This is a new thing, the drinks with staff, a weekly ritual. When I worked here before with Franco and G we never went for drinks, at the end of the shift everyone went their separate ways.
But since the girls have been hired, the waitresses and the salad chef, G and the nephew have found new reason to go for drinks, often not just every week but every night...
Sometimes I tag along. I've heard stories about these nights and I'm curious....
We gather at one of the local bars, we're in the NE of Calgary, the Hood, there are better bars for sure but for some reason they favour this. A dozen TV's show sports, MMA fights, the patrons are surly local drunks, more regular than us, I would, on my own, have never set foot in here but the staff like it, they're friendly with the owners and have acquired the dubious status of regulars.
On occasion they'll try another bar, it's the NE, they're all much the same, the VLT's, the smell of pot around the entrance and the drunken patrons starting surreal conversations about anything that crosses their addled brains...
The conversations are grueling. The rehashing of the nights events, the owner's tantrums, it's the group of soldiers that have survived, somehow and miraculously yet another siege, they never stray far from the restaurant, it's all we have in common.
The Nephew moans about his tips, he feels he doesn't get enough, the manager moans she's not appreciated, we complain in general about other less competent staff members not present,..
There are long pauses in which the conversation stalls, the Nephew and G work the waitresses, the manager, more "bump and grind" then flirtation, they laugh but there's suspicions of liaisons that transpire away from our prying eyes.
The bar closes and staff make their way to the Salad Girls apartment, she's wealthy, or her father is, this job is the "chore" she's expected to do, 20 hours a week, in return for her allowance. I've heard stories about this place, and now am awed, 2,000 square feet of condo on a single level overlooking the city, dirty laundry strewn from the front door to the balcony, there's the lavish expensive furnishings, a wrought iron wine holder that looks as if it could have been made in the third world, price: $1800 - note on price tag: "1 only", interspersed with the modern trash are the occasional treasures, a gold pocket watch, a pair of fine antique candlesticks, this condo, it's a page torn from a lifestyles magazine that illustrates what good living should be about.
The nights, here, they go on for ever, until the sun comes up and it's time to go back to work.
This job is their life.