Calvin and I worked our first Rent-A-Rower today, and it was a scorcher. Thankfully, our employer-for-the-day provided plenty of water, which the two of us eagerly guzzled at frequent intervals. The work itself was not all that hard; it mostly consisted of weeding, edging, and mulching--with an impromptu car wash tacked on after five hours and 50 minutes of work were already done, and we were hoping to be able to call it a day. There was no such luck, especially with Barry, our mainframe-programming host, finding plenty of small tasks here and there for Calvin and I to finish up. Generally, Rent-A-Rowers (RARs) are advertised as $100 for six hours of any kind of work by a rower; however, that can be adjusted in many ways, such as one rower for three hours at $50, or two rowers for three hours at $100, or four rowers for six hours at $400...that would be a pretty major job if someone could keep four of us steadily working for six hours. We would have to be siding a house or laying sod for a really big yard or something along those lines. The tasks that we were assigned were edging landscaped planters nearly the whole way around Barry's modest suburban home (so as to give them some definition from the yard as a whole), weeding in the planters and pulling long-stemmed grass out of some of the shrubbery where it had popped up, mulching the aforementioned areas with about a dozen large bags of mulch, pulling everything out of his garage so he could blow-clean it with a leaf blower, putting everything that we had removed from the garage--save for a few items--back into it, and then washing his wife's car. Thankfully, we did get a short respite from the unrelenting sun, wolfing down a couple footlongs from Subway for lunch. All in all, it was not a bad day, just time consuming--and I got sunburnt. Again. This time it was not very bad at all, just a little bit red, but hooray for aloe nonetheless!

Whew, today--or rather, this morning--I had a “trial by fire”--or more correctly, steam--on the hot bar at HeBrews. Rica showed me the basics...and then let me loose! She had me make the majority of hot drinks that were ordered while I was behind the counter, so I had plenty of hand-on practice. The procedures are actually starting to come fairly quickly now, which is encouraging to me. :-) Today was only my third day, but my first without Katy and Amanda to fall back on, so it felt a little like what a baby bird must feel when it first jumps out of the nest. I was pretty much on my own; sure, Rica was around to ask, but she was a little frazzled with several other things going on, so I had to figure some things out by myself. I rose to the challenge though, and Rica said on a couple occasions that I was doing “very well.” At at couple different points in the morning, Rica was occupied with other customers or on the phone, so I took care of the customers that came in, and since she had “taught” me the hot bar, I could make virtually anything they ordered. :-) I was a little nervous, but as when I moved from busboy to server at Ed's, I took the transition in stride, and just exhibited a friendly, engaging personality, and worked through any problems I ran into while I worked on the various orders. She had scheduled me for an 8-1 shift (which was fine; it just demanded that I be up much earlier than I have been...wait, was not it just a few days ago that I posted something about hating to sleep in? :-) today, but she had something call her away from the counter for a bit right around one. The next shift arrived--and so did several customers. I left my reading at the “employee table” and jumped in behind the counter once more, helping out Shari and Sam deal with the mini-rush. I am not sure how much experience either of them have had, but I know it has not been much more than I have had, so with my bit of training on the hot bar and my relative grasp of the cold drinks, I was making most of the orders or helping Shari figure out the specifics for some of the drinks. It was a high-pressure situation, but I rose to the occasion, and it felt easy and comfortable. I sort of went from an “obsessing-over-everything-to-get-it-just-right” mode to a “work-by-instinct-because-I-know-what-to-do” mode, and that worked fine. Next week I will have plenty of time to get a better handle on things; I will not be working nearly as much as Katy and Amanda, baristas extraordinary, but I will have about 24 total hours over five days, which when augmented by my full-time shift at Wal-Mart will push me easily over the 60-hour workweek mark! Eeep! I am eager for that new challenge though; as Cusco (in llama form) says in The Emperor's New Groove, “Bring it on!” :-D

Last night we only had one truck, but it was chock full with around 2,000 pieces of freight. Even so, we had plenty of help, so we practically flew through the job, and we were done by 20 till six! However, there were a few people off from the overnight team, so Lori asked me to work hardware until I had to go. So I stocked fans, lightbulbs, gloves, paint, paint pans, paint rollers, toilet seats, towel rods, and other miscellaneous items for about an hour and a half. One thing that I noticed again, and I still do not understand, is the amount of paint in different cans. At a glance, there are two dominant sizes of paint cans: gallons and quarts. However, on closer observation, there are actually four different sizes: one quart, 31 ounces, one gallon, and 124 ounces. Some of the base paints come in cans that are “124 oz,” but they are exactly the same size as the containers holding four ounces more to make a whole gallon. Same for the one ounce difference between the “quart” cans. Whether you ask me or not, that is just odd.

Last night at work I had an excellent chance to practice my observation and attention to detail: I replaced somewhere around 500 signs in Wal-Mart last night! Since no trucks come on Tuesday nights, unloaders work around the store taking care of other projects. For the first three hours of my shift, I was helping Bill in the food department, stocking chips, water, Gatorade, soda (not pop!), cookies, and other items. A little before seven o'clock, I was in the backroom loading up my rocket cart with another batch of drinks to stock, and Dustin told me that John would need me for a job “in a sec.” I jokingly asked if John needed me “in a sec for a sec,” and Dustin said, “something like that.” “Sec” as a length of time is overused. I saw John a few minutes later and asked if he needed me then or if it would “be a sec.” He responded that it would “be a sec” before I would get started. Several minutes later, he pulled up with a box in a cart; the box was filled with three different sizes of red “Always Low Prices Always” signs with the Wal-Mart smiley face on them, and my task was to walk the expanse of the store and replace every blue “Always Low Prices Always” signs with the corresponding red signs. A piece of cake--albeit a large one--I thought. I never fully realized just how many of those signs there are in a store that size--or how some of them are hidden! So, for the next five hours (minus my half-hour lunch break) I pushed the cart around the store and replaced signs, and when I finally finished about a quarter after midnight, it was with a definite sense of accomplishment that I looked around the store and saw a sea of red signs looking back at me. To the best of my knowledge, I did a completely thorough job and did not miss a single one! :-)

I got to be in the truck last night!
Okay, that may not seem all that exciting, but “way” back during my interviews at Wal-Mart, one of my interviewers, possibly my area's manager, said that as guys unloaded the truck, there was always one guy inside the truck sending out the freight, and that guy would change from day to day. Well, I thought that unloading the truck from the inside would be pretty fun, so finally last night (I say finally, but really that was pretty soon, considering it was just my fourth night of work) I jumped in the first truck of the evening. There were about 1600 pieces of freight on that truck, and as I said, that was only the first one! We had a second truck of similar size on its way to be unloaded, as well as the “remix” truck which brought seven skids of food and paper products. In just over three hours, I tossed (gently, of course) all 1600 pieces of freight onto the rollers to be stacked in the bins in the back room. A lot of stuff can fit inside a tractor trailer...a lot of stuff. I pulled out nearly two full skids' worth of oil cases (a skid holds somewhere in the ballpark of 50 or 60 cases), and an oil case is not a light piece of merchandise. As I walked out of the truck, pushing the last batch of merchandise down the rollers, Bill (one of the older guys on the receiving team) said, “You did a good job, young man.” :-D However, if that was a high point of the evening, things kind of went downhill from there.
As I was working in the first truck, I heard the second one back in alongside. We took our 15 minute break a little after six o'clock, and when we got back we finished up the first truck and started straightening up the back room a little so we had enough room to start on the second. That took us up to our “lunch” break, and I clocked out at 8:13. Unlike the other nights, I was actually hungry, so I trotted up to McDonald's on the other side of the parking lot and grabbed three McChicken sandwiches and a small vanilla milkshake. I sipped on the milkshake and then steadily worked through one of the sandwiches on the walk back to the lawn and garden center, where I took a seat on the sidewalk and quickly wolfed down the rest of my little meal. When I clocked back in at 8:43, little did I know that I would be in the store until nearly 2:30.
We had had five guys working the first truck, which was a fair amount; I was able to keep the line at least partway full the entire time for Bill, Terry, Royce, and Kevin to stack on the skids. Oh, a quick aside: as I was unloading, Terry came back a few times to give me some tips, and on one of those occasions he said that “they” wanted us to get the truck done in 87 minutes. I just looked at him and repeated back to him quizzically, “Eighty-seven minutes?” He said, “Yeah, that's what we're all saying, too.” Eighty-seven minutes for a 1600+ piece truck, plus skids, with five guys would be an all-out sprint. As I continued moving freight, I calculated roughly in my head what that would equate to, and I came to about 45 pieces per minute, unloaded from the truck and stacked in the bins--and I do not believe that the number takes into consideration the skids on board, the time it takes to pull them, as well as the time to pull skids from the bins in the back room as they filled up. Anyway, we definitely did not get that truck done in 87 minutes. On the second truck, Bill stayed until 10:18, and as he had been an earlier shift, he had to hit the road, and we were down to four people. Terry and I were working to pull a bunch of full skids to the floor, so it was really just Kevin and Royce working on the truck for about 20 minutes. After that point, even when Terry and I got back on the line, it was very slow going. As we neared 11 o'clock, Sandy, the overnight manager, came back and asked if we could stay to finish out the truck. We said that we could, and we kept unloading. Royce was in the truck this time around and I was stacking the freight with the other two guys.
Midnight came and went. One o'clock came and went. Two o'clock came and went. Finally, we were seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, or, more appropriately in our case, seeing the wall at the end of the truck. When Royce finally came out of the truck with the last of the cargo and the words, “That's all of it,” I was pretty happy, to say the least. :-) We were not done yet, though. We still had to pull the skids off the truck, as well as the rest of the skids in the back room, all out to their respective departments within the store. As we did that, I was curious to see just how much weight I was pulling at times on the pallet jacks, so as I tugged along a skid of 50-pound dog food bags, I counted the number of bags on the top layer, counted the number of layers, and calculated out the weight. There were seven layers of three bags for a total of 21 bags, which, when multiplied by 50 pounds, equaled 1050 pounds. And that was a relatively light skid. At one point, I was pulling a skid of sporting goods, and I had to finagle it into a fairly tight spot between a display pallet and another freight pallet. As I scooched it back and forth between the end of an aisle of toys and the other two skids, I finally edged it around enough to slide it into the space, and as I pulled the jack along behind me to the back room once more, I commented to one of the overnight stockers, “That was like parallel parking a school bus!” Later in the night, I helped Royce (and then Terry helped me with another) skid of water softener salt pellets. There were seven bags to a layer on that skid, and nine full layers, with each bag weighing 40 pounds. Those skids were 2520 pounds of dead weight that we had to get moving. After those two , I did not even attempt to figure out the weight of a skid of water or Gatorade...but I am guessing that they would have even had that number beat! Well...I wanted a job with heavy lifting, no? :-P As I pulled the empty pallet jack back to the back room from dropping off that last skid of pellets, Kevin came and said, “We can go now.”
Those were wonderful words to hear after working for nearly 10 hours on an eight-hour shift. I clocked out at 2:22 a.m., one hour and 52 minutes after I thought I was going to be wrapping up for the night. However, I definitely had a sense of accomplishment after persevering through that, even though it was tiring. When I finally got home in the wee hours of the morning, I was too wiped out to even change out of my work clothes, and I collapsed into bed in my khaki shorts and navy blue t-shirt, with my wallet and keys and knife in my pockets, and fell asleep...

For about five hours in the back rooms of Wal-Mart, I squeezed in with four other new Associates, filling out more paperwork and learning about the company as a whole and the store in which I will be working. I start tomorrow--well, technically I started today at one o'clock, but for the actual unloading I start tomorrow--at four o'clock. Hooray!

So, yesterday afternoon I received the call I had been waiting for since last Thursday: Barb got in touch with me from Wal-Mart to inform me that all of my paperwork and the drug test went through, and I was to come in this Thursday at one o'clock for my orientation for the position.
This afternoon, Mom and I went to HeBrews for a good while, chatting around an iced latte, a frozen raspberry white mocha, a black-bottom muffin, and a large gob. While we were ordering, we were also talking with Amanda, and Mom told her that I had found a full-time position at Wal-Mart (not the distribution center, as nearly everyone has assumed!) unloading freight. After we wrapped up, we drove home, and Mom took Grandpa out to Save-A-Lot to walk, and in 40 minutes or thereabouts, I went to pick him up after his jaunt. Shortly after I returned, I was perched on the love seat in the living room, sewing snaps on little jumpers for premature babies in African pregnancy centers. As I was poking around, the phone rang, Laurrel went to check and see who was calling, and it was HeBrews. She picked up the phone, “Hello, this is Laurrel,” and in a moment, the phone was handed to me with Rica Mickle, the owner of HeBrews on the line! She said that she had spoken with Amanda and wanted to know if I would have the time for some part-time work, mainly Fridays and Saturdays, at the shop for the remainder of the summer. I said I would most definitely be interested, and that I would get back to her with a more definitive schedule from Wal-Mart. :-D I can hardly wait to start now! Rica said she would get back to me late next week about coming in to train with Amanda or Katy, and then I should be on for the weekends.

As of today, I am currently the recipient of a conditional offer of employment at the local Wal-Mart store! Tuesday evening, I heard from one of my references that she had been contacted by the company, and last night during youth group, I received a similar report from my second reference. Yesterday morning, while I was working at Marion's, one of the managers called to set up an interview appointment, and so this morning at 10:45, on the phone with Stephanie and all spiffed up in a white shirt and gray dress pants, I was driving to Everett for my interview.
I first spoke with Greg, who would be my supervisor if and when I am hired. He was a pleasant young man, very friendly and laid back. He asked me to check over a few parts of my application to verify the validity thereof and to sign a few more documents, and then he asked me a substantial series of “situation questions” that inquired about my experience performing in a variety of outlined settings to get an idea of my effectiveness in the workplace. I used a wide range of examples from my time at Ed's, and they proved to meet the point of the questions quite well. After we made it through 12-15 of the questions, Greg led me back out into the main part of the store and let me know it would be about a five to 10 minute wait for the next part of my interview process.
Nearly 45 minutes latter, an assistant manager named Rich came to take his part in the interview. We found another open office in the employee quarters in the back of the store, went over a couple more things about my application, and once more walked through a series of questions designed to discern my effectiveness and efficiency in dealing with work situations, co-workers, and customers. We talked through the questions for quite a while--once again “passing” them quite well--and then I went back outside to wait for my last interview.
When Barb brought me back in, it wasn't actually for an interview as I had though. It was more to find out about the requirements of the job (if hired, I will be on the unloading crew for the trucks), and sign some more paper trail into existence. The last step I had to take was a new one for me: a drug screening. Although such things had always been threatened as a possibility in high school athletics, I had actually never had to undergo a test. So, once I received my drug screening form from Barb and a wish of, “Good luck, and we will see you back here for orientation,” I strolled out the door, almost employed.
Then I drove a little further down the road to UPMC Bedford Memorial Hospital and found my way through the maze-like corridors to the outpatient office. As I was walking in, a man stepped out of the Auxiliary/Snack Bar room, nodded to me, and asked--oddly, but in a friendly manner--“Are you English?” I replied that I was not. We kept walking down the hall, and he asked a second question, “Are you Scottish?” Again, I replied in the negative. “Oh, okay,” was his response. All the way into the reception area, he walked alongside me, and then after I took a number and sat down to wait, he disappeared for a time. Then he reappeared and took a seat in the chair next to me. It was quite strange, to be sure. His next question was, “Are you Amish?” “No.” “Mennonite?” “No.” “Oh, okay.” And then we sat in silence until my number, 412, blinked onto the digital counter hanging above the drinking fountain, and I stood up to go. “Have a good day,” my unusual, temporary acquaintance called; “You, too,” I responded, and walked up to the window.
I got a little blue card filled out with my information, as well as a couple more forms to “print, initial, and sign,” before I was walking back down the hall, following not the red line now, but the orange one. At the lab, I handed my packet of papers to the nurse, waited a few moments, stepped into the lab, did my thing, signed one last thing, and I was finally free to go.
Nearly two and a half hours after I left home this morning, I was finished with my entire application process to Wal-Mart. Just last night I had asked for prayer during youth group for the interview, Stephanie and Grandpa Allison informed me that they would be praying for me, too, and just before I left, Mom prayed that the interview would go well and that I would find favor there. All of that seems to have happened, for which I am very thankful. Now, I just need to wait three to five days or so for the test to come back in and my background check to pass, and as Barb put it, I'll be “starting [my] career with Wal-Mart.”

I had one of the most frazzling nights of work at Ed's since I started there nearly two and a half years ago--and it was all caused by one table! Tonight was much like Saturday night, even though we were anticipating a rush of people traveling home after their Christmas visiting binge. The day servers said it was busy all day, but once I arrived with the rest of the evening shift, things slowed down quite a bit. Anyway, Meghann was working a double, replacing Kenna as a hostess, and she trotted back into the kitchen to let me know I had a party. I walked out to my second booth in the front dining room, and greeted the three ladies seated there. They replied in a friendly manner to my greeting, and all requested water to drink; they were then joined by the fourth and final member of their party, the middle-aged lady's husband, and the younger ladies' father. He wanted water as well, so I whisked off to get their drinks, with a stop at my adjacent booth to check on the couple seated there. I got back with their four waters and was immediately asked a few questions about the menu. The mother and one of the daughters wanted to know if the meat in the crab cakes and seafood salad was real or imitation crab meat. 'Twas a question of whose answer I was ignorant, so I went back to the kitchen to check with the prep cook, who then directed me to one of the line cooks, and then I was pointed to the recipe on the wall by the prep table. On there was the answer: the crab cakes only contained real crab meat--with other filler ingredients--and the seafood salad was made with imitation crab meat. With that information, the family was ready to order. Mom wanted the shrimp & crab cake meal, with peas & pearl onions and garlic mashed potatoes on the side; Dad ordered the stuffed portabella and garlic toast; the second daughter requested the chicken Hawaiian with Texas toast and a side salad; and the first daughter asked for a large tossed salad. All was well--until I brought out the first few sides and their bread. I dropped a crouton into the second daughter's water glass as I set her salad down. I apologized and told her I'd be back with a replacement right away. Then her mother asked that she could also get a small glass of water so she could take some medicine, so I said I'd be right back with the said items. As I was back getting the drinks, I found out there was a problem with the father's order. Dad's condition on getting the stuffed portabella was if it did not contain mayonnaise, mustard, or egg, and unfortunately, it contained at least one of the three, so when I informed him of the misfortune, he opted instead for the Cajun grouper, with the garlic toast added as a side, and a salad for his second side. Then the first daughter asked about the crab cakes and whether the fried or broiled was more popular. I responded that I didn't know for sure, but to my best recollection, I served them fried more often. She thanked me for my help, and I moved to the opposite side of the room to tend to a second couple that had been seated in my section. I quickly brought their drinks and took their order, and then rushed back to the kitchen to let the cook's know about the father's decision. They canceled the portabella and put the grouper on, and I brought bread out to my second table. Then I heard my name being called, and I glanced over to see my party of four motioning for me. Now the first daughter wanted a crab cake--fried--along with her salad, so I put the order into the computer and walked quickly back into the kitchen. By this time, my second party's orders were nearly completed, and the orders for my first table were coming up in a rather disorderly fashion, due to the time delay in their submission. I brought the couple their sirloin tips salads, brought a menu to Dad so he could change one of his sides, cleared my third table, went back to the family to take further changes in their meal selections. Instead of a salad, the father wanted rice pilaf on the side. Meanwhile, all of this indecision had made a mess of their check, so I took a minute to talk to Betty and get the majority of the things straightened out on their ticket. I brought the family's meals out, along with the first daughter's fried crab cake. Then said daughter wanted to get the crab cake meal (two crab cakes and two sides), with the fried cake she had just received counting as one of the two, and she requested that the second cake be broiled and her two sides be her large salad (basically a pair of side salads). Heaving an internal sigh of frustration, I smiled and said I'd get right to it, and then I checked on the couple at my window table; they were wrapping up, so I cleared the gentleman's dishes and brought them the check before taking care of the latest changes in the family's tab. I informed the cooks of the latest development, talked to Betty and got most of the confusion on their check straightened out, and then I served the family the portion of their meal which was ready while the first daughter's second crab cake was in the broiler. I took the couple's check up for them and brought back their card and the charge slip. Running back to the kitchen, I found that the daughter's crab cake was ready, so I rapidly delivered that, and after rounding the corner, I breathed a sigh of relief: I had made it! ...Or so I thought. There was one last “curve ball” waiting to be pitched to me. The four of them wrapped up their meals, and I took their plates and brought their check. The father noticed one more change I had overlooked, so I made the update and he paid the bill. Then, as they were leaving, the first daughter asked if she could get one more thing: a cup of ice cream to go. I must have visibly balked, because she followed up her request with, “But I guess you can't really do that.” Assuring her that although the request was odd, it could be catered to, I gathered a to-go cup and plastic spoon and walked back to the ice cream cooler, and then I realized that I had no idea what flavor she wanted. I ducked out the back kitchen door and put in the order for one cup of ice cream, and then I went back out to ask her what she wanted. “Peanut butter,” she replied emphatically. I winced, “I don't believe we have peanut butter ice cream. We have chocolate, vanilla, butter pecan...” my voice trailed off as she said, “But I saw something about a peanut butter...something.” Then I realized what she had been talking about: the peanut butter panic. I told her what it was, and after a few more explanations and answered questions, she said yes, that's what she wanted. So I walked back and asked Patty if I could get one peanut butter panic to go. Then she said it: “Let me check, but I don't think we have any anymore.” My heart sank. I had survived all of the prior changes of mind only to fall short on this, the final one. Sure enough, there were no peanut butter panics to be found, and I had to go and let the young lady know, to her great disappointment. However, the entire situation had its bright lining: after I informed them of the absence, the father thanked me profusely for my service and said I was a “great waiter,” right in front of my manager and the restaurant owner. :-) Whew, the rest of the evening was not nearly so exciting and confusing. If you're confused reading this, I'm sorry, but that's as clear as I can make it! I'll be working for Jess on New Year's Eve at four o'clock; hopefully as one of the earlier servers to arrive, I'll also be able to be one of the earlier servers to leave, or else that could be a very long night.

Tonight I went back to Ed's as an employee for the first time in four and a half months. When I dropped in at the Christmas party on Wednesday night at Jean Bonnet, Johnna asked if I could work for her tonight since she had made plans but had been scheduled to serve at 4:30. I said I'd be happy to fill in for her, so this afternoon I donned my black Dickies, pulled my apron off my shelf, and found my nametag in a box on the bottom of my bedside table and dusted it off before hopping in the Probe and driving down I-99 to the Interchange and Ed's Steakhouse Restaurant. I arrived a little early so I could make sure to have everything ready before I started; I got a new shirt from Betty, checked which station I was assigned, looked up my sidework, found the soups and vegetables of the day (we had clam chowder and tomato florentine, succotash and green beans, wax beans, and carrots), and clocked in. I had hoped that even in these last days before Christmas that it wouldn't be too busy; I wanted to do well on my first night back, and being swamped was not high on my list of “good things to have happen.” Such a worry was nary a problem; in fact, for the first hour or so, I found it difficult to stay productive. I put away glasses, tended to the couple in my first booth, helped the other servers, and chatted with the hostesses, Sarah and Kenna. Finally, I was double-sat, and that kept me a little busier. All told, I had six tables and a take-out order in just under six hours, and I made roughly $48 in tips, so in that respect, it was a fair night of work. My next day will be Tuesday at four, in anticipation of the post-Christmas influx of travelers.

“People, 1; Trees, 0.” -David, as he chopped off the antagonistic limb of a nearby tree as we constructed the pond at the university arboretum.

As most of you know, I play sports, and when I play sports, I sweat. However, I don't think any of you have seen me as sweaty as I was today. Before the hose was ever turned on to start the filling of the pond, I was completely, entirely drenched with nothing but sweat. My shirt, shorts, socks, and shoes were dripping or inundated, depending on where they were situated. And yes, I drank a lot of water, too! Some of the rocks we were using to line the pond's edge were pretty sharp, as I quickly discovered when what was simply a quick nick turned out to be a nice slice on my right thumb. Another scar to add to my collection. :-) Tomorrow we'll be easily finished with the construction, and we'll be having a pool party. Yay!

Before long, I was something of a fixture at the Steakhouse, and everyone knew me--or so I thought. I remember phoning in one day to ask for my schedule, and the hostess who answered the phone was thoroughly confused about this person that was calling for “Trevvor's work schedule.” :-P However, I soon got to know Nerae, and she would've known me in the future; but I started walking in to get my schedule instead of calling in, because it was less confusing that way. I also started to become a “veteran” of sorts, as several servers, hostesses, and even fellow bussers came and went.
Then came the big day this past May when I finally donned “the blue shirt” for the first time and trained to become a server. Since that graduation, I have mainly served, but I still took on the mantle of bus boy--and even dishwasher--at a couple points. My longest workday occurred last Sunday. Daniel called and asked if I could cover for him as a busser on Sunday morning, I agreed, even though I was already scheduled to serve at 3:30 that afternoon. I clocked in at 10 o'clock. I clocked out, finally, at 10 o'clock on the other end. In that 12 hour period, I pulled a “triple,” taking shifts as a bus boy, server, and finally dishwasher. I was wiped out, and none too happy to find out on Monday that I was sheduled as an extra for Tuesday, giving me one more day than I had planned. Even so, it wasn't too bad of a night, but last night easily eclipsed it; not only did I make very good tips, but I was in earshot of a compliment I received from my last table. As they made their way out the door and into the night, they commented to Kim, “Trevvor is a wonderful young man,” to which Kim readily concurred. :-)

Goodbye, Ed's!

Well, I was going to start out with, “About two weeks ago, I mentioned that I submitted my two week's notice to Betty at Ed's,” except that when I went back to check my posts, I found that I hadn't! So I'll start out, “About two weeks ago, I submitted my two week's notice to Betty at Ed's...” Tomorrow, those two weeks will be up, and for the first time in 25 months, I will be among the unemployed. My stint at the ol' Steakhouse has been memorable, educational, frustrating, enjoyable, crazy, mundane, exciting, and fun. Starting as a lowly busboy in June 2004, I eventually expanded my range and started doubling as a dishwasher last fall, and now I've been a server for just over two months. Betty has jokingly said that I “started out so quiet,” but now I “don't stop talking.” :-P Now, I wouldn't say it's quite that bad, but it's true that I have definitely stepped out of my initial shyness. Back as I started, I was very quiet and talked to few people--even Betty scared me at first! Okay, maybe not scared, but intimidated. I was the youngest, newest person on the job, so I worked hard, did my job quietly and efficiently, and more often than not, “disappeared” at the end of the night. Gradually, I grew accustomed to the workload and relaxed more on the job--especially as I met a couple of the servers at Allegany when I started taking classes there, because it was nice to know them outside of work. I started meeting/getting to know the various servers I regularly--and irregularly--worked with, and through Ed's I've made friends I probably wouldn't have met otherwise.

There's a lovely new coffeeshop in town that everyone should check out. HeBrews Coffee Company is on the corner of Pitt and Richard, and it just opened a couple days ago. They have terrific coffee there; I recommend the Caffe Mocha. :-)

After a Thursday, a Monday, and another Thursday, I worked tonight, on Fish Fry Friday. Next to Wednesday, which is also fish fry special day, Friday is probably the most notorious day of the week. It's busy, most people just order the fish (which is a relatively inexpensive way to fill one's growling stomach), and the tip left reflects on the cost of the meal: very low. I was in the shop tonight with Jaclyn--and Becca was back; I was quite excited--but she was on a party in the Burgundy early on, so I had most of the eight tables to myself. At one point, I must've been working on four or five tables at the same time. I think there's a pen-eater at Ed's; since I've started serving (which requires one to have several pens handy) I've lost about six pens! I made it through that busy period though, and Jaclyn got done with the big party, so from then on it was pretty smooth sailing. However, I did make a nice tangle of a mistake; everything was dying down pretty well, and I just had two booths left. They were both starting to wrap up around the same time, and I accidentally gave my third booth my fourth booth's check! Then I gave my fourth booth their check. The result of that was the third booth's bill wasn't paid. Eh, not good at all! Betty was able to figure it out though, and I paid the difference in the bills. No, not something I'd like to repeat, but to paraphrase an observant piece of wisdom, one tends to learn lessons best when they involve one's wallet. Even with that “oops!” on the night, tips still weren't bad (last night was better though!).

Last night they turned me loose at work and assigned me the three booths on the left side of the shop, and Shawna took the other four booths and the table-booth at the back. Nearly as soon as I came in, Kim seated me with a single, and I hadn't even found out the soups or the vegetables of the day. Fortunately, Vicky was a big help and was able to tell me what we had before I went to wait on my first table. The guy was pleasant enough, and ordered a king strip, meduim rare. The only problem with that was that his sides came out pretty fast, but the steak did not come out fast at all. Those steaks are so thick that even a medium rare takes quite a while...I'd hate to wait for one well done! Finally it was finished though, and so I was able to serve it. He enjoyed his meal thoroughly, and while he was eating, I was sat a couple more times. That's pretty much how the night went; I was there just over four hours and I got eight tables and $34 in tips. No, it wasn't phenomenally better than bussing, but I enjoyed it, and for a first night I did very well. :-) I'll be back to bussing tables for probably the last time this Sunday--virtually everyone works Mother's Day--and then I'll go to only serving.