The Kootenai Mancatcher
At work, the chefs' girlfriend has been selling her dreamcatchers, finely beaded little spirals hung with feathers and leather thongs.
Jealous of her success, I came up with my own "indigent artist" crafts project to sell in the restaurant: The Kootenai Mancatcher. Tradition has it that when a Kootenai girl came of age and found herself single, she'd assemble a mancatcher from a pair of her choicest knickers and hang it upon her schoolbus or trailer to demonstrate her availability ....
Only $60.
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Relish
I'm going to break with a long tradition here and start naming names...enough is enough.
Sunday morning, looking for breakfast in Nelson. Full Circle, the breakfast place on Baker, has a half hour waiting list, which means when you walk past the window there's a dozen empty tables inside but inside the mall entrance there's easily a dozen, maybe 2 dozen people waiting for a table.
This is a Kootenay tradition, waiting for a table in an empty restaurant. This is usually preceded by a "Do you have a reservation?" inquiry from host or server, then a hopeful announcement that they could possibly have you sat within the hour, despite the obvious abundance of empty tables. I used to put this down to the impossibility of getting quality service staff out here, but in a year I've come to realize it's more the impossibility of finding competent owners or management, and this morning I'm not in the mood to wait in line to give someone my money, so I wander on.
Relish, across the street, is open, and so I mosey over there. The patio is full, or 9/10 tables on it are, but I've had enough of the great outdoors today and would happily sit inside. Inside, 4 tables occupied, the other 10 or so empty, 3 servers on, they should have me sat within 10 minutes or so...
I'm not making this up. Relish, they have that reputation here of being one of the better restaurants, their servers, attractive waitresses in short dresses or skirts with the abundance of leg tattoos, I applied here for a job once before I realized their "unofficial" but transparent policy of employing only attractive girls on the service end, and being neither attractive (or a girl) didn't get any sort of callback. Lots of restaurants do this, standard industry practice, and who doesn't like to be served by a pretty girl? But right now I just want to be served, want a bite of breakfast, and am getting a little annoyed with this "wait at the door 20 minutes to sit at an empty table that was clean and empty for 20 minutes before you arrived".
I've been here a couple of times before, the first time with my daughter and friend, I ordered some gravy for my fries and the then Australian waitress told me
"You'll have to pay for that you know", and I was kind of dumbfounded at her mentioning this, was the rest of the meal free? Or was I to pay for the gravy up front? I simply reiterated, in words she would understand, that I would like to pay for some gravy, and she reluctantly brought it just as I was finishing my last french fry.
If you've ever been to Nelson you'll know, the Australians, they kind of have the service industry locked down, they're "managing", after a fashion, most of the pubs and bars, which is ironic if you know anything about service, because having an Australian in charge of your service is a little like kidnapping an Eskimo from his kayak and making him your network administrator, Australians are no more known for their customer service skills than they are for their tipping, but that's another rant...
IN any event there are no Australians here today, this is all Kootenay, 100% Nelson service, and 20 minutes after arriving I'm sat at the empty table that was empty when I arrived right in front of me and the attractive server arrives and pours my water and takes my order and, after a lengthy delay, brings my food. I know, I know, it has to be cooked, and despite the restaurant being empty the patio is full, and the 4 chefs behind the counter are taxed to their limit.
The food, average as always. The service - ?? nondescript, but I'm done and when I get up to pay the bill suddenly it changes, it's friendly, personable even, the waitress, formerly "all business what d'ya want" is now solicitous, friendly, "How was everything?" she asks, presenting me the debit machine, leaning in close, her hair falling on my shoulder, her legs, hips, closer and closer, tattooed legs curling around mine, fingertips lightly guiding my fingers across the confusing tip options...."You can tip 15%, 20%, 25%, or other...." and down to other and she's continuing "Oh, good choice...lets see...you could leave me a castle in Europe, or a private jet, I would need you to leave me a pilot as well, and maybe a credit card for gas, I have a lot of friends, or you could leave me a ... more options, a diamond tiara, a kilogram of the finest Colombian Cocaine...we should party sometime...", she's needlessly working herself up and getting herself excited and it's not my imagination, she's now grinding on my hip, helping me navigate the confusing minefield of Nelson tipping, ah, service in Nelson, the perfect marriage of incompetence and entitlement, I was 20% when I came in, it was decided before I even sat down to eat, 20% rounded up, but all this attentiveness, too much, too late, it's infuriating me, and my blood is boiling and not with the reasons she's trying to incite...
It doesn't have to be this way. Seat me at the empty table when I come in. Tell me the kitchen is a bit slow. Let me order, bring my food, let me tip and get the fuck out. But out here, everything is just that little bit more over the top...
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The Batshit Packages
They stopped when I told him off, which was fine, they were getting to be a bit much, a lot of unwrapping of rubbish and treasure maps and rocks and chewed up gum and twine, shoelaces, a hundred rubber bands, used coffee cups and bits of kleenex...unwrap, take to garbage.
Possibly I could monetize them, make "Unboxing Batshit" videos on YouTube, share my general distaste and horror, the "art" aspect of them has generally disappeared, I was a little too close to him, he stopped trying:
For example, the last package:
A sculpture he made with kleenex, rock, candlewax and rubber bands.
Old vitamins and bits of food in a can...
an annotated page from "Franklin".
A note and reference to a treasure map...
The most sensible piece so far. And a piece of bubblegum holding it all together.
A food hamper of partially eaten cakes topped with hand picked flowers and a soggy cigarette. "Monroe Gold and Rouge". Uh-huh.
4 gems from a pirate ship. One appears to be a ball bearing.
Another sculpture with glass gems, readable scrolls, and a "Knights of the Emeralds" VHS tape.
more childrens books and errant notes fueling his deranged imagination...
The best one so far, a rant for my daughter..."Save this" I tell her: "One day it will be worth a fortune".
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Homeless
My patience is exhausted.
The waiter, the one who got fed up with the Owner's son, don't blame him, we all are, but he spoke his mind and quit and moved to Nelson to live under the Big Orange Bridge.
When I'm in town I keep in touch, buy him coffee, see how the job hunt is going. He's not interested in work, not particularly, he wants to buy a restaurant, get his own show up and running, I spot him 20 bucks for food, a pack of cigarettes, he's hopeless, his priorities completely fucked...
And then there's Batshit, whom I took to the Burlesque, and bought his ticket, and then bought him chocolates, at his insistence, then he gave them away, asked for more, wanted me to buy him this, buy him that, and I did some mental addition and realized he's cost me more the past month than my own kids, and I'm not current with those bills either, and so I told him, not so kindly, to lay off, and he's offended now and ignoring me but I'm kind of loving the break...
In Nelson, for every one person who works there's a dozen that don't and feel they have a claim upon your wallet, and your good nature takes you only so far when you come to town, the highly visible contingents of homeless that party every night and panhandle the day away, and you're every best intention is pissed or smoked away. I give up.
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