We both had the day off on Tuesday, so the b.h. and I packed up the car and the dogs and headed for the coast. We stopped for gas and food in Lebanon, NH. Got a really fantastic sandwich at a health food store . Rosemary bread with brie and fresh veggies that tasted like they had just been plucked out of somebody's garden. I also picked up some beers that I hadn't seen before. More on those when I taste test.
The weather has been so unreliable, or rather, reliably crappy here in the green mountain state, so we decided to make our way to the ocean where the weather promised to be a bit nicer. A bit. We got to a place that was billed an "Urban sanctuary", with gardens and hiking trails and a pond where the dogs could swim. It was colder than I had expected, but not too cold for mosquitoes, which were abundant on the trails. Also, the pond in question had no real shore. It was up against some salt marshes, so the shoreline was crammed with reeds and tall grass and unsteady rocks and sea weed. Swimming was an option only for KG. The rest of us stood on the shore being eaten by bugs.
We left there and headed for Portsmouth, where we found a dog store, picked up a backpack for Kilgore, and walked around as long as Wyatt would allow us to. We went to the ocean and found a leash-free area to run the dogs. When I unhooked Wyatt he turned and ran immediately toward the car, much to the amusement of a pair of older women who were leaving the adjacent parking lot. He was pretty much over it. Kilgore found half of a dead crab and ate it before the b.h. could get it away form him. Then he had a scuffle with a husky and it was time to hat up.
We drove up the interstate into Maine, then headed out Highway one to see the ocean. It was chilly, so there were very few tourists, but it was beautiful. We drove around until we found a restaurant with outdoor seating. The b.h. got some fried scallops and clams, and I settled for a grilled cheese and fries. Had the weather been warmer, we probably would have stayed, but it wasn't in the cards.
Ah well, it was nice to get out of town.
I also got a call that morning about yet another job. I am considering swapping my Health Food Job for this one, because it is about 25 miles closer. Won't know until I hear back about the interview I had yesterday, for something full time that's about a two block walk. This is all very frustrating and stressful and I look forward to being done with it. So many things to consider...

I just looked at the website for the Brewer's Festival next weekend. The lineup looks awesome. I want to go, but I don't want to go alone, and it would be logistically near impossible to get the b.h. to go with me. Feck. I wish I knew more people here.

Wednesday I slept in, did some dishes, read some Infinite Jest*, and then went off to Burlington for a wine tasting with my boss from the Local Health Food Store.
We were meeting with a rep from a particular distribution company. Their office is located on the lakefront, which made me incredibly jealous. So we went into the tasting room, and there were about twenty or so wines laid out on the table. This was a few more than I was expecting. Luckily I had eaten before I left the house.
I took some notes, fell in love a few times (with the wines, of course), and then about halfway through another salesman came into the room, carrying a cooler bag and followed by a two-year-old, 100 pound Great Dane puppy. He had more wine in the bag. Italians. They were fantastic. I have never been a big fan of Italian wine, but mostly out of lack of experience. After we tried all the stuff in the bag he went in the back and got out a '99 Barolo that was absolutely divine. So what I had thought would be an hour or so turned into four, and I was surprised to find it was still light out by the time we left.
I had been very careful to spit most of the wine and so did not feel at all drunk, but still thought it was a better idea to get a bite to eat before making the 40 mile drive home. At the suggestion of my boss and our rep, I joined them at a hot new restaurant called The Bluebird Tavern. When I agreed to do this, I had no idea just how hot and how new this place was. The wait was long and the kitchen overwhelmed, but the atmosphere is really pleasant so I didn't mind that much. I got to meet the owner, and the more my boss and the salesguy talked to the people around us, the more I realized just how small Burlington really is. It seems like a great place. The food was great, though the menu really made me wish that I were a meat eater. Again, it was four hours later when we came outside, and this time it was not light.
Thursday morning came very early, and I worked for nine and a half hours again- still training, so again with no tips. That's getting really tiresome. Friday I didn't have to be there until five, so the b.h. and I took the boys and went down to the river and goofed off for awhile.
I got to work early, trained again, had an insanely chaotic night that lasted an hour and a half longer than it should have, and learned that when people here use the term "fucking Canadians" they are not being racist (a note on this link- Northern racist assholes use this term too). They really mean Canadian. Apparently Canadians are notoriously bad tippers, and also have a reputation (at least in this restaurant) for making you run a lot. I'm sure that I will have an opinion on this at some point, but right now I'm just happy to have a job and eager to get to making some real money. Even with several crappy tips, the girl who trained me walked with more than twenty bucks an hour. I think I'd be okay with that.
Anyway, today was boring and I left the NFS early. The weather looks ominous again so I am likely relegated to reading this evening, which is kind of disappointing.

*This is not as far as I have ever gotten in the book, but it is the farthest I have gotten in such a short time. I took this picture just for encouragement. In a week I'm hoping that those bookmarks will have moved a lot. I started way behind the people that are reading the book together online, so i am still trying to catch up.

I worked eleven and a half hours on Tuesday, training first with Marge, who has been at the restaurant for twelve years. Marge is a big, matronly, sweet (so far) woman of indeterminate age. She is a total pro as waitresses go, and I was glad to be learning from her. The day crawled by, but we were busy enough and had I actually been making tips I would have done well, so it was encouraging.
I also met the owners. The Male Owner, or Husband, was friendly enough. He introduced himself to me and shook my hand in the morning and then pretty much effed off and left me alone the rest of the time. The Female Owner, or Wife (bull dog), works in the kitchen. She talks to people like they are children. She likes to make you go through the motions with certain things.
An example:
"Heybartender, I want you to come back here (through the busy kitchen and into the dish room, in the middle of a lunch rush when I am waiting on seven tables) so you understand why I don't want you to fill the bus tub too full. See that? See how awkward that is?"
"Is this too full?"
"No. But this is why we don't want it too full."
"Okay."

Yeah. She's great.


That evening I trained with Chris, who might also be called Pat. Chris has a particular way that she likes everything done. She likes to think of it as "The Right Way," even though she realizes that she has OCD and that she is "anal." I made a mental note to try and do everything her way just so I don't have to have a conversation with her about any of it ever again.
Training with Chris was easy, other than the OCD thing. She actually treated me like I had a brain and social skills, and therefore I learned and I made her a shitload of money. So eleven and a half hours later, I headed home, having had one 15 minute break all day, and walked in the door to find that the b.h. had not only made my favorite- fennel with white wine-, but had also picked me up a bottle of that new Dogfish head Squall beer. That guy.
And now I am off for yet another minimum wage "training" session. Got a call this morning from the Local Health Food Store, this time one that is actually local. Have an interview next Wednesday morning. Later I will tell you all about yesterday's Marathon Wine Tasting. TTFN.

11 1/2 hours of work, and 9 1/2 hours of sleep. Oh Service Industry, you knew I couldn't stay away. That's right people: A new job, and a whole new cast of characters.
Roger was the waiter who trained me. Roger is somewhere around fifty, and he wears an (unironic) earring and mustache combo that would have identified him as gay were we still in the eighties. I don't think he is gay, or if he is he doesn't know it anyway. He is, however, a total bitch. He was nice enough to me, but his interactions with the other servers were less than pleasant. He would tell me something about how to push desserts, or how to close a check, and then follow it with
"Because you are concerned about your money first."
It got to the point where we were playing the game, you know, where he would start the sentence, and then look to me to repeat that phrase back to him. I played along, because it was just easier. Many of the things he told me were either hilariously obvious or completely misguided. In column A, we have these gems: "Be nice to the kitchen, because if you take care of them, they'll take care of you." "Be nice to the bartender, because let me tell you, they are under no pressure to make your drinks first. And we can make your life very easy or very hard when we're back there." (He said that when he told me he was rounding up the bartender's tipout by fifty cents.)
He also explained to me a very complicated system he has for the order of service of the people at a table, based on their ages. He described it as "proper etiquette" having earlier mentioned his former job at a resort in Stowe. Now, don't get me wrong. I know that these things are very important sometimes. I know that it is best to serve the elders in a party first to show proper respect, but this is an establishment where people use fucking coupons. And frequent diner cards. And get a discount on their birthday based on their age. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but I'm not sure that they give a shit about who gets their basket of hot wings first, you know? I asked him some questions about shifts and what time they were usually over and how much I could expect to make. At first I was dismayed by his answers, but then I realized that he was likely making a lot less than everybody else, despite his "proper etiquette," due to his "shit attitude". Yeah. Can't wait to work with that guy again.

59 degrees.
July 4th.
That is all.

Even though we missed Athfest this year, the b.h. and I have been listening to several of the shows, which were recorded by our friend Sloan. This is making me quite happy. It will make you happy, too. There's another link over there to your right. Enjoy.

*Beep*"Hi, you have reached hey bartender. I am sorry I can't take your call right now, but if you leave your name and number after the beep I will get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks!"
*Beeeeep*

"Uh, hi Heybartender this is J- with the New Mobile Phone Store. I met with you yesterday about a job at the New Mobile Phone Store. I just wanted to let you know we decided to go another route. Per se."

You don't say.

I was reading one of my favorite political blogs (the snarky one I read to make me laugh after I read all the real and depressing shit) yesterday, and they provided me with a link to this. I am very happy about this, because I have tried on multiple occasions to slog through Infinite Jest. I really enjoy the book, but I usually read in bed, and since that thing is the size of a New York City phone book, I always ultimately put it aside and never get back to it. (One of the many reasons why I am impressed by Jamie is that she has read this book twice.) As it happens, I have more time on my hands these days, and what with this whole thing being organized by somebody else, I think I might just give it another stab. If anyone else would care to join me, I am certain that having a person I know to talk ("talk")to about it would help. It's just a thought.
Anyway, I'm off to print out the schedule, and dust off that copy...
Wish me luck.
Incidentally, I got a call back from the New Mobile Phone Shop. I didn't get the job.
P.S. The new Dogfish Head limited release beer is currently rocking my world.