And here a summary rant of the events since last week.
The rave - after 2 years of restraint, much anticipated - tickets for the son and daughter - plane ticket for daughter to Calgary so they could drive down together - cancelled, last minute, on Monday - too many cases out here - 200 cases in 2 weeks, a full 2% of the population infected with the new Delta Variant.
So, no rave, but the plans been made and the kids will come down all the same.
The restaurant, now closed Tuesday and Wednesday - the owner has some campaigning to do with the newly called election. This will give her more time to do it.
Thursday - The owner's son - my colleague - and his wife - decide to make it a three day weekend. This despite his wife having had the past 10 days off. It's their sons birthday and they have yet another party to attend. So it's just me and Wigglesworth.
Wigglesworth, 18 years old, maybe 5'6"and 200 pounds, telling me the name of her boyfriend (Conan? Cory? Conrad? Why is she talking to me...), telling me she can't get the vaccine because she's allergic to them, bleah, bleah, bleah. I've heard it all before.
Wigglesworth is off at 4:00. I ask if she'd like to work later, we'll be busy, but no, she's scheduled until 4:00, she's working until 4:00, she has an appointment. Funny for someone so garrulous she doesn't elaborate on the appointment, but I can guess. Dairy Queen. She made cash tips and she's off to spend them.
So - Thursday night - the height of summer - and it's me on my own. The owner - husband of - is there to help me. In a muscle shirt and dirty jeans he can pour me a beer if I need it.
This is not the help I need. We've been short-staffed all summer, and now, with kids birthdays and Dairy Queen we're more short staffed than ever. I'm seriously pissed and he knows it. We're slammed - predictably, walk-ins of 6, 8, 12, and it's just me on my lonesome. There's no shorter, curter, ruder, abrupter waiter on Kootenay Lake. This is bullshit - the owner - he knows, he can tell how pissed I am, but the show must go in.
I survive, barely, the reputation of the restaurant - never fine - has doubtless taken a licking. I don't check the reviews but - given my temper - I doubt any were favorable.
***
Friday, Garage Sale at Ainsworth. I wake early, drive up, am amongst the first on the scene and I clean up. There's been a separate post on that. Work - the owner's son, he's apologizing to me with a flushed face - he didn't know I'd be on my own (Really? REALLY?) - he's been told, his dad gave him a talking to...
The day passes, another one down. I survive. At this point that is the sum of my ambition - live through the September long weekend and then just breathe.
Saturday - I open. An early day for me - I'm expecting the kids - but the night - all the staff are in - all the other staff - all the staff because I have taken the night off.
I laugh. If I'm working I can work by myself, if I take the night off they need the whole kit and caboodle to cover me.
***
The kids arrive - good to see them - how long's it been? A while. We go for dinner, and again. The indoor mask mandates have taken effect - you must wear a mask to your table before you can take it off. We're doomed. The restaurant, filled to the brim with unmasked diners, easily 50, 60 people, talking, breathing, and with a 2% infection rate you can bet that it's here. It's here. I watch the waiter, busy with 5 tables. 5 tables no more than 20 feet from the kitchen or bar. Busy with 5 tables no more than 20 feet from the kitchen or the bar and with a dedicated bartender and hostess.
I work in hell.
Sunday, recover from Saturday's excesses, the boy, the girl, they were no help whatsoever with that bottle of Vodka, had to kill it on my own, and Sunday I'm paying the price. The boy is as well, good to know he's a featherweight. We head up to the hot springs - I haven't been since the Pandemic began and they've only lately begun to open them to the general public.
Only there's an hour and a half wait to get into the Covid soup. And count the people in the pools, in the cave - We're doomed. Doomed by half-measures. We stand a bit, watch the line, we're not getting in. Upstairs to the restaurant for a disappointing lunch, try again to get into the pools but it's not happening. They've increased their prices - $15.00 admission (up from 9 or 10, I remember), and $5.00 for a towel rental - and these price increases are on the back of reduced service. They're cleaning up.
It's amazing this, do everything wrong and double your money. I'm in awe. Still - in another couple of weeks - after the September long - it'll be a lot safer - there'll be a fraction of the customers, most of whom will be locals, and there will be no waiting in line.
Sunday night - still recovering - we watch "Annette" with Adam Driver. I've covered that elsewhere.
And Monday, the kids are off, work again - Wigglesworth wants to know if she needs to bring a Doctors Note for why she can't get a vaccine, I have some great customers. Survive the day, survive the night - and there's only 2 weeks left. 2 weeks and the business will go over a cliff, there will be busy spells, for sure, but nothing like the summer, and my sanity will be slowly restored...