The 2-Year Itch

A large part of my life has been spent in temporary residences, transitional jobs, and places I knew that I'd never settle in. From birth to my teens, my parents, together or separately, uprooted me almost on a yearly basis. Then, in my twenties as an Air Force enlistee, Uncle Sam's ironic sense of humor gave me a job that sent me all over Europe on TDY's (Temporary Duty Assignments) for the 3+ years I was stationed in Germany.

After my discharge (Honorable, thank you very much), I settled in Michigan and decided to put down roots for good. I was tired of the moving, especially the packing, tossing, and carting of detritus I had accumulated in my lifetime. In sixteen years in Michigan, I lived in two different apartments. The first apartment was one that I disliked immensely but stayed in for 10 years because of my dislike (Nay, Hatred!) of moving. I only left that one because it was bought by new owners who decided to upgrade it out of my price range. The second was an apartment that I adored because it had everything the first one did not and I stayed there for 6 years. I only left that place to foolishly improve my chances for advancement with the company I was working for at the time which I will not mention **cough, cough** Macaroni Grill.

Well, I escaped that roller-coaster existence after 5 years and 5 moves for those ungrateful scallywags (I'm trying very, very hard not to use profanity). I moved here to the panhandle of Florida and stuck my toe in the waters of permanency once again. While I revel in the thought of never moving again, certain facts point me towards pulling up stakes once again:

• Although I really, really like my job and am good at it, I've come to the conclusion that I don't like the people I work for all that much.
• My apartment complex has gone through three changes of management in two years. Each successive company has gone cheaper than the last. This summer, our pool has been closed about 1/3 of the time for various excuses.
• This area has the greatest concentration of conservative, Bible-thumping, homo-phobic, racist pigs I've ever experienced in 49 years of life. All you have to do is read the comment section in the local rag to become jaw-droppingly amazed at the attitudes of these gun-toting Fourth Reichers.
• My dad is healthier now than he was 10 years ago and will probably outlive me, so I could safely move farther away without feeling guilty.
• There are no jobs here, so I feel stuck in a place where I have no future beyond being a worker bee forever. While I don't necessarily want to be a manager-type again, I can't stand working for people who are in the position they are only because of a few genes. And take advantage of that fact.

I don't necessarily want to move far, but a change of scenery might do me good. Maybe I just need to take a long, soul-searching vacation where I don't do anything but request an extra lime for my margarita. Maybe I should ask for that long overdue raise that would let me know just what my future is here.

But, as I look around this spare bedroom where my computer and boxed stuff is located, all that I can think of is 'Oh, God, I do not want to pack and move this shit again!'. The big question, though, is where in Hell would I move to? My favorite relative, my aunt-sister, lives in New Hampshire, and I will never move "up-North" again. Although the politics in New England are closer to my sensibilities, I refuse to ever scrape ice and snow from my vehicle again. My second favorite aunt lives in a great area of Florida and is close to my age, but she's a rabid Rush Limbaugh devotee. Wouldn't work out.

Maybe Mobile. Maybe New Orleans. Maybe Biloxi, where I had plans to move before that bitch Katrina interfered. I guess I just need to find an employer who wants me bad enough to do all the damn packing for me. Yeah, right, that'll happen.

Thankful

I try to balance my posts between the sublime and ridiculous, the maudlin and the humorous. With that in mind, I decided to make a list of things that I'm thankful for. I've done enough bitchin' lately. The pity-party is over for awhile. Or tomorrow, since it will be a Monday.

• I'm thankful that I still have my health despite what I do to my body on a daily basis.
• I'm thankful that my dad is still healthy enough to play tennis with me most Saturday mornings.
• I'm thankful that I now have the opportunity to beat his ass soundly like he used to do to me everytime.
• I'm thankful for air conditioning at home, in the truck, and at work this time of year.
• I'm thankful that I'll never have to scrape snow and ice off of my truck ever again. The trade-off between living up North or down South is in my favor. As long as the A.C. holds out.
• I'm thankful to have the restaurant blog community to provide all the drama I ever need, although I miss being in the thick of it during a well-run, busy dinner rush.
• I'm thankful that I'll never have to apologize to a table of d*ckwads for something that deserved no apology.
• I'm thankful for relaxed, languid Sundays to read the paper with a strong pot of coffee, a pack of smokes, the British Open on the TV (Go Tom!), and not having to shower if I don't feel like it.
• I'm thankful for the Sunday edition of www.postsecret.com to give me something to read after the newspaper. Which makes me feel better about my own life. Mostly.

Gotta go now. I've got some serious lounging to do.

A Life Too Short

This picture was taken at the funeral of my uncle, Greg. Greg loved Harleys. Greg was 4 years younger than me. Greg had a much rougher life than I did, but he lived life 365/24/7. Greg conquered cancer once, but succumbed when it returned with a vengeance.

Hat's off to you Greg, I'll be lucky if 1/10th as many people show up to my funeral. Or give me use of their super-cool hearse and limo gratis. You touched so many lives when you could have been a lost, forgotten man so easily due to life's circumstances.

You were younger than me, but wise and mature beyond your age. You will be missed. But always loved. Love ya, bro.

D.I.Y. Can Be A Pain

I don't go out to eat near as much as I used to. When I lived in Michigan and was securing a heftier pay-check, I would go out to eat with friends at least once a week or so. The change from then is mostly from my growing affection for cooking from scratch at home. And, large credit card bills. Frugality and a maturing palate conspired to make me want to cook for myself.

I pulled from my memories the recipes that I wanted to clone. Toothsome and hearty Oyster Dressing from my mom's dad. Rich, decadent banana pudding from my dad's mom. Christmas cookies from my mom's grandma. Macaroni salad from my mom. All bring back memories. And all bring high expectations. I persevered and can cook side-by-side any family memory.

I might be eating as well as I did before. But, I'm missing the busser, server, dishwasher package offered at restaurants.

The Owner's Sons.

Today, I lost my cool. And I'm known for my cool. I never lose my cool. People wonder at my control of my cool. Today, I mis-placed it for a few seconds.

My immediate supervisor is the owner's son. He came late to the party that is his father's business. But of course, he knows everything. Until his father tells him otherwise. And his father tells him this alot. And loudly. In front of everyone, or in his office with the door open. Yeah, they're classy that way.

Over the course of the last couple months, the dynamic has changed a bit at the workplace. Owner has been more vociferous in his ridiculing of his sons pertaining to their performance. This is all taking place at the same time that Owner Wife is scaling back her time at the shop, so that Twin 1 (I think I've mentioned before that they're twins) can assume more command of the financial side.

Well, Twin 1 is obviously Attention Deficit Disorder inclined, but not diagnosed by any doctor. Twin 2 is the Charming One, with no chance of being recognized by Owner as ever doing anything right. Owner is quick to place blame when a mistake is made, but slow to congratulate good performance. Owner also wants everything done fast, fast, fast. Don't bother taking time to investigate or do homework. Just Get-R-Dun! Although, lately, there's been a few mistakes made that would have been noticed if a moment of reflection had been made when placing 5-figure orders for equipment.

Now, my specialty is taking 5 minutes now to save 2 hours later covering up (one of my big mistakes in the restaurant biz). So, now, when I'm placing $4k orders for glassware, I take my time to research how much I need to order. Only, I'm going too slow for Twin 1. According to him, it should only take 5 minutes to place a four figure order. But, if you miss something while scrambling to slam in an order, you're thrown under the bus faster than you can say 'Greyhound'.

Today, while putting in an order for bar sinks and surrounding accoutrement, our computer said we had an item in stock. I spent a total of five minutes researching where it was, when it was received and who it was ordered for. Twin 1 overheard me asking a fellow worker if he knew where this speed rail was. He castigated me for wasting time trying to find out where it was and if we had ever received it. So, I moved on and just added it to the Purchase Order.

Fifteen minutes later, Twin 1 (having nothing else to do) looked through the Purchase Orders filed today, and pulled the one I placed. He looked over my order and asked me, "Did you look to see if one of our stores had this ice chest in stock?".

After looking at him squarely in the eyes, I said, "No, I didn't want to waste the time."

My nearest workmate didn't hide his surprise very well. If he'd had coffee in his mouth, his computer would have been toast.

I think I got a mental demerit from my boss, the ADD Twin.

And the search goes on for a real job.

Rants and Such

When you work for a family owned business, and your immediate boss is the owner's son, it's hard to complain about the son's mistakes and short-comings.



People who drive in the left lane (the passing lane to those who are informed) at or below the speed limit should be banished from driving priviledges. They are the major cause of traffic back-ups and road rage. Major practitioners are people on cell phones and people driving Benzes with a superiority complex.



I like to listen to talk-radio while I drive. It makes me feel like I'm not wasting my time while driving. Unfortunately, I can't afford Sirius or XM, so I have to listen to the trash that is broadcasted here in the panhandle of Florida. That trash is WEBY 1330 out of Milton, Florida. It is Adolph's own radio station. Old, white, right-wing talk out of the 60's (think Dirty Dancing). It will be it's own post one day.



Customer service is a mis-nomer nowadays. 3 out of 4 times when I call a vendor, I'm either put on hold or am directed to voice-mail. When sent to voice-mail, the average time for reply is around 3 hours. Many times I need to get freight charges from these fine folk so that I can invoice a shipment my customer has been waiting for two weeks to receive. My boss doesn't like for the delivery guys to be standing around waiting for invoices from me.



At the grocery store, the items that are discontinued are usually my favorite. And the ones that sell out the fastest. So, it's not just me that is disappointed. My latest empty slot on the shelves? Diet Vernor's Ginger Ale. America's oldest Ginger Ale and IMHO, the best. If you can find it, it makes my favorite drink: Captain Morgan and Vernors. Tastes like Vanilla Soda. And Diet Vernor's was always the first sold out at Wally World and Winn-Dixie. They still have regular, but I need every last calorie saved that I can get ;)



I travel over a 3-mile long bridge every day to and from work. There are sections where you can see the whole span. I hate it when I see a 100-yard gap where someone in the left lane is driving slower than traffic. I know there's a traffic light at the end where we will all have to stop and catch up. But, I want to slap those people slowing down the left lane speeders like me, even though I know it will save me no time whatsoever, anyways.



People who wear socks with sandals should have their own section in Fashion-Hell.

There will be more. Oh, yes, there will be more.

Yeah, It's Been Awhile

I know that I haven't blogged in awhile, and I feel bad and all that. It's just that I've been in a funk lately, but I really don't like to vent, and complain, and do the whole 'pity party' thing. Who needs that? I don't like to read it, and I'm sure that you don't either. So, I'm gonna do it anyway, since I don't have many people down here to vent to. Which is another problem that I want to vent about. But, that's another post after the one where I complain about my job. And my apartment. And the people down here (or up there to people like RG). I'd tell it to my psychiatrist, but my insurance doesn't cover that, which is another thing to bitch about.

It's late right now, so I will continue Sunday (although, since it's 1:15 am, it's already Sunday).