Posts tagged blog
Posts tagged blog
at work, I was seating a couple of older ladies. One moved with the help of a walker. I asked them if they’d like to sit by the window, but told them the only table left was a little tight. The one with the walker told me to put her walker behind the host stand, and she would be fine getting to the table. So I sat them by the window.
Later, I’m standing by the stairs and notice her starting up the staircase, and I go up to her and ask: “Are you looking for the restrooms? Because we have one downstairs that you can use.” and she said: “Oh? is that one open to the public?”
I said, “it’s usually for employees, but you can use it if you don’t want to go all the way up the stairs.”
I could tell it took her a minute to process my concern, and when I saw that, I immediately felt guilty. I thought that I was being considerate, but in doing so I must’ve reminded her of her age. She said strongly: “Oh, no, I’m absolutely fine with taking the stairs! That was sweet of you though.”
After reading Water For Elephants, where half of it is narrated through the perspective of an 80, 90-something year old man, I got to thinking more about the process of aging. Can you imagine being old?? There’s no way to know how many different paths your life will go on before you reach that age. And carrying all of that with you, I can see how the pride of youth can stick with some people until they die. Their bodies might be fragile, but that’s only because they’ve been weathered with years of memories and experiences. Some are always young in spirit.
Do you ever have conflicting urges? Well I do quite frequently, and right now I am torn between the urge to go to my bed, curl up under the covers and shut down, or to strip off my shoes and jewelry and just run. To just tear through the streets of this city in full force, ignoring the slow, zombie-like walk of it’s inhabitants and just keep turning corners with no definite destination or direction until I can’t possibly run anymore.
I’ve also noticed that I corrected “go home” to “go to my bed”. I find it too weird to call where I am now my ‘home’. I’m renting a room in Washington Heights, and while that’s what a lot of people in NYC do, I still have the weird sensation of living in a stranger’s home (which is, essentially, what I’m doing). I love the city, but not having a place to call my home is probably the most unsettling thing about being up here right now. Especially after having just spent a week back in my real home, surrounded by all the people I care about. It made coming back to NYC feel extra lonely.
I’m trying to hunt with roommates for a place, but at this point I’ve already discovered that it’s within my budget to just get a studio and pay $1,000/mo on my own, so maybe I’ll cave and do that. I really would rather find a place for under $1k, and be able to save more money, but I need to get settled somewhere soon. And buy an xbox and ps3 so I can finally go back to videogaming in my free time rather than wander around the city spending money hahahahah.
But, I digress. My blogs, while infrequent, will probably be more conversational than anything, because my ability to make friends seems to be working in slo-mo right now; I have nobody to spend my days with, and no class to keep me busy. I may just get a second job for the mornings to take up time (And that is a sentence only a true Capricorn would say).
Well, nobody said it would be easy.
“This burden may be more than I would like to bear, but it’s still less than I can take.”
This may be a wall of text. This may be an angry wall of text. But I will make it an entertaining wall of text.
Dear table 230,
Thank you so much for your feedback!! First of all, I would just like to say:
Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.
Okay, now that that’s out of the way, let’s get down to business. Being as you are a coward who bolted for the door after writing this note, running from the chance that I might have something to say back to you (I know you were actually catching a Broadway show, but bear with me here), I have chosen to write my response to your letter with a letter of my own! However, since I could not respond immediately after reading it, I have had the rest of my shift (which ended at 2am btw, hope you enjoyed your 8:15 showing) to ponder this message. And, in true IB Graduate fashion (GASP!! I’m an educated servant????), have chosen to annotate it for you. Let’s start with the first line:
“Poor service.” Two words that you obviously don’t know the meaning of. Please inform me what part of the service was poor: The way I greeted you with a smile? The way I took your order down and put it in immediately to accommodate your time schedule to make it to Broadway on time? The way I kept your beverages full? The way I made pleasant small talk with you? The way all your necessary utensils and condiments were on your table BEFORE your food arrived? The way I delivered your check to you promptly when you asked for it? You failed to give any supporting evidence to follow up this statement, so I guess I’ll have to render this line invalid. In IB English teacher fashion, I would draw a nice swooping line through it in red pen, because it clearly has no place in this text.
“Placed us at a broken table by the kitchen and the restroom.” To state the obvious, the HOSTESS seated you at your table, not me. See, there’s a separate job position for that, and you have the liberty to ask for a different table if that one is unappetizing for you (believe me, plenty of people exercise this right). The hostess’ job is to take guests and sit them at a table. My job is to go to that table and provide service to the people sitting there. Therefore, this statement does not support the previous statement about service. You changed to a different subject in this line; decide what you want your letter to be about! This is sloppy work.
“We had to move ourselves to not spill our drinks on the wobbly table.” There you go, a complete sentence! You’ve presented both a problem, AND the solution! So I fail to see how this has anything to do with the bad service, if you addressed the problem yourself. Unless you mean you were moving your body against the table to keep it from wobbling, in which case I would like to politely point out the fact that you were seated at a half-booth, half-table which had one open table down the booth on your left, and four open tables down the booth to your right, which would have only required a little scooting on your part to move over(or was it the one who was in the chair who wrote the letter?). So, if you did not entertain the idea of scooting yourselves over one table, that’s a mark on you, not me. In addition, the multiple times I came by and asked how things were, THAT would have been the time to bring light to this issue, not suffer through your meal and then blame me for your lack of initiative.
“You are lucky we didn’t have smaller bills. Just my 2c.” Now, THIS is my favorite part. I really like the visual sass you added by placing two pennies on your receipt. I bet you thought you were being SO clever. I can see you in high school, being the class smartass who thought he was just making everyone’s day more grand by gracing them with his witty humor. Well, I hate to break it to you, but your ‘forced’ $6 tip is worth nothing to me, and if you left anything less, it would still be worth the same. I’ll wipe my ass with that $6 if it’ll show graphically enough how little that money means to me. You two ordered THE two cheapest things on the menu. I’ve had a single person come in to eat and leave me four times your tip. I’m pretty sure YOU needed that $6 more, with those cheap blue button-ups and that hideous paisley tie. You could have just left a single $20 with this letter, and I would’ve been more impressed with your “higher than thou” attitude. But it’s a good thing you didn’t ask for change, because all I had in my wallet was $50s. Bitch.
Your lovely server
The most incorrect part of this letter to me was the “poor service”. I NEVER give poor service. And when I say this, I don’t mean that I’m a perfect server. I mean that I always give great service, no matter what. I can be pretty critical about the servers that take care of me when I go out to eat(which server isn’t?), but not about how long I wait for my food, or if she put too much ice in my cup. To me, good service means a smile and a positive attitude(sound cheesy yet?). So I get upset when someone is taking care of me and I don’t know what their smile looks like. I should never leave a food establishment without seeing a smile. I may get weeded or frazzled. I may forget your side of ranch with those fries. I may forget to tell the kitchen to hold the tomatoes on your burger. I may bring you regular instead of diet. BUT I WILL NEVER DO IT WITHOUT A SMILE.
I make sure the FIRST thing any table sees is my smile, and I am always polite and friendly, even if I’m not getting into an awesome conversation with you. I even had a table yesterday sincerely thank me for my service. They said it had been so long since they had dined in New York City and had a server that honestly smiled like I did, and told me not to lose that smile in the stress of the city like everyone else seems to. And I won’t.
You can complain to the manager and ask for a refund because you’re allergic to the avocado that wasn’t supposed to be in your sandwich, and I’ll take the consequences. But don’t you EVER fucking insult my service. Because I know damned well that it was phenomenal.
Have a great night.
…my night was going to end at 2 am when I got home from work, and got online to do a quick check on flight prices back to Florida for my visit. But apparently that’s only where it started.
I’m going to skip blogging about the broken glass, vomit, ambulance, Class A Jersey douchebag EMT, creepy hospital and too-fast taxi ride back home at 6am. I am instead going to blog about a very small moment in the middle of all that craziness.
It’s not often that people say something to me that brings me to tears, but I believe I was drunkenly told the nicest thing that anyone has ever said to me. As I was holding my roommate’s hair and refilling her cup of water for her, amidst the depressed-drunken-toilet-talk, she told me she was envious of me, because of how independent and grown up I was, with a job, and fitting in to New York so well. Then she said,
“And I feel sad every time I see you put coins in your jar. Because you deserve so, so much more. Every time I have coins in my purse, I’ve been putting them in your jar for you, because you deserve so much more than what you have.”
Yes, I was crying with her for a while, and I know she won’t remember any of it when she wakes up.
My suitemate’s friend just came into my room (it’s just me and her home right now) and says: “Hey, I need your opinion, I’m stuck.” She shows me a picture of (I think) a ring, against a pink background. “Which looks cooler?”
She then shows me the EXACT same picture, with the ring at a SLIGHTLY different angle.
“I’m so torn, which one is better???”
My thrift shop finds today!!
1) Studded bracelet, $3.
2) Pirate belt!! The skull was just so bedazzled and fabulous I couldn’t resist. Also $3.
3) Red bow waist belt!! Too cute, and I figured it could doll-up any look. Also $3.
4) The cute blue and white striped shorts from the earlier picture!! I might put some flat studs on them to go with the gold button decals, but we’ll see. $4. :)
I also got a romper for $14, but I’ll put a nice picture of that later. I’ve always hated rompers, and it’s almost impossible for one to fit me because I have a long torso, but I fell for this one. it’s too cute. <3
P.S. Yes, I am showing off my Beats. ;)
I was so used to having the room to myself!!
She’s from FL too which is cool, and she’s super French. I haven’t gotten to talk to her much yet because of work, but the one thing that’s turning me off from her is that her shelf is filled with weight loss supplements and “Lose up to 25 lbs!!” pills, and I noticed she made a little section of shelf for her stuff in the fridge, and ALL of it is.. “lo-cal” “skinny” “sugar-free” “Zero Calories”….like, shit.
She looks fine to me. (No rlly, she’s really thin. She’s French.)
Idk, I know a lot of girls have body issues, it’s just something I’ve never been able to empathize with. I love my body. And I know it’s not perfect by any means, I’ve got cellulite and stretch marks on my thighs, and I have that little tummy pudge that makes me look like a chub when I’m not sitting up straight, and my boobs are barely there, but still, it’s my body. Idk how you can’t love yourself.
She’s from Miami, so that could be a factor. In FL in general, you’re judged a lot harsher on your body, because the fashion 98% of the year is short shorts and tank tops, and you’re surrounded by girls with dark tans and tiny legs where their thigh’s don’t touch. But in the north it’s more about what you wear, not so much how fit and tan your body is. So I hope NYC will help her with her body image, and she won’t feel as pressured to lose weight… I feel like it’s a really sad thing to watch, especially when this girl probably weights 20 pounds less than I do.
And I don’t think I’m jumping to wild conclusions with this, because I know the kinds of products that people who are healthy and self-improving buy, and I can tell when the products are bought by someone who’s self conscious.
Oh well, I suppose it’s not my business. I just hope the city will help her confidence and she won’t feel the need to eat nothing but celery and diet pills everyday… I hate seeing beautiful girls with low self esteem.
I’ve been thinking about rewarding myself at the end of the summer with a new pair of shoes. Well, splurging on a pair of shoes I should say. I normally would never spend more than $30 on a pair of shoes, or $50 in the case of boots, but I keep seeing amazing shoes all over NYC, and I definitely need to upgrade my wardrobe with some crazier shoes.
I have my eye on this crazy pair of wedges. It’s going to take a lot to allow myself to spend $200 on one pair of shoes, but I suppose it’s an investment. And high quality shoes will definitely wind up being worth it.
with my new job. I was talking to one of my coworkers, and not only does he attend my school (Fashion Institute of Technology), but she can afford an apartment in the city where her rent is over $1,000 per month. With this job. And she’s in an independent situation just like me, where her parents aren’t helping her out. In fact, she’s younger than me. She’s 18, and she’s exactly where I’m trying to be (though I’ll settle for a place with cheaper rent haha).
It’s amazing when things just fall into place, one after another. I guess I was cut out for New York City life.
Molly’s Cupcakes are delicious!