I stare at him. Dumbfounded. Does this man not understand that I am carrying my body weight in dirty dishes? Is he trying to start small talk? And what kind of a vague, half-assed question is that?
"Well, I'm going to school to become an RN."
For fun, I also wait on inconsiderate pricks not intelligent enough to realize that I am at my place of employment.
"Why on earth would you choose that career." It was a statement. Clearly not a question. His friends stifled their laughter.
"It's easy." I replied, with a sarcasm he wasn't mentally advanced enough to catch on to.
"I know dozens of nurses that would shoot you for that one."
"Do you." I replied. It was a statement. Clearly not a question. I began to walk away, still weighted down with my spoils from the other tables that were beginning to look around the restaurant because they obviously needed me to, you know, continue to serve them.
"You know, I hire nurses based on how hot they are."
"I better hope I don't get sick then."
"Guys feel better when a hot nurse is looking after them."
"Does that mean I get a hot doctor."
"Am I hot."
"Scorching. Can I get you gentlemen anything." Clearly not a question.
I pause, waiting.
"How about your number. You can write it on the back of the check. You can let me know when you want that job."
When it comes to waiting on restaurant patrons, I think you either come to the table with it (no pun intended) or you begin to reach it after some time. It's this invisible line that, unless you have the patience of a kindergarten teacher, you eventually will cross over. It's the level. You no longer show up to every table, starry-eyed and smiling cheek to cheek. You understand that waiting tables isn't your career and that if this restaurant doesn't work out, you can walk right out and right back into the one next door. Your heart begins to harden as child after child drops crushed cheerios and squishes mayo packets onto the floor, into carpets, and in between bench seat cushions. Your faith in humanity falters as matured adults show less class than their cheerio crushing, mayo packed smushing offspring. A little crack appears your outer shell, threatening to splinter, and your eyes no longer retain their spark.
This is why september is one of my favorite months. I love the warm rain and the low growls and purrs of the thunder. The dry, dusty air smells clean and moist. It's my new year. It's my birthday month, starting a new year at school, and looking forward to the looming holidays.
It's after 2 pm and I'm still in bed. Thunderstorms justify this.
i do realize it's still august :p
september is just arriving a little early in terms of weather.
A wise manager once said to me, "Everything is what you make it." I believe that whole-heartedly. Sure, I have one, and although I rarely use that irritating social network, it does keep me in contact with those that are more difficult to keep in touch with. Then are they worth it? You might ask. I think so. I'm a busy person. I'm spontaneous. I've been known to cancel a plan or two for a sudden change of heart. You might call that flakey. I just call it life. And so I can relate.
Nothing peeves me more than to sign on with the intention of checking emails or visiting blogs and bulletins, only to be forced to scroll through the "trash," trying to sift out the obvious shouts for attention. Like the selfish toddler, there is little that can keep them quiet. Amused for a time, perhaps, but never silenced.
"Yeah, so this thing is bringing me, like, way too much drama. So I'm thinking of deleting it. SO if you want to talk to me do it now."
If that doesn't scream loneliness and desperation I don't know what does.
With the intention of checking out my best friend's recent trip to Las Vegas, I again pass over another post by the desperado.
"I'm deleting my myspace in 24 hours."
Of course, this time constraint is part of the protocol. The dramatic love the ticking time bomb scenario. Irritated with my speed reading skills I am forced to realize that those post titles were written over a week ago. So much for commitment these days.
I just wanted you all to know that. I love your comments and emails. I'm trying to hit every spot in San Francisco that you mentioned. I am so proud of myself for typing this entire paragraph sans typos. Success.
Last night in San Francisco. Making it worth while. Quick! Tell me what I absolutely have to do before I leave tomorrow afternoon!!
I forgot my pay stub. The first time I ever take it out of my purse in an effort to "de-clutter" and I realize too late that we are staying at a hotel minutes away from a Hooters in a major city. So much for getting my San Francisco uniform top. I am very disappointed.
Summer vacation. The big getaway. It's what you look forward to when Christmas is over. The first half was ruined when my dad's girlfriend realized he was cheating on her after the first day at our beach house. That's fine. I told myself. We're only weeks away from THE LAKE HOUSE. The Lake House. It was the second part of our summer getaway and I had been looking forward to this for years. My aunt's husband recently inherited a mansion on a very popular lake north of San Francisco, complete with speed boats and jet skis, and finally after being unable to attend many an invite, we were going. Every day I'd ask my dad, the fifteenth right? In confirmation of our plans. My boyfriend and I had requested the necessary five days off that the trip required. Five lazy, sunny, beautiful days. It was just around the corner now, and I could hardly contain myself.
It was the fourteenth of August and I was packing. Excitement ran through my veins. As I walked downstairs I ran into my father.
"What time do you want to leave tomorrow?" I asked him, while an involuntary smile broke across my face.
"Yeah, about that.." he began.
We weren't going. Something came up. My dad had never actually confirmed the dates with them. I was pissed.
"But we'll make it work." He said.
I sat him down, and went over a brief itinerary.
"San Francisco it is."
The boyfriend had never been to San Francisco. Actually, he had never been to any major city outside of San Diego before, and seeing as we're going backpacking across Europe next summer, I figured this would be the perfect destination to whet his cultural appetite.
And so here we are. Hence my lack of posting recently. We had originally planned to head up to see some friends in Rescue, California to do some white water rafting but apparently my little sister has an aversion to anything that includes the words "water" and "rafting." No big deal really. We can do that near home anyways. That only means we have an additional day in San Francisco. And we plan to make the most out of it.
Cutsey barf alert!!! I am slightly jazzed to be able to state that San Francisco is where the boyfriend and I have booked our first Hotel room together.
I hope everyone is having an amazing summer! I know it can be difficult this time of the year, but don't forget to update your posts! And I love getting your comments and emails! I'll write back soon!
It was all you can eat wing night and I was breaker. My favorite blog reader came in to visit me again, but unfortunately was unable to sit in my section since I didn't have one, and I didn't get to break her section before she and her bunch of friends she brought in left. D: Maybe next Tuesday!
But do you remember how my boyfriend doesn't exactly jump for joy at the idea of me waitressing at Hooters...? Well I felt that maaaaybe if I actually had him come in and see me more often, he may have a change of heart, seeing as he had only really been in twice before and he was with his buddies. So, I sent him a text, telling him that I would probably be off around 10-10:30 if he wanted to come in and get dinner with me after my shift. Well, he ended up having a wonderful time. I set him up with all you can eat wings and we sat in my friend's section. My General Manager actually came over and introduced himself to the boyfriend, telling him that it was awesome to meet him and that he should come in more often.
We stayed until closing and the restaurant was almost empty. We watched as my GM pulled all of the girls together to tell them how well our restaurant was doing, and that if we boosted our sales just a little bit more, we'd be almost at the top. The way they sat together reminded me of a family, and the girls cheered when they heard the good news. It was sweet to watch the closeness and I could tell my boyfriend noticed. After wards, my boyfriend walked me out to my car and we passed my general manager who was just walking back from escorting another girl to hers. "It was really great to meet you!" He said again to my boyfriend. "Come back soon! And thanks for making sure our brit got to her car safely. It's great to have you back brit."
Needless to say, the boyfriend's opinions of Hooters have risen considerably.
Is occurring as I write this. Yes. I still have family night every Sunday night starting at six. The kids are grown up now so it's hard for my dad to see us all. We always seemed to be off work and not as busy with school Sunday evenings, and so family night was born. Occasionally it swells to include extended members of family, boyfriends, and girlfriends. With good reason. Tonight's movie is DEAD SNOW. This English dubbed treasure takes place high up in the mountains. The young protagonists must walk miles from their cars to reach the isolated cabin. You know where this is going. Only there is a twist. Zombies. But were you expecting them to be a zombie army of deceased Nazis?? I didn't think so.
Is it asking too much when a person feels that they deserve someone that can understand and appreciate them? Like, really understand. And not push me when I'm down at my lowest. Why do I feel like I'm slipping, like I'm becoming a dull and lifeless being? When it's good it's great. Don't get me wrong. When things are good it can be such a great feeling. But is it worth it when the bad is so miserable? Or should I listen and believe that it's my fault that I feel this way, as if I have some sort of disorder. That I'm dramatic. So, expressing myself is dramatic. Explaining that I'm upset is dramatic. I've never been one for scenes. I'll wait until I'm home to cry. I'll wait for a private setting to argue. I've never thrown a heavy object at a male. Or any object for that matter without intending them to catch it. I've never screamed, yelled, or been physically abusive. Since when did expressing feelings in an adult manner become dramatic? I'm honestly curious at this point. I don't even want to begin on the double standards that occur weekly. Maybe I'll go back to the Apple store.
Funny thing. I'm painfully optimistic the majority of the time. I put my phone down and sat on my bed. Feeling incredibly alone. And then my phone rang. I looked at it, hopeful, but immediately disappointed when an unknown number stared up at me. I continued to stare back. Should I pick it up? What do I have to lose?
"Hello, Brittany?" A man with a British accent said to me.
"Erm.. hi?" I stammered.
"It's Robert Pattinson... I'm back in town and I know I've been meaning to call. I'm terrible at it aren't I?"
Ok I'm kidding with the Robert Pattinson part. But it WAS actually an old high school buddy of mine whom I befriended when he was newly in from the British Isles. He had found me on facebook months earlier and we exchanged numbers.
"Will!" I nearly shrieked into the phone. "How ARE you??"
"I'm well! I just wanted to let you know that I'm in town and I'm having a party tomorrow night. Sort of a mixture of celebrations."
"Well my brother was just signed to *record company* and it's a friend's birthday and I'm back, so we're going to invite every one we know! Are you in?"
Less than 45 Hooters Waitresses at my location! Everybody is graduating college and going back home. An all time low since I've been hired. Strangely, while looking at this week's schedule, I realized we have approximately 25 Hostesses. Either our new Hostesses are very VERY slow with obtaining their proper paperwork needed for training, or they're very VERY slow in other areas if you know what I mean. Both are common at least 50% of the time. Hostesses can be the absolute worst. As opposed to the much more modestly behaved waitresses, the new hostess is EXCITED about her new job! Her ego is inflated day after day, watching hundreds of hopefuls come into the restaurant to apply every week, never to be heard from again. Because everyone in the restaurant must walk by her or be seated by her, she is constantly flirted with, inflating her ego further. Then one day a waitress will snap at her, for dropping off yet another party onto a dirty table and walking off, leaving a family of six looking around disgusted. The hostess doesn't understand. But I GAVE her a table! She whines to herself and to the other hostesses. And I'm so pretty and cute! All of the guys think so! She's just jealous! She will try and convince herself. Another waitress has a little chat with her after being triple sat for the third time that evening. I'm having such a bad day! Thinks the hostess. Folding shirts at Abercombie is so much less stressful! She thinks to herself nostalgically. The next day her friend will call and inform her of a swinging party last minute. But I have a shift tonight! She laments. As she weighs the pros and cons of each, she remembers her bad day yesterday and goes to the party instead. Heck, she doesn't even call to tell them she wont be coming in. Who's got the time for that when you're young and beautiful! The hostess is promptly fired. And I wonder why we only have 45 waitresses.
The last thing I want to do is force music and lifestyles upon you. My biggest pet peeve are people that have nothing better to do than to tell you how to live your life. That being said, I am a lover of almost all music out there. I love true punk and ska but I keep my hair at my natural shade of blonde. I like house but I'm not a slut. I enjoy reggae but I'm not a pot head. Basically I think I'm very good at being me and it pisses me off when I get "the glare" at shows because I'm not wearing the right clothes or that I don't have the right hair.
My sister is really big into surf rock and rockabilly, two of my most favorite styles of music. But
occasionally with the rockabilly crowd, comes the over-zealous psychobilly fan. This is one of my least favorite people besides the emo-hipster. This fan, who is indeed a specific person, states that the actually "psychobilly lifestyle" is in fact more important than the music itself. What this lifestyle actually entails, I have no idea, but my point is IT'S F***ING MUSIC! Sit down and enjoy it! That's what it's made for.
The whole reason why I started writing this post, is because I wanted to again mention the awesome Apple store dude that helped me out yesterday. During one of our random chats he decided to take me to one of the computers that had an awesome sound system to show me his buddy's local band. Because to most awesome nerds, and especially me, music is one of the deepest bonding levels. Well his buddy that he grew up with happens to be a kick ass musician, and when I went home to check out more of his stuff on my computer, I realized this guy is kind of a big deal. He writes all the music for his "band," records it all himself, and then puts it together. His music has also been featured on Grey's Anatomy and in the movie Confessions of a Shopaholic among other things. He's the very talented Greg Laswell. Check him out!
I can finally blog on my own time! I'm so excited! I received a little mac G4 for Christmas back in 2005, but after I let an ex take it with him to Europe for easy blog updating, it was never the same. Jerk. Anyway I just wanted to express what a great experience I had. I was greeted quickly by an employee and after I told him what I was looking for, he asked me a TON of questions about who I am and what I do and helped narrow down everything. Not only was he informed and personable, but after we got everything together, he actually took the time to show me all of the cool features that my old mac didn't have. I was in there for at least an hour, but he made sure to ask me if I had to be anywhere or if I was in a hurry. He also teaches classes to help people learn how to use their apple products, from the very basic to the advanced, and he invited me to come. I think I might go :o) He also told me you can schedule time to work on projects with a group at the apple store, privately on your own computer or on theirs, and they're available if you need any help! Super cool if I need to create a cool project or if I want to edit any videos! I'm so stoked! Go Mac!
You'd think being bedridden for five days would have generated a higher volume of posts, what with the inability to do nothing but lie down or crawl to the bathroom in a futile attempt to empty myself. (...i hate vicodin...) Well it did not. I did, however, manage to re-read the entire Stephanie Meyer Twilight series, plan my trip to Europe, and lose myself in three other very awesome books. I wish I could say the reason I was away was due to some spontaneously arranged adventure. But I'm saving that for the week after next ;o)
I'm a 21 year old Southern California college student and part time Hooters waitress with too much going on inside my head. I love my family, my friends, and my wonderful boyfriend despite how crazy they all make me. When extreme sports, art, and music don't cut it, I come on here to vent my frustrations or flaunt my happiness. So here it is. Vivaaa!!
Contact me at email@example.com
Please note that the views and opinions expressed herein are mine alone. They are not necessarily the views and/or opinions of Hooters Inc, Hooters of America Inc, or of any other Hooters affiliate. Hooters Inc, Hooters of America Inc, and other Hooters affiliates are in no way affiliated with, Caution: Blonde Thinking, and they do not endorse or support, Caution: Blonde Thinking. The same applies to any Police station or of any Officer.