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Done
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Blog
- Hits: 839
The last few days, murder. Slower and slower. Quiet days, a table at a time, maybe 2, nobody spending money. Evenings, when you've just resigned yourself to leaving, getting out of there early, the last feverish trickle of people - scattershot, my income, still good, OK, mediocre, dropping off....
Spend your mediocre tips buying the regulars you liked drinks, their meals, you'll see them again in Nelson.
Finally, 1 day to go - and it drags. At 6:00 it's sunny, the weather's turned, there's a few tables on the patio, a few inside. Maybe the day will go late? Today's not the day to go late. A giant pink "furry" shows up at the door - it takes a few for the penny to drop, my Son, with his rave costume, found in a theatrical free pile....
Rushing the night, customers leave - the much anticipated 8:00 close might just be happening, the night, quiet - then enter a couple of bikers. 10 to 8:00. And for the first time it's "Sorry guys, tonight's an early night, take out only", and they get it, the place is empty, and we finish up and head out.
My last day. The staff - kitchen - and I, my son, we're all heading up a mountain - somewhere up past Kaslo, there's a Autumn Equinox party, I've bought the tickets, it's been years since the last gathering and no one in the Kitchen has been to one - no one, that is, except for Sean, but Ken, Chris, they've never been, and heard so much...
We follow the directions, out of town XX KM, then up the FSR, road connects to road, left, right, clocking the mileage on the odometer, never certain, and it's pitch black outside, the logging roads grow muddy, slimmer, slimmer, alongside cliffs and with no turn-arounds, could there really be a rave up here? It seems impossible, and we're second guessing every turn, when finally, crossing a muddy ditch we hear the music, find it.
A cut-out in the side of the mountain, cabins (who lives up here?), we're half an hour, more, 45 minutes off the highway, high up, it's cold, there's a rainbow haloed full moon shining, park the cars for our little convoy, walk down a muddy track and find the rave.
It's a small party, maybe 20, 30 people, a DJ booth, lightshow, music, chill-down sofa, art shop, it's every other rave I've ever been to, only at a 20th the scale, but it's good.
The party begins. People chat. Dose up. Things get funny. Sean, he's spied a girl he fancies, gave her a dream-catcher he made. And then Chris, the 'shrooms kicking in, begins to hand out crystals to people he likes, all the girls, best not to be too picky, and it's pissing Sean off, he's undermining Sean's good work. Everyone's tripping and having a good time and the music, it's fine, moving through you, mighty fine. A man stands up, grey haired, youthful, 40's I'm guessing, tears off through the underbrush, off a cliff, everyone gasps - and then a moment later he's there again, climbing back up the cliff, he's fine, just fine, and standing close to the fire, too close, and the circle closes, shoos him away, ... don't need any crazy shit just yet...
Sean, Chris, Ken, they head back to the cars, need to get more beer, Ken is jumped by the guy, same guy, shouting "I Hate You! YOUR POOR!! I HATE YOU", they manage to pull him off, tell me about it laughing...
Time for me to head back to the jeep, top up my tequila, and - behind the jeep, totally naked and on his knees, is guy...: "I am a rich man! I own a cafe! I could buy all of you! I would do ANYTHING for a dollar!! I would suck your cock for a dollar!!!!", he's doing some sort of penitence, I think for a moment that he's been tied down there - restrained for his own good. There's a crowd gathered watching him, discussing what to do. Someone proposes wrapping him in a carpet, dropping him down by the highway, but that's a long drive. I ask what triggered him. 1 tab of acid. Bad trip. Hmmm. I ask if there's any more of it, but no one finds it funny...
I approach him, briefly, he's right behind the jeep, It'll be impossible to sleep with him there ranting, it's the same loop over and over, like a scratched record, a bad trip indeed. "Don't offer him a dollar..." 1 bystander cautions, "I tried that already. He didn't take it well....".
Back to the fire, to the rave, everyone has dosed up, Sean, taking too much, his face like rubber, out of it, Chris, ever the fool, giving away his crystals, a pretty girl, his target, asking him how he charges them: "Come with me! I have a charger in my car!!!!", hilariously disingenuous, the girls' not buying it.
And Ken, double dosed, now becomes the self appointed security guard, dressed all in black, checking up on everyone every 5 minutes, "You OK?", walking everyone to their car, protection against the raving acid-crazed lunatic that's roving these alpine woods...
My son, back in his car, finds the lunatic sprawled on his windshield while trying to roll a joint, he's still raving, clawing at the glass, the boy, on his own journey made none the better by this show, then - later returning to find the lunatic has taken to letting himself into another person's jeep, writhing and screaming naked, pulling on the blankets, the owner, a hippie, outside pleading with him to get out: "C'mon man, please get out...."....
The night passes, I'm exhausted, have been all summer, but now, 22 hours awake, 10 of them working, I'm done. Sleep.
The next morning, sun over the peaks, we're high up, everyone sleeping, a polite spirit dog by the name of "Loki" begging for pepperoni, time to go. Down the mountain, the road worse now that you can see the drop offs and cliffs, to arrive at the highway, to find your way to Kaslo, grab coffee, then on back to Nelson...the rain is gone, a blue sky, work is over, it's going to be a beautiful day...
Notice
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Blog
- Hits: 792
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...
The Vaccine Passports
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Blog
- Hits: 736
And, while on the topic of "Rule Breakers" we're on to the Vaccine Passports.
Restaurants, in town, they're following the rules or changing their service model. A few of the cafes and restaurants are back to doing take-out only, unwilling to ask their customers for their passport.
Out at ... well, it's Dodge city. There's no clear direction from the owners, "Go through the motions", but - ...
But...
Monday, easily half our customers are unvaxxed. If I asked to see papers I'd kill the business. And so I play by the rules the owners want me to play by, but this is tricky.
I don't want to piss off our good customers, our regulars, I don't want to be the bearer of bad tidings, throw anyone out, not for THAT anyways, I'm so fucking tired of the whole thing - who isn't? And I never want to hear another persons facebook-informed science opinion ever again. But this ignoring it - it's not going to work either.
Now - I've started the other job, a completely different clientele that I don't know, and these people, I'm fine with asking them. I haven't the same relationship, the same investment. I get why so many people are quitting their jobs over this. A restaurant staffing shortage already - every restaurant in the city, on the lake - 50, 60% understaffed, and people are quitting over it.
Anyways, anyways, the days are long but there's only 5 shifts left, 12 hours a day, dodge and duck my way through them...
New Taboos
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Blog
- Hits: 749
It used to be that you couldn't discuss Sex, Religion or Politics.
Used to be. In the Olden Days of Yore. Now: "I like to bugger goats" is a perfectly acceptable introduction and no one is in the least offended by the title of Mr./Mrs Goat Buggerer.
Religion is essentially Child Buggery, which still seems to offend the majority, so bringing it up merely solicits agreement that it's bad, and on Politics everyone agrees to disagree.
But try and bring up "Science" or "Medicine" and see how quickly you're ostracized...I mean, just try it!
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