathroom, and now he's going out the back door. I hope he can find his way back.

Gal, to guy at the bar: Hey there. Good to see ya. Where's Jane?
Guy: Oh, she's at home. I got her knocked up.
Gal: Ooh, when's the baby due?
Guy: April-ish.
Gal (to the other gal beside her): They're married, so it's okay.

Apparently there are lots of birthdays going on now. Just Wednesday I had an annoying group come in to celebrate a gal's birthday (also 21st). As it happens, this was the same night we were trying to get rid of the last of keg of beer so it could be replaced with a different beer and so offering pints for only a dollar. Cheap booze does not bring out the best in people.

One of birthday girl's friends gets excited about the cheap beer and orders a pint for herself and one for her boyfriend. I get a dollar tip the first time, then no tip at all the next half-dozen. Classy. Then, b-day girl's dad does some annoying stuff, but consistently gives me a buck or two each round. When I bring his last beer he gives me a dollar bill. I take it, and turn to go (having exact change for me = not having a tip for me). Guy starts digging through his pockets: Hang on, I'm looking for something for you. I'm a tipper!
-I almost told him I was fresh out of gold stars, but he sounded so very proud of himself that I couldn't bear to give him a reality check.

Another of b-day girl's friends goes to the jukebox, then says to me: I need a one dollar beer. (Not the type of beer, mind you, but a one dollar beer - because the one dollar part is the most important). I nod, then finish making change for another table because he can wait a minute. Guy walks away from the jukebox, goes to a spot on the bar right next to me and tells Dave: I need a one dollar beer.
-Ah, yes. Truly our society's finest.

Sharon: I haven't seen Igor again. I wonder if he only goes out on Halloween.
Dave: He was a nice gentleman.
Sharon. Yeah. Kinda quiet.

Two of our regulars head down the hall. The gal comes back: What? I'm a girl. How am I out of the bathroom first?

Gal, to guy (while I was standing right beside them, delivering drinks to their table): Those girls, they're fighting over you.
Guy: What are they fighting over me for?
Gal: They're fighting over your penis.

The Screaming, Attention Hungry Girlies

Between changes in the time and the weather, and the impending holidays, we're sliding into the busy time of year at the bar. My average sales during any given shift have increased significantly because we're getting more people, which means more drinks, and more of everything else - like the goofballs, egomaniacs, the totally oblivious, and all manner of poor and non-tippers.

In the midst of all this, I find myself having an anti reaction to people who are troublesome. The more impatient and needy they are, the more relaxed I am. They can wait another minute on their drinks while I check on another table. Nobody has ever died from the lack of a beer. They'll be fine. I think it's due to the fact that I've been doing this for two years now and I think the bar and its patrons hold little left to surprise and astound me.

Now, let's skip ahead. Saturday night, we have a little rush around nine and it dies off and by eleven Julia and I look at each other and say, "Hey, maybe we'll close early tonight." You can already guess how that turned out.

Enter the very, very happy group. This group was mostly populated by girlies needing attention. One, in particular, fulfilled the role of Instigator. She was the one who began the screaming-at-the-top-of-her-lungs and dancing wildly with complete obliviousness to anyone in her path of destruction. Since she was a... let's call it excessively curvy, gal who had a wider bodily circumference than most, this spastic behavior encouraged me to put some distance between us as, had I been caught unawares, she would have easily steamrolled me in a most painful manner.

So, screaming. Lots of screaming and dancing. A few rounds of shots on various people's tabs. Not once, nor twice, but three times, I was propositioned to "shimmy" for them. But, you know, always leave them wanting more, right? That and the fact that I find the idea of putting on a show for a group of people who've been drinking is not in the least bit appealing to me.

Now that you've got a vision of this group (eight in all), imagine them hanging out for two and a half hours. Right. Fortunately for them, two things were working in their favor: the bar was mostly dead, so there wasn't anyone in particular for them to annoy with the spectacle, and I was bored and a little fascinated by the train wreck taking place before my eyes. Instead of get frustrated with them, or irritated by their antics, I simply brought another round of shots and then ignored them for a while so I could go downstairs and wash some glasses with younger Dave, or chat with Julia, or make fun of the group with various people. That last one was, by far, the one I did most.

By the end of the night the girlies were dancing on the bar while Jan took pictures of them. Since one of the owners was approving of their behavior, I felt free to just sit back and watch without trying to intervene or get them the hell down. They all closed out their tabs, and that part was funny. There's a stereotype that women, and especially women in groups, are lousy tippers.
Girly one: $35 tab, $3.50 tip.
Girly two: $55 tab, $0 tip.
Guy one: $20 tab, $5 tip.
Guy two: $70 tab, $14 tip.
Needless to say, the grain of truth in that stereotype held true tonight. Still, I didn't feel particularly angry at making $3.50 on $90 of drinks. It was a boring night by then, and it was fascinating to watch them make gigantic fools of themselves. Drunk girlies in need of attention are always quite the spectacle. One of them, the excessively curvaceous instigator, got up on a table during the dancing-on-things escapade and when they left, said the top of this table was no longer parallel to the floor, but rather, pointint toward it at a forty-five degree angle. Again, I feel no guilt, since Jan egged them on.

Moral of the story: The next time you're tempted to make a spectacle of yourself in public, remind yourself that people are watching. The number of people watching is more than you think it is, and they're definitely making fun of you. Remember kids, not all kinds of attention are good attention.

You Might Be Waitstaff If...

Your standard tip, when you're dining/drinking out, is over 20%.

So, About That Quitting the Bar Idea...

I got my official letter yesterday about getting the T.A.

A couple of days ago, when I was trying to remember how much the stipend was, well, I overestimated. At this point, and even mid-January, quitting my job at the bar is not a viable option. I've already talked to Marianne about cutting back on hours when spring semester starts, but that's all it'll be, cutting back a bit.

And here I was, on Wednesday, waiting on a superbly annoying table and thinking of how I wouldn't have to do so much longer. Alas, it is not meant to be. There are plenty more long, long nights ahead of me. Like tonight, for instance. *sigh* It's going to be a rough weekend. With John gone we are back in understaffed land and I may, or may not, have a second person (aside from our new trainee) on the floor with me tonight. The gal who was scheduled to fill in had some personal drama and may, or may not, still be in San Fransisco. What fun!

On the up side, the new gal seems nice and, better yet, has experience bartending and serving. So, assuming she wrangled the night off from her other job, all I should have to train her on tonight will be the computer stuff. Since last Friday was fantastically busy and chaotic, and I'm expecting much of the same from tonight, the less I have to train her the better.

"Huh?" You ask, "why start a new person in the midst of your busiest night?" Same reason it's not until we lose two people on staff that we hire one new person. It's not like we're about to be in the height of our busy time of year, and it's certainly not like we're about to hit flu season or anything.

Okay, so I'm a little cranky. I think it's the knowledge that I'm going to work at four and there's little chance of me leaving before two a.m. as, even if San Fransisco gal shows up, I don't think Jan (another owner) would let me leave her to close. Nevermind the fact that it's going to be me, and only me, on the floor from six tomorrow night until two Sunday morning. Two long closing shifts in a row, finishing out a week that's already got me particularly worn out.

At least, as I keep reminding myself, I have nothing planned for Sunday and I just got my nifty new special edition boxed set of Angel. The niftiest part - my box set is not a whole season, but rather the whole series. That's right, in one box I hold every season of the show. There's even a little note in it from Joss. So, worst case scenario - if I'm so worn out by the time Sunday rolls around that I can't even muster the energy to do anything but lounge around all day, I've got a whole box full of episodes to watch while I sit on the couch with an afghan and possibly a pizza.

When the Internet Has Teeth

All right, let me warn you, I'm going to keep things vague here. You'll see why.

Between school and both of my jobs, I come into contact with a ton of teachers and professors. I mean oodles. This contact has been an eye-opener and has impressed upon me that, in the teaching sector there are some stunning, innovative, brilliant folk, and some that are... less so. Katherine knows many of these same folk since she knows just about everyone in the education sector through SCWP. This morning, Katherine calls me to say she's running a bit late and sending me a file to make copies of, and oh, by the way, did I read the paper yesterday?

I don't get the paper, much less read it (I know, bad me for not keeping up on current events). She says, "X was in it. Check it out."

I go to the paper's website and there it is, an article about how X is currently on administrative leave while people who do these things investigate. Why?

MySpace strikes again. Public sphere, people, public sphere. Granted, not quite so public in this case as X's profile is private, however X gave some students a password to access the account, which contains some suggestive/not-so-appropriate material for sharing with one's students.

Katherine's comment: I talk about this in class. When I talk about Blackboard (our campus's online forum platform) I talk about this. Any time we talk about using this kind of technology, I talk about this. You've heard me talk about this.

Me: Yeah. Some people listen louder than others, though.

So, at the moment, I have no idea what X's fate will be. However, I just don't see how getting one's name in the newspaper where the story is about how you've been inappropriate with students is any kind of good sign.

Now, getting a bit reflective: I write SCWP posts from time to time. This means this blog pops up if you search for SCWP. See where this is going? Notice how my SCWP posts are especially carefully worded? Next semester I'll be teaching, with a number of students I could talk about. I won't. Anything you hear about class will be, like the SCWP posts, carefully worded.

I'm all for having free expression and not having to hide who you are. I'm also all for having audience awareness and appreciation for what it really means to put who you are online. Let's face it, sometimes too much personal expression comes back to bite you.

Okay, I'm stepping off my soap box now.

An End in Sight?

Yesterday I found out that I'll be a teaching assistant in the spring and fall. Among other things, this means a tuition waiver and a stipend. In essence, I'm gearing up to start a new job in a couple of months. With a new source of income (even if said income is far from large) I can, in theory, quit my job at the bar. That prospect makes me happy, though I hesitate to quit entirely. After all, it's money. Still, limiting myself to weekends only, or being on stand-by to fill in when someone wants time off could be a good compromise. I'll still have a little extra money, but without the same amount of bar wenching.

Unfortunately, this means that, come mid-January, I'll have far fewer bar quotes and stories. Sorry to everyone who likes 'em, but a gal's gotta do what a gal's gotta do.