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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1999
And it's begun, already, the abundant parties that will keep us busy all the way to Christmas. Lawyers, Oil companies, the occasional family will try to sneak in (we screen them, in if we know them, otherwise no), the calls - separate cheques (nope, early warning sign of a bad table), children (not on weekends, too busy, children don't drink or consume), people who want to make a reservation at a dozen restaurants and then check with their friends which one they want to attend - they even tell you this on the phone - no, call us when you want to come to our restaurant, otherwise we'll be turning people away on the slight possibility you'll choose us...
It's a circus.
And, ironically, for all the extra hours and work, there's very little extra money. None, in fact, merely an abundance of useless extra staff hiding wherever they're sure not to be needed. And so it goes.
Days off, only Sunday, otherwise 5 long 12 hour days a week, and a mere 9 hour shift on Saturdays (the short day). It's just hold your breath until it's over....
Christmas in the restaurant industry.
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1713
"People are strange when you're a stranger..." - The Doors
And I've noticed this more and more as of late, that when you're in some altered states, when you're fucked up on whatever your choice of drug is, be it alcohol, cocaine, ecstasy or heroin, there comes a point where people start making sense.
This is when you know you're fucked up.
And you find yourself understanding them, looking about a bar and seeing deeper inside people than any of them would be comfortable with, that when you start talking to them you know their situation well before they spell it out to you. And maybe even, if you're really fucked up, you empathize with them.
You can spot them, the fellow tweaks and junkies, drunkards, potheads, across the bar, you're recognizing yourself in their mannerisms, their exaggerated and failed attempts to hide their addictions, you understand, you're somehow or another just that much more intuitive than you'd be normally, and you marvel that you never noticed it before, it was sooooo obvious....
But the realization of it depended somewhat greatly on your being in the same state of mind.
And now that you are you know that you're fucked up. Some of the fucked up, they just lurk in corners and laugh, it's all just too funny, they're recognizing, understanding, everything that they've missed all the time they've been sober, and now, just now, it's all making sense. You understand them as well.
And this is how you know that you are really fucked up.
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1917
On Sunday the boy and I, for want of more exciting activities, check out the Occupy Calgary encampment in Olympic Plaza.
Now it's pretty much as been described, mostly hippies and granola's living free off the publicity and trying to bring awareness to Calgary's issues with inequality - read - their inequality. Most of them are unemployed, not particularly searching, how they heard about the Occupy Wall Street movement is the biggest mystery.
As much as I'm for social change and redressing the gross inequalities that a capitalistic society creates, this isn't the way to go about it. Peaceable demonstrations and protests only invite the abuse and scorn of the police and media - to think that any change will be wrought by these small publicity stunts is naive. The rich will continue to get richer, the police, for reasons unknown even to themselves, will continue to use whatever tactics they deem necessary (read brute and abusive use of force) to ensure the status quo remains unshaken, nothing will change.
It's sporting of the 99% to give notice of their dissatisfaction like this, but don't expect the wealthy and ruling 1% to give up their share of the pie so easily. Revolution always involves bloodshed, and until the heads of the greedy, the corrupt and the unjust are raised upon pikes the cycle will continue.
Still, the boy and I wander around, look at the tents, read the feeble protest signs, take some photos, it's good at least for him to come to some awareness of these issues, although I'd protest these aren't the demonstrators I'd want bringing it to his attention. Maybe I need to make my own sign?
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1817
It's been almost a couple of years since I've seen him, by whom I mean Fucking Asshole, he was barred and hasn't been seen at the restaurant since.
I know there have been customers lobbying on his behalf, asking that he be allowed back, and the owner's been adamant that he not be readmitted, so I did a double take when I saw him at the door. He doesn't remember me (I made myself scarce around the table, didn't particularly want to deal with him), he's here to meet another regular customer.
He's polite, gracious, a far cry from his former self, and when his guest arrives he talks about all the great life changes and self improvements he's made. The owner comes out and sits with them, they all talk - all has been forgiven and the former asshole is now careful to be sincere and courteous.
They shake hands with the staff, everyone is happy, they'll be back.
We seem to have a revolving door, to be barred means that we'll simply pick up another client that's been barred and give them another chance, the owner tells me: "Sometimes they need to be told to fuck off....". He's right.
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1884
He comes in every other week or so.
He looks a bit like John Liithgow - a younger version, 30 something with long, prematurely greying long hair.
He comes in alone, in the early hours, dines usually alone, tips well. Friendly enough, he's not one of our usual clientelle. He works for a living.
And he stares long at G, or me, he has this huge smile on his face, he's by himself and it's not busy and so I make light conversation.
He's in IT, a programmer, he's on his way to either a D&D game or Ballroom dancing lesson. And I've figured out why he stares long - too long - at G or me, it's not (necessarily) that he's gay, it's that he has no rudimentary social skills.
G has grown to hate him, thinks that the prolonged eye contact is a come-on, maybe it is, but IT folk, and I've known a few, they're weird.
He comes in one night with a few of his friends, more IT folk, they are all fucking weird. Strange glances, abnormally timed social skills, you don't realize what socially awkward is until you meet someone who inadvertently thwarts all the norms. Some of them we've served before. They're all a bit too friendly, they all work together, all play D&D together....
They take forever to eat. We need the table. And after dinner, no coffee but they sit and chat, there's the fear they're going to pull out the Monster Manual and Dungeon Master's Guide and start playing D&D at the table.
They're an odd bunch, eventually they leave and we all breathe a sigh of relief. Nerds.