part 1 of why I have no friends.

10 Jan

Being the short as hell owner’s daughter doesn’t have as many benefits as you may be thinking. Maybe, over the course of the past few days, you’ve convinced yourself that I’m a highly refined dainty heiress, running a top notch food service operation to the best of any tall Harvard grad’s abilities. This is actually not the case. Because I looked and acted like I was fourteen until I was just about double that age, (one may argue that I still act fourteen and to that particular person, I say the Disney Channel is better) my parents discouraged me from taking on any sort of management role. So I worked my way all the way up from hostess to waitress over the course of fifteen and half years.

Because of my later-in-life promotion, (Face it. When nepotism is in play, one should be running at least part of the company by the time he/she graduates middle school) I developed more of a casual management style. I had spent so much of my restaurant life cleaning out coffee grounds and folding napkins with the underling servers and bartenders that I really felt like I was one of them, not the superior powerhouse that so many restaurant managers see when they look in the bathroom mirror (you know, the one that says ’employees must wash hands before returning to work’). I mean, yeah, if I’ve got PMS, you better not make eye contact with me unless I tell you to. But generally speaking, I’m really the chillest manager princess in all the land.

And I really do attempt to treat everyone equally. I don’t discriminate. For example I once made out with a salad guy from Mexico City after work in the alley outside the restaurant. Go ahead and ask a Salvadorian or Guatamalan. They wouldn’t touch that shit with a ten foot pole. And you know that really really sketchy bar in the bad part of town that may or may not have bars on the windows and a satellite police station setup next door for the sake of convenience? I’ve gone dancing there. More than once. But don’t think that I’m stereotyping and saying that the only difference there is between restaurant employees is what country they hail from. There’s also the issue of gender. In my book, boys and girls should be spoken to exactly the same. I told some waitress to “grow a pair” because customers were being mean and she cried during a busy Friday night service. And we encourage all of our bartenders to show some skin during their shift. Even the ugly ones.

Another non-benefit of my job (other than no retirement package, in-house daycare program, business-class air travel or summers off) is that every time I “click” with someone who works for me and we go out partying like it’s 1997, (or whenever it was that I was still a waitress) they almost undoubtedly drop me like a bad habit as soon as I tell them that they can’t smoke a cigarette while their table is trying to place an order. Occasionally (once) this has not been the case, but at this point my level of paranoia is so severe that I’m still pretty convinced that Harry is using me to maintain job security. And to him I say SMART MOVE, BUDDY, NOW GIVE ME A BACK MASSAGE. Because that’s the lesson I’ve learned over the past couple of decades – that if someone is going to use you for your benefits, then you should use them right back. For instance, if they can provide you with really good conversation/pot/fashion advice, they are worthy of being in your company. Even if it means they are going to hog tables or wear a dirty apron or tell you to go fuck yourself and storm out the door during the dinner rush.

And now the moment you didn’t know you were waiting for!

Introducing…. The Tuesday Poetry Corner!!! Dedicated to all of my friends with Attention Deficit Disorder, here is your incentive to get all the way to the end of my blog post. One of these particular friends mentioned that while he thinks my posts are funny, he hasn’t actually read one in its entirety because it’s too long. And so, dear spaz, this haiku is dedicated to you….

gay asian waiter

you get paid to be my friend

please don’t remind me

Tomorrow perhaps I will discuss people with food allergies and why they drive me NUTS.

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2 Responses to “part 1 of why I have no friends.”

  1. shelbytown January 10, 2012 at 8:21 pm #

    shelby, you’re a genius. i wish i were you.

  2. Lisi January 10, 2012 at 10:09 pm #

    I have food allergies and you don’t pay me to be your friend. I guess I could give you fashion advice. I like feeling used. You need an “about me” section on here with a cute picture. Bye!

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