Last week, Thursday, give my notice.
Another job, smaller place, closer to home, less hours, every reason, really, I need to recapture my life. Managing and serving.
I explain it, without blame, and he gets it, accepts the surface explanation because the other explanation - the other one I'm pretending doesn't exist, that "Golly Gee Whiz I love working 12 and 13 hours a day", frame it as an "I'll miss the hours..." - but I won't, lets be real, who would?
He's got a tear in his eye, Sr., we got along well enough, but - enough is enough. And the place was running me ragged, run, run, run, until you drop of a heart attack or old age, with little to no help whatsoever.
It's done.
Jr, he finds out from his father. He shows up Friday, "Just in the nick of time" 6:00 - time to work out the dinner rush. He congratulates me, it's a good fit, wishes me well and all that - but he's curt, short, something in him's broken. He thought I'd be the restaurant donkey forever. Now the grim realization that he might have to do some work.
The next couple days, forced civility, but he's lackluster, I understand, he feels betrayed, but - fuck, I need my life back. To pay the rent I'm paying and never be in town, never have time for a coffee or friends or a book, film, play - well - it's taken it's toll. Saturday he opens, does a little rush, then goes on cleaning binge. Cleaning everything - his Mom is coming home. I ask him why all the cleaning - he tells me: "I want to impress my Mom with everything I've done". In my mind I heard "Mommy" but I'm pretty sure it was Mom. He's 33.
He's there for the dinner rush and then knocks off early, he wants to go and visit a friend. I can close the place up.
Sunday, the same. He opens, late, does a bit of work then knocks off. Goes out to help his dad build a fence. Go's upstairs to visit his Mom. Sits down with customer to discuss politics and his life experience for an hour. Tries to ingratiate himself with a customer that doesn't particularly like him, but gets along with me, and now - since it's his show - his and his alone - he's got to make peace with a lot of people that would rather he stayed away...
Then, before you know it it's 5:00 and he's got to be off, back to ... - I can handle the night by myself. He checks to ensure I'll be in next week - he's got a birthday, his, his wife's, their anniversary, wants to make sure I'm around so he doesn't have to work - and I'm thinking - fuck - I'm thinking he did nothing but fuck around all day and didn't even have time to offer me a lunch break and now he's fucking off.
Sunday night, busy, but I survive, and I'm thinking, wondering - how the fuck did I last as long as I did?
But - it's done, the die is cast and I'm moving on and I'm surprised at my initiative, rarely have I ever looked for a better job when I've had one already, but - just as things can always get worse I'm starting to realize that things can also get an awful lot better...