Ellen
One of the thrift shop volunteers, an older widow, 70's (I think....daren't ask). We've a lot of these widows volunteering.
She gets it. I only point that out because so few do. I can find an ashtray with a painting of Don Quixote by Picasso on it and she recognizes both subject and artist.
TO me this is a common thing, but - test a few people and you'll find it incredibly rare. A pair of badly painted statues, Gainsborough's "Blue Boy" and "Pink Lady" - she knows.
I like this, and she has the sniffles and so I rib her about sitting up with B* - her volunteer friend - and doing lines of Blow all night (an image I find curiously humorous) - and she laughs and says "It's been a while...eight ball". Books, she's read a few, art, and so - bored with Michael as you must get bored with anyone you work in close quarters with I find myself querying her - certainly one of the more "lived" people I've met.
I note this only because it's so rare to find people with shared touchstones, the "pre-internet" people who absorbed the common culture before the internet so thoroughly divided it.
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The Circus Begins...
So far in the Kitchen we've Sean - who's been here a few years. New hires include A* and J* - both younger (late teens), living at home.
But - this is not enough, especially with the other commitments the restaurant has taken on (Catering the Golf Course).
So - in order of appearance, this years players will be:
H* - a younger server (30's???) who talks incessantly about her "Partner". Ken no longer works here so I don't know what the deal is; I'm suspicious of people that forever go on about their significant other or relationship - they are not complete people.
J* - who I haven't met but has already taken to calling the restaurant far too often to check upon her schedule.
T* - an older female server (40's) - probably will be good.
Cathy - from last year.
There's L*, JR's Mother in Law - who comes down for a visit, forever coming in for hugs, she seems to have somewhere in the winter decided to "have a crush" on me, sticking her tits and whiskers in my face. This won't do. We're going to have to ship her to the Golf Course. I make the mistake of showing her my "3-fingered death punch" and she got a little too excited.
Nope, Nope, Nope.
There's C*, who just before he left to come here got mugged in Victoria, all savings, money, cards, stolen, he's piss poor, not even started and taking his meals in the restaurant, on credit, a hard-luck story, do I believe him? maybe...not, in any event this man needs Kung-Rate, He's already calling me "Sensei"...
A*, back after a 3 year hiatus, she's a kitchen nightmare, bossy, not my problem and hopefully she's learned to chill a bit from the past few years. Hopefully.
There's John, the Filipino, I'll mark him as sane a quiet, a worker bee, I'll leave him alone, sometimes you gotta leave people alone and - while it kills me, cultural differences might not translate my humor well, and - worker bees who shut up and do their job are worth their weight in Gold.
Saturday night, they're sitting around Staff Housing, the waning sun, boring Balfour Nights, another year and the circus is beginning again...
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Sick Days
Friday, JR's first day back at work. He's fixed the schedule so that he's on 3 days per week.
Why not?
He's brought his kids, 4 & 5 years old, little terrors that scream and track dirt all about the restaurant. It's their playroom.
And, the call, this morning, he's sick. Because of course.
This is the second time in the last 4 weeks.
I mean, the owners, they know, but they refer the knowledge, place it elsewhere, not their JR, it's not true, not possible, not him...
I'm wondering, how many sick days per hour am I entitled to? I've been here six years, not used a single one, and he - he's used....
In other news, yesterday, after work, took a rake and scoured the washout. A couple of flints. Last night - rain, this morning, go back and check the results of my raking, it didn't rain too much out here, the rake lines are still visible, a couple more flakes and a nice piece of black tourmaline.
Now, to work...sweep and mop up after the little shits and lets get this show started...
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Little Timmy
There was, it should be noted, some attendant skepticism towards my story of lifting the school filled with children off of Little Timmy thereby saving his life.
This, however, should be laid to rest with the letter Little Timmy dropped off thanking me for my prowess. This I naturally posted in the staff area beside the schedule so all the new hires can appreciate my community involvement.
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