Thursday, February 24, 2005
DD had a great day at work the other day... she'd come with me after I'd picked her up from school, so that I could finish up some work for a big party that was being held at the restaurant. He desperately wanted to help, and told Liz, the manager, that she'd love to lend a hand. "Really???" And so she was put to work, setting tables and sweeping the floor, carrying linens, etc. After about an hour, Liz took her down to the candy shop and bought her a small bag of Laffy Taffy. She came back all revved up, "Mom, mom! Look what Liz gave me! I earned it!" Shortly after that, a server took her back to the dining room to have her help set glasses out on the tables. After they were done, she gave DD a dollar. "Mom, MOOOM!! LOOK!!" she was just thrilled beyond words. It made me feel so good to see her walking in and out of the kitchen with the other servers, chatting and having a good time like she fit right in. I was such a shy kid, there's no way that scene could have ever happened to me. The next day, while we were out shopping she spotted a little pink purse with her initial on it. "Oh mom, it's perfect! See, it's got the right letter for MY name, it's my favorite color, and I really NEED something to carry my money in, because I'm earning money now, you know!"
This morning, I mentioned offhand to R, the co-owner that DD had been so proud of herself helping out, and she stopped and told me, "You know, I wanted to tell you something--I've just been so amazed and impressed by the way you are with her here. It's just so nice to see how you include her so much in what you're doing, and I can see how it really improves her confidence and teaches her so much. It's just really great to see that in action, and it reminds me to do the same thing with my own daughter, so thanks for that."
Now how in hell am I supposed to be mad at a person who says that to me???
Oh yes, then there's G. I'd write a pseudonym for him, but it's such a fucked up name that it my mind can't find the appropriate substitution. Find something in your head that starts with G and just sca-reeeeeeeems "pretentious asshole". And not Geoffrey. No, this is not a name you have ever heard used without a Co. or LTD. after it, LOL. G is the executive chef at The Biggest Company in Town. TBCT is "just a manufacturing plant", but caters to a lot of car companies and apparently G is very handsomely paid for feeding both the average worker at the administrative offices, but also doing all sorts of specialty things for the big wigs and their traveling "dignitaries". G has a very intense look about him and acts like he shits gold bricks. Do I need to mention that I neither admire nor give a flying fuck about G? I'd like to say I hate him, but that would require an ounce or two of Give A Damn. I digress--Chef invited G to come to the kitchen to help give us "pointers" on our menu and systems. He spent a lot of time down on the line with chef and the cooks. They seemed to be having a good time--it's clear that Chef Hero Worships this guy, though. Anyway, when he made his way back to my station, all he did was nose around in my garnishes and ask a few brief questions, "Did you make these?" "Yes." "They're gorgeous." "Thanks." "Where did you buy the shells for those fruit tarts?" "I made them." You MADE those? They're all so perfectly even, I thought you'd bought them." "Nope, I made them." [In retrospect, I think he didn't realize I'd used a fluted tart pan and didn't actually hand press each of those dimples into the crust--which does nothing to bolster my confidence in his Omnipotence.] Later after he'd left, Chef came to me and said, "We're planning a big wine-tasting dinner, and [blahblahblah, details nobody cares about and I frankly don't remember because it bored me to tears.]..." So there's apparently an event coming up which will require me to do one or 2 desserts while allowing "G's guys" to make another, as well as supplying all the breads they will require for this Fancy Dancy Dinner. [feigning excitement, clutching hands to chest] Great, I get a chance to work with The Great G-dini!
I had skipped yet another opportunity to hash things out with Chef that night because I was just tired and wanted to go home. I was even feeling bad that I had put it off for so long, but then, here we are at Thursday, I've yet to put in any "extra" hours, and no one has spoken a word to me in protest. Then, R came back to my station again and said, "I just wanted you to know that Chef and I really appreciate all the work that you do, and we wanted to do something to show you our gratitude. We could just give you a bonus, but the government will ding you for 40% of it in taxes, so instead, we'd like to buy you something nice for your new home when you move."
Dammit, how's a girl supposed to be mad with all this happy shit going on?
Well I'll tell you how--yesterday, while I was at work, Rusty went through my Outlook Express, found an email I'd received 8 months ago that spoke of him less than generously, and replied to it. And not gracefully, either. He told me about it last night, but I didn't really grasp it all until I turned on my computer this morning and read the response from the person he wrote. I read his original message and my former irritation just dissolved into absolute fury. So many things wrong here... violating my trust and privacy by even going through my old email in the first place, "stepping on his dick" as a friend so gracefully put it by indulging in the chest-thumping crap, and finally the whole need to "defend" me in the first place like I'm either an object he needs to lock up, or I'm too weak-willed or stupid to control myself in the face of a world full of Other Men. I should have phoned him right away, but I was in a rush to get the kids to school, and then once I got to work, I couldn't get decent reception for more than a couple seconds & would have to use the company phone, which is long distance AND which would probably panic him thinking something was wrong with me, so I opted for the text message instead, which was probably a cop out, but hey, I'm weak too sometimes. Fast forward through my roller-coaster day, and he has apologized a jillion times (to the recipient of his original message as well), and seems to genuinely feel bad that he hurt me. It helps to know that he called his brother (I feel the need to capitalize that, as what Brother Says Goes in his world), and even his brother gave him a verbal smack down for his actions. In fact, he openly admitted that everyone he spoke to agreed with me and said they'd be pissed too. Not that I needed anyone else's permission to be pissed, trust me, I'd be pissed. But I think it illustrated to him pretty clearly exactly how wrong he was. We finally had a chance to talk about each of those issues, and things are tentatively peaceful. I can't help still being angry and a little snappy about it, I've heard the apologies and promises. I guess I'm just not ready to be not angry just yet. I know he gets how I feel, he knows he did wrong, he knows. I'm still mad.
This morning, I mentioned offhand to R, the co-owner that DD had been so proud of herself helping out, and she stopped and told me, "You know, I wanted to tell you something--I've just been so amazed and impressed by the way you are with her here. It's just so nice to see how you include her so much in what you're doing, and I can see how it really improves her confidence and teaches her so much. It's just really great to see that in action, and it reminds me to do the same thing with my own daughter, so thanks for that."
Now how in hell am I supposed to be mad at a person who says that to me???
Oh yes, then there's G. I'd write a pseudonym for him, but it's such a fucked up name that it my mind can't find the appropriate substitution. Find something in your head that starts with G and just sca-reeeeeeeems "pretentious asshole". And not Geoffrey. No, this is not a name you have ever heard used without a Co. or LTD. after it, LOL. G is the executive chef at The Biggest Company in Town. TBCT is "just a manufacturing plant", but caters to a lot of car companies and apparently G is very handsomely paid for feeding both the average worker at the administrative offices, but also doing all sorts of specialty things for the big wigs and their traveling "dignitaries". G has a very intense look about him and acts like he shits gold bricks. Do I need to mention that I neither admire nor give a flying fuck about G? I'd like to say I hate him, but that would require an ounce or two of Give A Damn. I digress--Chef invited G to come to the kitchen to help give us "pointers" on our menu and systems. He spent a lot of time down on the line with chef and the cooks. They seemed to be having a good time--it's clear that Chef Hero Worships this guy, though. Anyway, when he made his way back to my station, all he did was nose around in my garnishes and ask a few brief questions, "Did you make these?" "Yes." "They're gorgeous." "Thanks." "Where did you buy the shells for those fruit tarts?" "I made them." You MADE those? They're all so perfectly even, I thought you'd bought them." "Nope, I made them." [In retrospect, I think he didn't realize I'd used a fluted tart pan and didn't actually hand press each of those dimples into the crust--which does nothing to bolster my confidence in his Omnipotence.] Later after he'd left, Chef came to me and said, "We're planning a big wine-tasting dinner, and [blahblahblah, details nobody cares about and I frankly don't remember because it bored me to tears.]..." So there's apparently an event coming up which will require me to do one or 2 desserts while allowing "G's guys" to make another, as well as supplying all the breads they will require for this Fancy Dancy Dinner. [feigning excitement, clutching hands to chest] Great, I get a chance to work with The Great G-dini!
I had skipped yet another opportunity to hash things out with Chef that night because I was just tired and wanted to go home. I was even feeling bad that I had put it off for so long, but then, here we are at Thursday, I've yet to put in any "extra" hours, and no one has spoken a word to me in protest. Then, R came back to my station again and said, "I just wanted you to know that Chef and I really appreciate all the work that you do, and we wanted to do something to show you our gratitude. We could just give you a bonus, but the government will ding you for 40% of it in taxes, so instead, we'd like to buy you something nice for your new home when you move."
Dammit, how's a girl supposed to be mad with all this happy shit going on?
Well I'll tell you how--yesterday, while I was at work, Rusty went through my Outlook Express, found an email I'd received 8 months ago that spoke of him less than generously, and replied to it. And not gracefully, either. He told me about it last night, but I didn't really grasp it all until I turned on my computer this morning and read the response from the person he wrote. I read his original message and my former irritation just dissolved into absolute fury. So many things wrong here... violating my trust and privacy by even going through my old email in the first place, "stepping on his dick" as a friend so gracefully put it by indulging in the chest-thumping crap, and finally the whole need to "defend" me in the first place like I'm either an object he needs to lock up, or I'm too weak-willed or stupid to control myself in the face of a world full of Other Men. I should have phoned him right away, but I was in a rush to get the kids to school, and then once I got to work, I couldn't get decent reception for more than a couple seconds & would have to use the company phone, which is long distance AND which would probably panic him thinking something was wrong with me, so I opted for the text message instead, which was probably a cop out, but hey, I'm weak too sometimes. Fast forward through my roller-coaster day, and he has apologized a jillion times (to the recipient of his original message as well), and seems to genuinely feel bad that he hurt me. It helps to know that he called his brother (I feel the need to capitalize that, as what Brother Says Goes in his world), and even his brother gave him a verbal smack down for his actions. In fact, he openly admitted that everyone he spoke to agreed with me and said they'd be pissed too. Not that I needed anyone else's permission to be pissed, trust me, I'd be pissed. But I think it illustrated to him pretty clearly exactly how wrong he was. We finally had a chance to talk about each of those issues, and things are tentatively peaceful. I can't help still being angry and a little snappy about it, I've heard the apologies and promises. I guess I'm just not ready to be not angry just yet. I know he gets how I feel, he knows he did wrong, he knows. I'm still mad.
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