Jester
12-23-2008, 07:53 AM
I know what you're thinking. "Jester, when customers bitch like that, the stories go in the Sucky Customers section." And you're right....but this was NOT a bitch by a customer. This is MY bitch!
Actually, my New Year's was ruined way back on the 13th, 18 full days before New Year's Eve. "How is that possible?" Well, I'm glad you asked.
My new bartending schedule is pretty sweet. With one bartender leaving and another one scaling back her shifts due to pregnancy, I got bumped up from 3 to 5 shifts behind the bar per week, four of them being day shifts at the main bar (Tuesdays through Fridays) which is pretty freakin' sweet. And it told me that, since this will be my schedule for a while, I would have New Year's Eve off, and even though I would have to be in to work at 10 am on New Year's Day, that would be sweet. Right?
Au contrer, mon frer! See, my Rocking Manager decided to schedule me Wednesday night on the floor waiting tables. So I get to open New Year's Eve, work the night shift as well, and then open New Year's Day. Sure, I'll be the first one cut on the floor, but what are the odds that it is at an early enough time that I get to go have any serious New Year's fun? Right. Zero. You know how many other people on staff are working a double on New Year's Eve and than a day shift on New Year's Day? If you guessed "none" you are absolutely freakin' correct. And the thing of it is, I DO have seniority, being fourth on the bar staff and second on the wait staff, having worked at The Bar for just under two years. And here I was hoping, if nothing else, to find some lovely young thing to smooch with New Year's Eve, maybe even get together with a girl I've been flirting a lot with lately. Fat freakin' chance of THAT!
So I am a bit pissed off, about that and other things. "Wait, there's MORE ranting?" In the words of Sarah Palin, you betchya! A few things that have irritated me lately.
Reach out and touch THIS!
So I'm walking through the complex parking lot the other morning, on my way to my truck to head to work. I am on the phone to my friend, Frank. This lady drives up in a minivan. "Excuse me!" I don't say anything to her figuring, duh, she can see I'm on the phone. "EXCUSE ME!" Okay, this is ridiculous. I look at her, not very much in the mood for this nonsense, and yell "I'm ON the PHONE! Do you MIND?!?!" And stomp off to my truck without another word. She yells after me sarcastically, "Merry Christmas!" And her, her companion in the van, and the lady they then stopped and asked directions (or whatever) all just look at me like I'm the devil.
Well, pardon me, darlin', but since when does your need for directions or whatever the hell you needed trump my right to having an uninterrupted conversation OR the basic manners people are supposed to have. Why the hell do you feel like you can just interrupt someone who's on the phone that you don't even know? And how DARE you throw that smarmy holiday greeting after me when I call you on your shit. Ya know what lady? FUCK YOU! I hope the next time you need directions, you interrupt someone far more violent than me, and rather than telling you off, they shove their phone so far up your ass that you taste ringtones for breakfast. At which point I'd love to walk up to you and ask, "Can you hear me NOW?"
@#$%&*!
So I'm walking from my truck to my apartment tonight (what IS it with my parking lot?!?), sorting out my mail when *WHACK!* I slam my knee into something HARD. I almost fall over, my knee is in pain, and as soon as I catch my balance (and my mail, which I almost dropped), I realize that I have just walked into the (black) trailer hitch on this really large truck that is backed into its spot. And this is the SECOND time I have done this this week.
To the yahoo that owns this truck: "Listen, Gomer, I know how much you love your oversized truck, which you so clearly NEED on this 2 by 4 mile tropical island where my little Blazer is considered large, but MUST you back it in right up to the dark part of the sidewalk where no one can see your hitch that is not even chrome, but black? Do you have any idea how painful it is to walk into that thing? Is there any PARTICULAR reason you have to BACK it in? Are you TRYING to injure people, fucknuts? I so very much want to take my Louisville Slugger to your four-wheeled penis extender, so do us both a favor and LEARN HOW TO PARK SO YOU DON'T FUCKING INJURE PEOPLE!
Woof!
So there's a lovely young lady I've been flirting with, who happens to be a bartender at one of my favorite watering holes. And fate keeps interfering with any plans I try to have of us getting together when one of us is not behind the bar slinging drinks. I'll spare you the grisly details for most of them, but last night is a perfect example. I had invited Flirt to join me after she got off work at a friend's Christmas party, and she said that it would be fun.
And then Flirt got a text from her sister telling her that she (the sister) had sent her (Flirt) a dog for a Christmas present, and it was at the airport for her (Flirt) to pick up. Now, Flirt didn't want a dog, but far be it from her sister to respect her wishes. So, rather than go to the party with me, she (naturally) went to the airport and (naturally) fell in love with said pooch.
That's right, folks. I was dogged...for a dog!
"Jester, you DO realize that there are people out there with far worse problems than you, right?"
Of course I do. I realize in many ways I am very fortunate for my life, and in general, I am one happy motherfucker. But that does not mean things aren't going to piss me off, nor that I am not going to rant about them.
Besides, every now and then, it really does feel good to rant. Hell, some people even get PAID for it! (Hello, Mr. Olberman, Mr. O'Reilly, and Mr. Miller, among others.)
And on lovely note, I shall go to bed to dream of Flirt, having left the dog at home with her cats, showing up (finally!) for a New Year's date with me, driving that oversized truck right into a wall (but jumping out before the impact, of course) with that very annoying woman strapped to the hood with someone's phone gagging her. "But what about your manager?" Hell, she is still Rocking Manager. But she can be in my dream too, serving us cocktails! :lol:
Here endeth the rant.
Actually, my New Year's was ruined way back on the 13th, 18 full days before New Year's Eve. "How is that possible?" Well, I'm glad you asked.
My new bartending schedule is pretty sweet. With one bartender leaving and another one scaling back her shifts due to pregnancy, I got bumped up from 3 to 5 shifts behind the bar per week, four of them being day shifts at the main bar (Tuesdays through Fridays) which is pretty freakin' sweet. And it told me that, since this will be my schedule for a while, I would have New Year's Eve off, and even though I would have to be in to work at 10 am on New Year's Day, that would be sweet. Right?
Au contrer, mon frer! See, my Rocking Manager decided to schedule me Wednesday night on the floor waiting tables. So I get to open New Year's Eve, work the night shift as well, and then open New Year's Day. Sure, I'll be the first one cut on the floor, but what are the odds that it is at an early enough time that I get to go have any serious New Year's fun? Right. Zero. You know how many other people on staff are working a double on New Year's Eve and than a day shift on New Year's Day? If you guessed "none" you are absolutely freakin' correct. And the thing of it is, I DO have seniority, being fourth on the bar staff and second on the wait staff, having worked at The Bar for just under two years. And here I was hoping, if nothing else, to find some lovely young thing to smooch with New Year's Eve, maybe even get together with a girl I've been flirting a lot with lately. Fat freakin' chance of THAT!
So I am a bit pissed off, about that and other things. "Wait, there's MORE ranting?" In the words of Sarah Palin, you betchya! A few things that have irritated me lately.
Reach out and touch THIS!
So I'm walking through the complex parking lot the other morning, on my way to my truck to head to work. I am on the phone to my friend, Frank. This lady drives up in a minivan. "Excuse me!" I don't say anything to her figuring, duh, she can see I'm on the phone. "EXCUSE ME!" Okay, this is ridiculous. I look at her, not very much in the mood for this nonsense, and yell "I'm ON the PHONE! Do you MIND?!?!" And stomp off to my truck without another word. She yells after me sarcastically, "Merry Christmas!" And her, her companion in the van, and the lady they then stopped and asked directions (or whatever) all just look at me like I'm the devil.
Well, pardon me, darlin', but since when does your need for directions or whatever the hell you needed trump my right to having an uninterrupted conversation OR the basic manners people are supposed to have. Why the hell do you feel like you can just interrupt someone who's on the phone that you don't even know? And how DARE you throw that smarmy holiday greeting after me when I call you on your shit. Ya know what lady? FUCK YOU! I hope the next time you need directions, you interrupt someone far more violent than me, and rather than telling you off, they shove their phone so far up your ass that you taste ringtones for breakfast. At which point I'd love to walk up to you and ask, "Can you hear me NOW?"
@#$%&*!
So I'm walking from my truck to my apartment tonight (what IS it with my parking lot?!?), sorting out my mail when *WHACK!* I slam my knee into something HARD. I almost fall over, my knee is in pain, and as soon as I catch my balance (and my mail, which I almost dropped), I realize that I have just walked into the (black) trailer hitch on this really large truck that is backed into its spot. And this is the SECOND time I have done this this week.
To the yahoo that owns this truck: "Listen, Gomer, I know how much you love your oversized truck, which you so clearly NEED on this 2 by 4 mile tropical island where my little Blazer is considered large, but MUST you back it in right up to the dark part of the sidewalk where no one can see your hitch that is not even chrome, but black? Do you have any idea how painful it is to walk into that thing? Is there any PARTICULAR reason you have to BACK it in? Are you TRYING to injure people, fucknuts? I so very much want to take my Louisville Slugger to your four-wheeled penis extender, so do us both a favor and LEARN HOW TO PARK SO YOU DON'T FUCKING INJURE PEOPLE!
Woof!
So there's a lovely young lady I've been flirting with, who happens to be a bartender at one of my favorite watering holes. And fate keeps interfering with any plans I try to have of us getting together when one of us is not behind the bar slinging drinks. I'll spare you the grisly details for most of them, but last night is a perfect example. I had invited Flirt to join me after she got off work at a friend's Christmas party, and she said that it would be fun.
And then Flirt got a text from her sister telling her that she (the sister) had sent her (Flirt) a dog for a Christmas present, and it was at the airport for her (Flirt) to pick up. Now, Flirt didn't want a dog, but far be it from her sister to respect her wishes. So, rather than go to the party with me, she (naturally) went to the airport and (naturally) fell in love with said pooch.
That's right, folks. I was dogged...for a dog!
"Jester, you DO realize that there are people out there with far worse problems than you, right?"
Of course I do. I realize in many ways I am very fortunate for my life, and in general, I am one happy motherfucker. But that does not mean things aren't going to piss me off, nor that I am not going to rant about them.
Besides, every now and then, it really does feel good to rant. Hell, some people even get PAID for it! (Hello, Mr. Olberman, Mr. O'Reilly, and Mr. Miller, among others.)
And on lovely note, I shall go to bed to dream of Flirt, having left the dog at home with her cats, showing up (finally!) for a New Year's date with me, driving that oversized truck right into a wall (but jumping out before the impact, of course) with that very annoying woman strapped to the hood with someone's phone gagging her. "But what about your manager?" Hell, she is still Rocking Manager. But she can be in my dream too, serving us cocktails! :lol:
Here endeth the rant.