:: Life on Planet Dan-E ::

:: Thinking too Much ::

"There a lady from the Lowe's Hotel sitting in the lounge. I need you to take care of her."

Why me? "The cocktail server can't take of that?"

"We don't have one anymore, remember?" Oh, right. " Besides, they want to eat dinner there so I need you to do it."

"Then why is she sitting in the lounge?" The lounge is normally a drinks-only area for people to sit while waiting for a table to open up.

"I was going to put her in your section but she said the music is way too loud."

Great. I wasn't in a bad mood or anything but I had a lot on my mind and I just wanted a smooth night. I didn't need this shit.

"Anyway, she could bring us a lot of a business so I need you to go there and pamper the fuck out of her."

Great, another high-maintenance hotel drone. I already have four tables. I let out a sigh. "Which on is she?" "The one in the black dress." "No problem."

As I approach the lounge I see it's two blondes I couldn't help but notice earlier. One is a young six-footer with long, tanned legs emerging from a painted-on, low-cut, zebra-striped mini-dress. The one in the black dress is shorter, curvier, and sporting miles of cleavage. They both very attractive, but sullen. As I get closer I notice Black Dress is a little older. In fact her and Zebra Stripes share a resemblance and... wait, is that her MOM?! Note to self-don't flirt with Zebra Stripes.

They're sitting with a greasy-looking guy in a grey suit, on the the cushy sofas that encourage lounging and the zebra mini-dress is riding up quite distractingly. Oh yeah, her legs aren't crossed. Since you're not here to read about some seedy upskirt crap I'll end it here by saying I didn't see anything. (Despite my best efforts.)

To make a long story short, I pampered the fuck out of her and even got them to splurge on some oysters, lobster, and abottle of Veuve. The Black Dress is initially grumpy but, I answer every absurd question she had, serve her exactly what she needed, and in the end, she actually smiled.

At the end of the night, I'm sitting in the the office, lost in my own thoughts as the manager looks over my paperwork. She asks me if the lady was happy.

"I don't think so."

She looks up. "What happened."

"I don't know. She just doesn't seem like a happy person. Maybe she's not content with life. Maybe she's just yearning for her lost youth."

"What?"

"You look at the way she's dressed, like she's looking to recapture some of the attention she might have received she was younger. And the fact that she lets her daughter dress that way, it's almost like she's living vicariously through her kid."

The manager, by now, has her face contorted trying to figure out exactly what I'm babbling about.

"From the way she talks, the way she asked for things, her demeanor, and even her posture, she doesn't seem happy at all. Probably hasn't been happy in a long time."

She leans forward towards me and says, "Dan-E, I need you to focus and listen to my question: was she happy with her dining experience?"

"Oh." Is that what you meant. "Umm, yeah, she loved her lobster tail."

She leans back in her chair and releases an exasperated laugh. "I don't know what to make of you sometimes."

"Yeah, my mind was elsewhere."

"No kidding. Stop thinking so much."

"Yeah, I do that sometimes."

Labels: introspective, thinking too much, waiting, wtf

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 2:00 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: Basic Training ::

I've spent the last two weeks at my new job training. It's almost like having a regular job since everyone has been at work from 10 - 6 every day, with weekends off. Needless to say, the first few days were rough since I'm not used to getting up that early. Actually, a lot of the other trainees were visibly lethargic. Good thing there's a Starbucks nearby or else the managers would be more than just slightly miffed at all the new people dozing off during class.

Back up a little: I don't remember if I blogged about it, (I mentioned it on Twitter) but before I got hired, I had to submit to a drug test, my first time ever. I couldn't help but joke with the guy interviewing me that I was surprised restaurants tested for steroids, which got a light chuckle. It seemed funnier in my head.

Being a very upscale steakhouse, a lot of the training revolves around "proper hospitality" (not service) to our "guests" (not customers; guests). It's the kind of place where my job title isn't "waiter" or "server," it's "Captain." Yeah. It might sound impressive but I took it with a grain of salt (preferably Fleur de Sel) It might sound nice but if someone asks me what I do, I'm not going to puff my chest out and say "I'm a Captain." However, there's a couple of guys there who seem to be taking this new title a bit too literally. One of these guys is so laid-back (and rather absent-minded) that he makes me look like a meth addict. I couldn't help but wonder how he managed to pass the drug test.

The guy in charge of our training is a native New Yorker and possesses a little bit of that attitude, though not so much to be insufferable. I couldn't help but notice that he sounds a lot like Bobby Flay. I didn't point this out to him, since I didn't want to get fired before we even got started.

There's three more days of training left before our soft opening and if everything goes as planned, our grand opening is next Monday. In the meantime, there's more training, and more practice. Should be fun.

Labels: waiting

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 8:58 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: Server Stories: Cut ::

I've written before how I can be accident prone. I've been pretty good about not breaking glasses so far at The Steakhouse but last night I had a little bit of a doozy.

It was the near the end of Saturday night and I still had a couple of tables but I decided to get a head start on my sidework by polishing some wine glasses. One of the glasses had some water spots caked in so I applied a little extra pressure and sure enough, the stem snapped. This has happened many times before. I nicked myself on the underside of my left forearm but whatever. I barely felt anything. All of the sudden, I hear my co-worker Luis yell, "holy shit you're bleeding!" I look down at my arm and my sleeve is turning red and blood is dripping onto the table.

"That's not good," I say and I grab a cloth napkin and cover and apply pressure to the wound. I remember some stuff from First Aid and my immediate thought is to control the bleeding. Luis freaks (he's a rather overemotional Latin guy... read: drama queen) and runs off the grab the GM. Todd, our token gay waiter, looks like he's about to pass out and I calmly tell him, "Todd, grab that napkin... fold it diagonally... HEY pay attention... fold it diagonally... now roll it up... good... bring it here and tie it around my arm just below my elbow... tie it as tight as you can... tighter... tighter... you pussy." Luis comes back with the GM. "Hey Luis, come here and tighten this for me."

I guess the first thing the GM saw was the blood on the floor, the table, and my napkin and his first instinct was to call 911. I don't know what kind of histrionics Luis threw but everyone found out. The first guy in the back room was Dan, who stood there slack-jawed. I saw him I told him, "Hey Dan, do me a favor. Grab four wine glasses and take it to table 23. They ordered a new bottle of Matanzas Merlot. Do you mind presenting the bottle for me? Yeah, I'll be fine."

By that time, (barely two minutes have passed) almost everyone stopped by the back room to see what happened. I already went through a small stack of bloody napkins and the bleeding has barely slowed. Todd looked ready to either go home or throw up. Luis was still freaked. It wasn't spurting but it was flowing steadily. I wasn't sure if I hit a vein but this was certainly a first time I saw this type of bleeding in all the times I've injured myself. I've kept my arm elevated but it finally occurs to me that maybe I should sit down.

The Chef walks in and asks if there's anything I need. I ask him if he has any cooking twine. He says yes and when he brings it back, I tell him to tie it around my arm as tight as he can. Needless to say, it's much tighter than Todd's lame attempt and it seems to slow the bleeding.

The GM finally takes charge and tells everyone to leave. He grabs a busboy and orders him to get a trash bag and discard anything bloody. The paramedics finally arrive and the Floor Manager escorts me into the back alley. I sit down on the back of the ambulance and they look at the arm. By this time, the tourniquets worked so the bleeding has slowed. I tell the paramedics what happend. He sees the string and asks, "what is that? That's just gonna make it worse!" "I told them to tie it so it'll slow the bleeding." "Yeah, but that also prevents proper blood flow and it might make things worse."

Oh.

It's a moderately deep puncture wound, like I suspected, but the external wound itself was very small. One medic applies some iodine on it and wraps a pad and some gauze around my arm. My GM, standing there with a very concerned look on his face, asks what I need. As it is, I don't need to go the hospital, or even stitches. It's a small wound, and the makeshift tourniquet, however ill advised, slowed the bleeding enough that I don't have to worry about any effects of blood loss. All I need to do is keep the wound clean with soap and water. "Oh ok, cool." My GM is more incredulous. "That's it?" The medic goes into his explanation, which I wasn't paying attention to, since I noticed that the door is crowded with the kitchen staff rubbernecking to see what's going on.

The medic takes my information, tells me how to take care of the cut, and to look for symptoms of any possible infection. No big deal. They depart and I walk back into the back room of the restaurant and sit for a moment to absorb everything that just happened. I smell bleach and notice that all the blood has been mopped up. I couldn't help but laugh a little at how almost everyone else freaked out while I stay relatively calm. It may seem weird but you have to believe me, when that broken glass stem cut me, I barely felt anything. I was just happy I didn't have to go to the hospital again.

I start polishing glasses again, this time sticking to the stemless water glasses to avoid any more incidents. The GM sees me and asks if I'm okay and adds that I'm free to go home. "I have to fill out a worker's comp report and I need you to sign some papers. You gonna be here?" "I'm fine, I'll be here."

A few minutes later, the last table leaves. Luis comes back, sees me still here and asks "you're still here? I thought you went to the hospital!" "It wasn't that bad. I didn't need to go." "You fucking idiot you were gushing blood!" "It wasn't that bad." "Bro, you lost a pint of blood. " "I doubt it was that much."

Not that I couldn't see his point. There was blood on the table, on the floor, and I went through a small pile of napkins. But as far as I was concerned, I was never in "real" danger. First off the blood wasn't spurting through the air. Second, if there were any glass shards, the blood flow would have washed them out, something the medic confirmed.

Still, that wasn't fun. I never had a doubt that I'd be okay but I felt bad for a few of my more sensitive co-workers who had to see my blood everywhere. Of course by closing time, some of the guys, seeing that I was walking around felt free to crack a few good-natured jokes. "It's a good thing, you didn't leave early or else I would have had to deduct two points from your pool." "Hey Dan-E, if you wanted to go home early you could have just asked."

Labels: klutz, waiting

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 12:21 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: Like Fine Wine ::

It's the dog days of summer for service industry employees in Miami, tourists being few and far between due to humid weather and the threat of hurricanes (something the University of Miami football team didn't heed... had to throw that in). There's a lot of standing around waiting for our first customer to come in so we have plenty of time for small talk and I've used it get to know my new co-workers.

There's only one female waiter but she's treated as one of the guys since she does her job better than many of them. That she's married with a 3-year old kid probably helps keeps the most of us at a distance. Of course, guys being guys, when she's not around, talk occasionally devolves into her being a MILF. It helps that she's friendly, works hard, has a great smile, and for my benefit, wears a nice pair of glasses. Don't ask me why but I like a girl who can look good wearing glasses. Yes, we've already brought up the "Latin Sarah Palin" comparisons.

(And politics aside, Governor Palin is undeniably attractive. And not just because she looks great with glasses. Total MILF soon-to-be GILF. And personally I'd love to gerrymander her constituency... if you know what I mean. That joke would work better if she were a congresswoman but, whatever.)

(Okay, back to the post.)

We were discussing the wine list and other things. I found out she's going to be 30 soon (no I didn't ask her age, I'm not that stupid). "You shouldn't worry. You could still pass for 25." Of course that comment made her happy but only temporarily.

"Think of it this way: we have stuff behind the bar that's older than you." She laughed. I couldn't tell you what made me think of comparing a woman's age to that of a spirit but it still made sense. To me anyway. Sort of. I point to a bottle of 30-year-old Tawny Port Wine. "That bottle of Port over there is still older than you are. So you're okay."

She's still laughing. "That makes me feel better. Thanks"

"You're welcome. Although that port probably tastes better."

"What?"

"Nothing."

Labels: I'm getting old, milf, waiting, wines

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 10:20 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: Training Day(s) ::

I started my new job at The Steakhouse last Monday. I arrive and greet the Floor Manager. He hands me some paperwork I need to fill out, after which I meet some of my new co-workers. Everyone seems laid-back yet work very efficiently in setting up the restaurant. Just before we open, the FM discusses my training schedule. He offers me a day off on Thursday but I tell him I prefer to just work six days straight (because I'm crazy). No problem. My first three days are on the floor shadowing a waiter. Thursday, I'll be in the kitchen behind the line (Really? Sweet.), I'll be working the bar Friday night, and Saturday.. if I make that that far.. will be my last night and I'll be taking tables.

The first night is pretty easy. It's busy for the Monday but nothing too crazy. I follow my trainer, who's working a party of 27 people. We go over our opening spiel, procedures, service methods, and he shows me how to work the computer. Other than being a family-style restaurant, it's not too different from Swank since it's also semi-fine dining.

The party is easy and he asks me to see if I could sell any after dinner drinks. I think I raised my stock when I sold eighteen shots of Lemoncello at $10 each. This was in addiction to the three extra bottles of wine I sold during the meal.

Tuesday and Wednesday is more floor training though it's with a rather intense guy who's been working there for about five years. He's one of the head waiters so he's accustomed to taking charge and does so with a very straightforward manner. His demeanor is a very straightforward, no bullshit, type and I'll learn later that he's like that even when he's making fun of his co-workers. Otherwise, training is more of the same, and I break only one glass.

Thursday was spent in the kitchen learning the menu. I've spent a few training days in a kitchen but this was the first time I had to go behind the line and actually help cook. One of the line cooks was a former co-worker from Seafood Grille (when asked how we knew each other, I joked we met in prison and were cellmates) and I'd be helping him out in the grill and broiler section.

Now, I love cooking so I was really looking forward to this. The first hour was spent observing the grill, the pasta section, and the sauté area manned by the Head Chef (who does look like he might have been in prison). Then I started getting my hands dirty (um, so to speak) with actual cooking. Nothing too complicated at first but it got busy, so I ended up helped with grilling, slicing and even plating.

The last two hours I went from being a trainee to a cook. (Pete was impressed that I picked up the menu so quickly, to which I reply, "I know what I'm doing. I watch Food Network.") And let me tell you, it was a blast. It's one thing to cook on a stove in my tiny kitchen but to work the line during a rush, keeping track of everything, and properly plating the dishes (as opposed throwing it on a plastic dish like I do at home) is a whole different world and it was pretty cool. Especially since their knives are much better than mine.

Once it slowed, Pete took a break and left to man the grill while he went on a smoke break. I chatted with the Head Chef, asking many questions, which he answered patiently and thoroughly. As thanks for helping them out, he let me cook up the lamb dish for myself. It was a half rack of Australian Lamb with a fennel-orange marmalade, pine nut crusted goat cheese, and a mint-balsamic reduction. It was outstanding. I think the Chef wanted to hire me as a cook right there.

Friday was spent training behind the bar. Again, the first hour was just learning the procedures, the computer, and some of the house specialty drinks. It was relatively slow and the bar guys knew me somewhat by now so after a while they mostly left me alone at the service bar while they tended to the bar customers. I hadn't bartended in a few months but most of it came back pretty quickly. Luckily, I didn't have any orders for odd drinks (like say, a Bahama Mama or a Red-Headed Slut) even though I had my recipe book just in case. And I didn't break any glasses either (that the floor was lined with rubber mats helped).

Saturday would be my last night training and I had to pass the menu test. It's a relatively easy menu and seeing how the food was prepped, cooked, and plated was huge so I passed easily. I ran a small station on my own and did okay considering my first night started off with two high-maintenance, pain-in-the ass tables. My final test would be at the end of the night. The GM sat at one of the tables outside and I helped set up his table. Once that was done, he told me to pretend he was a customer and perform my opening waiter spiel. Oh, umm... shit.

"Good evening, welcome to Swanky Trendy... um... The Steakhouse."

Fortunately, he has a sense of humor and he's been drinking since 9:30 so he laughed and said he hoped I didn't do that to a table (I didn't). I started over went through my introduction. I did well except for the fact that he said I talk a little fast (not the first time I heard that). He shook my hand and said, "welcome aboard. You're going to do very well. Don't fuck up." (I may have made that last sentence up.)

Labels: bartending, cooking, food, new job, waiting

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 10:33 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: Job Hunting. Again. ::

Didn't it just feel like I was out looking for a job and trying to get acclimated to working at a new restaurant?

Well the rumors about Swanky Trendy Restaurant closing proved to be true, only it happened much later than any of us expected. We all knew it was coming. The owners are planning on putting all their resources into opening a new high-end steakhouse just across the street and they didn't want to the competition. When I first heard the rumor, it was early May, then late May, then it became late June. Some of the staff found other jobs, few of the guys stayed. Jed stuck around since his employment is guaranteed at this new place and he'll be grandfathered in as the head waiter.

Otherwise, the few of us left kept working as if nothing happened. There was a lot of talk about when we'll close and whether or not we wanted to help open the new place. A few wanted in. I was split, though leaning towards "nah" mostly because the GM is a colossal douchbag and I can't stand the idiot. What most of us were worried about was the amount of time between the old place closing and the new place opening. Ideally there wouldn't be more than two weeks so we wouldn't be strapped for cash but construction in Miami is perpetually delayed. I finally heard that there would be a three-week gap, which anyone who's familiar with the area would know that translates to four weeks to three months.

Management tried to keep this under wraps but this was the worst kept secret in a long history of worst kept secrets. The thinking was just in case the staff might be tempted to snatch a bottle of wine or something, which was utter bullshit (I prefer Scotch). I had a feeling that night was close to being our last since we were 86 half the wine list, Bacardi, several high-end vodkas and we were down to four bottles of sparkling water. The timing was a little odd since we had over 300 covers the night before, and we were consistently busy. That Sunday, I sold over $2000 without breaking a sweat and walked home with almost half my rent.

The asshole GM, who knew we were closing, went so far as to print out fake schedules for the following week. I couldn't help but laugh at this but I'm just happy not to be working for that pile of human garbage any more so I wasn't too broken up when I got the call from him the next day that Swank was "officially closed for business." He said he'd call me and let me know when the new place is ready but in the meantime I have a "three week vacation." Great, I thought. He's gonna call me in September. I had about three months worth of savings so I wasn't too worried.

Right after he called I went on Craigslist and started looking. I found a few postings for good places, one of those being a well-established steakhouse. They were holding interviews the next day at 2pm. I updated my resume and printed some out that night. I looked up steakhouse's website and did a little research about the history, menu, wine list, etc.

I get dressed and show up at 2:00 exactly. There's already about eight people ahead of me and I wonder if I should have arrived sooner. I start filling out my application, which didn't include a food and wine quiz (which I hoped for since I now know wine regions in France and Italy... thanks again Joo). The GM starts the interviews about 5 minutes later and the first few applicants are in and out in less than three minutes each. I was a little worried at first since I'm not sure if I'll be able to sell myself in such short a time. I find out later that the first few were fresh off the boat girls who were either under-qualified or tried to get hired by showing a lot of cleavage.

It's finally my turn. I'm nervous. I introduce myself, and he looks over my resume. You worked at [Swank]? That's a good place, why are leaving?” Because they closed. "Really?!"

We talk a little about my experience there, and I give him the highlights. He scans further down and sees I have bar experience which is good because he expects me to pick up a bar shifts, which would be really cool. We discuss my wine knowledge, which is decent. I know my Californians, some Australian, New Zealand and a little French, but they have an extensive Italian selection. No problem, I could learn.

He asks if I could come back later in the day to talk to the floor manager so he could get an impression of me which I'm fine with, since any sort of second interview is a good step (though I've been asked back before and that didn't work out so I wasn't overly enthralled). Just then the floor manager walks in. The GM asks me to hang out for a little bit to see if we can just do it now. Of course. (What else was I gonna say?)

After a few minutes, the FM introduces himself and we talk. He goes a little more in-depth with the food - I passed the impromptu steak quiz - and wine but he's also responsible for the bar so he ask me questions about liquor and mixed drinks. I know how to make all the popular drinks (cosmos, mjoitos, manhattans, etc.) but he seemed impressed with my knowledge of whiskies. "I'm glad you mentioned this because I've worked with some people who were waiters for over five years and they couldn't name me one Single-malt Scotch."

The interview ends and we all shake hands and they tell me that I'll hear from them by Friday. Great, I think. Solid interview, but I've heard that before. I'm only one of the first few applicants. They're doing interviews until four and then they'll do it all again Thursday so with all the available help out there, they might find someone more qualified. Still, I'm cautiously optimistic and I feel pretty good the rest of the day. I spend the rest of the week looking mostly online since this time of year it's hard to find work because it's slow everywhere. I interview at a sports bar and I send out my resume to several places but most of them don't seem promising.

I get a call Friday and it's the GM of the steakhouse. I'm in. I start my training on Monday at 4pm sharp. When I hang up, I clap my hands and do a couple of fist pumps. AWESOME. I don't have to look for a job any more and I missed only one week of work (well, two if you count training).

I enjoy the rest of the weekend and look forward to my new job. That's in the next post.

Labels: idiots, job search, moving on, waiting

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 9:20 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: Oh by the way... ::

... I start a new job at a steakhouse today. Wish me Luck.

I'll write about the details later.

Labels: job search, new job, waiting

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 3:45 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: Server Stories: Early Night ::

"Dan-E, my wife and I got into a fight this morning so I'm closing tonight."

"Good to know Tino, thanks."

Weekdays at work have been slow lately, enough so that some of the floor staff is often cut even before we open. I don't mind working slow nights. I usually get a good section, the customers are more mellow than some of the human garbage that trolls through on weekends, and I still make good money since the slower pace allows me to be more attentive with my tables. But the constant six-day workweeks (and a few seven-days) for the last five months or so since I got hired here are getting to me. So when he volunteered to stay, I looked forward to being cut early.

Tino's a good guy. He's an immigrant from Argentina who started here working as a busboy. But unlike some complacent types, he worked hard to better his English and worked his way up to food runner and eventually a waiter, which is what he's been doing for the last year or so. We've really bonded in the last month or so since our sections are often right next to each other during weekends and we work well together. We enjoy good small talk, bitching about the managers, and we both have ponytails.

His wife is actually very gregarious, with a strong, outgoing, straightforward personality that leaves little room for ambiguity. I've had a few fun conversations with her after work. "You sure you want to stay?" I ask just to be nice. "Yeah man, my wife is gonna beat the shit out of me," he replied with a laugh that was only half-joking.

But it's also clear who wears the pants in the family (Tino seems to prefer those calf-length pirate pants) and having met his wife, I'm pretty sure she could kick his ass. She's not huge or anything; a thin 5'7" but she's a workout freak and looks like one of the girls who are freakishly strong, kinda like Monica from "Friends." (Also, she's fourteen years older than him.)

I helped set up the place and wish him good luck before I take off. "Thanks, but it's probably going to be dead."

"No, I mean good luck when you go home tonight."

Labels: girls, humor, waiting

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 10:09 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
.....

:: Server Stories: What Else? ::

It's interesting to see the contrasts between most of my co-workers’ approach to their jobs and lives versus mine. All of us certainly work hard for our money (some more than others) and take some pride in doing our job well. But for guys like Jed and Lou, this is it for them. Jed has been working at Swanky Trendy Restaurant for over five years, which along is longer than my total waiter experience. A few years older than me, he's told me many stories about the many places he's worked at around the country.

Lou's quite a bit younger but I get the impression that he's in this line of work for the long haul as well. Theo, who’s has a wife and a mortgage, is another lifer. My buddy who works at The Abby is another great example.

The contrast between us is that when it comes to our lifestyles, they glide with an easy approach in that if they're not doing exactly what they want to be doing, they're very comfortable with who and where they are. They come to work, make their money and either go home to smoke weed or go out to the bar to have a few beers and many meet a few chicks. Before work, they're either sleeping well past noon and/or smoking more weed. And they wouldn’t have it any other way.

Granted they have other interests, as Jed has traveled to different parts of the world and Lou has smoked weed from different parts of South America. Jed in particular is quite fascinating.

But the point is that for them, this is it. They can't imagine doing anything else, not because they don’t know or they're too dumb or too lazy, but because they just don't want to or need to.

In a way, I envy that.

I've done other things, like some of these guys have. But while I do enjoy being a waiter, I can't help but feel I'm meant for something... different (I won't use words like "bigger" or "better" since that would belittle the profession and I have too much respect for service employees to do that.) Ever since I found out that the restaurant would be closing in late August, I've been saving money for when I finally leave the service industry (at least full time). I've been (very) slowly working on my portfolio to send out and it's only a matter of time before I'm back behind a desk playing with Photoshop instead of at a table trying to peddle a bottle of Perrier-Jouët.

Or so I keep telling myself.

(By the way, none of them know I have these thoughts. they're buddies and I enjoy hanging out with them but they're not people I would share this much personal depth with. Which isn't a bad thing. Very, very few people I know are people I would share stuff like this with.)

(Oh yeah, blog readers don't count.)

The reason why they're closing after eight years of business is because management is going to open a high-end, fine-dining, steakhouse right across the street. If it's anything like the other restaurant openings in South Beach, it's going to be a cash cow for everyone involved. (And unlike some of the gimmicky places that closes within two years, this place might have staying power.) Management has assured the floor and kitchen staff that as long as we do our jobs well and prove reliable we'll be invited to work at the Steakhouse. Thanks to my recent hot streak, I'm not worried about being left behind.

I've seen bits and pieces of the new place in the form of design renderings, new glass and silverware, possible menu items (and I thought prices at Swank were obscene), marketing ideas and it is impressive. Those other guys are very excited about the opening and are salivating over the possibility that the next Stone Crab season will be very lucrative.

My initial reaction to the news was tepid. Great for them, I hope they do well but I'm going to be behind a desk again by that time. (Which is another reason I'm not worried too much about going to the new place.) But the more I think about it, the more I'm starting to get sucked in. Potentially, I could make in one season (October 15 through May 15) almost as much as I would make in one full year as a Jr. Art Director.

Great, but why? I've said "one more season" last year and here I am now: same shit, different restaurant. I could make my money now but I'm already too comfortable as it is. A higher-paying job doing the same thing I do now and I might end up ensconced in my complacency and might end up doing this for a very long time.

Not that there's anything wrong with that. I've often wondered how my life would be different if I actually decided to try bartending and waiting at a younger age, and I've entertained the thought of just saying "screw it" and going into bartending full-time. I've made friends that have done very well doing this; some now own a nice condo, some have nice cars, a few have traveled, some are content just being major potheads.

But would that negate every reason for moving to Miami in the first place? Or at the very least, wouldn't that render those first two years as pointless? The late nights, the endless deadlines, the stress, thousands in student loans, all for naught? Two years followed by a gratifying end, thinking I found my career... only to discover I prefer waiting tables and tending bar?

I'm a very good waiter. I'm also a pretty good bartender. And those three months in Prague, working my ass off during that internship proved that if I really wanted to, I could be a pretty good Art Director. And I want to. But I'm left wondering what exactly it is I want more.

Labels: career, introspective, waiting

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 8:47 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
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:: Server Stories: High Sales ::

I mentioned in the last post about how my job security has been threatened over stupid shit just because the GM was on a power trip. That was about two or three weeks ago since the last incident where he told me, "you have potential but you've had more than enough time to prove yourself and you're hanging by a very thin rope." And the only reason for this conversation was because I walked through the kitchen with my hair down and the salad cook, who's a major drama queen, complained about getting hair in her food. I never actually went into her station; all I was doing was getting plates to use as marking trays.

Since then? I've done nothing different other than show up at work with a ponytail. But I went through a three day stretch where I sold almost a grand in wine bottles and suddenly, the GM is "proud" of me. Whatever. As long as I'm making regular contributions to his wine commission, I'm not on his shit-list. And if I'm not on his shit-list, Antonio treats me like gold.

This is the only place I've worked where I could have net sales of $3000 on a Saturday night but the managers bitch at me because I only sold two $70 bottles of Pinot Grigio. Forget the high sales, or the $600 worth of liquors (Mojitos, vodkas, and gin drinks are huge in Miami, especially on weekends, and the average price of a drink is $12), the specials, or wines by the glass; I only sold two bottles of wine because by luck of the draw, I get seated the people who'd rather get drunk on Belvedere, Bombay Sapphire, or Bacardi.

One case that got me off the shit-list was where I somehow talked a table into buying a $500 bottle of Cristal. Once the table left I grabbed the cork, walked up to the GM and said "hey [GM], I have something for you." "What's that?" I hand him the cork, "this is from the bottle of Cristal that I just sold." His face lights up and he replies, "really? Way to go my man." Later that night, he tells me "you're doing an excellent job. Keep this up and I'm going to train you to be a Captain and take charge of private parties." I simply smiled, nodded and said "thank you, sir" but I felt a need to wash my hands before I went home. This occurred just three days after my last reprimand.

Whatever, I'm off the shit-list, Jed speaks highly of me because I show up on time everyday, and Antonio likes me because my mellow personality usually means I don't cause any drama with customers. (A co-worker from Brooklyn, who's a service lifer, is in most respects a better waiter than me, but he has some New York attitude that doesn't sit well with a few of our customers. From my perspective, his problems are customers that can be best described as human garbage, but all management sees is an unhappy table, and their opinion is all that matters.) Jed's another lifer that's worked at more restaurants than I've eaten at, and despite his drug habit, he's exceedingly competent at work. He's been working here for five seasons and he's unofficially our senior waiter, so for him to have my back is no small thing.

While I appreciate Jed's support, every time the GM or Antonio says something complimentary during my check-out, I can't help but feel like I'm just an indigested corn in a pile of shit. We have competent servers here but the nature South Beach being what it is, truly professional servers are hard to find it seems some of the other guys have faults more glaring than mine. And for no other reason that I show up on time every day, I'm one of two waiters that don't have a drug habit, and I have the occasionally ability to upsell a customer from a bottle of Clos du Bois to a Rubicon.

Manager's favor aside, i still feel drained working here. I haven't had a day off since last Wednesday, and trying to manage the managers in addition to just doing my job takes its toll. As much as I hated the environment at my last job, I miss just being able to show up, do my job, and go home. I didn't have to worry about meeting some invisible quota for wine sales, the managers where idiots but at least they were oblivious to everything except irrelevant details, no one care if I showed up at work with my hair down.

Even though it's not my future (I keep telling myself that), I do take pride in doing my job well. But I shouldn't have to meet quotas or brown-nose management to know that.

Labels: rants, server stories, waiting, wines

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 1:12 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
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:: Server Stories: Restless ::

Work has been taxing lately. I find myself getting irritated at things that I would normally brush off. I’ve snapped at co-others when even if they've erred, it's not my place to say so. I've fallen back into my old habit of waking up well into the afternoon not long before I have to be at work. After going steady for about two and a half months, I've stopped running... again. (I still manage to play tennis twice a week, including Saturday mornings at 10:30, which isn't as easy as it may seem since my co-workers and I usually have drinks after work on Friday nights and I seem favor whiskey over beer on weekends.)

It's several things: I've been working six nights a week every week since I got hired, and there's been a couple where I worked straight through. Conditions at work are often needlessly complicated. My co-workers and I get along great but we commiserate over drinks about what complete douchebags our managers are.

The GM, while competent, runs the floor like a communist dictator, micromanaging even insignificant details, freaking out over minutia, and pressuring the waiters into increasing our wine sales as if our lives depended on peddling an extra bottle of cabernet each night (not surprising since he's paid a wine commission). He's threatened to fire me so many times over stupid shit that has absolutely nothing to do with my performance as a waiter. They're empty threats and has more do to with him asserting his authority, but it's still annoyed me to the point that I've contemplated toilet-papering his office and his car. And while he's freaking out trying to find the culprit, I casually walk up, toss an empty roll at him and say, "here’s your reason to fire me. Oh by the way, go fuck yourself. I quit."

Antonio on the other hand, is a moron. He barely knows how to run the floor on a busy weekend, and his knowledge of the menu is pathetic. Not only did he not know what haricot vert is until I explained it to him, I overheard him explain to a customer that "Prime Black Angus" is the sauce we use on our tenderloin steak. (Thank God it wasn't my table since I would have flat out told the customers that he was wrong, making him look like an idiot... something he does nightly, whether he realizes it or not.) Every time a customer returns an item, he types it into the computer as "DINT LIKE." Now, I realize that English isn't his first language but he continues to do this despite the fact that several people have tactfully tried to explain to him that he’s spelling "didn't" wrong.

Everyone else talks even worse shit about those guys. Jed, who has worked at Swanky Trendy Restaurant for five years, knows the operation inside out, and is privy to and shares with us information that us mere peons normally wouldn't know. And I'd be lying if I wasn't a bit amused at Jed's drunken plotting to somehow get Antonio fired (amusing because if he ever stopped drinking and smoking pot, he might actually pull it off).

But this is temporary for me (of course I said that over two years ago when I started working at Seafood Grill and look where I am now) since I know for a fact that the owners plan on closing Swank to focus their efforts on a new, super fine dining steakhouse. A few want to make the transition. A few have grown weary of management and have already left or are planning their exits. I want no part of it. I'm just working my way towards leaving the business altogether.

Labels: career, introspective, waiting

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 1:55 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
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:: Holidays ::

It's apparently not enough that we have more than our share of holidays, some relevant (Christmas, St. Patrick's) and some pointless (Valentine's, Parent's) but apparently someone felt the need to implement a National Waiter's Day which is cool with me since I always need an excuse... um... reason to drink. Appropriately enough, I have the day off and I'm going to do my best to avoid thinking about work at all costs.

So if you go out to eat today, some simple advice: you don't need to say "happy waiters day" (chances are good that they might not even know), be courteous, order something extra for yourself, and if the waiter or waitress did a good job, tip a little extra.

If you have a friend who's a waiter (or for that matter, a bartender) be a pal a buy the person a drink. If that person is already trashed (probability: high), drive him or her home or get them a cab.

Also, as long as we're talking cool holidays, I'd be ignoring my civic duty if I didn't remind everyone that it's National Masturbation Month. Really. Enjoy.

Labels: alkie, drinking, masturbation, sex, waiting

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

We were sitting around eating lunch before work started. A few of the guys had sushi delivered. I ate a late lunch so I just had a seaweed salad. One of the busboys walked by and one Lou ask him, "hey, wanna make $20?"

"Yeah man, how?"

"Eat this ball of wasabi."

"Oh hell no man. Tú loco en la cabeza, cabrón."

I looked over. Lou doesn't like anything spicy, and he left his little ball of wasabi intact. I, on the other hand, love spicy food (although wasabi isn't your traditional type of "spicy").

"Hey Lou. I'll do it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, got the twenty dollars?"

"Naw man, you like spicy shit. You gotta eat two."

He reached into his other empty tray and grabbed the other mound of wasabi and made a ball almost the size of a quarter. He thought I'd back down. He clearly doesn't know me that well.

"That's nothing. Got the money?"

"It's right here."

"Okay then."

I grab the ball of wasabi and pop it in my mouth and start chewing. It was okay for a moment and all of a sudden... *COUGH* *COUGH* *sniff* Oh man this royally sucks.

My eyes started to water and my sinuses opened up to the point where I could actually see the inside of my nostrils. Lucky for me, I ate it quickly so the worst of it lasted only about 2-3 seconds. I swallow it, open my mouth and stick my tongue out like I'm on "Fear Factor."

"Damn dude, you're a crazy motherfucker." He hands me two tens and high fives me. "You are fucking crazy. I love that about you."

I smile and shake it off. "I've eaten weirder stuff than this."

Then again, he's fairly new so there's no way he could have known that.

Labels: food, I'm an idiot, server stories, waiting

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 2:55 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
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:: Server Stories: April Fool's ::

I'm not a big prankster (though I do like a good Pranqster) so April Fool's is usually just another day. I get called into work to cover a no-show and I arrive to see Antonio still kinda on edge from last night.

Short version: Mondays are usually dead and there were only five waiters, three bussers, and one bartender scheduled. No hostess and no barback. It would have been okay but our reservation computer went from twelve reservations to seventy-nine and one waiter called in sick. I arrive to hear Jed yelling into his cell phone, "I know I'm managing right now but I'm still just a fucking waiter and it's not my job to bail out this fucking restaurant every time someone fucks up!... Look, there are seventy nine reservations and I only have (looks around) four of my five waiters here right now... no, this is not how you run a fucking restaurant!!!..." He goes on and on. He's high-strung as it is - probably from all the coke - but this is new.

Jed was supposed to manage but he changes into his waiter uniform. It's a disaster for many of us. The guys handling the private parties are okay until they're forced to take other tables. Others waiters are trying to juggle more tables than they're accustomed to. I'm actually doing okay since all my tables were friendly but at one point, I have a two tables in the patio, two inside on either side of the bar, and I'm still trying to help out Jed with his 18-top private party before he loses it stabs someone with a steak knife. I'm sweating hard trying to cover a lot of ground. Bussers are overtaxed. The lone bartender is bombarded with orders. Cora has to run the service bar on top of serving bar customers. She has no barback to help her get bottles of wine from the cellar. (And half of her staff got fired over the weekend.) Antonio is trying to manage, seat customers, and once in a while, grab wine from the cellar.

Drinks take a while. Food comes out late. Some customers are very unhappy. I'm trying to make jokes but no one is laughing.

The night ends, everyone is frazzled. But we close early and everyone relaxes after a while. I'm one of the last to leave and I'm allowed a shift drink. Cora pours me a large shot of bourbon and I sip it while doing my sidework.

Back to the story. April Fool's is my day off but I get called to fill in. Our hostess is there organizing the menus and I give her a big hug and sarcastically say "oh my gawd we have a hostess! Hey Antonio! Don't let her leave. Give her whatever she wants, okay?" Acouple of guys from last night hear this and laugh but Antonio just waves me off and says "alright, alright. No more jokes about last night. Geezus."

Cora sees this also and says to me later that we really need to pull a prank on him. We discuss ideas, and include Jean, one of the older waiters. He's been there for three years so if he's in on it it'll be that much better. Fight breaking out in the patio? Wouldn't fall for it. Sudden reservation for a party of 100? Nope. The stove and ovens are broken? The chef is a humorless prick and would never play along. What if one of the staff gets sick? Hmm. Maybe.

We get Dave, another waiter, to lie down in the hallway like he hit his head. I grab some ketchup from the kitchen and apply it under his nose and around his mouth to simulate blood. Jean runs to grab Antonio and brings him over. I'm kneeled over Dave with my hand under his head and I lean in like I'm checking to see if he's breathing. Antonio arrives. "Oh no no no what the fuck happened?

"I don't know man, I heard something in the hallway and I check it out and he's lying in the hallway bleeding!" It was masterful.

The other waiters gather around, in on the joke, and act concerned. "What happened?" "Is he okay?" "OH MY GAWD IS THAT BLOOD?"

He reaches for his cell phone and flips it open to dial 911. Jean then tells him, "oh and one other thing... April Fools!!!" Everyone starts laughing. Dave lifts his head and points and laughs. Antonio is PISSED.

"I'm trying to do some fucking inventory and you guys are doing this shit? What the fuck?! You're all fired!" And he storms off.

Needless to say, we all still have jobs and once he's done with liquor inventory, he's back to his normal, pre-Monday self. Everyone else has fun with it the rest of the night.

Labels: humor, new job, server stories, waiting

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 2:24 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
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:: Server Stories: Thoughts on the New Place ::

It's a good thing that I work with some good people at Swanky Trendy Restaurant because I can't stand some of the drama that goes on here.

It's a complete flip from Seafood Grille in that while I liked working that restaurant, (after two-plus years, i knew how to work that that place like a g-string... I'm talking about guitars by the way) I couldn't stand half of the waitstaff and management whereas at Swank, a good majority of the servers and bartenders are cool but trying to provide good service for my customers can be unnecessarily cumbersome.

Before I go on, I need to point out that I got home at 3am after a needlessly long shift. I was too tired to make dinner so I drank and two bottle of Guinness Extra Stout and a large pour of Jameson's whisky for my dinner (Guinness is pretty much Irish brown bread pureed and fermented... and it's good for you!) so if my spelling, diction, and grammar are more off than usual, well, deal with it. I'm tired of stopping by Gino's Pizza on the way home even though that's the only place open that I can stop by without making a significant detour. (Gino's has great pizza between the hours of 11am and 11pm, where the pizza is fresh but at 2 or 3am, that slice of pepperoni might have been there for a few hours.) And at 3am, I don't feel like cooking anything. So heavy beer and whisky it is.

It's frustrating to work in the sense that while the prices of everything from food, cocktails, and wines are higher, I'm not taking home a commensurate increase than I was at Grille since I tip out a higher percentage than before. I not only tip out to the bar and bussers, I also tip out foor runners and a "floater," whose actual responsibilities I'm still not exactly sure about.

Another point I don't care to deal with: there's been rumors circulating that Swank is going to close sometime in May due to new management. Great. Good to known. Waiters in the know who've been there for several years vs. management who's been there for a few months and I'm getting conflicting reports from both ends.

i'm supposed to find my "real job" by summer anyway so this shouldn't effect me much, if at all, and this certainly beats three weeks of unemployment. But if unemployment is being adrift, I still get the feeling that I was rescued by a sinking ship.

The GM is a prick. Vera, the sweetheart of a manager that I adored, has left to work elsewhere. A couple of hostesses, some waiters, a bartender, and several bussers have moved on since I started. Two more bartenders, including the one that called me "sweet cheeks," have been fired. Even the kitchen staff has been dealing with turnover.

My future isn't here. But I'm lucky to work with people who are nice, fun, and seem to care and I'm relieved that I no longer have to work at the Grille. (And if you're curious about The Hostess, she's pretty much out of the picture. She may be fun to hang out with she's also a colossal flake and I'm too old to deal with that shit.)

At least I know what I need to do.

Labels: career, rants, server stories, waiting

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 3:32 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
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:: Server Stories: Keep an Eye on Your Camera ::

I had a five top of some yuppy types from New York who were in town for Miami's Winter Music Conference. Their reservations are at eight, when it's nice and dark outside. It started off with four, three guys and a girl. I tell them the specials, take their drink orders, ask for their IDs, which they're only too happy to do (they're all aged 25-27; since when did kids that young get so happy to be carded?). It's the girl's birthday so I make it a point to give her my version of VIP service: extra attention, maybe a free drink, and some mild flirtation.

The fifth person finally arrives as I'm serving the appetizers. It's a curvy brunette in a low-cut, flowing green mini-dress sporting some impressive cleavage. "Good evening miss, welcome to Swanky Trendy Restaurant. How you doing?" (I didn't quite do a "Joey" from "Friends" but it was close... I did pronounce the last "g.")

"I'm good. How are you?"

"I'm great thanks... now that you're here."

She throws me a big smile, looks at her friends and says "wow, I like the place already."

It's a Wednesday so it's not that busy, and all my other tables are low-maintenance deuces so I can keep birthday girl, her friend, and the guys happy (roughly in that order). I refill their waters, get fresh cocktails, light their cigarettes, make small talk, flirt lightly, and keep the whole table happy. Near the end, birthday girl is getting cold (she's wearing a short, sleeveless dress) so while she's selecting a dessert, I warm her up by rubbing her arms (I have very warm hands).

When I return with the desserts, the guy who was sitting across from her is now sitting next to her and has his hand on her waist. Oh, umm, oops. (Look, they never gave any sort of indication that they were a couple. No smiles, no hand-holding, nothing.)

Fast forward. Everyone is happy, birthday girl is glowing from her champagne and chocolate cake, and her friend is right there with her. When they leave, I light her cigarette one last time and she says, "thanks. I hope I see you again." "I'll be here all weekend. Stop by any time."

This is where the good part of the story starts:

They forget their camera. I'm closing out the bill, and checking other tables so they're long gone when I come back to clear the glasses. When I get back, they're on the phone with Jed, the manager. (Who, by the way is great for blog material, but that's for later.) He sees me and asks, "Dan-E, did you find a digital camera?" I hand it over, he returns to the phone, and tells my customers that we have their camera, and to stop by and ask for Jed.

I don't even think about that table again until today. When I get to work and start setting up my station. Jed comes up to me and asks, "Hey Dan-E, you remember that camera that you found the other day? Did you look through the photos?" "No. Why? "Dude, there were some fucked up photos on that thing. You should have looked while you had the chance." "Like what?"

"There's a picture of a guy with a dildo jammed up his ass."

And you felt I needed to see this? Why?

"And it wasn't just one. There were several." Within minutes, everyone working that day knows about the camera. A few minutes later, everyone knows it was from my table and they’re asking me, “which one of the guys was it?" As if I can tell from looking at someone if they like to stuff dildos up their asses.

Jed chimes in. "And the fucked up thing is that this guy was taking photo of himself with that dildo up his ass." After which he proceeds to demonstrate just how said photos might have been taken.

"Wait, they didn't stop by yesterday to pick it up?"

"They never came. They're probably too embarrassed to come back and get it. There was also some pictures of a chick in a thong flashing her tits."

"You couldn't mention that first? You had to mention the dude with a dildo up his ass, you homo."

"Yeah, but they weren't that great. Don't get me wrong, I'd still beat off on them but I've seen better."

"Good to know."

"I hope it wasn't that chick you were flirting with."

Shit. "I couldn't tell you. It was dark."

Everyone is having a field day with this. We laugh about it during set up. I joke that I'm going to download the camera to my laptop and create a fake Flickr page titled "Weekend in South Beach."

Just before we open, two of the guys show up asking for the camera. I inform Jed to which he replies, "dammit, I liked that camera." "Dude, you liked the photos." "Yeah, but I've been thinking about getting a digital camera anyway."

I tell the guys that the manager will be right down. Then I notice a girl yapping on a cell phone walk up behind them. She's wearing a denim skirt and a black tank top that's unnecessarily tight, since her pooch is kinda hanging out. Her face is okay but she's scowling for some reason. She doesn't notice me but she does look familiar... oh crap was that the girl in the green dress?! I turn around and walk back into the restaurant.

I'm going to sound like a dick for saying this but... talk about a letdown. How did she go from looking great that night to so... bleh? Yeah, I know. It was dark, she had on makeup, she was probably wearing a push-up bra, I was probably tired, whatever. That’s just wrong. I thought maybe I was being a little harsh until Jed comes up to me and asks, "that's her from the photo. She the one you were macking on?"

"Don't remind me."

"What? She wasn't that bad."

"She looked so much better that night. I don't even know what happened to her in the last two days."

"It's alright brother. Believe me, I've done a lot worse than that."

"Good to know."

Labels: boobs, girls, naked, server stories, stupid customers, waiting

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 1:15 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
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:: Caught in the Rain ::

It's been raining all weekend here. I managed to drag my lazy ass out of bed yesterday morning and get in some tennis, just before it started up. It was still raining this morning but I felt oddly agitated and restless so when there was a break in the rain, I went for run. There was still a light off-and-on drizzle but it was fine. I did my usual of jog to the track and ran the bleachers.

I was doing a cool-down lap when it started coming down. I've been caught in the rain before and I usually duck under something because, well, I needed a breather. Today? I don't know why, but I kept going. Honestly, it felt great and I got a second wind. It almost felt like the crap from the last two or three months of my life were being rinsed away.

And it's true in some sense.

I don't hate going to work. I've lost weight. I now wake up well before noon even though there's no lunch shift to work.

Most of my new co-workers are pretty cool. At the last place I couldn't stand half of the waitstaff. There were maybe only three people I would consider friends.

I feel like I have more energy. Maybe it's the challenge of learning something new. Or maybe it's being in a new environment. More likely, being fired from a place I didn't like anyway gave me that wake-up kick in the ass that I so badly needed.

I see things more clearly.

It rained harder and harder as I ran. By the time I got home, my clothes were drenched and my shoes were making that squishing noise. I'm normally out of breath when I get to my apartment but I felt okay this time. I stretch, chug some water, take a hot shower and cook up a bowl of oatmeal. There really was something cleansing about running in that rain. It's something I need more of.

Labels: introspective, running, waiting

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 1:01 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
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:: Job Search: Day Job ::

I went to that interview earlier this week, and they told me that they're looking for someone to work the overnight (11pm to 6am) shift during the weekends. I don't mind working late but it's but I usually don't leave work till about 2am on weekends. They did say that there might be a daytime bartender shift opening in a couple of weeks which might work out well.

But this might become my "regular" job. After only a week, I've started hearing rumors that Swanky Trendy Restaurant might shut down soon. Great. Whatever, I'm leaving this line of work soon anyway. One of the guys who's been at Swanky Trendy Restaurant for about three years told me he got a day shift job nearby and that he's basically getting a backup plan since he heard very strong rumors that Swanky will close "late April to early June."

Good to know.

Labels: job search, waiting

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 3:54 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
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:: Job Search: Oh, NOW they Call ::

A manager from one of the restaurants I applied at called and left a message asking me if I'm still interested in working there. Hmm. A little late, since I'm working now, right? Except I'm actually considering it.

Why? Things at Swanky Trendy Restaurant are going okay but depending on the nights, weather, and what section I'm in, things have been frustratingly hit-and-miss there. I'm still willing to ride it out since most of the people there are nice and I'm actually kinda interested in learning out haute cuisine and gathering more wine knowledge. (Before this, I had no idea what things like "cuvee" and "mertiage" are and I always thought Brut was a cologne for greasy used-car salesmen. It sounds stupid but I'm serious. I rarely drink champagne.)

(Slight digression: did I mention that this job requires me to wear a tie? I fucking hate ties. Something about that seems so unnatural to me. On the other hand I told me parents that I finally have a job that requires me to wear a tie to work and they've never been more proud.)

Honestly, I've been thinking about picking up a second job anyway. Swank is dinner only and this other place has does a pretty good breakfast and lunch business so my plan is to try out the morning shift a few days a week and keep my night job. It's the middle of season so I'll just work my ass off for two months. This way, I'll make some extra cash, go out less, save more, and when season is over, quit one job and focus my efforts on finding my "real job." (That and I have a month's worth of lost income I need to make up.) Whatever money I have saved up, I can use on printing out a nicer portfolio, plane tickets in case I need to fly somewhere for interviews, and any other costs that job search might incur.

And maybe buy myself a nice bottle of bourbon to celebrate getting that job.

I'm going to have to sleep on it but it might work.

Labels: career, job search, new job, waiting

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 4:01 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
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