I HAVE NO PENS - Diaries of a server in a 5 star with ZERO experience

CHAPTER: THE INTERVIEW
It was quite, a more upscale place. A pretty blond hostess with a sharp bob and yellow eye shadow perfectly lining her eyes greeted me.
"Hi."
"Hi. Can I drop off my resume for any positions that you may have for a server?" Before I could drop my fake resume on the table she was on the phone ringing someone.
"Would you take a seat a moment, I'll be right back." I took a seat at the bar as YELLOW disappeared down a staircase. I felt uncomfortable and didn't understand what I was waiting for. She climbed back onto the wood floors and handed me a stack of white paper.
"Fill this out and our manager will speak with you after." I took the stapled papers and walked to the back of the restaurant. I sat down and took a look at the papers.

CHAPTER: THE TEST TAKE ONE
I flipped through the ten pages of questions ranging from: list five scotches, vodkas, gins, what is tartar, how much are you familiar with micros, if you get seated with three tables at once what do you do. I started to fill out the test and found myself writing down "Not sure," to a majority of the questions. At one point I made a long bracket down the side of an entire page and wrote "not sure" on the side. I didn't really give a shit. I had a job across the street at Dos and really didn't like the music in this joint anyway.
I handed the test to YELLOW and she picked up the phone again.
"Our manager is on her way up to meet you." At the time I wasn't keen enough to smell the obvious desperation of the place. And then, manager appeared.
She was a tall blonde woman who needed no make-up and carried herself like a model. She had an accent that made her seem sophisticated. Her eyes were droopy and a sea of confusion, desperation, and stressed covered in numbness. I thought it was a simple difference in countries, people around the world were different than me, than Americans. She flipped through the test that I obviously bombed and looked straight into my face and said, "When can you start."

CHAPTER: DOS CAMINOS
It was physically ridiculous. I had to run down stairs, up and down, and up and down, carrying that damn guac held in containers that weighed eight pounds. Every server had shit on their uniform and was an actor, actor, actor. There was only one artist and he was cool. I finished training a lunch there and wanted my tips.
"Trainees don't get tips. You make $5.15 an hour." I had never made minimum wage in my life. However, I was ready to party.

CHAPTER: THE DECISION
I was on my final training and in the kitchen with the chef. She was a fat woman who had zero concern about her hair or face. She too had shit all over her uniform but she's a chef so that's allowed. However, she was behind the metal wall that separated the mexicans from the others. It was the border separating Mexico from the California. Those banTrooper hair wearing hard working guys were the backbone of the place. Even the dishwasher was stuffed in the corner with blue dishwashing gloves up to his armpits. I don't know if he could speak for I never heard him talk. When there was a fuck up and food was left for anyone to graze like it was against the rules (like the salad bar in Whole Foods,) he was left sinking in the dirty plates and glasses and shit of all the meaning of the restaurant: food. I managed to be one the line, trying to learn all the ingredients in the five tacos they offered and there was a plate before me for me to try. I took it away, walked over to the dishwasher, and handed him the plate. His eyes starred back at me like I was the first human being he'd ever met. Probably the first human being to befriend him in the shit-hole He took the plate and placed it behind him. It sat there for over an hour while he managed the hose the avalanche of plates up to his chest. Only after a break from the rush did he get a chance to eat his tacos. Three tacos, four hours later, cold and soggy and better every bite.

CHAPTER: THE QUIT
After training the seven shifts that I was put out in the fields as a slave for little pay, I decided I had a decision to make. J or Dos. The decision seemed easy for me. Was I going to bus my own tables, run down wet stairs to an inevitable death at the bottom of the stairs, or posh it out across the street. I was scheduled to start work that next week as a server and left my apron in the office off to the side to not stir any rumors and walked home. I picked J. I was confident in my decision and ready to put all I had into the job.

CHAPTER: CAMP WIDDLETON
Back at the camp, Trooper and I were having a blast. We had hit the town and had more stories than the several months in LA. That night I came across a Dry Humper and the Hugger met up with Trooper. Trooper had recently met a Boston College kid and was on fault line. THE HUGGER working in finance and lived in Brooklyn. After a week of knowing her he was immediately smitten, but who can not see the golden glow ricocheting off her thick hair and beautiful blue eyes. She was not used to guys pining over her. She stuck to the assholes and didn't quite know how to deal with being treated like a Goddess. She was talking with him when the HUMMER arrived.
I ended up walking the HUMMPER home only to be invited up to his place. I hadn't had sex in about a year and was not ready to even make-out with a guy. And of course I did. He tonsil dove into my mouth and I had to put the drawbridge to the castle door up. My teeth were a shield to his sick tongue.
"Um, let me show you how to kiss."
He was taken aback and I layed down the line.
"Don't want to have sex or anything, let's just go to sleep." The HUMMPER was a pretty boy from Texas. He had zero body fat and felt like a brick in bed. He started hi-cupping which was great because it got me out of kissing with his fifth grade lips. I had never had a guy hiccup in my mouth and was worried that I would be "that girl" that a guy wakes up to not knowing how or what or why they are there.
The next morning he dry humped me. I sat there not knowing what to do. I was wearing his boxer shorts and not sure where this was going or even what to do because I had never been a fire hydrant for a dog pumping himself to get off. He stopped and all of a sudden there was motionlessness and more confusion. Did he cum? What do I do? He got up a few minutes later and said he would get me a new pair of boxers. It was at that point I felt his wet cum slide down my leg and I was more horrified than the dry hump. I thought the whole reason for a "dry" hump was to maintain the desert. He fell off the bed trying to reach for a fresh pair but at least he wasn't hi-cupping in my mouth anymore.
After walking by his roommate watching the tube, I busted out of his apartment onto the Saturday sun and got a cab. There are times to call a cab and the rest to be frugal. I walked into CAMP WHITTELTON and Trooper was sitting on the bunk-bed with her fan on, watching TV, and eating her microwave M&M's.
"Oh my God."
"What happened."
"I don't know how to say this."
"What?" She continued to munch on her M&M's polishing off the hand. She got up, marched to the kitchen and pulled out her giant size M&M Dark Chocolate bag and set them on a paper towel to be micro-waved.
"I was dry humped."
She stared at the timer waiting for them to finish frying.
"OMG."
"No, Trooper. I WAS DRY HUMPED."
The microwave beeped and she reached for her stack of communion. She marched back to the bottom bunk and sat down, ready to continue.
"Wow."
"So what happened with the HUGGER?"
"I don't know, we went back to his place and watched a movie."
"And."
"And he kept staring at me."
"What do you mean?"
"He were watching a movie and he stared at me."
"What else?"
"He said his heart was racing and he didn't know what to do." I laughed knowing she was not kidding nor did she know what the fuck.
"And..."
"And he put my hand on my heart."
"Um. Ok."
"Then when I left, he blew me a kiss at the subway. Who does that? It's like out of the 40's."
"Dad used to do that."
She tossed back a few more M&M's and grabbed her frozen bottled water that she's been defrosting the past hour and took a quick chug.
"Yeah. I don't know about this kid."
And it might be the first time she was with someone nice.

THE ROADRUNNER
His ass was so wound up that he didn't have to flex it in his tight blue pants, because those buttocks were flexed without a squeeze from his muscles. That's the kind of perfectionist you can only read by two things: ass and hair. His hair was blond, tight shaved against his head, with a tiny Mohawk like a dinosaur bump on his head (not really a Mohawk by definition, for he still had hair on the rest of his head) that ended with a flip of short bangs that shot down is face across his eyebrow, making a new style for men that wanted bangs, and a Mohawk, and a head full of hair. It's nothing anyone can describe or has ever seen, in their life. It's a new thing that must be cut by either a masterful mind or my Chad himself every morning before work. Once you start clipping those hairs that seem to hit against that hawk, you can't stop or get enough so end up with a meticulous mess that makes no since but...still looks good, and fits his personality.
He was a cross between a peacock and tweety bird. He fluttered around the restaurant with a tight thin tie, slightly pulled down so he appears to breath while he bounces fiercely across the hard wood floors ready to rock and roll the scene and make sure his land is as perfect as that head of hair he sports like it's a crew cut and noting outside the norm. Because that's his restaurant attitude. It's flawless with absolutely no effort. And some people are like that, and don't have to do squats to get stone buttocks to punch through their pants, perfectly fitting the overall theme of easy perfection.
J appears to be easy perfection and I can't figure out how to enter a drink order or split a check or authorize a card or....make a glass of tap water IN THE RIGHT GLASS.
And I love him for it. There is nothing better than when we are in the “meetings on how address the 'specials' for the night appropriately' and he claps his hands like a school teacher in a fifth grade classroom to get everyones attention, and he bends over the table, to go over what he has gone over 474 times in his head, in his sleep, on the subway, when he eats free J coffee because i;I've never seen him touch the free bread, that you realize. This is not a guy who is a manager. He is not a bus boy. He is Chad.
Chad description

CHAPTER: FIRST DAY
Yes i spilled a whole glass of ice with dirty martini at the bottom of the glass all over her back and floor, crashing to the floor, ice spinning out onto the floor all over the surrounding tables. They left me a large tip.
The VG's were sat in my section and they smiled at my inability to know when to take the menu or how to take their order with a glass trey in my left hand. But at least they showed mercy.
It wasn't until the fat ladies sat down and watched me place their wine glasses down and deal with putting the tray inside my armpit and attempt to open the wine did i realize that i was not myself. I was more fucked up than the first day on any job i ever had that was a “regular job” as my mother asked about my “work.” I opened the wine and the cork chopped off from the top and I pretended everything was find. They didn't know. Everything was fine until
Wine tasting during “the meeting” is new to me since I drink wine, I don't taste it. Anyone can be asked to stand up and recite the ingredients in a dish. They called on one of my only companions in Team Nercy and she is flushed. She cheated on the test, like most i suppose and didn't know anything.
I didn't pass the test...had to take the first page over. But ripped out a 100% and made the chef, who didn't have a pen on him, take my fat red sharpie and circle that shit for everyone to see. What else can I do at this moment. I've already been sent home for not having buttons down my black gear. Then sent home a second time for getting a C on my menu test because I didn't know that there was flour, chili flakes, cumin, mustard seed and fennel seed in their bread basket with contains 5 breads. I brought it on. I goggled that shit and came back with Internet intenas and blasted out paragraphs that defined the simple words w in depth descriptions of the origin, the multifaceted parts of the plants or origins of sauces. No one would know what was ON. And so I handed the chef a sharpie to circle my 100% and plastered that shit in front of everyone, and dropped like silk “I'll see you later tonight.”
Bo-Ya....turned into a talk after my shift. After the negators spoke and ruled me out as a novice, idiotic lame ass piece of shit served on a shaky plater with a tutorial on wine opening on one table and a starter and dinner served at the same time on another table. Not to mention the machine, my biggest enemy, starring me down in the face with its boxes of words that lead you to more detailed boxes with wines that are spoken one way and for some reason written in the machine another way. What the fuck is any person supposed to do?.
I just don't appreciate
And poor Gene is a recovering alcoholic and has to sit through the wine tasting while the aroma simmers up in the air and I have to sit through a drop of wine when I want a freaking bottle already. Christ almighty, not sure what's worse, but at least it is a new thing for both of us: her not having any, and me having only a drop. Both a new experience that is different and foreign.
I did my side work. I know what side work is, I had a job when i was 15 on Pico Blvd. at Islands Restaurant and I hated every minute of it. Why do I think this is for me? Is temping that bad?? any job that is not your job is shitty. It's shitty shit crap on a stick with coated asshole. The manager asked me to come up with a word to describe the dessert to sell to the customers, (after the entire table during the “knowledge tester meeting of face packing, grab that plate with no regard to the skinny bitches that act like they own it, when really you are the real woman ready to wolf that shit down” I was the last silent voice and upon the query of description I didn't need to think. “It's coated in chocolate.” Of course any fat kid would know how to describe a cheesecake that is dipped in chocolate. Make that shit coated like you can't even get to the cheesecake without drilling your teeth into the soft deep layer of coated chocolate. Thank God the M liked it and the chef, who is so hot, sort of mean, that I like it, were on board with my diction for the savory plump hockey puck.
And I am told Chad is the nicest of all the managers. GREAT. But at least now that I am demoted and have to train another day, with someone big brothering me over my shoulder all night, and “we;ll see about the weekend” a la you might not be able to handle the brunch or anything else in this J next door world, I can walk in there with the 'bring it' attitude. It's funny how you can be abused and used in the entertainment and build a arsenal of defense mechanisms that make you a rock star and the moment you are in a restaurant and out of that realm, which is nothing like what I've been through, I crumble at the 21 year old asshole that walks around like she is the shit, hunched back and lassie fair attitude, she probably doesn't know what lassie fare means for Christ Christ sake and I'm tapping at the machine hitting void every 3 seconds and am a victim? Strange. It's all strange. Playing pretend server is harder than working through the ranks of entertainment until you are thrown out of a building and have to implement your own life preserver that is entrepreneurial and bold. Not this. This is a backward dance move when you are a dance my nature.

SIDE-WORK INSERT – KAITLAN
She checked all the ketchup's and pulled the ones down from the back of the shelf. They were allllll half full.
“you have to marry all the ketchup's.”
“oh.”
“did no one show you that?”
“well it's obvious that NO ONE has done this for weeks because there are over a dozen ketchup's that have not been fixed so, yes i saw them, and no I didn't do them.”
I was done with training, done with being everyone's slave and done wit this bitch that got me a shift away from being fired, telling me what to do.
Maybe it was that moment when

INSERT
What did you say?
About Jeffrey being cute and they two on one hate war for no reasons. Because I'm tall, or beautiful..i though skinny bitches always liked heavier chicks off the bat. Obviously height makes a difference. And i suppose when i trained with the K-Shit and couldn't hear her talk two feet below, it didn't help to bend down low, face to face, making it a need so I could hear, it didn't help my cause. And now i was her ketchup loving bitch, in charge of every fuckin ketchup in the joint to marry. When it was her last day, and my first shift. So help her God in her next day.

DAY 2 - DEMOTION
I was the first to work and the first to start setting up the tables for dinner. I did all my side work and decided I needed to train with Cat, the only nice and helpful server in the joint. I wondered downstairs to find Chad. I knocked on the forbidden office and stepped on the threshold. Chad was sitting at the computer with his back to me.
"Hey, Chad." I felt like I was 22 years old again working on a desk at the agency afraid to answer the phone for fear that my voice wasn't good enough or I would be reprimanded for going to the bathroom to take a piss. I continued.
"Can I shadow Cat tonight?"
He popped his head up and started at me through his vanity mirror in front of his computer and bounced his head up and down nodding a yes to me a mile a minute.
NOT. I guess I wasn't supposed to ask for a favor or else you get stuck with the bulldozing truck in a black cape. A devilish punishment for a simple request.
pre game warmup table meeting; JEFFREY the newest member soon to be recruited to join the Alliance. Team Nercy. Describe suspenders. NICOLE (describe) chad hands out 5 page test on details bout the restaurant; explain JEFFREY, suspenders. I call him a cutie and the mean girls strike. "What did you say." Was i talking to you at the tip of my tongue turns into ah...i said he's a cutie. Oh so you like black guys? Looking across the table to Gene confused.
Back on the training trail. Dark Vader is my mentor. She is an ugly Elvira, with thick black eye liner that circles her eyes. She looks like she had to black eyes with a horse tail that starts at the top of her head and rolls down her back to her wide load ass. Tame that shit please. I'm supposed to work and have her shadow me, but that doesn't happen. At least not initially. I walk to the fist table to greet the guests and am asked about the hardest, most detailed option on the menu. The veil. I struggled to reach by in my head for the description that i memorized for the test, literally a day ago and had nothing. I turned to DV for help and she stared back at me with a blank face. I tried my best to salvage the situation and started to describe the wrong item. Some other beef, meat, thing on the menu and DV pushes me aside to provide her expertise on the meat. After that it was over. I followed her back to the machine and as I watched her type it in she turned to me and turned my shoulders and said, "Don't look at the computer, it'll just confuse you. Go in the back and fold napkins. She told me to fold napkins in the back. I left the floor to fold her bag of napkins while she worked the tables.
The manager told the Vader to let me try some tables so I was back running after her trying to listen and learn. Then a clam back rumor starts to circulate from the kitchen. I thought the back was 86ed so took an order at a table and told a women we were out. i guess that's why they call it a rumor. There was clam backs and now the Vader run back to the table to usurp my only table left for the night and explain that I was wrong and that in fact they did have a clam back.
Mexican help hiding behind the polo shirts in the kitchen. Down in the dungeon making pasta dumpling, cookies and chicken broth.
Tina turmoil. Are you eating something. Pointing at my mouth after I stuffed a piece of bread in my face, my mouth too dry to swallow or hide the fact that it was bread. It's not gum that you can swallow. . Bread is the only thing we are allowed to much on while working. She stared at my mouth an inch away from my face. I didn't have to open it because my answering her 'yes' showed the white mushy mess gagging my mouth.
Gay grabber at the bar.
Walk by Tina with knives facing out. The biggest no no you learn as a kid.
DV hot milk explosion down my express pants into my favorite loafers. Trying to whip the avalanche without drawing attention to the burgundy, not black, shoes that I sport. No apology, just a command like it's water. "Just grab a napkin with some hot water and rub it down. It'll come off." What about my scalding skim bitch. Of course. I have to ask where the hot water is (in between the coffee dim wat.)
In the closet the fight hurts more than the release. Walking out flashes. Pride; integrity; confusion war. Making friends with the other newbe. Her quote from Cervantes about failure being to picking yourself up when you are at your lowest." I realized that no one was the boss of me and it is time to walk hard. I formed the Alliance and they were my support group. It had to be on soon or else tamping would get a bang on the door.

BRUNCH - DAY 5
Get there first and start my side work. I take the Noxon rag outside to whip down the door handle and find A a couple yards away sucking down a cigarette. He didn't have to say anything. His black rocks sucked into this face said it all.
Stone faces at the table for the meeting. the energy was so low it penetrated the entire group. Name everyone there and their face (A, skinny jeans, matt, me) SKINNY JEANS (describe) is face; I'm considering sleeping on the toilet; I suggest the back room (all dialogue); that's a great idea. Mentions that he wants to do an errand. I'll do it and go sleep somewhere. CAT the only happy one to be there. "Everyone looks very unhappy to be here." Cat "Im happy to be here" And she was. Jeff, " You're the only one." I let out a laugh and Jeff asks me what's wrong. Jeff, "What are you laughing about?" Now i am not even allowed to laugh. We start the QUIZ and Jeff (BALDY) pins SKinny Jeans to the wall and he knows nothing and really doesn't care. Jeff gives up and asks Cat to take over and she bubbles out the descriptions. I stand up and walk two feet away from the table to grab a pen and paper to take notes and Jeff barks at me, "Where are you going." I wanted to say I'm going home. But instead tried not to look sarcastic and said, "I'm getting a pen and paper." FUCK-FACE. Then the SLUG, SLOUCHY, SUPER ANNOYING DEPLETED Nicole saunters just as the meeting is about to adjourn and slouches next to Jeff. "Hey." In her I'm tired and whatever about missing the whole set up that all of us endured for an hour prior to the meeting from hell. And Jeff turns to her and welcomes her, "Hi." WHAT! I was so confused. A told me later that she is always late and manages to be the first one released from the floor. I was appalled and sort of happy I had more ammunition and more of a reason to find her pointless.
Getting ready downstairs by the closet. A puts on his apron, "It's like we're preparing for war. Putting on our amour. Key, pens, notebooks." He shows me his bracelet. It was a black leather bracelet with something written in LAtin.
"Last night was my last night at my other job. It was so sad." He holds out his bracelet and re-sights, "Go forth in life with courage." I don't know why I laughed but I did.
"What? It was sad."
"I know, I'm sorry."
"It's Marc Jacobs." He admired his bandage of courage. We walked up the stairs to find a line had formed outside and was pouring down the sidewalk. All the servers stood in a line, ready for war.
Jeff, "Everyone ready."
No one said anything. There was no words to describe the inevitable madness that would barrel us over like a tidal wave. The doors opened.

CHAPTER: THE DARK SIDE OF THE MOON
A cockroach raced across the wall and I pointed to it not able to kill it. PENUT, my runner, squashed it with the check books and crunched it in between them. He laughed as he left the roach there favor some sad server to find when they pulled out the book. It was our little secret. Peanut was a four foot something mexican that had a crush on my that borderline on uncomfortable. We didn't make the best team because I could never see him. I would be in a hurry to race to the machine and put an order in "right away" and would bang into him because i couldn't see him with his arm of plates. He only went up to my stomach so it was a rough start for us.
Bartender Brian asking me about plugging the watermelon lemonade. "It's the only thing I know how to find in the machine.
Tina's coffee drink blocking all the water glasses that we needed every two minutes.
Tina's ketchup run and Skinny Jeans eyes light up. I turn to skinny jeans and tell him this is his chance and he said that's hilarious.
I knew we were short on ketchup from the night before when i was in charge of marrying the ketchup's. Story about how earlier that week the bitch said i had to marry all of them and i said it looks like no one has done that in weeks. And she looked at me like no, you have to do it. I informed people that we were low on ketchup but of course no one was going to listen to me. It made me happy to be an I told you so.
My section is in the very back of the restaurant and I have the least amount of tables which was fine by me.
Watering tables. Walking around with a pitcher so I looks like I am always doing something when my tables are taken care of. The Vader bitching to me about watering her tables because she wants them to lease so she can turn over and over tables and pull in the Benjamin's. That doesn't stop me but makes me put a smile on that spreads across my face because I know there are little things I can do to get back at the enemy.
Tina tells me she is comping my big 5 top because a customer found a spot of blood on a napkin. I took that as a perfect opportunity to tell her about the roach. "Did anyone see it." Her face is in a frenzy. Ah....yeah. "Who saw it." "I'm not sure but.." And I gave her the perfect I don't know face but people know and she walked off.
Needing to wash hands and found a sink in the back that had sope on top. Found out later that beneath the suds was the dirtiest germs of all. The silverware bin from the tables. Jesus Almighty Christ.
Show how Tina has no pens ever and keeps asking for my pens till I finally had to lie to her when I was down to one pen and she remarked, "you should always have pens."
A, "It's only one o'clock."
Coffee pour foul. Couldn't figure out how to make it pout and by now knew that A was the only person I could trust with restaurant stupidity queries.
I had one, ONE, nice table of fat black women I could swear I recognized one of the woman and explored finding out.
"You seen very familiar to me, do I know you from somewhere?"
Her friend sitting beside her with balloon breasts cracked a laugh, "Not unless you've been arrested." I paused for a second then said to myself, what the heck, I was down the road to being fired anyway, and, up to this point, unfortunately had also been afraid of being myself. I decided to bust out the guns.
"As a matter of fact I have." I couldn't tell if they were surprised, confused, thought I was joking or what.
"Where?"
"In Los Angeles, I got a DUI, and spent a night in jail, and then got caught driving with a suspended license."
"Really."
"Yup. I had to ride a bus for a year, walk, bike all over town, and it cost me nineteen thousand dollars." There were no words to follow this confession, and they women simply nod their head in silent understanding.
After I grabbed the check and opened the book to find that they actually wrote me a nice recommendation on the J insert that allowed comments to be made about the food, and the service. Turns out being myself wasn't such a disease for the restaurant after all.

CHAPTER: THE NEW GUY
He was Jay in Silent Bob Strikes again. Sporting a thick leather beaded necklace straight out of the 80s, he had zero facial expressions and looked like he was numb to the core. He shadowed the cool people, of course, and I never heard him say a single word. He appeared to know what being a server entailed so a couple of times I asked him for some help but he pretended not to hear me, or know what the heck I was saying. I thought that was a great tactic to avoid doing any work, (other than water tables) and played with the idea that he was mute.
My comment to the table "Thanks guys." Shit did I just call that lacoste pair "guys?" I prayed they didn't report me tot the lieutenant.
A pointing to the plate of bread spread out for the servers, "There's a fly on on the bread."
Fucking up cobb salad orders and forgetting the French toast. "What's in the fruit salad?" "Ah..I'm not sure, I'll be right back." I get the lowdown from Cat and go back to the table and rattle off the ingredients. "I'll just have the french toast." "Excellent choice, we are known for the french toast." Her snotty response, "I know. I've had it before." OoooK.
Oh and about the machine. No one told me that there is a green screen in the upper right corner that walks you through each step. Peace to that. The machine was finally not so bad and I now all I had to do was grow a nail so I could tap the right button since my fingers were to fat for the table and number pad.
Finally it was five and we could have a break for family meal. The cooks put out a plate of hamburger helper which was sitting on too of an inch of grease. We all wolfed it down along with some French Toast which I have to admit was damn good.
I walked out to find A having his 500.987,970,000 cigarette and we walked to the bar to grab a drink. We crank called Gene on the way to tell her she wasn't on the schedule for next week. We got our beers and three hours later we were at some new club opening that is NYU friend was at. She had gone to Staples to copy the free drink tickets and was flushed with tickets for us to buy drinks for free. I got home at four, crashed on the futon, and was asleep before I could curse Oprah for that episode on bed mites in your pillow.

CHAPTER: THE HUGGER STRICKS AGAIN
Trooper was missing from camp. She had crossed the streams and was spending the night at the HUGGER'S. It was a new venture for her and I was proud to see her attempt to have her first boyfriend.
“So do you like him?” She had no answer.
“We’re having dinner with his parents this week.”
“Um.”
“It’s our third date and we are having dinner with his parents.” I didn’t know what to say and wanted to be positive.
“At least you get a free dinner.”
“Seriously.”
dinner with the parents after a couple weeks.
story here that involves highlights from relationship.

CHAPTER: MTV
I landed a production job from an old buddy I used to work with. I up and left my life as a Producer to start over and now I am a PA. But it's money, and money is my breath right now.

CHAPTER: DAY FOUR
There's a new guy. He is adorable. Big blue eyes, sweeping auburn hair, gay, and moved to NYC a week ago form Chicago. He told me I was his new best friend in New York because he knows no one. It made me very sad and thankful that Trooper is here and has been my divine salvation.

CHAPTER: THE BUS BOYS
They hate me. Even Peanut said something about not moving when he carried a trash can of ice over his head to the bar. Am I supposed to have eyes in the back of my head?
"Are you working tonight?" A bread bus bitch inquired.
"No."
"Thank God."
That was awesome, especially since it was in front of everyone. Gene and I were there ready to set up at 9:30 am. I walked in to find her pulling out a bench with her tiny hands. SPIDER MAN (Dan) walked in and plugged in his headphones to blast The Who throughout the restaurant. Slowly people trickled in. Tina made it just in time to rule the meeting. And just before we were about to start the meeting, SHITHEAD saunters in wearing clothes from the night before.
"Hey guys." And no one said anything. I was livid. T ignored it, as usual, and started the meeting.
"Gene, do you know what the brunch additions to the Saturday menu are?"
"Yes, there is french toast."
"Obviously."
"Ah...the J omelet."
"What's in the J Omelet?"
"Spinach.."
"No."
"Um...sausage."
"What kind of sausage?"
"Pork?"
"Can someone please tell Gene what's in the J Omelet?"
No one moved.
"Julian."
"He raised his face with a monotone response."
"Ah..."
He glanced through the menu and read the description. The front phone rang and T ran to get it. We waited until she got back and so addressed SKINNY JEANS again.
"What's in the Benedict Johnny?"
"Ah..."
The phone rang again. T quickly walked to the host desk and picked up the phone. She hung up and walked back to our table and mid way through the phone rang again.
"Does anyone have a cell phone on them?" I asked. SKINNY JEANS pulled out his forbidden to wear cell phone.
"Call J." SJ laughed and dialed the number. T picked up the other line and SK hung up. After a few hang ups she returned to the table.
"Alright guys, where were we." Thank God I wasn't put on the menu hot seat. I had zero tolerance for this shit. Not today at least.
Again I got the back section with the fewest tables. I got my first table and it was a person eating alone. I got my second table and it was a person eating alone. The cycled continued and I realized that T sat people there because she didn't think I could handle more than one person per table. One of the women eating alone sat there for twenty minutes pouring salt on her flat-bread and stuffing it in her mouth. T continued to ride my tail.
"Why hasn't she ordered yet?"
"I don't know. She wants to chill." And every ten minutes after that T asked why I was not taking her order. The crowd thickened and the watermelon lemonade juice was requested by a table for three guests. I walked up to the bar and forgot how to prepare the drinks.
"Hey, can you tell me how to prepare the watermelon lemonade?" DV stomped her shaker on the counter.
"You have to be kidding me, you should know this by now." Back in defeated mode I put my head down and she refused to tell me. I waited till SPIDERMAN came by and grabbed him.
"What do you need." Always to my rescue I walked me through it. I forgot how to close out cash checks and SPIDERMAN explained that only DV can do it at the bar. I dropped it off.
"You have to put all the bills facing the same way." She ranted. I made no face, just waited for my money.
Time went on and I realized that some of my tables were being pawned off on surrounding servers, but I didn't care. What was I going to do but serve single eaters at my three tables. The day soared on and, not only were my tables meager, I was experiencing the Asian invasion.
"I'll have the mushroom omelet." I put it in the machine and when the food came out she called me over.
"There's no mushroom in my omelet." I threw out her omelet and ran to the machine to see if I was at fault. I typed in my number and the mushroom popped up. Triumphal I walked to the kitchen.
"I ordered a mushroom omelet for table 23 and she said there was no mushroom."
"Let me see it." Hot Chef stood waiting. I stood there. "You threw it away."
"Yeah, but I can get it out of the trash."
"Forget it." The busboys frowned on me and T stormed over.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, I took care of it. Everything's ok."
"Don't ever tell me it's ok." She barked in my face. I felt like I was being shitted on my one of my old Executive Producer bosses, or when I was an assistant in the agency and told not to ever correct anyone or "talk back." I guess saying anything outside of "Can you turn around so I can kiss your ass" was considered talking back. Then the Asian table had a declined card.
"Hey T, stable 28's card was declined. Should I tell them or are you supposed to handle it?"
"You do it, but don't say it's 'declined.'" Duh. Then a table grabbed me and asked me a question. Before I could answer MOLE grabbed me by the back of my shirt and pulled me aside.
"I'll take care of it." T appears again.
"Did table 30 not want water?" Thank God I was holding my secret weapon, the water pitcher.
"I'm getting it right now." I raced to the bar station and grabber water glasses. I slammed them into the ice bin and felt someone standing over me. PONYTAIL, the second to the chief bus boy stood over me. He thrusted a ice scooper in my face.
"Use this to get water."
"Yeah, I know. I was in a hurry."
"Only use this." I do speak English you know. Hell was almost over and I tracked down Nicole so she could check my sidework and sign me out.
"Hey Nicole, I am done."
"Drop this off at 40." She handed me a trey of expresso and I did as I was told.
"Here you go." I chatted with table 40 about photography, and my hair. Back at the hutch SHITHEAD stood there.
"It's funny how you always seem to end up talking with my tables." I couldn't tell if she was making an observation or was annoyed.
"I'm done with my side work."
"What did you have?" I pulled out the sheet and as usual, she ran through things with a dental floss.
"You need to grab more sugar off the tables, so you should be here for another 20 minutes and then you can go." This coming from the SHITHEAD who has NEVER been to work on time since day one.
I was the last one to fill out my tip sheet and went downstairs. ENCINO was eating and seemed happy to see me, despite that fact that A overheard her asking if I still worked here the day before.
"How much did you make?" She pried.
"I'm not sure." And I wasn't.
"What section did you have?"
"Tables 29-32."
"They call that the Dumb Girl section."
And I walked home.

INSERTS FOR ASIAN INVASION
She grabbed my arm and pulled me down to her tiny level.
"Can I get a menu?" The last time I helped with a table query I was swallowed by the territorial vulture and pulled away worse than the asian invasion before me.
"One sec." I grabbed a menu in the hope that no one would see me "helping." I handed it to twig arms and she the weight of the menu made her drop it on her mimosa and it streamed across the table. I darted off of the board floor and ran for the hills.

CHAPTER: NAMELESS
Trooper didn't come home last night again. I walked into the Camp and she was standing in her undies with a large water in her hands.
"Hi." Her smile was a pure give away.
"I don't even know his name."
"Of course you don't." It was all very funny to her.
"Do you realize that I couldn't sleep last night because I couldn't decide if I should move upstairs or stay in my bed?"
"I woke up and didn't know where I was or why I took off my contacts and he took me to brunch and I couldn't see."
"What about the HUGGER?"
"I don't know." And I had heard this for about four months and it all boiled down to this: I don't know, yes, no, I don't know, I might, sort of, maybe, not sure, let's see, probably. It had become this vicious cycle of ambiguity that was followed with the Irish guilt that dove your conscience back in the cycle of sure, ok, then I don't know.
"You know Trooper, ambiguity, and rejection then the hope ferris wheel is fine in grammar school but not so much now." I saddened me to watch her face drop. What did I know. I was a no one on the dating scene, a barfed up aftermath of a rope of bad sudo relationships that ended in a hang up from a guy I loved with nothing. Nothing after, at all.
"I really hate my life." She was unemployed and had me squatting at her narrow pad, and was leaping from bed to bed. But I think she was enjoying her twenties. And to think that the night before I knew what would unfold.
"Tons of men, nobody talkin' 2 early I'm thinkin'. 11 am
And I give her twenty minutes and then...
Seriously, too early..guys have no cajonas till 1 am, this I know. 11:01 am
And finally.
People bore me. 11:10 am
The next message was at 7:13 am the next morning: "Where am I."
He was NAMELESS and 22 and RUBIC CUBE (because he was that socially awkward) but we couldn't come up with a word for it. He was an IT.
Pre meeting:
The pre shift meeting was about to start. The cooks put out the food and the TUBBY BITCH grabs a plate and forms a mountain of sausage eggs topped off with a snow peak of Heinz which quickly drippled down the stack from the weight of the blob. Before anyone else got their good, the TB started wolfing down mount everest. Gene and I grab a seat with our meager plate of food so as to make sure there was enough for the rest.
"So what time do we get out of here?"
"Usually between five and six." His eyes bulged out of his head. He stuffed more eggs in his mouth.
"No way."
"Way." I replied.
"Fuck that, I'm training and am not staying that long for no money." He didn't get the slavery ritual for newbes.
"When I was training, I was here till the end, it sucked. Plus you have to do all the side work which gets like Joan Crawford in Mommy Dearest. " Gene burst out laughing. She couldn't control herself
"What?" I was curious.
"It's just funny because it's the truth." The TB couldn't handle it, he stared down at his empty plate, stood up and tubbied his way back to the food.
The meeting started and Jeff sat down with a big bowl of food. The chef walked over with a bowl of fresh fries.
"Try these out." Jeff grabbed a handful of Hot Chef's bowl of fries and set the remainder on the table. I could feel the heat coming from the TB's eyes as his engine fired up as he got ready for the plunge. SJ took a few. giving TB a green light to race his hand into the bowl before anyone else could steal the prize. I watched as his claw spun out like a spiders web and grasped a heap of fries, released, and grabbed a bigger handful of fresh fries, then slowly dangeled them over the bowl to make sure he got the rest, and tossed them on his plate. There were four left.
Brunch was bursting from the seams. T stormed to the back area. The TB was taking a break and wolfing down some bread.
"No eating." She barked. The TB put his fist over mig mouth and tried to hide the swallow. She got right up in his face.
"No eating!" Ten minutes later SJ put together a plate of fresh hot bread with some oil to dip into and The TB watched as SK casually ate bite after bite while chillin' by the coffee bar. I wouldn't be surprised if The TB stuffed a loaf of bread in his apron to have so he could rip off small pieces throughout the rest of brunch.
Meanwhile, I wondered how Gene was managing the machine.
"Can't you hurry up?" DV blew down her neck. Thank God Gene stood her ground. This stand of the force only ignited DV more as she pushed her way though to the machine ajacent to Gene. Gene continued to take her time and stared at the screen while DV watched. Biddy walked up.
"You need some help?"
"Yes. Where is the Mimosa Cosmopolitan?"
"It's under Mimosa." Biddy showed her through the steps.
"Thanks."
"No problem." Gene walked back to work and HH stepped up to the machine.
"Why do they hire people here that don't know how to wait tables?" DV closed her gun and shoved in her holster.
"Have you seen Erica's shit." DV spit back.
"Yeah, she's pretty clueless."
"Clueless! She's a retard." The worst." HH shoved her gun back in her apron.
"She won't last.
"I already said something to management."
"Good." The high five with the lock of their eyes made it clear they were on board to my inevitable distruction.
I walked up to the my next table chipper than a blue bird.
"Hi!" I opened the gun and a plethora of papers spilled out like a fan onto the floor. I scrambled to pick up the notes on hell while the hot lacoste shirt tried to manage his less from hitting the top of the table.
" I got it." They ordered their food and I split to the machine.
"Do you know who that is?" VB was obviously jealous that I had the table.
"He's a famous b-ball player, played for Duke."
"Oh."
"You should talk to T and send him something on the house." I hunted down Jeff and he agreed.
"Send him some banana bread." Great, I'm sure his blond baby with pencil arms was all about the bread. But I was grateful that I could send something for free so I could make it look like I did it to make up for the paper fan spill. Like I thought, the blonde egg whites only wouldn't touch the I dare you dessert and he was left to enjoy it himself. He left me a 40% tip.
"Maybe you should go to another machine."
Pro B-ball player spilling writings all over the feet of his table and he can't move because his legs hit the top of the table.
I hate the asians - Varsity Blues laughs and asked me if I carded those bitches. The kitchen sends out the wrongs food and she snorts "That's not what we ordered." There are not enough renditions of sorry in this world for the fuckin asians. They walk in mobs and hit the brunch in mobs. It sucks.
Jeffrey watching SJ eat (all in Jeffrey chapter)
Tourists sit for over an hour and pull out tourist book at the end to figure out where Manhattan is.
Finger in water
Bus Bitch pointing to me about class in ice.

CHAPTER: THE PERSONAL DINNING ROOM
It's become apparent that the PDR is for the best servers in the place, and I've lost A to the his VIP status. Or, maybe they just want to separate us like a fourth grade teacher does when you are having too much fun. It was Sunday brunch and A was tanked. This is not the first time I've heard about drinking downstairs where the managers are too busy on the floor. It was also the place for Chad, now named ROADRUNNER, does lines of coke, which explains a lot.
Turns out SUPERMAN didn't show up for work so his shifts for next week were "Up for grabs," meaning he was fired. I wanted to puke. HEDGEHOG walked in a minute before opening and missed all the pre-show set up that we all endured for over two hours. I dont' know what made me more sick, her laqidasical bullshit or the sweet, "Hi," from management like the Princess could do no wrong.

Stomach bloated in the morning from buckets of water, coffee and buttery bread and I don't even drink coffee or break bread. But I have to throw it down the pipe to extinguish the cespool left from drinking the night before.

CHAPTER: GLEN
I ran into Glen today.
"Erica." I stopped frozen in my tracks, afraid it was someone from my sorted past.
"Glen you are always on the phone." In his usual stance with his phone smacked across his ear, he told the person on the other line he had to go.
"This is our new restaurant." He welcomed me into the joint.
"Watch your step, there's wet cement." It was half way there under solid construction.
"It's big."
"Brian's going to run it."
"That's great...so Jason's going to take over J?"
"Yea."
"He's really good." I thought about all the times Jason walked me through my mistakes placing orders with patience and then giving me free food to send to tables that I fucked up.
"He has a good attitude." I yearned to open the register on the political bullshit of J but held my hate. We said our goodbyes and a rainbow crossed my face as I walked down the street. He likes me. He knows my name. My arsenal was building. The day for T to fire me was welcomed because Glen liked me.

CHAPTER: THE SCHEDULE
It was a fucked up night followed by a more fucked up day. I went out with Trooper and ended up at an after hours bar at 4 am. Trooper and I got split and I ended up walking home to find a hot brit outside CW smoking a dart. We started chatting and the next thing I knew I was in a cab to his hotel. He spent the night in the bathroom for his brother was asleep in the room. I wasn't sure when I decided I wanted to take a shower but we did, sort of. It was tight quarters. He pulled out some coke and I decided that was not something I should be around so told him I was going to get something from my purse. I darted out the door and ran for the elevator. I felt like it was the Shinning as I ran from corner to corner lost in the maze of the hotel walks of velvet red flowers. I was stopped in the middle of my cheese search.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing." I felt bad and even worse that there was zero excuse for why I was running around the halls like a mouse in a maze. I didn't want to do anything but kiss and wouldn't let him touch me. I was still a fortress and wondered if or when the day would come when I could let the cannon balls make their way over the high walls. It would take a love rocket.
I stepped out into the morning 7 am sun and walked by another walk of shamer trying to walk in her crocked heels and thick cakey make up. I got home only to find that I beat Trooper home and could have just had the kid stay with me on the futon that night. Oh well. My head was pounding, my heart was leaking and, the day was off to a great start!
I walked into work today and found out I was not on the schedule for next week.
"Chad, can we discuss the schedule. I'm not on it."
"You're not?" I could tell he was bluffing and was not going to deal anymore.
"No. I'm not." Before I could continue he fluttered away and I was sick. I ran after him.
"Can we talk about the schedule?"
"Not now." I couldn't hear. My ears were ringing and numb that I was walking deaf. I refused to lose my hearing over this and walked downstairs to find him hiding from me in the office.
"Chad, I really don't feel comfortable working right now and not knowing what to deal."
"Have a seat. Tina and I think you should be watched some more to make sure we want to keep you on. So I'll keep an eye on you this weekend and we'll see."
"So basically, you want me to work this weekend than are going to fire me on Sunday because I requested two weeks off."
"Well.."
"No, so you knew you were cutting me over a week ago when I requested the time off to visit with my mother in town and work in a pilot and lied to my face when I asked you if that was cool and now you are giving me the run around knee jerk shit so you don't seem like you are "firing" me but putting me on some probation where I can be insecure and on egg shells while you watch my every move."
"This is really coming from Tina."
"Yeah but she's not here so that's that." There were no more words to exchange. What was the point of talking with lies.
I walked out the front door and mumbled under my breath Sleep Tight you Morons! Threw my apron in the nearest trash can on the street and walked home in the rain.

CHAPTER: SHIT CREEK
I got home to some more terrible news. The MTV pilot was being pushed for another week which meant another lost income for seven whole days. I tried to get a grip but the tears started balling up in my throat. Perfect. I lose my job at J over this stupid pilot. I left Hollywood to end the bullshit of the show world and it bite me in the ass. Plus, my mom was coming into town for her cancer trip and now I had to work the whole time.
I went for a run and it became apparent that my ending at J was not sitting well. Nothing was sitting well. I decided it was time for the little guy to stand up to bullshit. I got home, sat on the floor of Camp Widdleton and pulled out my sisters laptop. Twenty minutes later I emailed the owner the following:

Dear G,
I am writing to let you know that I really enjoyed working for you at J. I especially appreciated that you met me once, remembered my name, and treated me with respect. However, there are some issues that I would like to address concerning the treatment of employees at J.
Yesterday, I showed up to work to discover that I was not on the schedule for next week. My name was deleted from the spreadsheet without any warning. This is after working my ass off for two weeks, for free, and then had only worked a little over a week at J. Over a week ago, I asked for permission to have two weeks off in October (I am a television producer and got a gig on a pilot) and was told that was fine. The truth is it was not "fine," and there were plans in motion to have me fired which resulted in the distribution of a schedule, sans my name, without letting me know. Essentially, the decision was made days prior, and I was not informed, but made to believe I had a job there. Co-workers were coming up to me, asking me why I was not on the schedule, which was humiliating, and I had no response. It became very apparent to me that I was being treated with zero respect, after I had gone through the process of training and becoming a server. I find this discerning, for if I was told it was not ok to take another temporary job, but instead was lied to, then I could have said no to the pilot and kept my job. However, this did not occur, and instead, a shady procedure unfolded where I was not sure what the deal was, or where I stood. I suppose I should have lied about why I needed time off to help ensure my employment, but I am a straight shooter, and not so keen on fabrication to get by in life.
Needless to say, there is a rotating door at J that is questionable and upsetting. Since I have been there two people have been let go who were solid people, hard workings, amicable with customers and a pleasure to be around. Meanwhile, five other people have been brought onboard to go through training. The hire and fire regularity is absurd. Additionally, the fear tactics of certain management breeds an atmosphere of fear and insecurity among some staff, which often times spurs an unhealthy atmosphere. Moreover, when you enter J, the paranoia runs high, which is interesting because there should be nothing to hide.
Bottom line, I am telling you all this because I like you. I like your character and hands on approach to J and wish things could have worked out for me there. Yes, it was a steep slope of a learning curve for me, but the customers liked me, so at the end of the day I could only move forward in my knowledge, and find solace in the fact that I made the customers have a pleasant experience at J.
I wish you the best success at The Smiths and if anything, I hope you gain some knowledge of how people are treated at J and find a way to make a difference so someone in the future doesn't end up in my shoes.
Best Regards