:: Life on Planet Dan-E ::

Thoughts, observations, and introspections from an art student waiter/bartender in South Beach. Arcane humor ensues.
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:: Friday, February 29, 2008 ::

:: Server Stories: You want me to what? ::
Today was my second day of training. I'll go into that in a later post but I have to mention this. I got there early so I could do my paperwork. They made copies of my driver's license and social security card, after which they made me go through a 27-page legal document with details on various company policies ranging from customer service to agreeing to possible drug tests. (As long as they don't test for bacon, I'm okay.) The kicker was that I have to print and sign all 27 pages. Never seen that before, but I guess it's a good thing they're thorough.

The second thing: While I'm developing carpal tunnel, one of the managers tell me that I need to do something about my goatee. "Sure, I'll trim it back tonight."

He looks somewhat apologetic. "We're gonna need you to shave it off completely."

I distinctly remember at least two waiters who had goatees. Being as it I'd rather be clean-shaven and employed over bearded, unemployed, and broke I don't make a fuss. "That's fine, I'll shave it off tonight."

He shrinks somewhat. "Can you do it now?"

There was a pause. "Now? Like, right now?"

"You're gonna be in the kitchen so we need you to be cleaned up to meet health codes."

I also distinctly remember a few guys in the kitchen who had beards. I consider point out that fact but I don't make a fuss.

"I don't have a razor."

"Go ahead and finish up and I'll see what I can do."

Was it that my goatee was a little bit longer and bushier that the other guys? Or was it that they had full goatees while mine was only on the chin? Whatever, this fucking sucks.

Long story short, I had to get rid of it so I went to a nearby market, bought a 99 cent package of razors, and shaved it off in the bathroom (but not before performing Last Rites for my dear, longtime companion). It seemed to have earned me a few brownie points since the manager asked how I was doing throughout the night, and gave me extra study material before I left.

Still, I feel naked and vulnerable now. I've had that thing for eight years now. The only times I shaved it off were for weddings of some close friends and I grew it right back afterwards. And not only do I feel exposed, I now look like I'm 17.

Whatever, the important thing is that I have a job that I want to keep. I'm going to burn through training and kick ass on the floor. And it'll grow back. Which is what I'm going to do since there’s tangible evidence that facial hair in fact, allowed. I'll just have to keep it cleaner and shorter.

At least they didn't make me cut my hair.

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:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 1:25 AM [+] :: | 0 comments

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