I’m dying. Literally. My belly burns and my head is throbbing. I slept on the floor. I’m sure I said something stupid.
We had our first friend visit. Beth and her man came through last night and she was generous beyond belief. I hadn’t drunk for a few days and by a few I mean 3. 3 sober days. We started late, around 11, and I couldn’t tell you when we stopped or when I got home. You do that here, loose time. We ended up at the Tiki Bar. They pour ‘em short but they pour them strong.
Beth played golf in the street. My man chatted it up with a local loon. I drank. I drank too much. I’m dying. Now I’m at home, alone. The man is working for free, again. I hope I didn’t keep him out too late. I hope he didn’t tie one on too. I wouldn’t know because we’re not speaking. I’m sure I said something stupid. Why else would I sleep on the floor?
Beth is now gone. It was fun. It went too fast. It was nice to have a friend here. Even for a minute.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
Another One Bites the Dust
I have sent out more resumes than I can count with, sadly, few responses. Over qualified, under qualified, getting lost in the shuffle . . . don’t know what the deal is but I suspect some have something to do with managers who just don’t want the competition. My resume is pretty good, if I say so myself, and my cover letters are always thoughtful and well written so why can’t I even get a call back in most instances? Well, I got a call yesterday for a server position and, after selling myself over the phone, (apparently I had screwed up and not attached a resume – so I got the call simply off the cover letter) I managed to get an interview that same day.
A few hours later I meet with the chef and the interview went well. There is always room for improvement but it went well enough that he passes me onto round two with a FOH manager. She and I didn’t hit it off.
The first thing out of her mouth: she insults my hand shake. I make a joke. She scoffs at my resume.
This version of my resume is scaled down to one page simply noting my employer, position and dates of employment. Next line of attack: longevity.
I don’t happen to think stints of 1 – 3 ½ years a piece plus having owned and operated my own business since 2000 is a “problem with longevity.” Restaurants are a pretty volatile industry and a year here, a year there is no big deal where I’m from, in fact it’s better than many with 6 month stints. Apparently, according to her, things aren’t done like that here. Sure, I’d love to stick around longer if I had a job that was challenging enough to stick around for; or maybe some upward opportunities presented themselves but generally my “job jumping” is the result of 1.the business itself changing (i.e., partner litigation, lay-offs, etc) or 2. I receive an offer of more money and/or more responsibility elsewhere. As I see, it’s just sound decision making on my part. But I digress.
I heard this lady yelling at the staff just prior to meeting with me. No big deal, I’ve been in her shoes, and sometimes someone’s behavior warrants a firm conversation but why was she taking this posture with me? We argued. All she wanted to hear was me agreeing with her. What was it to me? A job, that’s what; so I did, I agreed. The meeting was brief; she basically made fun of my responses. She was pinched. She seemed threatened – especially every time she minimized my experience. She made a point of reiterating on like 4 occasions that it was likely I wouldn’t “work the floor” (you start as a busser, expo, take some tests, suck up to the floor manager – I know the drill) for what could be months.
Yeah, I get it. I go through the hoops and hopefully make some good money when you’re through. At the end, however, I wasn’t sure if I’d hear back or, if I did, if I’d even make any money being there. There were only 4 front servers, and not a lot of covers, but the menu is smart, the chef seemed to have it together and the press had, thus far, been positive.
I do the right thing. I send the chef a thank you e-mail. 20 minutes later she, the FOH manager, calls me back and schedules a 2nd interview. We’ll see how this one goes.
A few hours later I meet with the chef and the interview went well. There is always room for improvement but it went well enough that he passes me onto round two with a FOH manager. She and I didn’t hit it off.
The first thing out of her mouth: she insults my hand shake. I make a joke. She scoffs at my resume.
This version of my resume is scaled down to one page simply noting my employer, position and dates of employment. Next line of attack: longevity.
I don’t happen to think stints of 1 – 3 ½ years a piece plus having owned and operated my own business since 2000 is a “problem with longevity.” Restaurants are a pretty volatile industry and a year here, a year there is no big deal where I’m from, in fact it’s better than many with 6 month stints. Apparently, according to her, things aren’t done like that here. Sure, I’d love to stick around longer if I had a job that was challenging enough to stick around for; or maybe some upward opportunities presented themselves but generally my “job jumping” is the result of 1.the business itself changing (i.e., partner litigation, lay-offs, etc) or 2. I receive an offer of more money and/or more responsibility elsewhere. As I see, it’s just sound decision making on my part. But I digress.
I heard this lady yelling at the staff just prior to meeting with me. No big deal, I’ve been in her shoes, and sometimes someone’s behavior warrants a firm conversation but why was she taking this posture with me? We argued. All she wanted to hear was me agreeing with her. What was it to me? A job, that’s what; so I did, I agreed. The meeting was brief; she basically made fun of my responses. She was pinched. She seemed threatened – especially every time she minimized my experience. She made a point of reiterating on like 4 occasions that it was likely I wouldn’t “work the floor” (you start as a busser, expo, take some tests, suck up to the floor manager – I know the drill) for what could be months.
Yeah, I get it. I go through the hoops and hopefully make some good money when you’re through. At the end, however, I wasn’t sure if I’d hear back or, if I did, if I’d even make any money being there. There were only 4 front servers, and not a lot of covers, but the menu is smart, the chef seemed to have it together and the press had, thus far, been positive.
I do the right thing. I send the chef a thank you e-mail. 20 minutes later she, the FOH manager, calls me back and schedules a 2nd interview. We’ll see how this one goes.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
One . Two . Three . Fuck me .
Wellie-well girls and boys I completed a harrowing series of interviews the other day equally about 5.5 hours of my life but if you count phone calls, transportation, preparation, and the all-dreaded trips to Kinkos; in addition to bitching, lamenting, wondering, wishing and a myriad of other bullshit -- not too mention my man's contribution in all this (see below)-- it is way closer to about 50 hours. That’s a week’s pay. Pay me mother fuckers, pay me now.
I was reluctant to post the details of my experience for fear that it may haunt me, that someone would discover it . . . and then I decided I didn’t fucking care and that I needed to just say my piece. And for me, venting here seemed a good way to get it off my chest and let it go. So here it is: 3 weeks torture for a job I didn’t even get and, apparently, never existed at all.
Interview one:
I met with the GM and we hit it off splendidly. It was a tough interview though I thought I did sportingly well. I was told, after a 2 ½ - 3 hour interview that although he, the GM, wanted me at his location as a restaurant manager it was a possible that I may be considered for a management position at a sister location. This other restaurant, the “fine-dining café,” is nowhere near as established, recognized, nor would it make any kind of stellar addition to my resume. Didn’t matter at the time ‘cuz I was a shoe in . . .
My man was also interviewing at the very same esteemed organization. His interview went equally well and he and the chef (he was interviewing for a sous chef position) scheduled a stage for the next phase of the interview. At the end of the un-paid 14 hour shift during which he prepared 6 courses for the chef and GM, worked the line serving more than 400 guests, and stayed till the bitter end cleaning the line with everyone else, the chef pulled him aside and noted that he could probably secure him 55-60 in salary and to follow up with him in 8-10 days. Which he did, but I’ll get back to that.
The following week I get a call to schedule a second interview. It turns out the operations manager isn’t available but one of the managing owners is so, yet another week later, I meet with one of the owners.
Interview two:
Well, this was my first experience with a power lesbian and I just couldn’t tell if she was made at me, my vagina, my red lips or just the world. Never in my life have I felt such hostility in a frickin’ interview. It felt like her questions were more like accusations. I managed to get her to laugh a few times but I think, in retrospect, she was probably laughing at me. But let’s discuss some of the particulars.
A few times I fell into corporate speak (trying to be truthful but positive) and she'd say stuff like "what the hell is that supposed to mean?" and sometimes she’d just glare and shake her head. Usually I like forthright people but there was just this tone – this clear indignation that I was beneath her and not worthy of her valuable time. If she didn’t want to waste her time maybe she shouldn’t have asked me such stupid fucking questions. Plus there's this whole rich elitist thing.
For example, she asked that if I wanted to live abroad why I didn't just go do it. Like, yeah, I just got all the money and resources to just up and move to Tanzania or something. Sorry, lady, not all of us are born with a silver spoon up our ass. I tried cracking a few jokes and being myself but maybe the bow in my head or my pretty red lips were distracting her. I wanted to kick her in the shins with my new pointy-toed shoes. I felt like I was being bullied.
She asked a bunch of questions that kind of caught me off guard but when she asked who I looked up to (dead or alive) I couldn't think of anyone so I said Martha Stewart. We had this whole weird exchange about her (my be-loved Martha) being a bitch and if I think successful people should be able to treat people however they want to.
"No, of course not" I explained, "but I've never worked for her and, if I did, I guess I'd find out for myself."
Then she asked if I had ever read anything about Ms. Stuart. (Do you like that? I almost made it sound like she was being respectful toward her or something, which she wasn’t.) Anyway, we went back and forth a bit about the merits of Martha, what I had read, and what she –Ms. power-pussy-pants, thought of her. She ended the conversation, lips pursed, hands folded, asserting that she had met her and she was a bitch. My opinion: so fucking what. I didn't say I admired her personality or that I thought she was a contender for Miss Congeniality but what I had said was that I respected her ability to take her passions and create an empire, admired her position as a woman business leader, adored her aesthetic; not one fucking thing about "oh, she's such a nice person." Besides, would people really discuss that if she were a man? I think not. I said something along those lines too but any mention of a man fell on deaf ears. Hmmm, what else?
I made several attempts to lighten the mood. I brought up local cuisine, indigenous foods and preparation, I brought up gator – which she declared was awful and would never be on their menu. (Oh contraire you mean-spirited lesbo, you have gator sausage on your lunch menu!) There was no winning with this woman but I kept my head up and a smile on my face through the entire ordeal.
That said, the interview wasn’t exactly going badly but it wasn’t my best performance. The whole thing felt off – she was just mean. “Well, I gotta go," she said in closing, "some of us have night jobs." What the hell happened? I didn’t know where I stood and then I got to thinking about it: about her, the place, the interview.
Boy, she sure thinks their shit is the best thing next to the universe itself but let me tell you 6.5 million doesn't go far these days I guess because the carpets are in shambles, the offices are smelly run-down holes, the computers archaic, the menu/plate presentations outdated and the kitchen is short on everything from small-wares to developed talent(the chef seems to know his shit but that aside…).
Did I mention they just fired 2 sous because apparently they sent dishes out to the owners "without tasting them first." I'm sure complacency had more to do with it but it got us thinking about what was going on there. We chose the optimistic perspective. Maybe they were looking for a new start? Maybe we were the breath of fresh air they were looking for?
Or not. My man gave the chef a call back to discuss the details of his employment only to discover they “had decided to go a different way.” There was some story about a guy from Florida and an un-opened place in Texas. Who knows? We thought, again, to look at it from a positive point of view. We thought that maybe the owners (though the GM and chef were fine with it) weren’t OK with hiring both of us and they had to choose. That would mean good things for me, right?
In my departure from the second interview I ran into the GM. He looked beaten, exhausted, slumped over in his chair - he might as well have been a cripple; he couldn’t move. He could barely raise his hand to shake mine. His forehead cradled into the palm of his other hand. He'd just finished 350 covers for lunch and was trying to gear up for dinner. He was clearly short-handed and looked at me as if I represented some glimmer of hope. I thought well, at least I had him on my side.
I went from being totally excited about working there to wondering what the hell I was thinking. I'd been warned they'd work me to death but I was up to the challenge - I wanted to work there. I wanted to take over their training and development (their gal was leaving in a few months) and I knew I was as good if not better than the nearly all-man team they already had. I wanted to add them to my resume. I could suck it up for a year or 2 or 5 if need be. So I waited for the next call.
Interview 3:
Showing up late and departing in just over an hour this round-bellied suit probably hadn’t seen the floor (and I mean dining room here) in the last 10 years of his 20 year tenure there. The operation manager started out pleasant enough but blindsided me about 2/3rd the way into the interview when he stated “there are no opening here.” He then asked, “has the hotel contacted you?”
My head imploded, my mouth agape. What just happened? I had specifically asked Ms. tarty-twat if I was interviewing for a position here or at the sister restaurant and she said sternly, “well, if you were interviewing for a position there you’d be over there interviewing.” OK, that seemed conclusive enough but why then am I here now, here at the place I had applied to, for the position that was posted, interviewing with the folks that managed this location. What the fuck is going on?
I was informed that he had forwarded my resume and I should be hearing from someone. I kind of got the feeling it was sort of a “don’t call us, we’ll call you” kind of situation - I could not get off property fast enough. I was pissed and now, 2 days later, I think I got the brush off too. So what was the last interview even about?
The ad for the other place has since been removed and I haven’t heard from anyone. I doubt I will hear from them again. And I doubt I care despite desperately needing a job – and one I had hoped would add to my resume in addition to my wallet – I was certainly less than thrilled to be working for this so-called reputable place for this long-standing family run restaurant. I’d love to say fuck them, their loss (and it is) but what short of throwing a temper tantrum am I to do? Well, now that I’ve purged I think I’ll move on and just chalk it up to another fucking thing I don’t get about New Orleans.
I was reluctant to post the details of my experience for fear that it may haunt me, that someone would discover it . . . and then I decided I didn’t fucking care and that I needed to just say my piece. And for me, venting here seemed a good way to get it off my chest and let it go. So here it is: 3 weeks torture for a job I didn’t even get and, apparently, never existed at all.
Interview one:
I met with the GM and we hit it off splendidly. It was a tough interview though I thought I did sportingly well. I was told, after a 2 ½ - 3 hour interview that although he, the GM, wanted me at his location as a restaurant manager it was a possible that I may be considered for a management position at a sister location. This other restaurant, the “fine-dining café,” is nowhere near as established, recognized, nor would it make any kind of stellar addition to my resume. Didn’t matter at the time ‘cuz I was a shoe in . . .
My man was also interviewing at the very same esteemed organization. His interview went equally well and he and the chef (he was interviewing for a sous chef position) scheduled a stage for the next phase of the interview. At the end of the un-paid 14 hour shift during which he prepared 6 courses for the chef and GM, worked the line serving more than 400 guests, and stayed till the bitter end cleaning the line with everyone else, the chef pulled him aside and noted that he could probably secure him 55-60 in salary and to follow up with him in 8-10 days. Which he did, but I’ll get back to that.
The following week I get a call to schedule a second interview. It turns out the operations manager isn’t available but one of the managing owners is so, yet another week later, I meet with one of the owners.
Interview two:
Well, this was my first experience with a power lesbian and I just couldn’t tell if she was made at me, my vagina, my red lips or just the world. Never in my life have I felt such hostility in a frickin’ interview. It felt like her questions were more like accusations. I managed to get her to laugh a few times but I think, in retrospect, she was probably laughing at me. But let’s discuss some of the particulars.
A few times I fell into corporate speak (trying to be truthful but positive) and she'd say stuff like "what the hell is that supposed to mean?" and sometimes she’d just glare and shake her head. Usually I like forthright people but there was just this tone – this clear indignation that I was beneath her and not worthy of her valuable time. If she didn’t want to waste her time maybe she shouldn’t have asked me such stupid fucking questions. Plus there's this whole rich elitist thing.
For example, she asked that if I wanted to live abroad why I didn't just go do it. Like, yeah, I just got all the money and resources to just up and move to Tanzania or something. Sorry, lady, not all of us are born with a silver spoon up our ass. I tried cracking a few jokes and being myself but maybe the bow in my head or my pretty red lips were distracting her. I wanted to kick her in the shins with my new pointy-toed shoes. I felt like I was being bullied.
She asked a bunch of questions that kind of caught me off guard but when she asked who I looked up to (dead or alive) I couldn't think of anyone so I said Martha Stewart. We had this whole weird exchange about her (my be-loved Martha) being a bitch and if I think successful people should be able to treat people however they want to.
"No, of course not" I explained, "but I've never worked for her and, if I did, I guess I'd find out for myself."
Then she asked if I had ever read anything about Ms. Stuart. (Do you like that? I almost made it sound like she was being respectful toward her or something, which she wasn’t.) Anyway, we went back and forth a bit about the merits of Martha, what I had read, and what she –Ms. power-pussy-pants, thought of her. She ended the conversation, lips pursed, hands folded, asserting that she had met her and she was a bitch. My opinion: so fucking what. I didn't say I admired her personality or that I thought she was a contender for Miss Congeniality but what I had said was that I respected her ability to take her passions and create an empire, admired her position as a woman business leader, adored her aesthetic; not one fucking thing about "oh, she's such a nice person." Besides, would people really discuss that if she were a man? I think not. I said something along those lines too but any mention of a man fell on deaf ears. Hmmm, what else?
I made several attempts to lighten the mood. I brought up local cuisine, indigenous foods and preparation, I brought up gator – which she declared was awful and would never be on their menu. (Oh contraire you mean-spirited lesbo, you have gator sausage on your lunch menu!) There was no winning with this woman but I kept my head up and a smile on my face through the entire ordeal.
That said, the interview wasn’t exactly going badly but it wasn’t my best performance. The whole thing felt off – she was just mean. “Well, I gotta go," she said in closing, "some of us have night jobs." What the hell happened? I didn’t know where I stood and then I got to thinking about it: about her, the place, the interview.
Boy, she sure thinks their shit is the best thing next to the universe itself but let me tell you 6.5 million doesn't go far these days I guess because the carpets are in shambles, the offices are smelly run-down holes, the computers archaic, the menu/plate presentations outdated and the kitchen is short on everything from small-wares to developed talent(the chef seems to know his shit but that aside…).
Did I mention they just fired 2 sous because apparently they sent dishes out to the owners "without tasting them first." I'm sure complacency had more to do with it but it got us thinking about what was going on there. We chose the optimistic perspective. Maybe they were looking for a new start? Maybe we were the breath of fresh air they were looking for?
Or not. My man gave the chef a call back to discuss the details of his employment only to discover they “had decided to go a different way.” There was some story about a guy from Florida and an un-opened place in Texas. Who knows? We thought, again, to look at it from a positive point of view. We thought that maybe the owners (though the GM and chef were fine with it) weren’t OK with hiring both of us and they had to choose. That would mean good things for me, right?
In my departure from the second interview I ran into the GM. He looked beaten, exhausted, slumped over in his chair - he might as well have been a cripple; he couldn’t move. He could barely raise his hand to shake mine. His forehead cradled into the palm of his other hand. He'd just finished 350 covers for lunch and was trying to gear up for dinner. He was clearly short-handed and looked at me as if I represented some glimmer of hope. I thought well, at least I had him on my side.
I went from being totally excited about working there to wondering what the hell I was thinking. I'd been warned they'd work me to death but I was up to the challenge - I wanted to work there. I wanted to take over their training and development (their gal was leaving in a few months) and I knew I was as good if not better than the nearly all-man team they already had. I wanted to add them to my resume. I could suck it up for a year or 2 or 5 if need be. So I waited for the next call.
Interview 3:
Showing up late and departing in just over an hour this round-bellied suit probably hadn’t seen the floor (and I mean dining room here) in the last 10 years of his 20 year tenure there. The operation manager started out pleasant enough but blindsided me about 2/3rd the way into the interview when he stated “there are no opening here.” He then asked, “has the hotel contacted you?”
My head imploded, my mouth agape. What just happened? I had specifically asked Ms. tarty-twat if I was interviewing for a position here or at the sister restaurant and she said sternly, “well, if you were interviewing for a position there you’d be over there interviewing.” OK, that seemed conclusive enough but why then am I here now, here at the place I had applied to, for the position that was posted, interviewing with the folks that managed this location. What the fuck is going on?
I was informed that he had forwarded my resume and I should be hearing from someone. I kind of got the feeling it was sort of a “don’t call us, we’ll call you” kind of situation - I could not get off property fast enough. I was pissed and now, 2 days later, I think I got the brush off too. So what was the last interview even about?
The ad for the other place has since been removed and I haven’t heard from anyone. I doubt I will hear from them again. And I doubt I care despite desperately needing a job – and one I had hoped would add to my resume in addition to my wallet – I was certainly less than thrilled to be working for this so-called reputable place for this long-standing family run restaurant. I’d love to say fuck them, their loss (and it is) but what short of throwing a temper tantrum am I to do? Well, now that I’ve purged I think I’ll move on and just chalk it up to another fucking thing I don’t get about New Orleans.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Promises, Promises
Ok, so my last post was a bit lazy and I’ve hardly been much of a contributor to this site as of late (or ever) but, hey, I’m trying. Of course I’m trying at a lot of things these days and in many, many cases failing miserably. I’m always “trying” to learn, to grow, to organize my to do list, be more responsible, to do all sorts of shit . . . and every so often some cliché landmark arises and I deem some sort of “all new me” or a “new start” or some other sort of frickin’ bullshit that’s supposed to mark the calendar as some sort of new beginning. I’ve been particularly full of shit for the last year or so and as if moving 1500 miles away wasn’t enough I thought it best to accompany it with an entire litany of other “new me” sort of crap. Ya know what I’m talking about, the kind of shit you’re always promising yourself on New Year’s Eve: quit smoking, learn French, lose weight . . . I’ve done all those things but it is important to note that I’ve forgotten most of my French, gained back the weight I’ve lost and promised for like 5 years to quit smoking before I actually quit smoking. So, here I am again with another passing b-day and I declare an all new beginning…. Excuse me, I’ll be right back, I gotta go refill my drinkie drink. Oh, Mr., could you fetch me a (ice tinkling against an empty glass) … Well, he is good for some things.
OK, drink refilled so you can see how well this new me bullshit is going.
The day of my birthday was relatively low-key but not bad. I stayed up till about 5 am and swore I’d get up early regardless for the “new beginning.” 11:30 rolled around and the 30 minute victory of the earlier- than-usual rise was quickly dismissed by some sound conclusion that I was entitled to a “b-day week transition.” Funny, right? Typical is more like it. I lazily returned to bed and, another hour later, started the day with a bloody. Not even really needed as a hang-over cure but a bloody seems less AL-coholic then starting the day with a straight up martini. But I digress.
Thus far the only thing I’ve done differently was walk about 3 more miles than usual on Saturday (note: a walk through the grocery store or to the nearest bar was about the typical work-out routine) but that was only in between restaurants, drinks, and a show to a beloved fowl-mouth comedian. So I guess the only difference was that I walked instead of scooted on the Vespa to said destinations. With one exception; we scooted to Domenica (Besh’s new hot spot) late Saturday so we could feed our faces moments before the kitchen closed. By the way, WTF is up with a 10:30 close time for a new fancy pants restaurant in NOLA? Seriously, WTF!!!
So, face filled with pasta, pizza, and wine we paid the exorbitant tab and headed home to walk the .9 miles to the bar to meet friends for a b-day celebration. Now it’s 1:30 and I left (walking home alone - w/o a stumble I might add) before even ordering a drink – or my friends showing up – because I was done. A triumph, right? Nope, just actually too tired. Victory at last? Not even kind of.
So here it is Sunday night (now nearly Monday morning) and it’s what’s become the day of reflection wherein I think about making another new start. Mondays are the start of a new week, maybe a new beginning? Yeah, yeah, I say it every other fucking week. I got an important interview tomorrow. I may, or may not nail it. I may, or may not care. I may or may not change. But not unlike every other week, birthday, New Year’s Eve I’ll promise to try. Tomorrow. But for now, I got 9 more minutes to refill my drink and do something useless.
Cheers.
OK, drink refilled so you can see how well this new me bullshit is going.
The day of my birthday was relatively low-key but not bad. I stayed up till about 5 am and swore I’d get up early regardless for the “new beginning.” 11:30 rolled around and the 30 minute victory of the earlier- than-usual rise was quickly dismissed by some sound conclusion that I was entitled to a “b-day week transition.” Funny, right? Typical is more like it. I lazily returned to bed and, another hour later, started the day with a bloody. Not even really needed as a hang-over cure but a bloody seems less AL-coholic then starting the day with a straight up martini. But I digress.
Thus far the only thing I’ve done differently was walk about 3 more miles than usual on Saturday (note: a walk through the grocery store or to the nearest bar was about the typical work-out routine) but that was only in between restaurants, drinks, and a show to a beloved fowl-mouth comedian. So I guess the only difference was that I walked instead of scooted on the Vespa to said destinations. With one exception; we scooted to Domenica (Besh’s new hot spot) late Saturday so we could feed our faces moments before the kitchen closed. By the way, WTF is up with a 10:30 close time for a new fancy pants restaurant in NOLA? Seriously, WTF!!!
So, face filled with pasta, pizza, and wine we paid the exorbitant tab and headed home to walk the .9 miles to the bar to meet friends for a b-day celebration. Now it’s 1:30 and I left (walking home alone - w/o a stumble I might add) before even ordering a drink – or my friends showing up – because I was done. A triumph, right? Nope, just actually too tired. Victory at last? Not even kind of.
So here it is Sunday night (now nearly Monday morning) and it’s what’s become the day of reflection wherein I think about making another new start. Mondays are the start of a new week, maybe a new beginning? Yeah, yeah, I say it every other fucking week. I got an important interview tomorrow. I may, or may not nail it. I may, or may not care. I may or may not change. But not unlike every other week, birthday, New Year’s Eve I’ll promise to try. Tomorrow. But for now, I got 9 more minutes to refill my drink and do something useless.
Cheers.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
You suck to work for
Looking for a job on Craigslist today and came across these jems. The retort from the owner of Sunny Day Cafe was flagged and removed before I could copy it. Note: Sunnyside Café has had 27 job postings in the past month. Is there something in the water here? The multiple sightings of undeveloped limbs (and one undeveloped man-boy – no, not a midget nor a dwarf) indicates, yes. Note to self: stop drinking water.
Re: Fat Hen sucks to work for
________________________________________
Date: 2009-08-25, 9:27AM CDT
Reply to: job-vxmna-1341255500@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
________________________________________
These owners have serious issues,you will not like working there. Don't waste your time!!
• Compensation: Bull shit!
PostingID: 1341255500
re: sunny day (st rose)
________________________________________
Date: 2009-08-25, 7:37AM CDT
Reply to: job-68zmv-1341108621@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
________________________________________
I was recently there. I had a terrible experience. First you need to actual travel there only to fill out a generic application. It could easily made available for download.Then dropped off. While I was there the staff and owner or manager argued about standard operating procedures.After filling out an application I returned it for review.They placed my app. on a stack of other and didn't even my eye contact with me to when they said "thank you".Generally when you ask someone to come in to fill out a app. you give them the courtesy to site down with for 5 min.I could understand if they were busy,however they had one costumer.Please save your time and apply to real employers.Please to all that applied before please call and ask them to destroy your vital information 504-465-1331
• Location: st.rose
• Compensation: not worth your time
PostingID: 1341108621
RE:sunnyday (st.rose)
________________________________________
Date: 2009-08-25, 6:02AM CDT
Reply to: job-gekk4-1341050439@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
________________________________________
this post has been on here for 3 - 6 months, i went there myself to talk to the man, willing to work FOH or BOH, i thought i had the job, but he didnot call me back, for a posting to be on here for so long, it must be a no brainer, the man will not give the job to someone unlees there are the same as him, and has to kow how to be perfect.
• Location: st rose
• Compensation: 1
PostingID: 1341050439
RE: Sunny Day Cafe
________________________________________
Date: 2009-08-25, 10:37PM CDT
Reply to: job-u3sva-1342630915@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
________________________________________
...These people are horrible employers and terribly inconsiderate people who could even be construed as abusive. I really feel that in some way it is almost a sadistic venture for the husband and wife owners to bring in pretty, young women and beat them down verbally and emotionally. I have never ever been viewed as anything less than a model employee EVER. I'm punctual, polite, and diligent. They don't train you at all, throw a lot of information at you and berate you when you don't succeed which only makes you feel worse and thus flounder more. I have never felt so awful my first day of work EVER. And I have worked some *&!? jobs. These people actually gave silent treatments when not pleased with you and verbally attacked my intelligence and ability to learn when I had barely been there a few hours. It was a terrible experience. They let me come in my fourth day and then fired me after I got there for being "ditzy" and saying I wasn't catching on fast enough. They knew they didn't want me right off I could tell but they couldn't be bothered to have the decency to spare me the traveling in the rain just to be further insulted. As far as being ditzy, as I am sure you might wonder if perhaps there was a reason for my treatment. I can assure you there is none. I am very intelligent and well mannered. I got another job within 24 hours of this unfortunate experience and am doing very well. This job involves as much or more of the skills and requirements as the ill-fated previous one if not more and I shine. Furthermore, sunny day is prejudice and sexist. They will never hire a male. Probably because they know a man won't sit there and smile and take the abuse. Basically don't waste your time with this job.
• Compensation: Pennies
PostingID: 1342630915
Response to RE: Sunny Day (CL)
________________________________________
Date: 2009-08-26, 9:04AM CDT
Reply to: see below
________________________________________
I believe the term "online" is not yet considered a verb in the English language.
Nice try, darling, but if you are going to insult someone--for insulting someone--at least make sure you know how and when to conjugate verbs.
p.s. conjugate: –verb (used with object)
1. Grammar.
a. to inflect (a verb).
b. to recite or display all or some subsets of the inflected forms of (a verb), in a fixed order:
One conjugates the present tense of the verb “be” as “I am, you are, he is, we are, you are, they are.”
• Compensation: we use a barter system
RE:sunnyday (st.rose)
________________________________________
Date: 2009-08-26, 11:00AM CDT
Reply to: job-tpbum-1343244181@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
________________________________________
Good morning. I have learned from the past that each and every individual have different experiences than others. On a positive note, I was once an employee of Sunny Day Cafe and I am quite SHOCKED by the negative comments. I experienced something totally different. Whatever the problem is...I hope they can overcome ANY hurdles, if at all any. I've watched the postings and what I have viewed is a cat and mouse game. If you have had a good or bad experience with Sunny Day Cafe say what you're going to say and leave it alone. Anyone that post anything on craigslist have to verify their legal age 18 and over. So therefore, we are all adults. Please do not take this post as a NEGATIVE vibe. If you've had a BAD experience just SIMPLY move forward.
• Location: Kenner
• Compensation: Just a thought
PostingID: 1343244181
RE:sunnyday (st.rose)
This posting has been flagged for removal
(The title on the listings page will be removed in just a few minutes.)
Customer Service/Barista (Kenner/St Rose)
________________________________________
Date: 2009-08-04, 9:51AM CDT
Reply to: see below
________________________________________
Position is available immediately for the right candidate.
Must be Experienced. If you are not experienced in a full service capacity restaurant or coffee shop DO NOT APPLY!
Duties will include greeting & serving customers, taking orders, bagging orders to go. Barista Experience extremely helpful. Complete charge of the front of the house as well as assist at the end of the day with all clean up.etc....
Must be a friendly, courteous and a people person. This is not a job for the timid or shy. Must be a quick learner, quick on your feet and able to be on your feet all day and a team player.
This is a Mon - Fri Full Time Position 7 am - 3:30 pm.
Apply in person between 7 am - 10 am Mon - Friday at Sunny Day Cafe, 120 Mallard Street in the James Business Park on Airline. Business Park is located 1 mile past the Airport on Airline.
PLEASE NO PHONE CALLS OR E-MAILS!!!!!!!!!!!
PostingID: 1305140984
Prep Cook/Fry and Line Cook (Kenner/St Rose)
________________________________________
Date: 2009-08-10, 8:35AM CDT
Reply to: see below
________________________________________
Full Time Monday through Friday days
Plan, prep, set up and provide quality service in all areas of food production for menu items. Maintain organization, re-stocking, cleanliness and sanitation of work areas and equipment.
Must be able to handle multiple orders and prepare top quality food, following portion sizes and keeping a clean environment. YOU MUST BE STRONG ON ALL STATIONS, WORK CLEAN & BE ABLE TO WORK ON MULTIPLE TICKETS AT THE SAME TIME WITH THE SAME PORTIONS AND QUALITY AT ALL TIMES
If you are reliable and hard working this position is FOR IMMEDIATE HIRE
If you can't keep a clean kitchen, if you don't care about food quality, IF YOU CAN’T GET TO WORK ON TIME AND EVERY DAY - please do not apply.
Apply in Person between 7 am - 10 am Mon-Fri at Sunny Day Cafe, 120 Mallard Street in the James Business Park on Airline. Business Park is located 1 mile past the Airport on Airline. Turn at the light at the Ramada Inn and follow road around to Mallard Street.
PLEASE NO PHONE CALLS OR E-MAILS!!
Re: Fat Hen sucks to work for
________________________________________
Date: 2009-08-25, 9:27AM CDT
Reply to: job-vxmna-1341255500@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
________________________________________
These owners have serious issues,you will not like working there. Don't waste your time!!
• Compensation: Bull shit!
PostingID: 1341255500
re: sunny day (st rose)
________________________________________
Date: 2009-08-25, 7:37AM CDT
Reply to: job-68zmv-1341108621@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
________________________________________
I was recently there. I had a terrible experience. First you need to actual travel there only to fill out a generic application. It could easily made available for download.Then dropped off. While I was there the staff and owner or manager argued about standard operating procedures.After filling out an application I returned it for review.They placed my app. on a stack of other and didn't even my eye contact with me to when they said "thank you".Generally when you ask someone to come in to fill out a app. you give them the courtesy to site down with for 5 min.I could understand if they were busy,however they had one costumer.Please save your time and apply to real employers.Please to all that applied before please call and ask them to destroy your vital information 504-465-1331
• Location: st.rose
• Compensation: not worth your time
PostingID: 1341108621
RE:sunnyday (st.rose)
________________________________________
Date: 2009-08-25, 6:02AM CDT
Reply to: job-gekk4-1341050439@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
________________________________________
this post has been on here for 3 - 6 months, i went there myself to talk to the man, willing to work FOH or BOH, i thought i had the job, but he didnot call me back, for a posting to be on here for so long, it must be a no brainer, the man will not give the job to someone unlees there are the same as him, and has to kow how to be perfect.
• Location: st rose
• Compensation: 1
PostingID: 1341050439
RE: Sunny Day Cafe
________________________________________
Date: 2009-08-25, 10:37PM CDT
Reply to: job-u3sva-1342630915@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
________________________________________
...These people are horrible employers and terribly inconsiderate people who could even be construed as abusive. I really feel that in some way it is almost a sadistic venture for the husband and wife owners to bring in pretty, young women and beat them down verbally and emotionally. I have never ever been viewed as anything less than a model employee EVER. I'm punctual, polite, and diligent. They don't train you at all, throw a lot of information at you and berate you when you don't succeed which only makes you feel worse and thus flounder more. I have never felt so awful my first day of work EVER. And I have worked some *&!? jobs. These people actually gave silent treatments when not pleased with you and verbally attacked my intelligence and ability to learn when I had barely been there a few hours. It was a terrible experience. They let me come in my fourth day and then fired me after I got there for being "ditzy" and saying I wasn't catching on fast enough. They knew they didn't want me right off I could tell but they couldn't be bothered to have the decency to spare me the traveling in the rain just to be further insulted. As far as being ditzy, as I am sure you might wonder if perhaps there was a reason for my treatment. I can assure you there is none. I am very intelligent and well mannered. I got another job within 24 hours of this unfortunate experience and am doing very well. This job involves as much or more of the skills and requirements as the ill-fated previous one if not more and I shine. Furthermore, sunny day is prejudice and sexist. They will never hire a male. Probably because they know a man won't sit there and smile and take the abuse. Basically don't waste your time with this job.
• Compensation: Pennies
PostingID: 1342630915
Response to RE: Sunny Day (CL)
________________________________________
Date: 2009-08-26, 9:04AM CDT
Reply to: see below
________________________________________
I believe the term "online" is not yet considered a verb in the English language.
Nice try, darling, but if you are going to insult someone--for insulting someone--at least make sure you know how and when to conjugate verbs.
p.s. conjugate: –verb (used with object)
1. Grammar.
a. to inflect (a verb).
b. to recite or display all or some subsets of the inflected forms of (a verb), in a fixed order:
One conjugates the present tense of the verb “be” as “I am, you are, he is, we are, you are, they are.”
• Compensation: we use a barter system
RE:sunnyday (st.rose)
________________________________________
Date: 2009-08-26, 11:00AM CDT
Reply to: job-tpbum-1343244181@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
________________________________________
Good morning. I have learned from the past that each and every individual have different experiences than others. On a positive note, I was once an employee of Sunny Day Cafe and I am quite SHOCKED by the negative comments. I experienced something totally different. Whatever the problem is...I hope they can overcome ANY hurdles, if at all any. I've watched the postings and what I have viewed is a cat and mouse game. If you have had a good or bad experience with Sunny Day Cafe say what you're going to say and leave it alone. Anyone that post anything on craigslist have to verify their legal age 18 and over. So therefore, we are all adults. Please do not take this post as a NEGATIVE vibe. If you've had a BAD experience just SIMPLY move forward.
• Location: Kenner
• Compensation: Just a thought
PostingID: 1343244181
RE:sunnyday (st.rose)
This posting has been flagged for removal
(The title on the listings page will be removed in just a few minutes.)
Customer Service/Barista (Kenner/St Rose)
________________________________________
Date: 2009-08-04, 9:51AM CDT
Reply to: see below
________________________________________
Position is available immediately for the right candidate.
Must be Experienced. If you are not experienced in a full service capacity restaurant or coffee shop DO NOT APPLY!
Duties will include greeting & serving customers, taking orders, bagging orders to go. Barista Experience extremely helpful. Complete charge of the front of the house as well as assist at the end of the day with all clean up.etc....
Must be a friendly, courteous and a people person. This is not a job for the timid or shy. Must be a quick learner, quick on your feet and able to be on your feet all day and a team player.
This is a Mon - Fri Full Time Position 7 am - 3:30 pm.
Apply in person between 7 am - 10 am Mon - Friday at Sunny Day Cafe, 120 Mallard Street in the James Business Park on Airline. Business Park is located 1 mile past the Airport on Airline.
PLEASE NO PHONE CALLS OR E-MAILS!!!!!!!!!!!
PostingID: 1305140984
Prep Cook/Fry and Line Cook (Kenner/St Rose)
________________________________________
Date: 2009-08-10, 8:35AM CDT
Reply to: see below
________________________________________
Full Time Monday through Friday days
Plan, prep, set up and provide quality service in all areas of food production for menu items. Maintain organization, re-stocking, cleanliness and sanitation of work areas and equipment.
Must be able to handle multiple orders and prepare top quality food, following portion sizes and keeping a clean environment. YOU MUST BE STRONG ON ALL STATIONS, WORK CLEAN & BE ABLE TO WORK ON MULTIPLE TICKETS AT THE SAME TIME WITH THE SAME PORTIONS AND QUALITY AT ALL TIMES
If you are reliable and hard working this position is FOR IMMEDIATE HIRE
If you can't keep a clean kitchen, if you don't care about food quality, IF YOU CAN’T GET TO WORK ON TIME AND EVERY DAY - please do not apply.
Apply in Person between 7 am - 10 am Mon-Fri at Sunny Day Cafe, 120 Mallard Street in the James Business Park on Airline. Business Park is located 1 mile past the Airport on Airline. Turn at the light at the Ramada Inn and follow road around to Mallard Street.
PLEASE NO PHONE CALLS OR E-MAILS!!
Sacrifices
After a long and spirited conversation (I am ever so grateful she tolerates my interruptions and tendency to just talk over people when I get excited) with my bff I was sharply reminded about how few sacrifices I truly make these days. Sure I gave up the tv but I have a laptop so there’s always hulu; I gave away/sold/abandoned several of my things in our venture down; I spend less on booze and eating out than I used to (which isn’t to say that it's less than what most folks spend) – but what, really, am I sacrificing? Truth be told, the only sacrifices I’ve made are the ones that include detriments to my health, weight, and appearance.
Actually, I did give up one thing: smoking. I have successfully quit for several months now. I prefer not to count the days or remember the anniversary – kind of like the anniversary between me and my sweets - honestly; it’s one less thing to keep track of one less thing to be mad @ him for.
It does, however, beg the question: does a sacrifice have to be painful? Because I am a goofy dumb-ass I had to look it up.
sac•ri•fice (s k r -f s )
1. a. The act of offering something to a deity in propitiation or homage,
especially the ritual slaughter of an animal or a person.
b. A victim offered in this way.
2. a. Forfeiture of something highly valued for the sake of one considered to have a
greater value or claim.
b. Something so forfeited.
3. a. Relinquishment of something at less than its presumed value.
b. Something so relinquished.
c. A loss so sustained.
Yup, sounds pretty painful to me.
Back in the day-- my much younger days—there were several sacrifices but most were out of necessity. Or happened because I was flat broke: like having to choose between purchasing food or buying cigarettes (cigs almost always won by the way). That said, I still managed to scrape up enough cash to go to Europe, to buy the occasional new dress, to purchase boxes of red hair dye . . . Sure I ate and drank less; sure I was occasionally hungry, but what do I sacrifice today?
There are a few things that come to mind. Things I gave up to be here in New Orleans: my friends, new clothes/shoes, stuff in general, haircuts, my sanity (well, maybe I already lost that),the familiar . . . all in pursuit of something different, something new, for an adventure . . . but were those sacrifices enough?
It is hard for me to find a balance, to be focused these days and without knowing exactly what I want and what goals there are it seems, perhaps, less compelling to give up more for some undefined goal in the future. I do know – for a lot of reasons – I have to start making some sacrifices, something more significant for my betterment. Now I just have to figure out what those are.
Actually, I did give up one thing: smoking. I have successfully quit for several months now. I prefer not to count the days or remember the anniversary – kind of like the anniversary between me and my sweets - honestly; it’s one less thing to keep track of one less thing to be mad @ him for.
It does, however, beg the question: does a sacrifice have to be painful? Because I am a goofy dumb-ass I had to look it up.
sac•ri•fice (s k r -f s )
1. a. The act of offering something to a deity in propitiation or homage,
especially the ritual slaughter of an animal or a person.
b. A victim offered in this way.
2. a. Forfeiture of something highly valued for the sake of one considered to have a
greater value or claim.
b. Something so forfeited.
3. a. Relinquishment of something at less than its presumed value.
b. Something so relinquished.
c. A loss so sustained.
Yup, sounds pretty painful to me.
Back in the day-- my much younger days—there were several sacrifices but most were out of necessity. Or happened because I was flat broke: like having to choose between purchasing food or buying cigarettes (cigs almost always won by the way). That said, I still managed to scrape up enough cash to go to Europe, to buy the occasional new dress, to purchase boxes of red hair dye . . . Sure I ate and drank less; sure I was occasionally hungry, but what do I sacrifice today?
There are a few things that come to mind. Things I gave up to be here in New Orleans: my friends, new clothes/shoes, stuff in general, haircuts, my sanity (well, maybe I already lost that),the familiar . . . all in pursuit of something different, something new, for an adventure . . . but were those sacrifices enough?
It is hard for me to find a balance, to be focused these days and without knowing exactly what I want and what goals there are it seems, perhaps, less compelling to give up more for some undefined goal in the future. I do know – for a lot of reasons – I have to start making some sacrifices, something more significant for my betterment. Now I just have to figure out what those are.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Stupids Are All Over
Having been in New Orleans for about 2 months now I am convinced the “special” people are always referring to when they talk about NOLA is the kind that includes a short bus and a helmet. To say that the folks are hillbilly dip-shits and the practices of the deep-south are fucking stupid is a god damn understatement. While the options are numerous I’ve isolated a few of the top contenders.
The Service Despite being known as a food destination of sorts (and don’t even get me going about how bad and out-dated some of the food is) I think someone failed to notify management to accompany said good food with good service. In my short time here I have seen managers neglect the appearance of the establishment (floors so gross you actually stick to them, general managers who are often actually the chefs, walk into kitchens smoking while mopping their sweaty face with the same towels they proceed to wash the tables with – if they wash them at all). I’ve watched while entire restaurants remain un-cleared for hours on end, guests go ignored upon entry, hosts swat at roaches with the very menus they hand you, hell, I had one server finish her shift in the middle of our meal with no replacement while another bitched us and fellow staffers out for no other reason than for their own amusement. My service snafu du jour is one we experienced recently at an Indian restaurant in Uptown.
Upon arrival we were begrudgingly greeted by a server as we seated ourselves wherein he huffed “buffet only.” I don’t do buffets. As we got up to leave the server said “Oh, fine. Here’s a menu. Hurry up.” That should have been cause enough to leave but, no, we stayed. We had to practically beg for service while the 4 servers were too busy leaning against the bar to be bothered actually serving anyone. It seemed we were the only ones to order from the menu presumably because no one knew there was even an option. The other guests fetched and cleared their own plates and occasionally someone would be by to refill waters. More than that however, the few exchanges that were to be had between staff and customers were done in such an apathetic, rude manner, it was a wonder they were even still in business. In fact, the only time they moved with any gusto was when they cleared the table. That is they swooped in and pulled the butcher paper, beverages, and haggled over the 1$ tip (bill was only 8$ cuz we decided to leave after 2 aps) while we were still at the table. But that’s not even the “special part.” As we went to leave we noticed a guest book near the front of the door that had a litany of service complaints written in it. Instead of removing the book, editing the pages, or, I don’t know, maybe actually addressing any of the service issues they instead wrote responses to each of the complaints. The same tiny cursive handwritten message followed each assertion of bad service. Pages of “good food but bad service” were met with the same passive aggressive retort; some pretending to be other customers while others were written from the perspective of the staff.
The Roads One might think roadwork in Minnesota is arduous but at least they actually do the work up north. There are holes so big you could fall into them and the patch work causes more damage to your vehicle than the issue they supposedly covered. They’ll begin a massive road project on a main thoroughfare on a busy Saturday afternoon and then not return to it for weeks. They have a series of one ways all going the same way for blocks (oh and the one-ways sometimes change directions – still a one-way but now going the other direction), street signs are not there, arrows are posted the wrong direction, some stop signs are on the left side of the street, walk signs are upside down, you can’t turn left (instead you have to go down a block or more and do a u-turn) and the way some streets are designed you’d think they outsourced it to the St. Paul Irish.
The Drivers Bad roads are all the worse when you add in the atrocious drivers. Not just bad, they are the worst I’ve ever seen. Driving, it seems, is the only thing here they do fast – not just fast but reckless. The monstrously oversized SUV cabs bomb down the narrow streets of the quarter and blast their horns as if you were doing them a personal disfavor being on the roads yourself. They speed and yell and god help you if you’re on foot, bike, or scoot – they just don’t see you. They don’t yield or stop either. Stop signs, as it seems, aren’t seen either or, rather, probably just ignored. In fact most drivers fail to stop instead favoring the “California roll,” a half pause-part yield that occurs about mid-intersection. Honking is recreational, using turn signals are unheard of, lights are optional and drunk driving is required. The latter two we discovered personally the other night as we were nearly run over by a clearly intoxicated driver without lights as he rolled through the intersection going the wrong way on a one-way street. All this, by the way, occurred at the intersection in front of the French Quarter police station.
We saw this particular asshole a few times bobbing through the quarter before we crossed paths again a few blocks later. This time, like the last, it was a near miss and J started his spitting, yelling, hand gesture, man-tantrum routine. (This, to be noted, is an exercise in futility because they didn’t notice you when they ran you off the road and don’t notice you damning them to hell shortly thereafter. Some of the pedestrians get a kick out of it though.) Anyway, on this fine occasion the driver did notice. He pulled up right next to our moving scooter, rolled down the window and scavenged in his passenger seat for what we thought for certain was going to be a gun; we weren’t far off (neither was the gun). The slurring, squinty eyed driver places a cops cap on his head asks accusatively if we had a problem. “I didn’t think so,” he mumbles as he takes a pull from the can of beer tucked “discretely” into a paper bag, runs a red and rolls into the CBD.
The Crime Corruption is a word almost synonymous with NOLA but the crooks are as “special” as everyone else here. Their acts of crime and corruption are as often as dumb as the crooks that accompany them. While the list of acts are countless, in our short time here $150,000 “accidentally” fell-out the back of an armored car, several hundreds of thousands of dollars were found in the freezer of a local politician (now nearly every member of his family have been indicted), and several new yet unmarked cop cars were taken from the lot – driven off with the very keys delivered to the office manager just the day before. Oh, and the arrest of a Nazi skinhead was quite amusing. It was a nice touch watching the white officer slam his head into the car (another “accident” I presume) while the idiot spewed all sorts of hate speech and accusations. But my favorite, thus far, is the story I was told by a neighbor while we were watching the neighborhood boys wallop a purse snatcher. She explained that during a recent purse-snatching incident herself, a Good Samaritan came to her rescue and, subsequently, stole the bag himself.
The Tourists Before I go and blame all the idiocy on the locals let’s be clear: the tourists are equally and confoundedly fucking dumb. Alongside the locals, they over-drink, drive badly, and misbehave - all the time! Among the top of my list of dumb-ass behavior: the beads – hey fuck head it isn’t Mardi Gras, feather boas and bad hats are never a good idea or flattering choice (not to mention they make you a mark), whoopin’ and hollerin’ for no reason is simply annoying (especially the white folks, you know who you are!) and lame. I am not amused when you run in front of me, stick your ass in front of my moving bike, nor do I want to show you my tits. And the photo taking... It's not that I don't take pictures, I always have a camera, but do you really think you’re gonna snap some shot that hasn’t already been seen a million times? Do you really have to keep taking my picture? That blurry-blob flipping you off in the corner of your “inspired” shit is me, ya fuck. Try to consider where you’re pointing that thing, will ya?
Hey, public puking and urination is not OK but the one thing I’m most confused by is why do you have to sit on my stoop? I see this all the time. Strangers -- locals and visitors alike -- plop their big, ugly, drunk-ass down on someone else’s porch. Would you rest/sleep /pass-out/party/puke/picnic/hang-out on your neighbor’s porch back home? No? Well then don’t do it here. Hey, ya fuckers – people live here so go fuck/fight/piss or whatever in the doorway of your hotel room.
Don’t get me wrong, there are many interesting things to do and see here in NOLA. With only 2 months under my belt I’m sure to find more, but in addition to all of the good things there are a hell of a lot of bad, stupid, inexplicable shit that cause me to scratch my head and ask why? Before I start to go off again on the myriad of totally ridiculous things that are NOLA I should take a look at myself and ask what the hell prompted me to get on the short bus for the long ride to the deep-south.
A FEW OTHERS:
• Marble mouth
• Few to no computers in city hall. It was explained that they had been doing things the “old-fashion way” for so long they didn’t see a need to allocate the funds. The 1 hour and forty-five minutes it took one 500 pound government official to process jut one permit dictates otherwise.
• Card catalogues at the library.
• References at the library (ex, 13 year out dated tenant rights reference with missing pages).
• The gentleman’s puddle test; this southern hospitality thing is a myth. Sort of like Minnesota nice.
• A glut gutter punks
• Moldy people
• Hipster doofus galore (ex, the mailman in capris or the bald man with the tiny ponytail)
• Shit, everyone’s practically a cliché – every group represented
• Throw your garbage anywhere
• Give me a dolla
• The markets “They were horrible before (K) but now they’re just bad.”
• The rain puddles are more like piss, puke, or chemicals.
• Mumilard DJs that play the fucking records on the wrong speed.
• No one pulls over for the ambulance, fire trucks or cops.
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