Wednesday, August 15, 2007

"What- You Ain't Interested?"

That's how this guy in a "50 Cent Wifebeater" came at me today. I'm leaving work after a very long shift and he sees me lighting up (bad habit, I know), asks for one, says "Thank you ma'am...", then says, "Come on baby, please put my number in your phone." I had to laugh, because I was kinda in a daze so I wasn't even really paying attention to him (I don't see guys anymore, I've got mine- I just see bodies). His body was banging but his game was see-through. I'm like, Young Man I know what your approach is: Lemme flatter her then flatten her. Cute- but not really.

So today was my third day of training, and it is getting a bit easier although the menu is fucking crazy. There are endless ingredients in everything, some of them are Italian, so I have to learn how to pronounce them, as well as remember what item they come with. The wines?!? OMG! Forget about it. The list is like, four different languages.

I'm training with two dudes, both of them haven't gotten on my nerves as much as they did today. We're not allowed to smoke either, so you know I was ready to choke the both of them.

There's a young gay dude who was like super top notch server supervisor for these folks, and he says that although the money was retarded he had to leave because the management sucked. He talks about it all the damn time though, to everyone and anyone who's even halfway listening. He's nice and always willing to help, but he's always bringing that shit up. Since us new folk have to travel together throughout our shift, me and the other cat have to hear the same flippin' "horror stories" everytime someone asks "So where'd you guys work before?" He goes into a 10 minute monologue. The same 10 minute monologue every time. Geez.

The other guy is an older man from Greece. He talks really slow like he wants to give everyone enough time to pay attention to what he's saying 'cause it's sooo important (nothing to do with his accent, he's been in the States for 18 years), and asks questions about what the trainer may have repeated three times just before, even common sense shit.

The young one is skilled but if I'm asking the trainer something he cuts in with his own answer; he trys to stump the trainer it seems like- or he tries to prove that he knows so much more than anyone in there- and he's new. I feel like, "Damn dude, fall back. Humble yourself. We know you've been doing your thing for a while, but you don't have to scream it."

They both interrupt you and they talk over you if you try to take attention away from them, so I chill and wait until the trainer says something to me. No big thing though, I think I just have to get used to not relying on Newports when I get irritated.

Nadine G.

Daaa-daa-daaa! Wait Till I Get My Money Right...

Long time right? I know. Been a bit busy. So I left off looking for a writing gig. Well, I got one writing for Insite Magazine down here (an independent catering primarily to city dwellers from college age to young adults in their early 30s). I've been doing movie reviews during the summer and hopefully, if they'll have me, I can stay on until I graduate from State-ugh, whenever that happens. I can't afford school this semester so that's yet another semester off and that means I'll be doubling up for the Spring but whatever...[sigh] Ima dance across that stage when I'm done.

I reviewed this French film My Best Friend. Cute movie. And Sicko. Really informative. And Bratz. Nothing new there- a story about friendship enduring tribulation, same old- apparently everyone else felt the same. It bombed opening weekend.

I also got a new job! In Atlantic Station! At the Twelve! Slinging those plates as usual but a lot classier- slinging for a lot more money. Yes, your girl will get her bread up. It's a foodie's paradise, with a lot of ingredients in the kitchen, a lot of bottles behind the bar, and a hell of a lot of cheese flowing through the joint. Feel me?

Nadine G.