Writer For Hire

So, I mentioned that I was hoping to start making some money off my writing this year as one of my resolutions.  Somebody commented on one of my posts in December stating I should look into that.  So, I looked around a little and found a site called PayPerPost.  I can put some of my previous work out there and pitch myself whenever I want work.  Well, I won’t know if I don’t try.

I hope to write as much as I possibly can within reason.  I do still have to go to school and work my other two jobs, but I will do my best to charge into the breach, all guns blazing.  I will study as hard as a can, work as diligently as I can, and write as often as I can.  Of course, I’m only human, so I will have to pace myself.

Wow!  Loki at me!  Only three days into the new year, and I already have evil plans made…

And on that note, it’s been real!

The Six Hostess Perceptions

Now everyone has an opinion about hostesses, and these opinions should come from observations they’ve made for a number of different reasons.

  1. They’re experience with hostesses in the past at different restaurants.
  2. Whether they’ve worked in a restaurant before as a hostess or just a server.
  3. Whether they’re nice people, or just *ssholes.

With those reasons in mind, let’s dissect the six perceptions about hostesses.

  1. What society thinks I do: the picture shows a girl who looks like she works for Hooters or a club that has a pool.  Or a strip club (probably the latter).  No decent hostess would wear something like that, so this particular perception is a tad confusing.  Most restaurants all have a dress code that requires a hostess to wear something that covers the shoulders, midriff, and does not reveal too much decollete.  Honestly, not much to say on that one.
  2. What my parents think I do: that picture reveals a nicely dressed girl with menus.  That is kind of accurate.  She looks professional, and is holding menus like a shield in front of her.  When you’re dealing with a confrontational customer, those are like a barrier between yourself and the jagoff.  If the restaurant is nice and upscale, the hostess would look like that, instead of sorry dump and dressed in jeans.  But, as the first person the customer sees, it is her job to look professional.
  3. What customers think I do: it shoes a pictures of some guy double flipping somebody off.  Now, that one depends on who you are.  If you come off as demanding and a bastard or a b*tch, then yes the hostess will do that the moment your back is turned.  There have been many people that I basically do it to once I’m done dealing with them.  Why?  Because it’s easier for me to do that behind your back than say it to your face.  And I’m less likely to get fired.
  4. What my coworkers think I do: this one kind of made me smile.  It shows somebody laying down on a recliner, just chilling.  Okay, let me set the record straight: some restaurants (most) do not have a place for their hostess to sit.  She or he has to stand for the entirety of their shift.  That’s not moving around as much as a server, but your feet and your lower back definitely don’t like it.  So, we definitely don’t sit around.  A good hostess never sits around.
  5. What I think I do: is the closest to the truth than any other picture shown.  In a way, we do hold back the mindless rabble.  We try to make sure that everything is done in a systematic and organized fashion, so that the servers don’t want to commit suicide.  We are the first defense against the zombies that come in demanding brains- I mean!  Food!  I just wish I could have a gun that way if somebody didn’t want to sit where I wanted to put them, I could just make them.
  6. What I actually do: you would not believe how many times people ask you where the bathroom is, you tell them, and they still go to the wrong place.  It’s amusing to watch.  They’ll walk into our lounge, which is full of people, and walk out a second later like a dog with their tails between their legs.  It is said that any place that actually has a sign to indicate where a restroom is, it makes the place seem less ‘classy’.  That’s what I heard.  But, if having the sign up saves me the hassle of constantly telling people where the bathroom is, I’ll take some points off in our ‘classy’ department.

And there you have it!  Those are the six perceptions of hostesses.  For those of you out there who have worked in a restaurant before, are these perceptions accurate?  And for those of you who haven’t worked in a restaurant, pay attention the next time you go to one.  It could be the factor that saves you from getting a stigma.

And on that note, it’s been real!

I’m Exhausted!

I don’t know what it’s been about writing and work and school and life lately.  I feel tired and rushed.  The answer might have something to do with the Christmas (shopping) season arriving, but I think it is also partly because of my hap-hazard existence right now.  I feel so tired very early in the evening and I want to cry at times during the day.  And it’s not even because something’s annoying me.  I’m just… I don’t know!

Although, my eye whatever came back and the eye doctor said it’s not pink eye.  I have bumps under my eyelids from some kind of allergic reaction and that’s what causing my eyes to have that ‘pink eye’ like symptoms.  Am I allergic to waking up?  I could believe that.

My work is tiring me out because the receptionists are quitting and the insurance and billing coordinator is quitting, and they asked me to cover the front desk in the evening, instead of me working in the back with my doctor.  Which pissed me off, but I agreed only until the end of December.  I sent a higher up an email informing them of this fact.  We’ll see if she is ‘offended’ by my standing up for myself, and we’ll see if this gets me in trouble.

I think that’s all coming together to make me more tired, an angry, and just… over it.  What can I do to help myself?

And on that note, it’s been real!

A Hostess’ Perfect Restaurant

Business seems to have picked up with the arrival of the colder weather and the start of the season where every company decides to have their Christmas Party around the same time.  It is at times like this when I plan the perfect restaurant: basically the restaurant where every customer does exactly what I saw, sits where I put them, and keeps their mouth shut.  Here is my perfect restaurant…

  1. Force field – this force field would surround my little area, and nobody can leave that force field without me escorting them.  This force field would prevent people from walking to a table and seating themselves when I’m not there.
  2. Electrified seats – electrified seats would be in place in case people moved from the bar to a table without seeing me, or moved from one table to another because the first table ‘wasn’t quite right’.
  3. Sign-triggered door – the sign-triggered door is where the door will not open until the people see the sign in the atrium that says ‘Please wait to be seated.’  Once it acknowledges that they’ve read it, the door will open.

Thinking about things like this helps me cope with the fact that the bulk of humans who walk into my restaurant are incredibly stupid, but then they have the audacity to look at me like I made the mistake.  One of my favorites is when people walk in and just stare at me after we greet each other.  You know what they’re waiting for?  They’re waiting for me to magically read their minds to gauge how many are in their party.

I took an extra shift at work on Wednesday night, and I had some funny encounters that had my coworkers chuckling to themselves.  First, I had a woman about my height come in and I sat her at our higher half booth, half tables.  Now, I’m petite, so I’m about 5ft 5″ in height.  A few minutes later, she came up to me and said, “Can we move to another table?  My friend and I are short, and that’s not comfortable.”  I sighed (inwardly), sat her at a lower table and went to tell the server.

When I found her, I said, “Sorry I double sat you; but apparently both her and her friend are hobbits.”  It took the server two seconds to get the reference and she started laughing.  After that, I had a man walk in when all my tables were occupied.  I told him it would be a little bit of a wait, and watched to see when a table would get up.  A little while later, his wife and son arrived and he told them what I had said.  Immediately, his wife started looking around to see if there was something open.  Two tables had just gotten up at that time, and I was cleaning one of them off.  A server told the lady to wait for me, but she either didn’t hear her or chose to ignore her.  You see me cleaning a table, right?  Patience is a virtue!  After that, I had three really young men walk in and seat themselves at a table instead of waiting for me.  One of the bartenders and a couple of the servers all laughed when they saw me sigh and roll my eyes dramatically.  Needless to say, I went back to my post and did not get them menus.  Ah ha!  The hostess strikes again!  Never assume that a hostess is evil.  Merely assume that she is tired of having people try to (indirectly) tell her how to do her job.  Speaking from experience, it gets very frustrating.

And on that note, it’s been real!

Rise & Sh-! Shut Up!

I’m sure I’m not the only person who is feeling tired this time of year.  Every day when my alarm goes off at 6:00, I yawn, stretch, and try to wake myself up as much as possible.  Once I get out of my bed, it’s easier.

My younger sister jokes that I’m an old lady now because of my self-imposed curfew.  I’m showered and all ready for bed and even climbing into bed a little after 9:00.  But, I stay up till a little after 10:00 playing Temple Run 2 on my Kindle, then reading whatever book catches my fancy from my shelf.  Then, the Melatonin kicks in, the yawns increase, and the sleep mask comes down.

The only days I don’t have to set an alarm (unless I’ve got someplace to be) are Saturdays and Sundays.  I sleep like a dead person and rise whenever I feel like it (but always before 11:00).  However, on the days I do have get up early, I wish instead to be like the puppy above, all cuddly and snug in my bed.  Maybe next week, since it’s a holiday week…

And on that note, it’s been real!

Disorder in the House!

This past weekend, I legitimately and truly and really wanted to kill somebody.  Not my coworkers, but the customers (as per usual).  Friday night, I arrived at 5:00 for my shift and we were already pretty busy.  I got situated and then I had Granny and Paps come up and say they had eight people.  All my big tables were already taken, so they asked me to push two tables (in two different sections) together to seat them.  Now, if you work in a restaurant, joining two tables belonging to two separate servers for one party is a b*tch.  Why?  Who the f*ck is going to get it?!  So, I got my manager’s permission and pushed them together.  They brought in five noisy children, and one of the tables near them, moved to a different one.  This irritated me and threw the server off.  From there, everyone kept coming in and nobody was leaving.

I soon found myself on a wait and people couldn’t grasp that it was almost forty minutes.  Then, I got the Incredible Bulk dragging himself through the door.  I told him the wait time and he really gave me a hard time.  He wanted to go at the end of a long table, which was occupied at the other end.  I told him we could not do that and that I had a reservation going there.  “But I’ll be gone in twenty minutes.”  I just gave him a look and told him I couldn’t do that.  “Well, I want to speak to a manager because I don’t understand why.”

“Yeah, because you’ve got blubber for a brain,” I muttered to myself as I walked behind the bar to grab the floor manager.  I grabbed him and explained the situation to him.  He raised his eyebrow and affirmed what I already knew.  “Well, can you tell him that?  Because he doesn’t seem to want to take no from me.”

“Alright.  Where is he?” my manager asked.

“Turn around.  You can’t miss him,” I sarcastically responded as I started to walk away.  He looked, caught sight of him, faced me and mouthed, ‘what the f*ck?!’  I just nodded and went back to my post.  The rest of the night, people kept saying they didn’t see the sign in the atrium, so they sat themselves at dirty tables, and I didn’t bother with them.  I got angrier as the night went on and people kept being idiots.

My coworkers all said, “Wow!  You’re really pissed off.  I’ve never seen you this pissed off.”  I was.  It hadn’t even really cleared out that much when I was let go at a quarter to ten.

Saturday night, I was semi-hopeful, but definitely not optimistic.  Not long after arriving, I got a walk in eleven top and a seven top.  I guess calling to check if we even have room is out of the question.  Then, one of the servers was late, so I had to divide her section between the other (already busy) three.  Needless to say, I was not interested in taking shit from people after Friday night.  Thankfully, Saturday night was not as bad as Friday night.  My coworkers commented on that, and how I didn’t look like I wanted to decapitate somebody.  That was good.  We’ll see how this weekend goes.

And on that note, it’s been real!

Swivel, Girl! Swivel!

My chair rolls and swivels.  It’s literally the best.  I can sitting in the operatory, waiting for my doctor, and if the patient doesn’t want to talk, or I don’t want to talk, I swivel and roll.  At the front (when I have the displeasure of working up there), my high-backed chair can spin around so fast, I can make myself dizzy.  At school, I have a little roller stool that I can use when I’m bored/done with everything and am waiting for others to finish.  That and reading on my phone (not going to lie).

Chairs can say something.  The chair that sits in front of this laptop, has been with me for almost ten years.  I remember scraping together quarters, dimes, and nickels in order to pay for it.  It is breaking and peeling and the arms are almost ragged now.  Every piece of knitwear that I have catches on it and pulls.

The chair tells a story.  It has been with me for three novels, a set of short mystery stories, two term papers, a screenwriting class, and now, a new novel.  This chair his swiveled and rolled with me through a lot.  And I will be very sad when the time finally comes to give it up.

And on that note, it’s been real!