readme.txt

Does anyone actually read those files anyway? Or do we all just know 'a guy?' A friend of a brother's friend who knows someone who works with computers, and we act like they're our friends so they come fix our CPUs and make our programs work. That seems more likely to be the case. Now, I have the benefit of having two friends and a dad who all work with computers, so my 'guy's are a little more legitimate when they help me out. But still, I've poked my head in a few of those txt files ('cause I like to try to solve things on my own), and they usually seem pretty cryptic to me. Not cryptic... maybe needlessly full? It seems like so much stuff in there is just taking up space, and none of it ever pertains to what I need.

An interesting thing happened to me at work today. On Sundays, my restaurant (well, not mine, but you know what I mean) has a brunch menu. Now brunch is a pain in the ass for a couple of reasons. Firstly, all the menu items are roughly nine bucks. Secondly, they all come with fruit and muffins (which are kept downstairs). Thirdly, champagne is complimentary (still haven't figured that one out.) And fourthly (we'll cut it here; I don't think there'd ever be a 'lastly') everyone gets more than one drink. I don't know why. But for three tables in a row today (9 people worth) I was averaging 3 drinks per person per table. Why do people need such a variety of drinks with breakfast? I'm guilty too, I guess at least a little, 'cause I'll usually get milk and OJ when I go out. However, I don't get (and this is an actual order for one person) water, champagne, coffee, and OJ. (Keep in mind that two of those four are free; hence another problem with brunch: I'll bust my ass for a table of four people (because everyone wants a plethora of drinks and extra muffins, etc) for a check that totals, maybe, $45-$50 bucks. And, of course because it's brunch, that results in a six dollar tip. Thanks folks. Really, thanks. (Before you comment, I'm not the best server, but I'm pretty good; my tables rarely have need for anything, and on non-brunch days I average around 17-18% tips)

Anyway, the interesting thing that happened, happened while we were getting crushed. I was going down in the weeds like a two-dollar-whore. I could not keep anyone satisfied. (This is mostly because someone'll order coffee, and by the time I bring it back, someone else at the table decides they'd like a glass too. Well, don't tell me that at the same time and save me a trip, right?) So, I have people hitting me with stupid questions ('where do those train tracks go?' How the fuck should I know? They go 'that way' folks. Why don't you go to the station and ask the conductor what our specials are tonight?) , staggering their various drink requests rather than telling me all at once, etc. And I just snapped. I snapped. I don't mean I flew off on a rage of profanity. (That was happening already before the snapping occured.) I simply stopped caring if my tables got what they needed. I realized that I was going to give myself a heart attack trying to please people who probably couldn't be pleased and certainly wouldn't tip well even if they were. So I stopped caring. If they asked for something, they'd get it when I got it to them. End of story. But then things got weird. When I stopped caring, I kind of fell into this zone. It was as though not caring had made me a more competent brunch server. I didn't care if people got their jelly in time, but I still got it to them in time. It was as though I had tapped into some sort of server-Tao; to use the cliche, "It was not done by me... it was done through me." Anyway, it was very transcendental.

Oh, and on a quick side note before I go to bed, I may have saved a friend's life tonight. I saw his truck down the street at his folks' place when I got home from work, so I went down to say hi. Long story made short, he was planning on driving another hour on the highway with a good 4" gash in the sidewall of his tire. And he was ignoring his parents' pleas to change it before he left. He kept saying that if he had to change it on I95, then he'd change it on I95. I'm not 100% sure he understood the notion of a blowout. I don't know that many people do, really. It was a somewhat foreign concept to me until a friend used it as a caution against the 120mph I was doing at the time. About a week later, I saw a picture of a 350Z that had a blowout at around that speed. Not pretty. Folks, if a tire 'blows out,' you're problems are much bigger than a flat. That tire explodes, and all the compressed air inside will send that quarter of the car way off course. Now, rear blowouts aren't as bad, but if it's a front tire that goes (as his was), the force will suddenly thrust the front end of your car to the side, turning you perpendicular to the direction you were traveling. I can't think of any car that won't roll if that happens around 70 mph. So if your tires are bald, or have a gash in them, protect yourselves and other drivers and get 'em straightened out. You could either fork over $300 for tires or $10,300 for a new car. Back to by story, I told him to let me see his tire (being of a mild mechanical inclination and, at the very least, enjoying working on cars), and I told him that if he didn't want to change it, that I would. So we changed his tire and he went on his way. I don't know if it would have blown on him or not, but the man is like my brother, and I wouldn't have forgiven myself if I'd've just let him roll and something would have happened to him. Anyway, that's it for tonight, I think. I'm off in the typically vain effort to get 7 hours of sleep. ttfn