The Great Gatsby

Three things you will learn (that I have learned) from this post:

~Money- it comes and it goes. Don't let it ruin you.
~Things aren't always as they seem.
~Let the other person make a fool of themselves. You'll always come out looking better in the end.
 With that said-

The city of Buckingham* is so cloistered.  Its residents all seem to know eachother. Its workers are all networked with one another. This elite circle of acquaintences operates like a cult- you're either in or you're out. Just be advised, they're watching you.  Once people know your name and can single you out in a crowd, it can either be a blessing in disguise, or purely nothing but trouble.


One wrong impression and you are slandered. Blacklisted.  In a city so small, that is a dangerous line to cross.  Just one tiny spark to ignite the kindle, and the whole building goes up in flames.


As a waitress, when I'm not sporting an ever trendy apron and whipping up plates of hummus, I'm enjoying what little time I have for myself FOR myself.

This means every once in awhile, yes, I do go out around town.  I've been known to stop into Flannigan's* for a Guinness, or rock a miniskirt and heels over at Midtown* on a Friday night.

 
I'm only human- we all need a little entertainment.  I'm not a stranger to having conversations with strangers as it is part of my job, but if I engage in this outside of work, it suddenly becomes a flaw. The trait of being friendly turns into being too fast, too forward.

At what point is having fun worth the risk of others talking about you or spreading malicious rumors?  I've gotten the brunt of it.
I'm a waitress in a wealthier city, therefore... 
I must be either looking for a handout, or a short Jewish man with a fat, padded wallet to cling on to. 
My regulars must not be coming back to me for my "good service" alone.
She's a "favorite" for a reason.

Please.
Stop while you're ahead.

It's a damn shame that women who are technically either trophy wives or "kept" women (and sometimes the men they are attached to) have to spend their schedule-free days tearing down the reputations of others who actually work hard. They really have nothing better to do.



You know, the kind of women who should be at home watching their four children from two different men (Becky* we'll call her), but no.  Instead they are sitting at your bar, calling you out to your face in front of everyone.  Lashing out like an unruly child, and all I can do is sit there and take it for the fear of being unprofessional.  Frozen out of shock, I stood there- a deer in headlights- dumbfounded and appalled.

Two Saturdays ago Becky caused this exact scene at the restaurant where I work.
Defamed me in front of a packed bar during a busy night. Vulgarities and all.

Now me?  I'm QUITE the opposite of "slow to anger".  I have absolutely no idea how or why I did not pull back and release a fury of rage sending flying fists, smashing her surgically enhanced features.  The bitch deserved a good beating.



But what has my mother taught me? 
You are better than that.

Becky was simply upset to find out that her sleezebag boyfriend has been talking to other women behind her back.  She clearly took it out on the wrong person, as I am neither the one to make a move nor accept any advance that had recently been sent on his behalf.  I'm no threat because I could never be attached to someone who claims they are "humble" but owns three or four luxury vehicles, a custom Frank Lloyd Wright home, and escapes to the Bahamas whenever he feels the itch.
Humble would be to use his practice of being a plastic surgeon to fix the faces of children mauled by dogs, or burn victims-- not supply every stripper in the area with a new set of tits.

 As she tore into me, he sat there denying everything because he knew he was in trouble.  Hot tears had already found their way, streaming down my face.  I was helpless and alone with no one on my side to rescue me, bored into by the eyes of curious onlookers.

I will say it is a very sad, sad thing to come to realize. Truly tragic.  As they both came back in a week later to dine, holding hands and cuddling-- her in a new pair of Louboutin's as well as an $1,800 purse...
People can be bought.
And those doing the buying, aren't in it- any of it- for the right reasons.
It is, as Wulf said, all a big show.  "Lies," he said, "they all only like to lie."

 So this facade...this glamorous, tantazlizing, alluring lifestyle of the rich and the famous... is all dramatization. It is indeed a game. At the end of the day, if you take away the shiny cars that smell of new leather, strip off the Oscar de la Renta gown, and come back to Michigan (of all states) from that cabana you were sweating under from whatever unpronouncable island you vacation at...

You're just another Great Gatsby-- an invented "somebody" who will never find the true meaning of happiness because all the glitters ain't gold-- and the things that DO shine one day tarnish or inevitably turn to rust.  At the end of the day, all the riches in the world that you dote on and stockpile still don't mean you have a good heart.



I have DEFINITELY made a few mistakes along the way.
I have befriended a few people who have only brought me down.
I do however think it's a better thing to be slow in learning how to open my own eyes to reality, than to live blindly for the rest of my life.

If I could go back and tweak a few of the variables- take the path less traveled by, where would I be?
Hopefully not still turning tables, listening to this nonsense.

As F. Scott Fitzgerald concluded his novel, I will wrap up this post,
"And so we beat on, boats against the current, born back ceaselessly into the past."
-LM

Photo Credit:
The Illuminati and Pop Culture- www.fourwinds10.net
Can Retail Technology Save the British Pub?- www.blogs.independent.co.uk
Paperbag Facebook Covers- www.iwantcovers.com
The Book of Jackson: I'm Not Mad at a Gold Digger- www.thebookofjackson.blogspot.com
Temper-tantrum- www.brokenheals.com
Drama 20- www.mrbloxham.wordpress.com
The Power of Women's Voices in The Great Gatsby- www.blog.commarts.wisc.edu

DUMB LUCK

There's work ethic....

Things like be respectful at work, be mindful of others and of your guests' needs.

Show up on time.  Complete your sidework before, after and during your shift.

Stay off your damn cell phone.

 

My phone goes off while I'm working last night and I let it go to messaging.

I glanced down real quick to see a random 313 number.  I thought to myself, "If the contact was not stored in my phone, it must not be important."

Guess who?

 

 

It was 98.7 AMP Radio calling for the Phrase That Pays and I instead got a voice message letting me know I missed out on winning a cool $1,000.

You know, "More hit music every hour.
Wayyyy less commercials.
Detroit's new 98.7 Amp Radio!"?

Yeah. That.



I can only hope that this rare opportunity comes back around, and at the same time I can only laugh and shake my head in utter disbelief. Yeah, this shit would happen to me. Honestly, if I didn't have BAD luck, I would have no luck at all.

Fml.


-LM
Photo Credit:www.sodahead.com
Taken from the Facebook page of "Gillian"
"How to Get Out of a Traffic Ticket"- www.mvposts.com

PDAs and Pure Romance

 
There's always a fuzzy line drawn between what is and isn't acceptable for PDAs.

Do we just hold hands?  Fingers laced or hands cupped?  Can they see where my mitts are under the table?  Wait, freeze. He's going in for a kiss. If you allow just a peck, you'll worry he'll think you're a prude, but anything longer and everyone else will think you're a whore. Do I close my eyes? Is he closing his? Everyone's watching. Shit, everyone really is watching. What the fuck, did that girl just take a picture...


Well. These thoughts cross the minds of some people. Others, not so much.
I've mentioned before that I've worked at a different restaurant, The Bison Bar, a while back.  Of course this joint isn't as upscale and classy as the one I'm at now, but that isn't the point. 

The crowd that frequents the restaurant is very diverse- the younger crowd for the dollar pint specials, business professionals from the area as well as local families.  Every once in a while, there was a random "you don't come here often" couple that ambled in. 

Whether this was the old man and his much younger and way-too-obvious escort, or the intoxicated couple coming back from seeing Eddie Money, it didn't matter.  No one deserves to come into a restaurant to eat, only to see an older couple playing tonsil hockey.  For a moment, it could be confused with a little mouth-to-mouth CPR but who are we kidding? It's downright disgusting.  It makes your insides turn ever so slightly, and your meal begin to lose its flavor.  It's almost as revolting as when you see someone pop out their dentures at the table and swish them around in their glass. Usually it's just enough PDA to make you blush and turn away.  This was more comparable to a trainwreck.  You can't help but gawk. Total National Geographic. Too graphic for me.


And with a shudder, I just got goosebumps.

Even today at The Valley I got front row tickets to see a couple tongue wrestling and another female nearly go skiing at the booth she was sitting at, sandwiched between two men.  (Mom: this is something I refuse to explain to you. Please refer to Urban Dictionary.) The interaction escalates to the point where it's almost tempting to just hand over a list of the nearest hotels, and quickly usher them out of the building. I'm terribly sorry we have no vacancies as this is The Valley, NOT Super 8.
 

The blatant disregard for basic manners has led me to wonder this; Is there no tact anymore? Where has the decency gone? Clearly PDAs don't discriminate. From your down home burger joint to your finer dining establishment, people can't seem to keep their hands off of eachother and their saliva to themselves.  And no.  I'm not just writing this because I ain't got no lovin' of my own and I'm a single and cynical bitch.  I'm a cynical bitch regardless, lovin' or no lovin'. Again, that's besides the point.  I'm writing this today because there's an epidemic of "I don't care what anyone else thinks, Ima do me" attitude sweeping the nation and it's downright annoying. 
MTV Cribs used to always introduce a celebrity's bedroom with, "This is where the magic happens" because it's TRUE. The "magic" belongs THERE, not up sitting at a barstool with other guests and employees serving as spectators.

Like the last post, this one has a similiar lesson or moral to the story if you shall.
If it isn't polite, keep it to yourself. Be aware of your surroundings, and whom you may offend.
If anything else, it can at least wait until you get out to your car.


Keep Calm & Get Your Freak On (in the privacy of your own home)


-LM

Photo Credit:www.hatersink.spreadshirt.com
"Why You Should Love Public Displays of Affection"- www.themodernman.com
 www.sodahead.com
"Public Display of Affection"- www.lovefromana.com
"Relationship Advice: I don't like PDAs"- www.gurl.com

Table Talk

Playing "waitress" is much like playing the role of the interrupting cow--
Knock, knock.
Who's th---
MOOOOOO bread basket, anyone?

The kinds of conversations I barge in on vary greatly. 
 
On one end of the spectrum, guests are pretty modest and aware of their conversations. Let's just say these folks are considerate of the neighboring tables.  The moment I approach a table, the guests mute themselves in an awkward silence and sit hands-folded and tight-lipped. It's like an outlandish staring game gone wrong.   They might not even be breathing for all I know.  After exchanging short glances with anyone daring enough to give me eye contact, I hustle up while they resort to looking at eachother, as if they were communcating telepathically. 

And all you want to do is just grab them with both hands by their jowls and shake them violently, howling WHY SO SERIOUS?



But you don't.  Erasing the mental picture you've just created, you quickly bow out and pardon yourself for the horrible interference.  Shame on me.  Just trying to do my job.  That empty beer glass doesn't refill itself now, does it?

Now on the OTHER end of the spectrum, it's a wild and crazy commotion.  You wouldn't believe me if I told you some of the most bizarre conversations I have walked in on.  I might be slightly creative, sometimes witty, but I couldn't even make them up if I tried. 



I, as your server, do not want to hear that you're so hungry you're going to order half the menu because you just got back from your colonoscopy.
The table one over surely doesn't want to find out "what's wrong down there".
Furthermore, I have heard repulsive jabs made by parents to their children in an effort to discipline, drug deals being set up,

I'm trying to guage how shocking these conversations were, but then I remembered... my family is just at astonishing with some of the jaw-dropping conversations we've had while eating out.

Late last year, my family went out for dinner.  Rarely do the five of us ever get together because someone always has to work.  Right after ordering drinks, my younger brother delves into some discussion... He's one to bring up work a lot during dinner-- wiping asses, changing bedpans, cleaning obese patients. No surprise to me, that particular evening its about something very reminiscent of Hangover. 

"I'll be doing lines of cocaine off a strippers asscrack, but don't worry Mom," he reassured.
"That's very unhygenic.  I would iodine that puppy up, but not until I razored off a clean-shaven runway..."
My older brother is quipping in, my mother is rolling around in fits of laughter, and my father almost choked on his glass of Coke. I just sat back, wide-eyed, thinking to myself, Is this really happening?

Needless to say, our server (who probably unintentionally eavesdropped the entire conversation) looked completely appalled. I'm just glad it wasn't a full restaurant.

For anyone reading, be aware your party isn't the only group of people that may be listening to your conversation at the table.  Unless you'd like everyone else to know your business, keep it down, keep it clean, or keep it to yourself for another time.


-LM

Photo Credit:www.hdwallpapers.in
"The Hangover"- en.wikipedia.org
"The Non-Responsive Penalty"- www.themilwaukeeseo.com
"Quiet Please!"- www.thesacredsandwich.com

Can Bloggers Have "Smoke Breaks" Too?

It's funny.... and it isn't.

A reader asked me recently why I stopped blogging.  He said I had a good start, but then I just let it go.  It feels that I do that a lot. I've been in school, and I end up on a hiatus.  I began writing a book, and it's saved in a slew of documents. The reader said I had potential, but was letting the opportunity slip through my fingers.  I'm afraid he was right, but I know that the last month or so hasn't been quite the cakewalk for me.



When the blinding light at the end of the tunnel gets so bright, and you're so close that you can almost make out what's on the other side-- you shut your eyes and revert back to the darkness.

To put it bluntly, I shot myself in the foot. I came across some trouble that may just keep me pushing food orders for the next year or so. It's like signing myself up into a contract for an interminable beating, both mentally and physically. The idea is exhausting just to think about it, and I hate to admit that is the reason why I haven't written.  Not that there was a block, or the lack of interest.  I simply had nothing bright to say, and would rather keep the "woe is me" to myself.

But I'm back now.
Like a server (Gretchen for example) who's just got "too much going on", I needed to step away from the chaos for a minute (or a month) and spend some time relaxing, getting air SANS cigarettes.  This "smoke break" just happened to be my writer's recess.



-LM

Photo Credit:
"When It All Gets Too Much" www.wakeup-world.com
"Do You Allow Smoke Breaks?" www.timsackett.com