Tuesday, October 21, 2008

I had a woman accuse me of prejudice yesterday at work. It's really bothering me. She and her husband sat down, ordered drinks, and said they were waiting for their daughter to arrive before they'd order food.

So I went about my business - I had a full section of 8 or 9 tables - and didn't notice right away when their daughter came in. I think I brought food, or took an order, or something from the table next to them.

Next thing I know, this woman is at the till complaining to the barista about me. Then Boss came over, and the woman accused me of being racist! My heart sank - I felt sick to my stomach, even though I know there was absolutely nothing racist about it.

I didn't want to serve them after that, so Boss took over for me. As they left, they apologised, and smiling and happy and whatnot, saying they didn't want to get me in trouble and I was 'a very good server'. It was no problem, they said.

No problem?! Big fucking problem! Do these people think they're being discriminated against at every (imaged) slight, or was it just me? Boss stood up for me, which was a relief. I've been involved in activism against racism, which can be rather rampant around here against our indigenous population, and the thought that I might've done something to seem racist is still bothering me today.

Saturday, October 18, 2008

I don't know why people think that their servers are there for abuse. I had a woman the other day yell - yes, I do mean yell - at me because there was no whole wheat baguette to be had. She then complained to my boss, as if a lack of baguette were somehow the result of my poor service, and left without paying. My boss, of course, was cool about it and stood up for me. People! Firstly, it's a bakery. Sometimes? We have to bake stuff. Secondly, even if it were somebody's mistake, it's not mine, and believe it or not I'm a person, not a waitressing robot, and I think I'm due to the same basic respect as anyone else.

Between that and the Austrian, some days are just so taxing and stressfull that I feel like walking out. The Austrian, by the way, had another of our servers in tears the other day. Nobody deserves that kind of bullshit just to make a living. Some of the servers at work can be forgetful and/or slow, but there's not a damn one who would make anything short of their best effort to help our customers, and I think they deserve some respect for that, especially given what we're paid.

And people! Don't tip the server based on how the food tastes. We didn't make it.

I cheered myself up today, after all that madness yesterday, by buying the coolest hat the world has ever seen.

Things with coffeeboy are wonderful. Positively, absolutely, splendidly wonderful. There have been poorly-disguised implications of a real future between us, coming from both sides. I'm trying not to excited myself too much. These days, however, I'm spending more nights at his place than mine.

Finally wrote something -

Once when we were young & fresh with kisses,
slurps, bites, little slaps
in your truck -
I sat half-drunk and oozing sweet sex
the ride back, country road, deep night

and you swerved
suddenly, there was a rabbit shockwhite
in front of us -
bugsbunny ears -
and blood on the pavement.

The truck doors flew open like hawk wings
and we out, to imagine
the horror of little bones sticking out, little
brains mashed up little cute bunny dead.

I cried.
Your hand on my shoulder as it twitched
last nerve pulses,
I cried. We went back for more.

Monday, October 13, 2008

My new nephew, babytoo, was born early Saturday morning at home. Nine pounds, five ounces, which I'm told is a very big baby. As if I know anything about babies. Other than, of course, he's cute as all shit and makes these high-pitched squeeky noises that make me mistake him for one of the cats a couple times a day.

I won't go into detail about th birth, partially because I don't know shit about birth and partially because, well, this isn't a mommy blog.

When I got the phone call to come home because Sister's water had broken, my first thought was, "already?" It seems like just yesterday she was getting married and finding out she was pregnant, which incidentally happened on the same day. That was in late February, for those too lazy to do the math.

It certainly seemed like not that long ago. In fact, the whole past year has been a blur to me, the passage of time only recently coming to my attention with the changing of the seasons. Fall and winter have always been hard for me, because they're filled with family-ish holidays, and while it could be a lot worse, I'm not exactly close with mine. We're working on it. But last time this year, I was beside myself with happiness that M.'s family was so welcoming to me, and I was thinking about marriage and about starting a family of my own in a few years.

I think I sunk into myself for the past year. I didn't really notice it go by, despite having had some of the worst and plenty of the best times of my life. I've been emotionally hibernating, so to speak, not seeing what's going on around me.

But lots has been going on. There's been a new life growing right before my eyes. I was in my room trying to stay out of the way at 1:47 a.m. Saturday morning when I heard Sister's cries get louder and louder, then peak as they were joined by the high-pitched, righteously pissed-off squall of a newborn suddenly realising that it's fucking cold out here and could I get some boob already?! As Matteo screamed his first scream of what I'm sure will be many, I felt myself quite violently snapped back to the present, to this time, and to this place, where I've found myself.

Shit. It's nearly been a year. And, in the context of new lives, my little woes seem pretty, well, little. I've missed a lot, between trying to get on my feet and trying to sort out my whole life rightthisinstant, and I've been too hard on myself, and I've failed to live in the moment.

I feel like I'm waking up. It's a strange feeling to have while winter is approaching and the rest of the world is going to sleep. But I'm looking around and living right now, remembering to breathe in, breathe out, breathe in.

Saturday, October 4, 2008

I only have a few minutes to write this, because I'm going out for a well-deserved end of the week drink with a good friend from karate.

There's a regular at work who everybody hates. The Austrian. That's not a psydonym; we all actually call him that - well, it's often The Angry Austrian - because nobody knows his real name.

Me and The Austrian had a go-around yesterday, when I told him there were no more ham and cheese croissants. (It's a bakery! Deal with it!) I then had to bring out an order of croissants to the couple sitting next to him. They ordered the last one! The Austrian was quite upset that he couldn't have one, seeing as he'd 'sat down first'. Sitting down first doesn't undo twenty minutes of reading the menu. Sorry. He was getting so angry at me yesterday that I eventually sent my boss over to deal with him. Fuck if I'm putting up with that.

Like a moth to a flame, The Angry Austrian sat in my section again today. We divide sections differently every day, based on who's working and how busy it is, so there's no reason other than cruel fate that I should be stuck with him all. the. time.

First, he sent back his glass of water because I'd brought him too much. He wanted a small glass. Too much! Water! You're not even paying for it!

"I like a small glass. Remember that next time."

After that, he interupted me while I was talking to the table next to him to say he wanted a san pelegrino, like the one I'd brought the man he interupted, instead. Don't think the table he interupted wasn't pissed, either; they asked to be moved to another table - oh, like that one - which meant I had to toss a table of six, half ordered, to a coworker's section when the poor guy was already bogged down. Coworker was then pissed at me, and the kitchen was pissed at Coworker for subsequently swapping table numbers on the orders that had already gone in. Thanks, Austrian!

I asked him how his meal was, and he grumbled, "fine, I guess."

Austrian was then pissed because we have a new barista who was going to make his cappucino after his meal. "Why isn't T. here? I only like T.'s cappucino."

Well, Austrian, I hate to break it to you, but your favourite barista doesn't actually live here. We have other baristas. T.'s cappucino does kick ass, but C.'s is nothing to complain about - much better than anything you'll get at the cafe up the road - so deal with it. Ugh!

I've gotta go. Nothing drives me to drink like this guy. And the knowleadge that I'll probably serve him tomorrow.

Friday, October 3, 2008

I usually have a rule against posting about more personal topics, but I just have to rant about this one. And, should it ever be read, I'll stand my ground, because this is just Stupid with a capital S.

I got an email from M.'s mom, who basically runs the karate club, nagging me about membership stuff, which was all duly deserved and I hang my head in utter shame YADA YADA. At the end of it, she says, "If this is a problem, you can talk to M. about it if you feel more comfortable."

Now. M.'s mom was never my biggest fan. We clashed on a lot of things, which didn't really heat up the first two years of our relationship, until M. and I decided to live together and he moved out of his parent's basement at the unheard-of age of 22. (Yeah.) We had our tifts in the past, more because we're both stubborn and outspoken than because of anything too difficult to work around. Since Breakup #2, she hasn't said two words to me, and makes a habit of shooting icy glares at me from the back of the dojo.

#1: M. and I have a precarious relationship these days. We're best friends. Always will be. But it's been tough dancing around every other conversation topic that will be be awkward and/or hurtful to someone. The last thing I need to do is talk to his mother through him, which had more than enough to do with Breakup #1. I'm not sabotaging a very important, very finicky friendship because M.'s mom wants to be childish.

#2: Nor am I bringing my personal life into the dojo. I've always been very, very careful to leave my relationship with M. at the dojo door, because that sort of shit just doesn't have a place among dojo hierarchy, respect, and the odd smash to the face. M. and I have always managed this just fine, with a bit of tongue-biting here and there. If we can do it, so can she.

Well. I've thoroughly broken my rule. I've also left a lot out. I'm going to deal with this by swallowing my pride tonight, plastering on a smile, and dealing with this face-to-face with her, whether she likes it or not. Fuck if I'm letting this get worse.