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- Written by: Rod Boyle
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And business grinds to a halt. Tonight, not a single table, 1 reservation at 8:00 PM (8:00 PM!!), they call back later to cancel...
We get almost as many cancellations as we do reservations.
...by 7:00 we close. The Nephew has spent the entire night on his phone, showing me amusing videos. Amusing, a relative term, amusing to him...
Our suppliers, they're dying as well, the bakery, the grocer, the generic grocery supply company, none of them are doing well, it's a matter of time...
Friday night, dead, all tables gone by 7:30, we have to wait until 8:00 for the next reservation. A deuce, in an empty restaurant, they stay, dine alone, surreal in a sense, I buy them a drink and apologize...
And Saturday much the same, a single table of 4 by 8:30, they stay until 10:30, a promotional gift certificate, 4 hours they spent ...
We're dying. The city is dying, this mono-economy of oil and gas, boom or bust, we're busting now hard.
The Nephew, it suits his work ethic, he spends his time sitting down at the bar looking at facebook posts, inane videos...he's found one he has to share. A monkey and a goat. You can figure out the rest. It's sick, he's seriously deranged, but he's loving it...
"You're parents, I presume" is the best I can do when he shows me. He shows the hostess, 17 year old S***, Seduction, Italian Style, she'll be the goat...
The owner, pacing, these nights he's losing money. There's not enough coming in to pay the staff, let alone himself...or his $20,000/month child support. And he's never seen it that slow. Nobody has. It's never been that slow. This is the beginning of the end.
A*****, the other "A*****", he's concerned, the dollar has dropped so much, his transfers of money home to Italy, they're nothing, he'd be better off working in Mexico, ... "It's temporary" I assure him, but he's not budgeted for temporary, and he's committed to sending money home every month at the current exchange, he's doomed...
The nephew entertains us with his views on Hitler (in favor of), on immigration (opposed), his opinions, offensive, inane, stupid, but amusing...
"...For every 100 Rods sleeping on your couch, with your wife, eating your food and doing your cocaine there is maybe 1 A*****..." The A*****, that's him, the good immigrant.
And on his "long" shifts at work - decided, insisted upon by him...
"...make the poor immigrant work all day..."
On his newly acquired work permit:
"...I can get welfare now! I am a Canadian immigrant..."
On his time in Berlin:
"...Berlin nightclubs, they are much more liberal to gay and lesbians, I want to try once with a guy..."
And here the the other A***** nod and a wink, we're pretty sure he has already..., he's given this game away...
I have a grim view of the future. Maybe not so grim, but a future without the restaurant. All around the city restaurants are closing, he's the advantage of no rent, but the other bills, staff, tax, food costs, they're not being covered. This is an institution that might soon be disappearing...Not a bad thing, but I need to prepare...at the moment I'm very unprepared...the rent is barely paid and the cheques grow smaller and smaller. Tighten your belts, at least I still have a job...
I speak to my father, in Edmonton, things are still good. Restaurants are busy on the weekend, life is normal. This is definitely a Calgary thing...
On Saturday after work we all meet up at the Hop In Brew on 12th. It's the JC lookalike contest, they have them every night. And as I'm not drinking it's pretty dismal, I gotta say. But it was busy, which in Calgary at the moment is something...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
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If the Wild Rose Party and the Conservatives could agree on Climate Change, this is probably what we'd get...
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Check out her other videos ...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
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Work is slow. Slowest it's ever been. Everywhere is slow, it's the price of oil, gas, the mon-economy of Calgary. But the owner's paid for it all, in the boom years, the land, the restaurant, the space, he's not paying $5,000, $10,000, $35,000 a month rent, so he's surviving....
For a while...
He's been making calls lately, lots of calls, receiving strange visitors, bankers, and we're starting to suspect he's of a mind to sell the restaurant, retire, move somewhere south like Panama where the child support won't be crushing him. To prepare himself he's been watching "Narcos" and reading up on Pablo Escobar - "I love these sort of people", and then informs me of what a community leader and philanthropist he was, how much he was worth, the size of his empire, I think I know what he means, these larger-than-life heroes and villains, over lunch we're treated to the lugubrious soundtrack played over his iphone...
The other lunch chef, she's been adding all sorts of friends to Facebook, the Virgin Mary, Baby Jesus, Joseph, all of the saints, I didn't know they were on Facebook but apparently they are, and she's showing us their pictures and updates on her phone ...
A*****, the sane Italian, no relation to the rest, he cringes when he catches my eye, he knows what I'm thinking ..."...And you say there's a whole country filled with you people?.."
With work slow we're back to the pandering to the painful "regulars", the once-a-month diners that come in as we're closing and stay the entire afternoon drinking with the owner, leaving halfway through the dinner rush, every day a new one, the days grow long and torturous...
And the owner's begun to miss G***, ask if he's found work yet, don't know if he's thinking of swinging the axe again, I'd be next, thank goodness for the new jeep as I'll be one of the next Alberta casualties and I'll need the wheels...
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The Nephew, newly back, but he has some opinions he'd like to share...
Like about how he never tips cab drivers, "brown people" as he so generously describes them, there's a table sitting not 5 feet away from him as he's telling us this. A table of brown people, to look at them, one of them for sure drives cab.
He uses their tip later to justify his philosophy, never understanding how possibly his moral stance led to theirs...
...But this is not all. He's reformed in his time away, no more tipping period, he doesn't tip anywhere he goes, anywhere, bars, restaurants, it's too much this...
...And it seems to me a bit strange, that for someone who's very livelihood depends on the kindness of others, to decide against reinforcing the economy he's the very best winner in...
More idiocy, less epiphany, the Nephew ....he explains it, tries to defend it, gives up, I can't be bothered to listen. He's an idiot.
Tipping, yes, it's a bit morally suspect, too much obligation, too little discretion. I get that. Too many greedy servers and minimum wage employees. For sure, for sure. But, I have to consider the positives, I depend upon them, (not so much, there are other jobs, but for the moment) - and they are that tipping enables you to appraise the worth of your service and reward it accordingly. If only you could do this in retail, with your internet or telephone bill, your new car, house, ...
So it's not completely without merit...
For more insights into the history and tradition of tipping (and the reasonable controversy surrounding it) go here: http://www.npr.org/sections/thesalt/2015/11/30/457125740/when-tipping-was-considered-deeply-un-american
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The salad girl at work is a hairdresser, Sicilian, and she's been cutting the staff's hair.
I'd been there once, gotten mine cut, she did a good job, and then after she would serve dollar store biscuits and coffee and her husband would talk about how waiters shouldn't be tipped and nobody here knows what their doing and isn't real estate expensive until your eyes rolled back in your head and you bled from your ears...
She wouldn't take any money for the cut, and the visit grew a little overly long, strained, tiny cups of espresso, stale biscuits and giant old-world opinions...
So on Saturday, I'd been warned I needed a trim, a busy day with registering the vehicle, insurance, errands, I stop along the way for a generic haircut. I'm long past the point where a haircut can make me look good, and the quick in-out pay option appeals to me, I get it done in half an hour...I've no hairdresser loyalty whatsoever...
But at work she spies I've had my hair cut, by another, and the shit hits the fan, this is the worst haircut ever, that she's ever seen (it's not that bad, really), and why didn't I call her...and I can't really explain but she's now carrying a grudge, an imagined slight to her talents in this department, and I'm damned, damned, damned...