A, Gossip, Busy
The weekend, surprisingly busy.
And late.
The owner, pissed off at A for not returning his call, (Having called her about something so trivial he's already forgotten) has ignored her the past 4, 5 weekends she's worked. They're both pissed off at each other. Last night (Friday) he insisted she be called and told not to work, it wasn't so busy...
It wasn't, but later on, as the day progressed, after the call was made, it was.
She was surprised. For someone who lamented every second being there - understandably, now she's surprised at this unexpected day off. She's suspicious. Far slower nights we've had her in to pacify the owner, now a night off, she's suspicious of the Axe.
The night, busy, the nephew a poor substitute as Expeditor, requiring, insisting upon no assistance, but the food is carried poorly, single plates at a time, cutlery, pepper & other essentials forgotten.
She's sorely missed. A small contribution, true, but noticeable, the nephew's not an adequate replacement.
***
A table - older people, one of whom, I notice, sports a monocle. I profess my admiration, it's an interesting thing, a cool thing, he wears it well. I want one.
He offers it to me, will take my details, leave it to me in his will. I'm not that patient.
We jest, he's 78, it turns out, a bit of a wag, a sport, sense of humor. It's nice.
***
Saturday, A is in. Not called & told otherwise she's just shown up. Queried about her day off - unexpected - she's bitter. She doesn't see it as the day off she's long pined for, requested, wanted, rather as an outright declaration of war between her and the owner. Which it is, but it's the other things as well.
She's not seeing it that way.
She won't expedite the food, the Nephew can, she'll help out in the dining room.
It's ridiculously busy, late, the evening runs late, by the end we've gone our separate ways, by the end I'm on my own at the local to give best wishes to the manager, Pete, who's leaving, "Good Luck" I invite him to come along as my donkey to Alaska, the other staff - the staff at the restaurant I work in, couldn't be bothered, off to strip clubs and gay bars, they don't particularly care.
***
Now for Sunday, the day off, the week-end. I've not yet told the owner of my departure, don't know quite how to break it, don't think he'll take it well. And I'm uncertain, too, so much to be done, tools to be organized, other projects completed. 2 Weeks of work, 4 weeks until departure. I'll tell him Monday.
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- Category: Miscellany
Crazy
Payday, and as the Nephew has astutely observed the owner's always off on Payday. He doesn't like paying the staff. There's always something that he rages about, a fury that shouts and swears at all of the staff, it's predictable.
Tonight the excuse is the cheques seem too large.
There's a reason, our pay period, there's 3 extra days, and the tip cheques have always been a few days behind, the past few weeks have been busy (the weeks before have been quite slow), they've caught up, they seem high...
The owner has me check the math. He's suspicious.
The math adds up.
He has me call his wife to solicit an explanation, she's not answering, she's had to deal with him a couple of times already, she calls back when she receives my message. The cheques are correct.
He rails at the kitchen, the overtime is unacceptable, they should work only the allotted hours, their cheques are too large...
She sends him an email and explains that there's a Stat Holiday, they have to be paid overtime, and there's 3 extra pay days this period, hence the cheques seem large.
He's not yelling at me, railing instead at the others, the kitchen, the other staff, he knows what the issue is, he knows why and the solution, he just loathes payday.
He's Crazy. It's like this every paycheque.
The staff, ridiculously, try to understand, they get onto his page, think there must be something wrong with the paycheque, ask me if everything's all right, they are somehow sharing his point of view.
This is unbelievable...
"It's not about that", I explain, he's crazy. he knows we're due the money, he's just venting his pain upon paying us.
Everyone has a suggestion, "He should take an anger management course", or "He should take medication...".
They suggest it as if he knows. He knows, somewhat, but it doesn't make it any easier. We should deal with it.
Crazy doesn't know it's crazy...It's the rule. If he knew he was crazy he would be a long ways towards being sane...
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Customers & Orders of Magnitude
If I had to do it over and choose a career it would be somehow related to oil and gas.
Seriously.
Our customers, all of them, every one, the regulars at least, the respected regulars, a millionaire, several times over due to the Oil and Gas industry.
Vague companies they own, royalties from leasing land, drilling, service companies, none of them (to overhear their conversations) even remotely intelligent, few enough well mannered, merely the social fluency of rednecks and hillbillies, Millionaires.
"So and So" the owner tells me..."owns .... Petroleum, worth 45 Million dollars....".
"What exactly do they do?" I ask, curious, all these Petroleum companies, where's the money, "Petroleum" is rather vague...
He doesn't know, names to look up, research to do, I'm not sure the Owner's the most reliable source, most of our customer's are wealthy, to be sure, but the scale seems ridiculous.
Some of them own Private Jets. Guess Ten Million Dollars for the jet, 100, 150K a year for the Pilot (forever on hold, 24/7, waiting for the call), airport, maintenance fees, ridiculous squandering of extravagant wealth. How many times would you need to take a 10 Million Dollar Jet a year, with added maintenance and expenses, for it to pay for itself? But it's all Status, the "I'm better than you, I have a private jet..." . This is good, it reminds me that I'm a simple man.
We have one, the owner knows him, retired at 45, good looking in that way that I might be if I never smoked, never worked in restaurants, never had a financial care in the world and worked out for 3 hours a day might be, likeable, retired with 45 Million (Give or Take) in the bank...
He's the poor one, his brothers are far better off. A billion, 100 million, companies and employees that somehow exceed my imagination
And the best dreams of my excursion up North, even with the new and improved price of gold factored in, have me paying a few bills, buying a cheap jeep, paying rent for a year. Order's of Magnitude, gold vs petroleum. Still I'm going.
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- Category: People
Easter - 2012
Work is work. Not the regulars, but the standard assortment of lost souls that fill every restaurant dumb enough to open on a national holiday weekend.
Never busy, never full, most tables having 1 course, house wine by the glass, pastas, or, if you're lucky a steak, always well done. Very slow, but the laid back pace is a welcome break from regular weekends.
No regulars, or at best one or two tables. Most of our tables, night to night, are regulars, holiday weekends are another story.
Friday already blogged, Saturday, slow, my turn to leave, the night strangely dragging, watch stopping, finally, finally I'm free. No day off on Monday, the owner's decided to open despite there being no reservations in the book. And, perversely, this is good, it guarantees my regularly scheduled day off.
Sunday the boy and I head to Red Deer to meet Grandpa for Lunch. No time for the Pedestrian Bridge (I've plans for some photos and critical observations & letters). I've a blue furry Easter Bonnet, with rabbit ears, that I'm wearing. With the blonde hair, dark roots and decrepit, ripped sweater and jeans I look s proper crack addict. People notice and laugh, some parents (grabbing a coffee in a Tim Horton's) clutch their children close, who cares, really? Survive the day, day off, 1 day, a regular day, in a 4 day holiday weekend.
Boy is envious of the cap, although he only hints. He's halfway through "A Clockwork Orange", liking it, refused to download "Eraserhead" as somehow it seemed just a bit too fucked up for him. He's completed all reading assignments, must find something new or his Mom will force him to read "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo", which is a bit too contemporary for our taste (good or not). We'll check the VV in Red Deer.
Lunch, Dad, Grandpa, good. And, surprisingly, he doesn't comment on the blonde hair or the blue Easter Bonnet. I'm impressed, I should acquire some of his restraint. We catch up. I lightly tease the boy about his haircut, it's good, different, first noticeable haircut in about 5 years, I didn't know he had ears, this because his Drama teacher insisted, we talk fluff and Nonsense.
Then to Value Village, some treasures, I could spend a couple of hours here but the boy, grandpa, they're both bored, I'm quick. The stomach's off, a proper volcano with all the feel-good chilies consumed on Saturday, the washroom and that vague unease that I may be surprised again. VV then short, despite my desire to pry through every treasure, bagged jewelry item, thwarted, the obvious treasures that can be gleaned from an acre's worth of shopping in 10 minutes, for the boy a copy of Marlowe's "Dr. Faustus" - reading for a couple of days (he's in Drama, after all...), for myself some sparkly jewelry items for the daughter, a rosary ring, little angel medallion, (I could spend hours going through their little bags...), then the long drive home, miss the Stony Trail Exit and take the long route through the center of Calgary.
The boy notices the soundtrack of "Prospero's Books" playing from the MP3, makes a note, does he like it? Curious. Finally he's home in time for Easter Dinner, me to DQ for their 1$ burgers (filling the cracks that Earl's didn't), home, nap (long), coffee, up, and now again ready for sleep...
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- Category: Miscellany
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