I am a Performer, I am an actor, I am a singer, I dance sometimes, people think I'm funny, that guy didn't think I was funny, what is she thinking? Does that casting director think I'm too fat? Did I just look like a rookie? Are they noticing me? Why does everyone have long hair in this room and I have short hair? Why am I going out for someone who is 200 pounds when Im 135 pounds? What color do my eyes look today? I wonder if my moms ok? I can't forget to call Sam about that potential job. Am I ever going to work again? Should I go back to serving? Does my voice sound hoarse? DId you just come from an audition? Which one? Do you think there is anything in there for me? No. I'm hungry. I really want fries? Whens the last time I had fries? I don't think I should get fries. Mmmm that looks nummy? I hate myself. I GOT THE JOB! I'm on top of the world! Is this the last job I'll ever get? Time for class. What are my triggers? I'm not feeling it today. I want to live here. GET OUT OF MY FACE! can you just hug me? Just leave. Wait...my agents calling. Don't put my phone over there my agent might call. I have an audition. Nouns, Verbs, breathe bars, actions, Objectives, super objectives, who am I. Not me, her. Never mind, it was my landlady.
Having a peace of mind while taking on this career is more then tough, its excruciating. So thats where humour has to take precedence. I have lived through 30 years making fun of myself. Is that healthy? I don't know. But what I do know is everyone likes it (within reason), in fact are obsessed with other peoples 'pain' I don't mean severe pain, so don't be weird. So when I take jab at myself on a standup level, people love it, but not because they think it hurts me. They love it because they get it, we've all been there. If we don't laugh...well...whats worse then not laughing?
These days its very hard for people to be genuinely happy for each other if what they are doing, at the time, doesn't seem to be as profound. Not to say your surroundings don't try. They do. They do try, but its hard, and I admit, its difficult when you feel as though life is unjust on your end.
I sit for a minute and think of all the most amazing talented friends I have, which is a butt load, and I smile thinking about all of them. How do we stop the cycle. For me, its loving myself more. And that alone is two full time jobs. Lets support each other more, love bigger, deeper. And enjoy this crazy ride we have ALL chosen in some way or another. Because guess what? We've all felt that top paragraph, we've all lived it and breathed it.
So what ever gets you through your day, enjoy it. For me its, pokin' fun....at myself :)
http://platform.votigo.com/…/One-Night-Stand-Auditio…/207880
All my love and all my support.....Bloggin....I'm back
Thursday 19 February 2015
Friday 17 February 2012
Time to be schooled!
The Nitty Gritty. For those of who whom think that your manners can fly out the window the minute you walk into a restaurant, I guess your correct...!? For the amount of times it has happened APPAUL'S me.
Now, as a server we will joke about the fact that we are robots, specifically made to wipe your table, run your food and drinks, make you comfortable, smile when your happy, smile when your sad, smile when your being a dick, laugh when all we really want to do is...well, use your imagination. Think of that last phone call you made to a phone company, that didn't go so well. What did you want to do? And if you tell me the only thing you wanted to do is 'talk to their manager', your not only lying, your repressing. And that my friend is very very dangerous.
Speaking of dangerous. Remember that time you thought you were being polite (or you just weren't thinking AT ALL) and thought that you would raise your hand as if you were in elementary school having to use the potty. Believe me, when you do this, when you try to get our attention by raising that arm and waving it in the air, as if there is someone dying in front of you. We look at you, and see nothing more then a spoiled rotten little brat.(whether or not we are at another table or not) DANGER!! Or how about the time you thought it appropriate to reach behind you, while your server was at another table, and grab what ever garment of loose clothing you could find on her/him, continuing to pull it, as if once again you were a child about to get beat up. If your wondering WHY you got beat up I have a theory. I'll tell you what. The next time you plan on doing that just remember, that in elementary school we had this lesson on KEEPING YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF. I swear to god this is and will always be, one of the MOST dangerous things to do! DON'T EVER DO THAT. A very attractive young lady did that to me once, and when I spun my head around like the exorcist, she still didn't get it.In fact she was rude to me for the rest of the evening. My dear patrons, I don't put up with rude behaviour. I'm sure she did not enjoy the rest of her stay. NO TOUCHY. Perhaps a gentle hand on the back (higher the placement the better gentleman, I swear I have threatened some not so fun things with a big Ole' smile on my face, did you think I was kidding because I was smiling? Haha.
Or how about when I am bringing 4 plates out at a time, and you have the nerve to say to me/us, "I'm still waiting for......" WE KNOW, right after I get the broom out of my...well you get the picture. (Breathe) 'we took your order, remember'. (In the sweetest voice you've ever heard, with a light giggle to follow) That voice my friends, should terrify you!
All of these hints I will give you, are fantastic pieces of advice. It will allow your dining experience (as long as you have a good server) to move smoothly and successfully.
From now on in my blogs I will continue to teach you. Whether or not you learn anything from this. I have a feeling the traffic coming through here will be servers themselves. Feel free to add your little life experiences on my comments, I would love to hear about the torture you have endured while trying to pay your rent.
Which reminds me, patrons your compliments on how fantastic we are at our jobs are an added little bonus. But I feel I should clear the air on this one, IT DOES NOT PAY OUR BILLS, IT DOES NOT ENSURE WE HAVE A PLACE TO LIVE. And even though that little classic song states, what the world needs now is love sweet love. Please come to my house and explain that to my landlord. Because I keep trying to tell her that, but for some reason she's not buying it....hmm, buying it? Again with the purchases.
Well until next time my fellow servers and of course the doctors, teachers, receptionists, business persons etc. Be well
TIP YOUR SERVER;
Rokett
Now, as a server we will joke about the fact that we are robots, specifically made to wipe your table, run your food and drinks, make you comfortable, smile when your happy, smile when your sad, smile when your being a dick, laugh when all we really want to do is...well, use your imagination. Think of that last phone call you made to a phone company, that didn't go so well. What did you want to do? And if you tell me the only thing you wanted to do is 'talk to their manager', your not only lying, your repressing. And that my friend is very very dangerous.
Speaking of dangerous. Remember that time you thought you were being polite (or you just weren't thinking AT ALL) and thought that you would raise your hand as if you were in elementary school having to use the potty. Believe me, when you do this, when you try to get our attention by raising that arm and waving it in the air, as if there is someone dying in front of you. We look at you, and see nothing more then a spoiled rotten little brat.(whether or not we are at another table or not) DANGER!! Or how about the time you thought it appropriate to reach behind you, while your server was at another table, and grab what ever garment of loose clothing you could find on her/him, continuing to pull it, as if once again you were a child about to get beat up. If your wondering WHY you got beat up I have a theory. I'll tell you what. The next time you plan on doing that just remember, that in elementary school we had this lesson on KEEPING YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF. I swear to god this is and will always be, one of the MOST dangerous things to do! DON'T EVER DO THAT. A very attractive young lady did that to me once, and when I spun my head around like the exorcist, she still didn't get it.In fact she was rude to me for the rest of the evening. My dear patrons, I don't put up with rude behaviour. I'm sure she did not enjoy the rest of her stay. NO TOUCHY. Perhaps a gentle hand on the back (higher the placement the better gentleman, I swear I have threatened some not so fun things with a big Ole' smile on my face, did you think I was kidding because I was smiling? Haha.
Or how about when I am bringing 4 plates out at a time, and you have the nerve to say to me/us, "I'm still waiting for......" WE KNOW, right after I get the broom out of my...well you get the picture. (Breathe) 'we took your order, remember'. (In the sweetest voice you've ever heard, with a light giggle to follow) That voice my friends, should terrify you!
All of these hints I will give you, are fantastic pieces of advice. It will allow your dining experience (as long as you have a good server) to move smoothly and successfully.
From now on in my blogs I will continue to teach you. Whether or not you learn anything from this. I have a feeling the traffic coming through here will be servers themselves. Feel free to add your little life experiences on my comments, I would love to hear about the torture you have endured while trying to pay your rent.
Which reminds me, patrons your compliments on how fantastic we are at our jobs are an added little bonus. But I feel I should clear the air on this one, IT DOES NOT PAY OUR BILLS, IT DOES NOT ENSURE WE HAVE A PLACE TO LIVE. And even though that little classic song states, what the world needs now is love sweet love. Please come to my house and explain that to my landlord. Because I keep trying to tell her that, but for some reason she's not buying it....hmm, buying it? Again with the purchases.
Well until next time my fellow servers and of course the doctors, teachers, receptionists, business persons etc. Be well
TIP YOUR SERVER;
Rokett
Tuesday 20 December 2011
I Digress...Tis the season
I learnt yesterday in a book I'm reading that the female brain is 9% smaller then the male brain. I will give you gentlemen a moment to feel superior...are you done? However, we both have the same amount of brain cells. Men's just bounce around more freely in an open space, and women's are "packed more densely." ~ The Female Brain~ Allowing women to think sharper, feel deeper (some, not all, in my opinion) and have a better ability to judge situations...the five senses.
I give you this little piece of knowledge because I believe it to be true. Our genetic coding, Female vs Male is 99% the same. Leaving one percent difference. How much difference can this make?
The other day I was working. If you haven't figured it out yet, I am a server, and let me tell you a damn fine one. Quick, efficient, funny and friendly...I digress. The table of 6 that evening looked as though they were having a little Christmas party. I actually thought to myself, "A local business, a home business even, how sweet." A refreshing change from all of the corporate staff parties, where the million dollar owner doesn't take the time to thank people individually. But a nice 6 person party where they can eat, drink, laugh and enjoy each others company. Well, some of their company.
Let me start by saying, this is NOT the worst table I have ever had, just an eye opener to the world of dumb males. If the males of the world think I'm just picking on you, then you are in worse shape then I thought. And don't worry the women I have served in my 17 years as a server, are in FAR worse shape then yourselves. In a different way...they are crazy! I digress...
The night seemed to run smoothly, or as smooth as it can on a Friday night, where I feel more then half of the 'dumb' and 'crazies' come out to play. I swear to god its like serving wild apes sometimes. Quickly remembering the time I was in Thailand and climbing Tiger Temple in Krabi Beach. As I walked down the awkward uneven stairs, with a bag of mixed fruit in hand. I was shocked to see about 75 monkeys waiting for me near the end. As my legs were already trembling from the 1400 (uneven) stair temple. I found it extremely hard to hold the rickety railing AND avoid the monkeys sitting on it, screaming for my fruit or me, or both... much like a Friday night, I can't be sure what they are screaming for.
Thinking back on this situation it was much like a Friday night shift. Turning to your right you see 5 monkeys comparing there junk with each other. Applauding themselves on their length vs width. One male catches the eye of a female, and as she rolls her eyes and looks away he chases her. As if he saw her say, " Wow, that's impressive, I'm soooo blown away that I'm going to run as fast as I can in the opposite direction and hope you follow me. Oh, by the way did I tell you that I'm sooooo into you?" Yes 'gentlemen' I'm mocking you. Then you see 10 female monkeys, SCREAMING at the top of their lungs, trying to speak over each other. That last punch line that will start or end the night with a bang. As another female approaches, everyone, at the exact same time no doubt, shuts up and you can hear a pin drop. Judgement hour. Then theirs the perverted old man in the corner, hunched over. Not moving much, except his eyes and head slightly from side to side. He positions himself in a place where he needs little to no movement to see the action. This is a strategy. As he doesn't like to talk much he still enjoys the stimuli of all the action. I'm still talking monkeys here!
Alright where was I? My table of 6 would like to pay, I walk over with the credit card machine in hand. As I sit down to take the first credit card, the male says to me, " Do you happen to know who this is?" As he points to his other male friend. I say politely,"No, but apparently I should?" Yes it was a question. " This is the man that started blah blah blah blah blah blah blah....without saying exactly where he does this....He is one of the biggest Realtors in the most expensive part of the city I reside. I say, "well, that's nice" in a 'that is nice' kind of way. Should I have blown smoke up his ass? His friend thought I should. "Well, you should be more impressed with that, I mean he is the BIGGEST realtor in the blah blah blah. That's huge, I mean huge." Their they go again, comparing their junk, just like those creepy little monkeys. And the Women sitting staring, judging quietly. Then the man who claimed I wasn't making enough of a fuss about it said to me, "Listen if you EVER (as if he thought I wasn't going too) make half a mill, come talk to me about investments." AS HE IS LEAVING THE CRAPPIEST TIP, AND STILL GLOATING ABOUT HIS FRIENDS WEALTH, WHOM ALSO LEFT ME THE CRAPPIEST TIP, WHILE TELLING ME THEY HAD A FANTASTIC TIME AND ARE OFF TO A CONCERT. A CONCERT THAT I WOULD HAVE DIED TO GO TO.
When they asked me why I wasn't going, I replied an enlightening piece of conversation, I thought, and I even shocked myself. It wasn't jealously either, I know this..."Tis the season to give, I had the option to go, (which I did) but as it is Christmas and I work very hard to make sure I can go home for the holidays to see my family. I must make sure I remember why Christmas is Christmas. It is very easy to get side tracked in the city and forget why you do the things you do. Family is my number one, and as I enjoy thrills in my life, I have never been someone who relies on handouts. I hope you have a blast at your concert, I truly do. Happy Holidays as well and I hope Santa brings you everything you deserve."
HAHAHA Do you know what one guy said to me..." I don't even LIKE blah blah (the concert name) He stared at my reaction the entire time. I was blown away by the statement, once again. What the hell was he trying to prove to me...and THIS was the THIRD MALE. I convinced him (for whatever reason) that he was going to have a blast, the light show alone would be spectacular, the back up singers are outstanding, and the costume changes would blow his mind. He left that day excited to see a concert he had NEVER wanted to see.
Everyone of them in LESS then 5 minutes had put a sour taste in my mouth. After I wiped their butts all night. Their was nothing on their table that they didn't need, their elbow room was spacious, their napkins and cutlery were fresh, (and I don't even work in fine dining these days) I go above and beyond to make sure my patrons are looked after with care. And their unappreciative comments about how rich they are, and how they don't even like the fantastic piece of entertainment they are so blessed to be able to see...made me feel bad for them. I stopped thinking about their crap tip (even though I am struggling to make sure I have the perfect presents for the ones I love and whom deserve EVERYTHING on a silver platter. I felt, and still feel incredibly fortunate to be living this life the way I do. I work hard, I enjoy it, I do it myself, I enjoy it. And as things progress in life, I will make damn sure that when I am on the other side of the server station, I will take into account why that server is there, and what she/he is doing to make sure they get through a day of judgement and stupid comments from people who were just raised by dumb, crazy people.
It didn't occur to me until just now...I said to them, " I hope Santa brings you everything that you deserve."...... He won't, you know why? Because for what ever reason long ago, they stopped believing in the spirit and the magic of Christmas. Be pleasant this holiday season, people need the love, the pressure seems to overload the 30 thousand brain cells we have. We start saying things that don't necessarily make sense or need to be said. To the men of the world, THINK....Think before you speak. To the women of the world stop thinking so much and accept.
Cheers;
Rokett
~Tip Your Server~
I give you this little piece of knowledge because I believe it to be true. Our genetic coding, Female vs Male is 99% the same. Leaving one percent difference. How much difference can this make?
The other day I was working. If you haven't figured it out yet, I am a server, and let me tell you a damn fine one. Quick, efficient, funny and friendly...I digress. The table of 6 that evening looked as though they were having a little Christmas party. I actually thought to myself, "A local business, a home business even, how sweet." A refreshing change from all of the corporate staff parties, where the million dollar owner doesn't take the time to thank people individually. But a nice 6 person party where they can eat, drink, laugh and enjoy each others company. Well, some of their company.
Let me start by saying, this is NOT the worst table I have ever had, just an eye opener to the world of dumb males. If the males of the world think I'm just picking on you, then you are in worse shape then I thought. And don't worry the women I have served in my 17 years as a server, are in FAR worse shape then yourselves. In a different way...they are crazy! I digress...
The night seemed to run smoothly, or as smooth as it can on a Friday night, where I feel more then half of the 'dumb' and 'crazies' come out to play. I swear to god its like serving wild apes sometimes. Quickly remembering the time I was in Thailand and climbing Tiger Temple in Krabi Beach. As I walked down the awkward uneven stairs, with a bag of mixed fruit in hand. I was shocked to see about 75 monkeys waiting for me near the end. As my legs were already trembling from the 1400 (uneven) stair temple. I found it extremely hard to hold the rickety railing AND avoid the monkeys sitting on it, screaming for my fruit or me, or both... much like a Friday night, I can't be sure what they are screaming for.
Thinking back on this situation it was much like a Friday night shift. Turning to your right you see 5 monkeys comparing there junk with each other. Applauding themselves on their length vs width. One male catches the eye of a female, and as she rolls her eyes and looks away he chases her. As if he saw her say, " Wow, that's impressive, I'm soooo blown away that I'm going to run as fast as I can in the opposite direction and hope you follow me. Oh, by the way did I tell you that I'm sooooo into you?" Yes 'gentlemen' I'm mocking you. Then you see 10 female monkeys, SCREAMING at the top of their lungs, trying to speak over each other. That last punch line that will start or end the night with a bang. As another female approaches, everyone, at the exact same time no doubt, shuts up and you can hear a pin drop. Judgement hour. Then theirs the perverted old man in the corner, hunched over. Not moving much, except his eyes and head slightly from side to side. He positions himself in a place where he needs little to no movement to see the action. This is a strategy. As he doesn't like to talk much he still enjoys the stimuli of all the action. I'm still talking monkeys here!
Alright where was I? My table of 6 would like to pay, I walk over with the credit card machine in hand. As I sit down to take the first credit card, the male says to me, " Do you happen to know who this is?" As he points to his other male friend. I say politely,"No, but apparently I should?" Yes it was a question. " This is the man that started blah blah blah blah blah blah blah....without saying exactly where he does this....He is one of the biggest Realtors in the most expensive part of the city I reside. I say, "well, that's nice" in a 'that is nice' kind of way. Should I have blown smoke up his ass? His friend thought I should. "Well, you should be more impressed with that, I mean he is the BIGGEST realtor in the blah blah blah. That's huge, I mean huge." Their they go again, comparing their junk, just like those creepy little monkeys. And the Women sitting staring, judging quietly. Then the man who claimed I wasn't making enough of a fuss about it said to me, "Listen if you EVER (as if he thought I wasn't going too) make half a mill, come talk to me about investments." AS HE IS LEAVING THE CRAPPIEST TIP, AND STILL GLOATING ABOUT HIS FRIENDS WEALTH, WHOM ALSO LEFT ME THE CRAPPIEST TIP, WHILE TELLING ME THEY HAD A FANTASTIC TIME AND ARE OFF TO A CONCERT. A CONCERT THAT I WOULD HAVE DIED TO GO TO.
When they asked me why I wasn't going, I replied an enlightening piece of conversation, I thought, and I even shocked myself. It wasn't jealously either, I know this..."Tis the season to give, I had the option to go, (which I did) but as it is Christmas and I work very hard to make sure I can go home for the holidays to see my family. I must make sure I remember why Christmas is Christmas. It is very easy to get side tracked in the city and forget why you do the things you do. Family is my number one, and as I enjoy thrills in my life, I have never been someone who relies on handouts. I hope you have a blast at your concert, I truly do. Happy Holidays as well and I hope Santa brings you everything you deserve."
HAHAHA Do you know what one guy said to me..." I don't even LIKE blah blah (the concert name) He stared at my reaction the entire time. I was blown away by the statement, once again. What the hell was he trying to prove to me...and THIS was the THIRD MALE. I convinced him (for whatever reason) that he was going to have a blast, the light show alone would be spectacular, the back up singers are outstanding, and the costume changes would blow his mind. He left that day excited to see a concert he had NEVER wanted to see.
Everyone of them in LESS then 5 minutes had put a sour taste in my mouth. After I wiped their butts all night. Their was nothing on their table that they didn't need, their elbow room was spacious, their napkins and cutlery were fresh, (and I don't even work in fine dining these days) I go above and beyond to make sure my patrons are looked after with care. And their unappreciative comments about how rich they are, and how they don't even like the fantastic piece of entertainment they are so blessed to be able to see...made me feel bad for them. I stopped thinking about their crap tip (even though I am struggling to make sure I have the perfect presents for the ones I love and whom deserve EVERYTHING on a silver platter. I felt, and still feel incredibly fortunate to be living this life the way I do. I work hard, I enjoy it, I do it myself, I enjoy it. And as things progress in life, I will make damn sure that when I am on the other side of the server station, I will take into account why that server is there, and what she/he is doing to make sure they get through a day of judgement and stupid comments from people who were just raised by dumb, crazy people.
It didn't occur to me until just now...I said to them, " I hope Santa brings you everything that you deserve."...... He won't, you know why? Because for what ever reason long ago, they stopped believing in the spirit and the magic of Christmas. Be pleasant this holiday season, people need the love, the pressure seems to overload the 30 thousand brain cells we have. We start saying things that don't necessarily make sense or need to be said. To the men of the world, THINK....Think before you speak. To the women of the world stop thinking so much and accept.
Cheers;
Rokett
~Tip Your Server~
Thursday 1 December 2011
My Addiction
My addiction started when I heard the bubbling. I remember a very distinct time in my life when my dad was carrying me and I was resting on his shoulder, the way little girls do when they feel the safest.
He was walking into the cool curling rink, down the off yellow hall and the speckled tiled floor. It smelled like a combination of old ice, burgers, coffee, my grandmothers famous butter tarts and dirty shoes. I remember curling my arms inwards, tucked between my five year old chest and my dads. Almost as though I was looking into the future and new at one time or another someone would be saying to me... 'pull together, squeeze together, let their be NO room for light or air, create a Japanese ham sandwich'...my yoga teacher.
You do that as children. It's so easy to do that. No room for light or air, holding on as tight as you can. The funny thing is it's not for any ones comfort but your own. You NEED to know that no matter what, nothing will come in between you and anything. Especially your daddy and especially not a measly little draft of wind from the open door of the ice box...I digress (if that applies here...and if it doesn't...shut up Linda)
When we opened the door to the concession, the only draft I felt was warm. I new then to ease myself. I could loosen now, I was comfortable and soothed by the mixture of smells that would forever be in my psyche. Date squares, butter tarts, burgers, onion rings...and the bubbling! It was and still has to be one of the most soothing sounds. Yes I know, I'm sick. How could this be the sound, of all sounds in the world the bubbling, but remember, I'm an addict.
There is a distinct sound to the freezer door opening compared to the fridge door. More of a suction, I knew every time the freezer opened and the bag crinkled, another one of my most favourite sounds. I remember becoming more aware, so when the combination of the sounds occurred my ears perked up and I became very very still, as a child would that just peed in the pool. (now you know, you may find yourself being more observant the next time you hit the deck... your welcome)
Bubble, bubble, bubble but not just bubble, the odd crackle, gargle even. Soon after the gargle, the smell...ohhhh the smell. So simple. Toasted, almost stale at first, warm and starchy to finish. Now being an addict, I can even create the smells that are 'about' to happen, what my dads steps were to making sure they were perfect. If you have yet to figure out what one of my addictions are, then I will take you through my dads steps in creating this magic...
He was walking into the cool curling rink, down the off yellow hall and the speckled tiled floor. It smelled like a combination of old ice, burgers, coffee, my grandmothers famous butter tarts and dirty shoes. I remember curling my arms inwards, tucked between my five year old chest and my dads. Almost as though I was looking into the future and new at one time or another someone would be saying to me... 'pull together, squeeze together, let their be NO room for light or air, create a Japanese ham sandwich'...my yoga teacher.
You do that as children. It's so easy to do that. No room for light or air, holding on as tight as you can. The funny thing is it's not for any ones comfort but your own. You NEED to know that no matter what, nothing will come in between you and anything. Especially your daddy and especially not a measly little draft of wind from the open door of the ice box...I digress (if that applies here...and if it doesn't...shut up Linda)
When we opened the door to the concession, the only draft I felt was warm. I new then to ease myself. I could loosen now, I was comfortable and soothed by the mixture of smells that would forever be in my psyche. Date squares, butter tarts, burgers, onion rings...and the bubbling! It was and still has to be one of the most soothing sounds. Yes I know, I'm sick. How could this be the sound, of all sounds in the world the bubbling, but remember, I'm an addict.
There is a distinct sound to the freezer door opening compared to the fridge door. More of a suction, I knew every time the freezer opened and the bag crinkled, another one of my most favourite sounds. I remember becoming more aware, so when the combination of the sounds occurred my ears perked up and I became very very still, as a child would that just peed in the pool. (now you know, you may find yourself being more observant the next time you hit the deck... your welcome)
Bubble, bubble, bubble but not just bubble, the odd crackle, gargle even. Soon after the gargle, the smell...ohhhh the smell. So simple. Toasted, almost stale at first, warm and starchy to finish. Now being an addict, I can even create the smells that are 'about' to happen, what my dads steps were to making sure they were perfect. If you have yet to figure out what one of my addictions are, then I will take you through my dads steps in creating this magic...
- once you hear the gargle, not crackle...take them out
- once you have shaken them, bowl them
- once you have added salt and shaken them add vinegar
- once you have added vinegar, taste and add more salt
- once you have realised there is so much flavour on them that there is no chance of going back
- take the lid off the pepper and add generously
- have a side of ketchup ready (not from the fridge, room temp, don't mess that up)
The moment my dad went to put the lid back on the pepper, she put the cardboard container in front of me. One would think it would be my dads job to present his master piece. However when a father looks at his little girl, and that little girl has joy written all over her face, some say that face puts you in a trance.
He put the lid on the pepper because he new that trance was on its way. If he had given me the cardboard container he would have surely forgotten to put the lid back on the pepper, in turn making someones life in the kitchen a living hell.
Not sure what I mean?...Well THIS is kitchen life...
In a busy rush that called for only a light dusting of pepper, they would have gotten the whole bottle. Throwing off the pace, the mood and the magic of the kitchen. Continuing a steady flow of 'minor' mishaps that lead to an entire lunch rush of chaos, unsteady, not to mention, unnecessary flow.
Not sure what I mean?...Well THIS is kitchen life...
In a busy rush that called for only a light dusting of pepper, they would have gotten the whole bottle. Throwing off the pace, the mood and the magic of the kitchen. Continuing a steady flow of 'minor' mishaps that lead to an entire lunch rush of chaos, unsteady, not to mention, unnecessary flow.
Why am I not sharing my little memories of the public, you ask? Oh we'll get there, I just needed to let you know what got me through some of the most ridiculous, tedious, annoying, unbelievable encounters of my life...my comfort, my saviour, my addiction...My French Fries!
Cheers;
Rokett
~ Tip your server ~
Tuesday 22 November 2011
A Back Hand For a Tea Cup
Ladies Bonspiels...I should have known by my Aunts reaction, which is and was genuinely unimpressed. This time was different. Everyone seemed to walk on eggshells around her all day long. From the preparation to the service, it was ice cold in the kitchen.
Now for all of you servers out there, we all know there is nothing worse then serving the dreaded 'ladies who lunch.' If you are not sure what I am talking about please refer to the musical 'Company', where Sondheim hit it on the button with his song, ' The Ladies who Lunch.' Now imagine, if you will, opening two big french white doors, the room is bright and white and gold, the air is full of lilies and perfume and slightly off smelling old Clinque lipstick, (imagine the smell of your grandmothers makeup case). The hats!!! Oh the hats, huge, feathers, colours, bejewels ...
Then exchange those doors with damp wooden ones, exchange the white for off brown. If you are having trouble placing off brown in your mind, go for a walk to your oldest neighbourhood pub and look underneath the seat of the man who has been a regular in the same position for 30 years. Exchange the brightness for darkness covered in what looks to be fog in the scariest horror flick you saw, at the age I was, when I served this function, 11. Replace that fog with cigarette smoke, replace the gold for mouldy red leather that seems to be an added touch on everything. Exchange the perfume for stale cheap hairspray, the kind that clings to your lungs. The old lipstick is still the old lipstick but instead of Clinque, it's a brand that has no label and it is older then you could ever imagine. Last but certainly not least replace those glorious hats that you dreamt about the night before when your grandma called you and said, my dear I think your ready for...a Bonspiel. Those hats are now a combination of off coloured fake hair pieces and breathing tubes. Not many tubes, and now that I really think about it probably only one, maybe two but it was enough to draw my attention from everything else.
Empathy sank in. At the beginning I smiled a closed mouth smile to every lady that made eye contact with me. Their was 125 of them, and I remember counting that day, only 5 of them smiled back. Five out of 125 'ladies,' who looked me up and down, judged me and my height, judged my ability to work, my ability to carry a tray, my ability to do anything other then make their lives miserable because lets be honest the moment I walked in that door, the tension and the drama was enough to start my own musical. Except their were 125 Ms. Hannigans and one little orphan, I guess you could call me Annie.
This angered me, so who did I have? I had the biggest weapon of all...my Grandma. What a saint she is and was at my moment of terror. After our talk, I was not to do anything but smile and work. That's what she said, hustle, smile and don't let myself be bothered with the song and dance. I was not hear to impress them, I was not hear to sing and dance. I was hear to learn how to work under circumstances that would surely arise in my upcoming years.
I served plates, I cleared plates, I smiled my closed mouth smile all day long with out any bother or thought about these incredibly rude, disgusting, obnoxious, one track minded, judgemental, sexist, withering, old bitty's.
Then it happened, while clearing a tea cup that was empty and full of disgusting kleenex, I picked the cup up by the bottom portion of the cup, not the handle, not near the mouth piece, not with the saucer (that was no where to be found) but the bottom of the cup. I remember thinking, if I clear this kleenex filled mess, I will let her know, I will bring her another fresh cup and that will be my over exceeding good deed for the day. These women were not as slow as they looked. In a flash the women flailed back with the back side of her hand and 'back handed' my waist and stomach. Implying that I was trying to make her sick by putting my 'sick little hands' on the upper portion of her cup. I could have cried. I could have at that moment, dropped the dish pan full of dishes and cried. If 125 women weren't staring at me with smoke coming out of their nose's, I probably would have. Instead, I apologised and walked away.
In a situation such as this, is the customer right? Was it wrong of me in my 11 year old head to wish something terrible on this women. Like finding a slug in her next bite of delicious scalloped potatoes. Or maybe a loo-gee in her flan. I was so hurt. I was annoyed and frustrated. I was tired and struggling, I was eleven. She was 70. She new better, I new better. I was better. I am better. She is miserable. The public...(sigh)
Tip your server;
Cheers;
~ Rokett ~
Now for all of you servers out there, we all know there is nothing worse then serving the dreaded 'ladies who lunch.' If you are not sure what I am talking about please refer to the musical 'Company', where Sondheim hit it on the button with his song, ' The Ladies who Lunch.' Now imagine, if you will, opening two big french white doors, the room is bright and white and gold, the air is full of lilies and perfume and slightly off smelling old Clinque lipstick, (imagine the smell of your grandmothers makeup case). The hats!!! Oh the hats, huge, feathers, colours, bejewels ...
Then exchange those doors with damp wooden ones, exchange the white for off brown. If you are having trouble placing off brown in your mind, go for a walk to your oldest neighbourhood pub and look underneath the seat of the man who has been a regular in the same position for 30 years. Exchange the brightness for darkness covered in what looks to be fog in the scariest horror flick you saw, at the age I was, when I served this function, 11. Replace that fog with cigarette smoke, replace the gold for mouldy red leather that seems to be an added touch on everything. Exchange the perfume for stale cheap hairspray, the kind that clings to your lungs. The old lipstick is still the old lipstick but instead of Clinque, it's a brand that has no label and it is older then you could ever imagine. Last but certainly not least replace those glorious hats that you dreamt about the night before when your grandma called you and said, my dear I think your ready for...a Bonspiel. Those hats are now a combination of off coloured fake hair pieces and breathing tubes. Not many tubes, and now that I really think about it probably only one, maybe two but it was enough to draw my attention from everything else.
Empathy sank in. At the beginning I smiled a closed mouth smile to every lady that made eye contact with me. Their was 125 of them, and I remember counting that day, only 5 of them smiled back. Five out of 125 'ladies,' who looked me up and down, judged me and my height, judged my ability to work, my ability to carry a tray, my ability to do anything other then make their lives miserable because lets be honest the moment I walked in that door, the tension and the drama was enough to start my own musical. Except their were 125 Ms. Hannigans and one little orphan, I guess you could call me Annie.
This angered me, so who did I have? I had the biggest weapon of all...my Grandma. What a saint she is and was at my moment of terror. After our talk, I was not to do anything but smile and work. That's what she said, hustle, smile and don't let myself be bothered with the song and dance. I was not hear to impress them, I was not hear to sing and dance. I was hear to learn how to work under circumstances that would surely arise in my upcoming years.
I served plates, I cleared plates, I smiled my closed mouth smile all day long with out any bother or thought about these incredibly rude, disgusting, obnoxious, one track minded, judgemental, sexist, withering, old bitty's.
Then it happened, while clearing a tea cup that was empty and full of disgusting kleenex, I picked the cup up by the bottom portion of the cup, not the handle, not near the mouth piece, not with the saucer (that was no where to be found) but the bottom of the cup. I remember thinking, if I clear this kleenex filled mess, I will let her know, I will bring her another fresh cup and that will be my over exceeding good deed for the day. These women were not as slow as they looked. In a flash the women flailed back with the back side of her hand and 'back handed' my waist and stomach. Implying that I was trying to make her sick by putting my 'sick little hands' on the upper portion of her cup. I could have cried. I could have at that moment, dropped the dish pan full of dishes and cried. If 125 women weren't staring at me with smoke coming out of their nose's, I probably would have. Instead, I apologised and walked away.
In a situation such as this, is the customer right? Was it wrong of me in my 11 year old head to wish something terrible on this women. Like finding a slug in her next bite of delicious scalloped potatoes. Or maybe a loo-gee in her flan. I was so hurt. I was annoyed and frustrated. I was tired and struggling, I was eleven. She was 70. She new better, I new better. I was better. I am better. She is miserable. The public...(sigh)
Tip your server;
Cheers;
~ Rokett ~
Monday 21 November 2011
A BLT was NOT just a BLT!
I remember the first time I stepped behind a counter. The smell of my grandmothers cooking was unforgettable.
A BLT was not just a BLT, it was comfort, it was soothing, the sound of the bacon on
I was 10 years old when I first starting helping my grandmother and aunt's catering company. I was a wild child with about as much energy as a tadpole and a chihuahua combined. I loved being with my grandmother. She was the most feisty, strong, helpful, precise women I had ever met. Everyone loved her, even if she didn't care to much for them. And I LOVED those times, because I usually got the same annoyed feeling about them even before she would whisper in my ear, "oh, go away," not to me of course. It's as if she was trying, through me, to send a little secret message to them. Because as soon as she said that, I would giggle, look at them, and sure enough even with their back turned they would quietly 'go away.' Genius! When they returned for their second BLT or bowel of the best orange pecan salad with red onion dressing they had ever encountered, my grandmother and I would discretely roll our eyes and have a secret giggle to ourselves that no one in the world can recreate. That was our moment, our way of telling each other that it was just you and me and thats all that mattered. This too shall pass, just a minor bump in the road, don't worry they will 'go away' soon.
This was my first experience with the public...comical, because I had her, I had my back up, my wing man, my partner in crime. Behind the counter of the curling rink cafe, where my grandma and aunt used the kitchen for their catering company...Gibson and Gibson catering. And soon it began. More hours, more laughs, more annoyances...more public.
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Tip your server...Cheers;
~ Rokett ~
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