A Tip From The Jar

I'm going to try my hardest and bring this blog back to what it once was. I doubt it's possible to do it to the extent that I brought it to when I first started out on MySpace, my life has change substantially since those lonely days in my Swiss apartment, alone and looking for an outlet to voice my thoughts. Those days of countless hours spent stoned in my bright green desk chair are gone, and oddly I miss them. Snow filled streets that allowed me to sit in bed with my instant coffee, haze filled rants, blog nights, blog trips, lies and fiction, have been traded in for copious amounts of tv and, well, I'm not sure. For a while I thought it might have been the deterioration of my old laptop (which I have no replaced with a very expensive update). I also considered that the always present haze might have caused my thought process to dwindle to mire status updates on Facebook, or that maybe I just ran out of things to say. I don't know what happened, and frankly, it has left my heart feeling slightly less whole (although that's actually nothing new). Either way, getting sick last week, writing some nonsense about VH1 and a couple comments from my sis and Skip, have got me feeling that it might be time to at least make an effort. And I'm all about effort.

There is this customer at work that provides a daily dose of material that I can't ignore. As always, the first thing I noticed about her were her shoes, a pair of black peep-toe espadrille wedges. In true form I complimented her on them, which led to an awkward acceptance of the compliment on her part, and then to a series of "good mornings," and brief conversations about nothing substantial. The first red flag came when she asked me to make her an omelet. I'm a pastry chef, and although I might have been standing at a stove, I am in no position to be making anyone an omelet, not even myself. A few interactions later I found out that she was Swiss, and after being greeted by a series of corrections when I attempted to speak to her in Swiss dialect, I decided that this was no longer a customer I wanted to invest in.

You see, one of the best parts of the place that I work at is the fact that I am able to interact with my customers face to face. Most bake shops are hidden in some closed prison of mixers and ovens, and at my current place of employment the only thing separating me from my clients are coffee creamers and sugar packets. For a lot of people I am the first face they see before starting a day of Power Point presentations and conference calls. With this knowledge comes that power to set someones day off right, and I enjoy taking the time to smile and talk about the weather or meaningless tidbits. I love wishing people a nice day at work, and I hope that they walk away with not only their coffee in hand but also the feeling that someone has acknowledged them outside of just wanting to know about this afternoon's monotonous meeting. You get coffee and a pastry to take a break, and I like the thought that I'm a part of that. It's by far one of the biggest perks of my job at the moment, and if the pleasure of interacting with so many people were taken away, I would probably be pushed to find a better job. So after five months of being "the girl behind the coffee creamer" it doesn't make me feel great to have a customer that pushes me to leave my station in avoidance. It's so unnecessary, and causes me to snap out of my superficial smiles and want to walk around the counter and show this bitch who the fuck she is messing with.

Tension has obviously been building, there have been a series of slights on her part: asking me to fetch her change, saying "good morning" in a tone that only implies that she views me as "the help," walking around with an air of superiority, asking customers for money to pay for her coffee, harassing employees in other service positions, and today, stealing money from the tip jar to pay for her coffee. I've had enough and this bitch is asking to be taught a lesson, plain and simple.

I'm not the only one who feels this way towards her. I've brought her name up to a few customers only to be almost constantly greeted with even worse tales of her wrath. For a company of three thousand people, this one woman in extremely well known, and not in a positive way, she isn't much more then a glorified secretary. She has pissed a lot of the wrong people off and oddly doesn't seem to have noticed. It reached the point today that someone actually called her anonymously and told her that they witnessed her stealing from the tip jar. I was asked if it was me, but I am not nearly that ballsy. The bitch had it coming though, and if it is still unclear to her that her behavior is unacceptable and no one likes her then I am really only left to pity her.

It's funny how stuff like this works though. How acting like such an arrogant prick can cause people who you don't even acknowledge as being on your level to want to do horrible things to your cake order, or deny you certain favors. My smiles and friendliness have been greeted with gifts and a raise, and most recently a relationship with an amazing man. This woman, well, I have a hard time believing that she can say the same, and rightly so.

Being a complete asshole to people gets you nowhere, especially with a bitch like me who carries a love for vengeance in her soul. Tomorrow is another day, and at this point, I wouldn't be at all surprised to have a customer tell me that they saw this woman killing kittens in the parking garage.

Jump Start

I am sick and in bed watching VH1's morning music video show at the moment. Go figure that it would be a Pussy Cat Doll's music video to inspire my first rant in a good couple of months.

I just don't get it. It's only the one chick that is famous and sings. The other three or four of them just look like trannies and dance. I mean, they must really hate that front-runner chick. I know that I would. If I was left to just bust some background moves while dressed like a blind and crazy hooker. I remember when the Pussy Cat Dolls were a burlesque show. At least then I could tolerate them, now, I just feel awkward watching them dance in the desert, singing about love lost.

Wow, VH1 is taking it back, a Natasha Beddingfield track from 2005. The title song for The Hills, "Unwritten." I can't hate Natasha Beddingfield, she had this song in 2004 that I LOVED, although I can't remember the name of it for the life of me. It was Fall and I was working at a factory packaging mini ham croissants in Basel. After work I would walk along the Rhine, the leaves were changing in to a fiery sea of orange, mustard, and crimson. So yea, thanks for the memory VH1.

I am so guessing that this video play list is for thirty-somethings at the gym. Britney Spears' "Circus" just came on, and for some reason it made me think of that. Britney Spears makes me sad. And kind of uncomfortable.

John Legend. I've talked about John Legend before, I'm not a huge fan of his lyrics. He's skeezey and is just a douche. But he's got Andre 3000 in this video, who is just such an amazing dresser. Really, I ADORE his suits. I feel the same way about Jamie Foxx, as I do John Legend. Ugh, just so douchey.

I don't know who the fuck Missy Higgins is. Although I am getting a Lilith Fair flashback. Ok, I'm going to say this now, 30 seconds into this video, this chick isn't going to make it big. She'll be another name on a list of Fem Rock one hit-ers. Next.

Ok, I'm going to move on. I'm hungry and have some place cards to write for Dr. Sylvia's dinner party this weekend. I'm sick and not going to proof read, but I guess that should go without saying.

Notes Before The Road

I got in to L.A. late last night. Some sort of flight delay, but the plane was empty and I was more then fine having a row to myself and dozing off as I stared out the window in to a mass of lights and fog. It felt beautiful just to be GOING somewhere. All I could think of was how happy I was to be moving, doing, LIVING.

Skipper picked me up at the airport, we drove back to her place and straight for the haze. I had been up since five, and Skipper had put in a full day as well, so a little after one in the morning I passed out on her couch, thinking of a way to convince Skipper to go to Vegas. I woke up this morning, later then we planned, to a sky of gray and not so perfect weather.  Skipper made coffee, and now I type as she showers. I wish I was feeling more gunned, but this coffee is strong and I put spoonfuls of sugar in it, so I hope with time and the first spliff things will get rolling.

We have no real plans. We are picking up our rental car and driving to Palm Springs for the night. After that we got time, wheels and a very large expanse of desert and freeway. I don't care all too much where we head, just as long as we are going somewhere, driving away from the shit that has been logged in my heart and my head. I want liberation, rejuvenation and the feeling that I am not just stoned at home thinking the same old thoughts. I want a goddamn adventure, a sprinkle of danger, and an epic story. 

In to the desert abyss we go, let's see what it will hold. 

Straying From The Preset

I am pretty resolved in the way that I live my life. In today's world it seems like our lives are almost pre-planned. Each culture with it's own preset path, expectations, goals. Money, beauty, education, power, etc. Go to school, get good grades, go to college, get a job, make money, get married, have children, have grandchildren, become old, die. That's the path that I see in my own world. It's the norm, the life sequence that a girl like me is suppose to live by. At twenty-five it would be right to be in a substantial relationship, think about marriage, hope to get engaged, get married, have a couple of kids, be on my way to "starting a life." Or at least that is the vibe I am picking up.

I barely graduated from high school, if it weren't for the fact that I was good friends with most of the faculty and administration I might have not gotten by. I dropped out of college and moved to Europe. I am single and have no plans of getting married or having children before I am in my thirties, if then. Give me a path and I promise to not follow it. I find nothing interesting about normal, and rather have to deal with the odd bout of insecurity for not following the norm, then live any differently. The thought of being put in a generic box of society's expectations for a middle class white girl does nothing but make me want to rebel and stray. You get one life to live, I want to make mine my own.

Next weekend I am flying down to L.A. to meet up with Skipper and drive into the desert. We have a slight whisper of a plan, but are trying to keep it as spontaneous as possible. The question as to why we are doing this has come up a couple of times, as is the fact that I am not really in the financial position to be making a trip like this right before the holiday season. My answer to that is sadly very simple: why not? Because I am just suppose to grind out each week like the last? Because my reason for going isn't clear? Because we don't posses a solid destination? Those questions are reason enough for me. 

My life isn't for everyone, and I learned to stop expecting people to always understand my decisions a while ago. It's just that now that I have been back, I've been able to experience first hand how easy it is to be sucked into a funk that the daily grind provides with time. Over time, that funk can cause anyone to forget that there is a large world out there full of adventures and wonder. That you have control, that you can live differently, better, filled with more. Different, better, more, they aren't for everyone. I want greatness though, I want adventure, I want different, odd, growth, experience. It's what makes my heart beat, and it's what makes me feel golden. Most of the time.

Turning the voice up in my head and turning others down is something that I am getting better at with age. At the end of it all you are left with yourself. You enter this world alone and you exit it the same way. The people who love me and allow me to love them, put my life in context and give it worth and loads of goodness. But as is life: when the shit hits the fan, it's you that is going to have to clean it up. People can help, but it's up to you to make things clean and right. Opinions, judgements, advice: they all boundaries, breakable at a cost. I just find it too expensive not to. 

Expensive Candy

I went to the movies yesterday with my beloved sister, and ended up sitting next to one of the most horrific first dates I have ever seen. Totally decent looking guy, not-to-special girl, obviously on their first, maybe second date. Now I can judge these to fairly freely, I have been on MANY a bad date, and am pretty sure I can spot one when I see one. From the moment they took their seats she was texting on her phone. Every few minutes he would make a very valid attempt to initiate a conversation, and try to get to know her. The conversation was something like.

Guy: So, what does your family do for Christmas? 

Girl: We go to Florida.

Guy: What part of Florida?

Girl: South Beach.

Guy: I've never been there but that sounds nice. Must get humid though?

Girl: Not really.

Two minute extremely awkward silence.

Guy: I don't know what I am going to do for the holidays. My mom and dad moved up North, so I'll probably just be alone. Blah, blah, blah.

The guy tried, I mean not just with his very heartfelt attempt at communication, but you could tell he had taken time and thought about what he was going to wear. You could tell he put on his nicest casual button down, jeans, clean sneakers, he had tried. She continued to text as the movie started. I had over heard her complaining about something to the guy, something about her eyes couldn't stop watering or something. Through out the movie she would mumble a complaint and he would say stuff like, "Should I take you home?" or at one point, "Do you want me to rub your shoulders?" to which she would respond with, "No, please, don't touch me." It was PAINFUL to sit next to. I noticed that she was eating those strawberry sour belts, you know, the expensive candy. I wanted to stop the movie, turn the lights up and just turn to this sad duo and say to the girl:

Who the fuck do you think you are? Here is this totally decent guy who most likely bought your ticket to this piece of shit movie (that we both know he probably has no interest in seeing), not to mention your five dollar coke, and that rediculously priced candy. If you were so uninterested why did you agree to go out with him? Because you didn't want to hurt his feelings? How the fuck do you think he is feeling right now? Put your phone away, sit next to him, and occasionally smile. Say "thank you" and mean it, ask him questions in return, tell him that he smells good, and try to laugh at at least some of his jokes. You are not that cute, really, he's probably a little out of you league actually. 

I haven't been on a date like that in a while, one where the guy took time to pick out his clothes, and really tried. I just wanted to thank the guy for trying. The fact that he didn't just take her home and go get a beer with his friends. He stuck it out and was a gentleman. I mean, he should have shown a bit more back bone, but I got the feeling he had liked this girl for a while. What a bitch of a date though. I have gone on a lot of dates with guys who were just not what I was looking for, but never did I behave like this girl. I smiled, and I made conversation to the point that I applaud myself. If the guy was a complete dick I would obviously act accordingly, but if I guy tried and was sweet I would never be so rude to dismiss his presence so blatantly. 

Thanksgiving weekend gives me far too much free time. It has been delightful to have friends in town, and shop, and drink, but it's only Saturday afternoon and I am ready to go back to work. I am lacking stability at the moment, and would gain more from a point of focus than copious amounts of free time spent doing whatever it is that I do. I did however purchase a ticket to Los Angeles, so at least that brings me one step closer to living. LIVING. 

Intentional Break

I have absolutely no plans to live my life grinding it out five days a week at a job I hate, in a life that I am not passionate about. Comfort is for when you die, you only get one chance to live each day. I've been in a cloud of confusion for a month now because of some tangled heartstrings, and pride is telling me it's time to break free. All of this poetry brings me to the desert, with Skipper. If I boss agrees, I will be jetting down to L.A. to meet Skipper, and then the two of us will be driving into the desert. Backgammon, martinis, some Nupro, and if I can keep my shit together, a blog. It smells of Gonzo, and I kind of like it. I mean, this is why I signed up for that credit card right? 

Auto-Type

Ok, try and stay with me here, I am not in my right mind and my fingers seem to be on auto-type. I had a conversation with Skipper last night that gave me a good slice of that clarity I was looking for. Indifference is in hopeful sight and every thought that slips me up I put in my mental waste bin and flush. Big picture, bricks in a house. Skipper, it was your best pep-talk yet, and that's saying something. Life is short, but sometimes it feels huge. The role that people play in your everyday life. People that you might see day after day over coffee creamers only need one "Good morning," and next thing you know you are putting a little chocolate on their croissant and talking about where you get your tattoos. It scares the crap out of me how much I enjoy those sometimes superficial, mundane interactions. Adore it. Glow from it. Smiling, smiling, smiling. 

I went to Target this evening and bought a bunch of crap I don't need. A pair of boots, hand cream, a  top, gingerbread Pop Tarts, candy cane Hershey's Kisses, Jumbo Nerds, popcorn, macaroni and cheese (which was nasty, I had it for dinner), and a new car freshener. I'm helping the economy. The things I do for my fellow Americans!

Chef Doug is being a bitch about Christmas this year and has announced that Dr. Sylvia has been put on a tight budget. You can only imagine how I feel about this, especially after having him tell me he found his dream grandfather clock for a few grand. So I am going to be buying my own Christmas presents this year. I am in the process of writing my list. 

Ok, I am beyond the point of being able to process any kind of real thoughts. I need to be in to work early for some bullshit staff meeting, and then bake some shit. I don't know how long it will last, but I fucking love my job at the moment. I so probably am jinxing it by typing this.