KILLED IT (IN A GOOD WAY)

MANAGER: "You know *** isn't working tonight?"

ME: "Yeah, um, you make the schedule, but I'll be fine". 

Despite that slight hesitation, I seamlessly acted as a conduit between:

-4 Managers

-3 Servers

-5 Chefs

-4 Food Stations 

-2 Bussers

-1 Restaurant

-2 Bars

-70+ guests

-2 Floors

And no body cried, screamed or threatened to quit. To be honest, I was concerned. Ensuring quality and timely service to 70+ people isn't like climbing a mountain; and I don't want to let my head swell, but it's not easy keeping all these disparate elements together, especially when the majority of the guests arrive in limited time frame. 

Like when 50 people arrive within an hour of each other, ordering 4 courses (not including bread or drinks). Sure I have help. But besides the managers, my co-workers have their specific tasks. Taking orders, making drinks, prepping and/or cooking the actual food, busing tables, etc. I don't have to much of those things, but...hold the FUCKING GLUE together. 

While I was ducking for cover for a brief minute, this image popped into my brain: 

That is what I do. And also present the actual food to people, with lavish descriptions in hushed tones, careful to NEVER revel the back of my hand to plates I am laying ever so carefully down. OR letting anything fall out of place, lest the person paying $$$ for a 4oz piece of fish be let down. I actually take it to heart if a single piece of lentil falls astray. 

It's frustrating...but also really fucking rewarding. When things so right, as they did tonight, I mean...the money doesn't even matter that much (lies). What really does is just KICKING FUCKING ASS. And it's not that I am that smart, it's just that I have absorbed the knowledge other people have been generous to lend me, and me passing it on. 

Just an random example: this particular plate of scallops is accompanied by exactly 8 dots of japernero yogurt. This guy asked for more of it, "OK, no problem sir)". I knew it would be easy to ask chef for more...but how to properly present it? I ran around for 3 minutes, sweating, looking for the correct container, a tiny piece of ceramic I could blink and miss, buried in the kitchen that is four times bigger than my apartment, and found it. 

What I mean is, compared to the restaurants I used to work at, even if the money isn't too much different...I just GET OFF on being challenged. Sure, I might have a day or two when I just don't feel like working, but had I stayed busting out beer/burger joints, GOD - HOW FUCKING boring. 

PS - Best quote of the night = "Tonight's cheviche is..."

I'M STILL HERE

Really busting my ass to take care of my various responsibilities; work, friends, love - and dealing with this crazy FUCKING heat wave. Working to not only resolve the last bits of my court ordered obligations, and being broke - not to mention save the remaining shards of my passionate, yet difficult love life.

It hasn't been easy. But it's a test I feel i am passing. Never before have so many different areas of my life presented as many challenges...but I am facing them head on and been greeting with results I hoped for. It's just taken much energy to do so, and there is still a lot to go. But it feels good to set high goals and almost barely meet them.

At the same time...FUCK THIS WEATHER. And won't have a day off until far into next week, if even then. but I like my current job(s), and potential new ones, and hanging with friends - new and old. But I need a break - soon. Burning the candle at both ends is slowly killing me, and not in a good way.

PUSH-SAY

Yes, It's nearly 5am and I'm up and writing. So what? Who cares [tugs collar]? Yeah, these late nights are making my late nights...later. Anyways, tonight at work I had an uncomfortable discussion about...a certain part of the female anatomy that begins with the letter "P" and ends with the letter "Y".

Reason was, one of the bartenders, who is recently married and was bored, and during his brief interlude, over a cigarette, we got on the subject of getting laid. 2 things dawned on me:

-I'm still not out to these mostly hyper masculine (but cool) dudes at work.

-And damn, I need to get fucking laid, like 15 fucking minutes ago.

But yeah, either way, ugh, should I come out to my co-workers? That might strike you as an obvious "YES", but really, does it matter? I dunno. It's a minor dilemma, but one that has kept my mind buzzing at nearly daybreak.

At the least, I wonder if it would change their level of "discourse". Also, most of these guys are my brother's buddies; has he purposely not informed them of status? Perhaps it just never came up.

Also, it's like 35 degrees. What the WHAT? Already!? SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIT SON.

PS - The title refers to how I apparently pronounce the word.

JUSTIN (SORT OF) GOES BACK TO WORK!

Today was my first day of "work" since I got canned back on August 28th. In anticipation of today, I went to bed last night at 11PM. Not an easy task since I have been staying up past 3AM on a regular basis for the last 5 weeks. Making things worse was the fact that I got my tattoo touched up last night, and my arm was fucking killing me. Somehow, I overcame these minor obstacles and got a good night of sleep.

The morning at my new job as an Apartment Leasing Consultant* involved spending 4+ hours scrolling through their database. This might sound tedious, but I actually enjoyed it. Still, staring at a computer for hours on end makes me sleepy, as does lack of nicotine.

Finally, around 1:30PM I got paired up with an experienced Consultant, who was assigned the task of finding of young woman (accompanied by her doting Mother) the task of finding her a Studio to rent in the Gold Coast/River North area of Chicago. Her budget was $1200 (which is $300 more than I pay for my 2 bedroom...).

While the 3 of them were determining places to look a]t, I was instructed (beforehand) to remain quiet and merely observe, which would have been fine by me. However, the younger woman kept directly question at me like "where are the trendy bars/restaurants/people/shops?" instead of asking the experienced guy I was shadowing.

Although I felt dumb giving her generic/non-answers, I thought that once I am trained, I really will like this job. Although it's sales, and 100% commission (which I vowed never to do) I seem well suited to this task, at least based on the answers I wanted to give. Who knows, maybe I will suck at this, but maybe I'll thrive and make a FUCK-LOAD of money. The potential certainly seems to be there, even in this abysmal economy.

*After I get licensed/assuming I don't fuck-up.

SO MUCH FOR A QUIET WEEKEND

Change every reference from women to men in this monologue, and you'll see right through me...

P.S. - If the boyfriend of the guy I fooled around with tonight finds a pair of Prada glasses...um, those are mine. Can I have them back?

P.P.S. - I parallel parked sans glasses/corrective lenses tonight. Fuck!

HOLY SHIT DO OTHER VARIOUS THINGS HURT

After several days spent resting on my trusty couch I must say my head is feeling much, much better. You would think that watching hours of terrible television ("One Tree Hill" anybody? [sorry Billy]) and countless movies would have the opposite effect of stimulating one's mental senses.

Isn't it conventional wisdom that television rots one's brain? Apparently, this logic does not apply when recovering from a concussion (at least in my case) because I am positive it helped my brain get back up to speed.

As such, I slowly worked my up the moving image food chain, having had a mini-Simpson's marathon later that night (Season 7 - my favorite) and boldly seeing "Indiana Jones" and "Iron Man" the next afternoon, back-to-back, then "The Last Days of Disco" and finally "Juno" tonight.

If I get cocky, I might even read a book this weekend.

All this rest has been good for my head; unfortunately my body, in particular my left shoulder, neck, upper back, left knee and right hamstring, hurt like a bitch. Seriously, can I get something better than Tylenol?

Perhaps it's a good sign I wasn't prescribed painkillers since A) apparently my injuries are not that bad, and B) that painkiller shit fucks me up in ways that I do not like. This is one of those times I really wish I lived in California (...ahem..medicalmarijuana..cough...).

In related (non) news, I still cannot 100% verify what in the hell happened last Sunday night. All I remember is walking down the street and THUNK my head hitting the ground and waking up perhaps 30 minutes later being pulled out of an ambulance.

Considerable time has been spent the last few days being volleyed between the hospital and police, neither of whom can produce any evidence of this incident besides the discharge papers I was given (i.e. "you have suffered a head injury, stay with friends or family for the next 48 hours").

Despite the bad shit I experienced these past few days, I am reminded nearly every hour how loved I am. Friends and family keep checking up on me...my Mom even offered (though I declined) to fly out to take care of me (aawwwww).

Thanks everyone for the kind words; I'll be RAWKING out again in no time (although I will be exercising greater caution when using crosswalks).