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~
Tuesday 20 December 2011
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 ~
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