manager

Can’t you feel a brand new day…

/ fightmasterwrites / Leave a comment

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I’m fucking starving. 

Starving I tell you.  

And this is a very good thing.  

My lost post, if anyone is paying attention ,was on March 1.  

The following week was busy, as I had a new manager start at work.  

I was with her almost every minute of the day, and included working longer days than I had been.

By the end of that weekend, I was beat.  

I woke up on Monday, March 12, feeling like shit.  

It was as though I’d been hit by a truck.  

I was tired.  Cranky.  Felt out of it.  

And for almost two days, I was convinced I was getting sick.  

On Thursday, I had a realization.  

I wasn’t sick.  I wasn’t getting sick.

I was depressed.  

Talk about being insightful. 

Seriously.  

I was sitting at my desk at work, not getting nearly as much accomplished as I needed, when I realized that what I was feeling was exactly how I felt when my mom died.  

It didn’t make me feel better.  

But suddenly I knew how to start making it better.  

For me that first step was talking about it.  

When I got home from work that night, Adam asked how I was feeling, and I told him what was up.  He was very supportive and understanding.  

He asked how to help, and I told him he’d already helped, just by listening and understanding.  

The next day at work, I shared this with two of my co-workers.  I needed them to understand that I wasn’t sick, and I wasn’t wasting time.  I just couldn’t focus.  

In a perfect world, I’d have taken a sick day, but alas, that’s not where we live.  

On Tuesday, I took the day off.  And I slept.  And slept.  And slept.  

I got up at 4:30.  

And I felt much better. 

I didn’t get any of my errands done, but I felt good.  

And it was finally all gone yesterday.  It was as if the clouds had clear and there was sunshine.  

I was able to be hyper-focused, and get so much done at work.  

I was making lists, and crossing things off and felt like a normal person.  

And today, this is all confirmed as I have my appetite back.  For the last week, I’ve eaten but I don’t know that I’ve been super hungry.  Today I am famished.  I’m fucking starving. 

When I’m feeling depressed, I tend to isolate.  

I also, tend to lose interest in most of the things I do for fun, like writing.  

It’s hard to focus.  And if I can focus, it’s hard to stay focused.  

But today I am feeling better.

Funny story though…

A couple of days ago a memory popped up on Facebook.  It was a blog post from a year ago.  

Here’s a link to said story:  https://id-like-to-speak-to-the-manager.com/2023/03/16/my-time-of-day/

It’s basically said that a year ago I was feeling the same way.  Went to the doctor etc.  

And my conclusion is:  Perhaps I’m adverse to the spring time change.  

It wouldn’t be out of the question?  And it might explain a thing or two.  

And there is no reason for me to be depressed.  Nothing in my life has changed and if it has, it’s been for the better.  

So.  

I was depressed.  I’m not any more.  

Perhaps I hate Daylight Saving Time after all.  

The end.  

I’M HAPPY, JUST BEING WITH YOU.  SO WHAT SHOULD IT MATTER TO ME, WHAT YOU DO IN BED WITH GUYS. I

/ fightmasterwrites / Leave a comment

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I started at Bennigan’s and quickly proved myself to be good at the job. The staff seemed to like me and I got along with most everyone.

As I got to know more people, I became aware that all but two of the male front house employees, were gay.

Two very butch, very masculine bartenders, who didn’t seem to mind that they were surrounded by gay men.

I mixed right in, but at this point in my life, I’d only ever told one person that I was gay. A woman I worked with at Wendy’s named Tammy. We sat on the curb at three in the morning, talking about life, and I confessed my deepest, darkest secret.

So here I am in the middle of a bunch of gay men, still pretending to be straight.

And for the most part everyone bought it.

Or so I thought.

Turns out that all the gay men thought I was gay.

All of the women thought I was straight.

Rumor had it there were bets floating around.

I played the straight game as best I could. Keeping my head low, and trying to not be obvious.

Fast forward to the first week of December. One of the servers is having her first annual Jewish/Christmas party.

What is that you ask?

It’s a party thrown by your co-worker, Stacy, who is Jewish, and her roommate who is not.

Fun fact, when I met Stacy she was the first Jewish person I’d ever met. Georgetown, KY was not known for its plethora of synagogues, and kosher delis.

I am invited to said party, as is most of the rest of the staff.

I get there and am hanging out with everyone, and flirting with Stacy more than I should.

To be honest, I’d flirted with her for a couple of weeks. It truly was not being malicious. I was just protecting my secret.

If you grew up in a small town in Kentucky, where you were called a f*g on the bus every day of the school year, you’d know why the secret was so dark and scary.

If you went to a conservative Baptist college you’d understand why the secret was so dark and scary.

Although, it turns out there was a LOT of gay people at my college, but most of us wouldn’t reveal this secret, till much, much later.

It was also the late 80’s, and people were starting to die, from what we had just discovered was an illness called AIDS. It was not a great time to be coming of age.

Back to the story.

As the night went on, I ended up making out with her. And if I remember correctly, may have even given her a hickey.

In her kitchen, next to the stove. I can still see the room in my head.

The night progressed, and I became a little tipsier, and a little less cautious.

And the next thing I knew, I was on my way to Duane’s apartment, where we made out in a hot tub, in the cold.

The next day I did the walk of shame showing up for my lunch shift, in the same clothes I’d worn to the party.

The cat was definitely out of the bag.

Everyone knew.

Bets were won and lost.

And Stacy didn’t speak to me for a very long 6 months.

If not longer.

Eventually she stopped hating me and we became the best of friends, and for the last year I spent in Atlanta, she was my bestie.

We are still in touch. I visited her in October on my road trip.

I’m sure she’ll tune in today for the next episode in this saga.

She may not know this, but her acceptance of me, paved the way for my acceptance of myself.

I’ll be forever grateful.

It’s a losing race when you’re racing with the racing, racing, racing with the clock.

/ fightmasterwrites / Leave a comment

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

was a stock boy.

I had a two-minute tutorial on what that meant and I was off.

I’d arrive at work at 8:00 a.m.

I still find it funny that I’ve had so many jobs that start early in the a.m. when now as an old man, I’d lose my mind if I had to be at work at 8:00 a.m. everyday.

I’d get to work, and I start on the big carts they had that had been loaded overnight.

I’d distribute them to the right department. Then go back and help the sales team put them away the merchandise.

This repeated itsself throughout the day.

I continued this process until 4:00 when I was done for the day.

I was actually quite efficient at my job, and so I found myself, getting to know the sales team.

Beth in towels and linens was from Tennessee. She wanted to go into management. Was newly married and had just graduated from college and moved to Atlanta.

Mary in lamps had worked at this location since forever. She was a grandmother to everyone, and was the person, who let me know how much markup there was on the merchandise.

I never got to know the other stock team members.

After a few weeks, I was really, really, really efficient.

So my schedule became, get to work at 8:00. Distribute the carts. Go around and put the merchandise away.

Then at 9:00 my friends, the sales team, would arrive and I’d hang out with them until 10:00.

At 10:00 I took a break..

Then I’d do some carts.

Then it was time for lunch at noon.

Then at 1:00 it was time for the sales team’s lunch.

Then at 2:00 I’d do some carts.

I’d take my afternoon break.

And then I’d do some more carts.

And then I’d go home.

My area was spotless. The merchandise on the floor looked great. My carts were always done on time.

I was fast.

I was efficient.

Meanwhile, one day in mid-October about 6 weeks after I started, a young man showed up to stock the Hallmark cards.

He was very, very, very cute.

I was a stock boy, so I made it my mission to help him.

We chatted as I helped him “stock” the cards.

I cannot for the life of me remember his name.

He finished up at the same time I did.

We found ourselves walking to our cars together.

The time had already changed for the season and it was dark outside.

We arrived at his car and he asked if I wanted to join him.

I got him.

We talked for a while. Then made out for a while. Maybe a little more than make out.

Then we talked some more.

I told him that I was trying to get a waiting tables job, but was having no luck.

He shared that he had a boyfriend who waited tables. He’d ask him to put in a good word for me.

Of course he had a boyfriend.

I gave him my number and a week or so later he called me and told me his boyfriend worked at Bennigan’s and he’d told the manager about me, and that I should lie about my experience and also tell her that I knew the boyfriend.

I did as I was told.

I filled out the application.

I got called for an interview.

I was hired as a server.

I went in the next day to give my notice at JC Penney, and the manager said to me, I’m glad you are giving your notice, I’d planned to fire you. Then he explains that I was spending too much time not actually working. Even though, I got everything that was expected of me done every day, long before my co-workers did, I couldn’t spend the day talking to the sales staff instead of working.

Going to prove, that you should work slower, not faster.

Two weeks later I finished at JC Penney, and started at Bennigan’s at Lenox Mall in Atlanta, Georgia.

This job would change my life.

You left me lists, everything in lists, well your little lists aren’t very helpful I fear

/ fightmasterwrites / Leave a comment

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Since my first manager job, I’ve always had pen and paper in my pocket.  There are a million things you think of as you move around the restaurant that you need to remember for later.  

In the past, my staff has always gotten nervous as I write something down, when they are standing next to me.  They always assumed it was about them.

As often as not, it might be nothing more than don’t forget to get gas on your way home.  Or remind Adam to pick up more soda at the grocery store. 

Usually it’s a word or two, quick in the moment.  

Chairs.  

Candles.

Music.  

Temp.

Pre-bus.

Sometimes, when I look at the paper that has been jammed in my pocket all night, I have no idea what I meant.  

Today, I went through all of my scraps of papers from the past week  or so and added the new notes to my legal pad full of notes.  

I then transferred all of my note from the legal pad s, to the note’s app on my laptop, dividing them into categories so I’d know who to ask to get an answer from later.  

As I was doing this, I realized that my note app had headings that I didn’t recognize.  

When I was finished, I looked at what was already there.  And I found notes, from my phone from 2013.  

These are from my GM job in 2013, two days after the restaurant opened.  

Chairs

Trashcan

Three courses 

Up charge for dinner salad. 

Dessert.  Napkins. Menus. 

Windows

Cold hot.  

Buttons in micros. 

Tv channels. 

Milk

Candles

Kj chard

More dinner special papers.  

Sides.    Prices.

Staff

Linens floor.

Liquor boxes 

Cords dressed

Towel in belt. 

Tables in place

Change guest count. 

Wait station. 

Prawns. 

Lights at night. 

Drive away. 

Some of them I remember.    

Other’s I have no idea.  

It’s fun to think that 11 years later, these notes, jotted on a piece of paper, helped get me to where I am today.  

I do think it’s funny that the last note says drive away.  

Hmmmm.