I dedicate this entry to the memory of Karl Krueger. He was killed on Tuesday when the semi he was driving rammed into the rear of another semi, causing a chain reaction which resulted in a five semi pile-up and accident. Some of the other drivers were taken to the hospital for their injuries. Karl was killed instantly, with the police declaring him dead on the scene. The cab was crushed entirely, making it impossible for anyone to have survived such a collision.
He was 62 years old and was a month away from retirement. He had planned to travel around the world and enjoy his retirement after over 15 years of driving. He and my father became friends due to their veteran backgrounds in Vietnam. He took it rather hard since they got along rather swimmingly. Politically active and connected, he was good for a laugh and also useful information. I will miss his regular presence at our restaurant and humor. I was working on battleship design for him which will now sit unfinished. He leaves behind a sister and an ex-wife, whom he was on good terms with and talked to often.
Life is too short. Seize it.
Here's to you, Karl.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Tales from the Pit - A Normal Day
Let me walk you through what a normal day is like for me.
8 AM
The alarm goes off and I shut it off, turning back under my covers and returning to sleep. Besides, light hasn't yet penetrated my room.
8:30 AM
I get up and brush my teeth. I spend time on the Internet working on getting a job and catching up on my news. Summary: world basically sucks. Pretty simple and straightforward. Despite what people say about the economy improving, we're in what is termed a "jobless recovery," similar to the malaise that Japan went through during the 1990s with stagnant income, millions out of work still, and severe underemployment. It seems like a good time to find a new skill set to train myself in but I digress. At least it's not Auschwitz. Anyway, I drink some milk and water.
9 AM
Parents are already gone. I look for an episode that I missed last night of House. Watch House for the next 40 minutes. I'm dressed by 9:30 and turn off the heater. in my room.
9:45 AM
The garage door opens I hurry from my room to leave. My brother and I drive to work in silence, both of us tired and in a non-talkative mood. The roads are slightly icy and it's freezing cold but sunny.
9:55 AM
We arrive at the restaurant, the air seemingly colder than before. I walk in, set my stuff down and start loading and preparing the register. The rest of the staff is preparing and cooking. No one's come in yet but it's slowly warming up inside and outside.
10:30 AM
The restaurant opens.
11:00 AM
The restaurant is still open.
11:15 AM
The first customer comes in and orders. I take the order and give him his food. Still waiting for more people to come in.
11:30 AM
A handful of customers come in. I recognize some of the faces and the rest I can tell are new. Most customers order something in the $6-$8 price range. Generally speaking, people cannot afford to spend too much in this economy. The restaurant is about half full. During this winter season, attendance has been on and off due to the weather. When you're smack dab in the middle of a string for 6 franchise and fast-food restaurants, you have some stiff competition. Personally I don't understand how people can ingest crap into their digestive tracts. Then again, people also watch wrestling on television and think it's real. I stand and watch the customers eat and talk, refilling drinks when required. So far today, nothing too serious like a massive explosion of customers.
12:30 PM
Massive explosion of customers. Both registers are filled with customers giving their orders. Most of them look like they're road workers or power plant people on their lunch breaks, many of which have been cut in half due to the Great Recession. All men, of various races simply want something to put in their stomachs before they head back under the axe and the grind out there. We take their orders and send them out as fast as we can. I fill up various cups with drinks and take their money. But there's always a flurry of activity going on. The kitchen staff shout orders and yell and a lot is going on while customers get seated and eat. I think we need another fountain machine up front. Seriously, I don't like getting their drinks because it cuts down on valuable time spent taking their orders and serving the customers. Then again, we're in a recession so we need to make due with what we have. I carry out two trays at once while C. takes orders at her register. S. is helping us fill drinks though he generally is in the back. And the rest of the staff is busily making sandwiches and frying. So far, it's just hectic right now.
1:00 PM
By now, most of the lunch rush has left. I'm impressed with the speed people can actually eat when they're in a rush. A few stragglers are left, talking over the paltry remains of their plates and sandwiches. Scott soon comes in and gets a small gumbo with a Diet Dr. Pepper. He's a thin, blond fellow with a quick smile. He works nearby in a warehouse and once came in 4 times a week. Nowadays, I see him once a week. He takes a table near the window and eats while observing and working with his Blackberry. It's rather amazing how wired we all are in this day and age. When I was in grade school, I didn't have a cell phone. In fact, they were just a novelty back in the early 1990s. Now, everyone has one. Including kids. Hell, some kids have their own facebook page. It's kinda crazy. But anyway, a few people leave and I just stand and watch, reading if I get a chance. From this pont on, it's generally slow.
1:15 PM
Karl comes in with a friend. He orders the usual. I'm busy taking another customer's order at the drive thru and deal with that instead. Lot of people have been ordering plates today. You generally get a good deal with the plates but it's kind of crazy and ridiculous. So far, things are tapering off. M. calls me and I basically exit the working world for about 45 minutes to take the call. The rest of the staff process several orders while I'm locked in the office. I can hear the hustle and bustle but it doesn't sound terrible. We talk and chat for awhile, catching up on life and stuff in general. Nice to hear from M. after awhile. Life just gets crazy sometimes and hectic. Both of our lives. Trade parental stories and such. Then I get the call to return to duty. Nothing's going on really outside Karl's eating and talking. He and I talk about some architecture and also politics about how the Democrats are being stupid and we don't even know what's going on anymore. He's an interesting guy and he also ran for Congress back in the 1980s when he was in shape. But being a trucker has taken a toll on him. I've noticed that most truckers are fat men. Like really fat. It makes sense if all you do is sit and drive and eat food on the go. It's a terrible lifestyle really.
2:00 PM
The part-timers have all left by now and gone home. The restaurant is dead and it'll probably be like this for a couple more hours. I managed to steal some wireless from nearby and I go online, reading up on the blogs and working on my essay for a bit. An occasional customer comes in now and then. But generally, I'm left to my own devices for a bit or so.
3:00 PM
I carry out the orders for a nice old couple who often come every week and have our chicken sandwiches and other chicken-related orders. They're quiet, straightforward, and decent folk. So far, nothing going on really aside from two or three tables filled. The phone rings and I pick it up. The caller ID reflects that it's a local number.
"Hi, how may I help you?" I ask the caller at the other end.
"Yeah, you guys have that pole in the back..." A deep voice replies.
"Um...yes, we do."
"You know I can't park there with the pole in the back."
I remain somewhat confused, considering the pole blocking the exit in the rear is meant to deter truckers from running through and ruining our landscape. The landlord redid the asphalt and installed the pole for that reason. Not to mention we have a gas meter in the back that we have to pay for if truckers hit it. So really, it's a pain the ass for us to fix the damage and it's a pain in the ass for truckers to drive around the restaurant. I leave it up to you, reader, to decide which is worse.
"Well, sir. The landlord was the one who put that one up to deter trucks. I'm afraid he's the one who calls the shots. We can't do anything about that at all." I blatantly lie to the guy. It's actually a half-truth. We could remove it. But it's a pain.
"I'm just saying that lots of truckers won't park in the back with that pole."
"You could just drive in and turn around and park. Others have done that."
"Well, I rather go out the back, ya see? Much easier. Besides, it's going to hurt your-"
"I'm sorry for your inconvenience. Good day." I cut him off and hang up the phone, mildly irritated at the blatant laziness and inanity of such a ridiculous phone call. People like him would probably call the restaurant they ate at before to complain about the heart attack they're having rather than an actual ambulance. Asshole.
3:45 PM
Two regulars come in and ask how business is going. I tell them that things are picking up though it's been cold. It's generally true that people seem to not want to go out when it's cold and gray out. There are exceptions to this fact but as a rule, it's true. I serve them their food and they sit by a window and eat. I work on my essay for a bit, revising and editing. There's only three of us running the place right now with the owners gone shopping for about 2 hours now. Lord knows what they're buying for this place. Or themselves for that matter. I manage to steal some wireless and browse some websites for a bi to pass the time. Sometimes, I think we should invest in an internet connection just to make things a little easier.
4:00 PM
Two new customers come in, both of them white males in their middle age. They seem to be working men judging by the level of grime and dirt on their coveralls. They spend some minutes looking over the menu.
"Ya'll have burnt ends?" One man asks.
"No, we don't, sir." I inwardly sigh. I think I get this question like 4 times a week.
"What kind of barbecue place don't have burnt ends?" He angrily responds.
I mentally remark the kind of barbecue place that knows how to use proper English. I often get irked at customers demanding things that we don't carry whether they're burnt ends or Happy Meals. Seriously. I've gotten requests for Happy Meals. Luckily, his companion saves me from engaging in further sparring.
"The kind of place that didn't burn the meat, man." He chuckles.
"Oh, fine. Just get me a beef sandwich."
They take their orders and get it to go. As I glance outside the window, a long line of cars and trucks slowly builds up on the street outside. It's nearing rush our and when it gets to rush hour, the highway becomes almost a parking lot. During that time, few people dare to come in since they don't want to lose their spot on their precious way home from work, resulting in a 1 hour drive instead of a 20 minute drive normally. Part of me wishes I could lure them in and serve them since the lack of activity is somewhat boring and tedious after quite awhile. But alas, the flies do not head to the honey.
5:00 PM
So far, no one's come in at all. I manage to get on the wireless again and figure I'll look at the reviews on Google for the place. I notice a customer gave me a 1 star rating, remarking on how "the meat was dry and terrible and the sauce was horrid" and also how "people shouldn't waste their money here but the service is polite and friendly."
Not surprisingly, everyone's a critic. I honestly don't give a damn about people's opinions at this point, mainly because so many people come in and act like they're self-professed gourmands about barbecue having eaten at so many places in this town. It's actually spoiled them to the point where new folks just won't catch an easy break. Think of it like giving a cokehead his usual crack over a period of some years, the same stuff generally. Then one day, his drug dealer is whacked and a new one takes over, selling the stuff only at a different quality and make. The guy takes some and tries and then suddenly starts to feel euphoria. Pissy, he goes back to the dealer to demand the old stuff even if it made him feel like parasites were crawling all over his skin. We offer euphoria but if you want to feel like pins and needles, go right ahead. (Note: We don't sell or trade in cocaine. Sorry.)
The Internet really has allowed people to remain anonymous and bring out their nasty side. A lot of negative reviews are simply assholes since they think they can remain anonymous. Isn't that right, Mark C. Stark?
6:00 PM
Two regulars stop by and get their usual orders. The wife spends part of her time looking at the menu at other items while she's eating. She's tried at least 5 different dishes the last four weeks since she first started visiting. They're nice people and they spend a decent amount of money. In the back, there's talk and chatter about the upcoming New Year holiday. Personally, I'm hoping to hear back from some feelers I put about potential jobs in something that actually has something to do with my degree.
A few people come by the drive thru asking for our new special for $3.95. I notice how people can be insanely motivated by money more so than food nowadays. I frankly don't blame them since it's technically the great recession and all. Food is necessary for survival. But money is more important. I wish they would spend more but I figure I shouldn't try to complain to much. My job after all requires me to find creative and semi-legally nice ways to part people from their money.
7:00 PM
I get three rail workers come on in, asking for their food to go. I see them often and they're generally hardworking people with long hours. But they are grateful for good food so we're happy to help. I know I gave one of them a free drink once since it was late and I didn't care too much. Good to know that charity act made him a regular. At this point, I start beginning the ritual of cleaning up the place and emptying out the trash bins. There's only three of us left at this point anyway so things are slower paced.
As I empty the trash, I notice how empty most of the boxes of food are, which is a good sign. Sometimes, I'll find a half eaten sandwich or an entire plate, which is often sad and irritating since I hate it when people waste food. We already took the money but wasting food is simply wrong. Unfortunately, our society is so driven by mass consumerism and ease-of-disposal that it's often commonplace and few people care to deal with it. After all, it's not like the food could've done much good, aside from feeding hungry children in Haiti, the homeless drifter at the street corner, or the folks down at the soup kitchen. Nope, not at all.
8:00 PM
We all start cleaning up. Though we close at 8:30 PM, no one ever comes in after eight. There's only been two incidents were people came in for ordering food. It takes us awhile to close up shop but generally, I count the money, close the credit cards, make sure stuff is locked and what not.
8:30 PM
Lights out and head home.
9:00 PM
I blog about a normal day and spend time on the Internet. Farmville remains a viable outlet and addictive. Later on tonight is the Daily Show and the Colbert Report. I chat with some friends online but then eventually, I turn in.
12:00 AM
Bed time.
8 AM
The alarm goes off and I shut it off, turning back under my covers and returning to sleep. Besides, light hasn't yet penetrated my room.
8:30 AM
I get up and brush my teeth. I spend time on the Internet working on getting a job and catching up on my news. Summary: world basically sucks. Pretty simple and straightforward. Despite what people say about the economy improving, we're in what is termed a "jobless recovery," similar to the malaise that Japan went through during the 1990s with stagnant income, millions out of work still, and severe underemployment. It seems like a good time to find a new skill set to train myself in but I digress. At least it's not Auschwitz. Anyway, I drink some milk and water.
9 AM
Parents are already gone. I look for an episode that I missed last night of House. Watch House for the next 40 minutes. I'm dressed by 9:30 and turn off the heater. in my room.
9:45 AM
The garage door opens I hurry from my room to leave. My brother and I drive to work in silence, both of us tired and in a non-talkative mood. The roads are slightly icy and it's freezing cold but sunny.
9:55 AM
We arrive at the restaurant, the air seemingly colder than before. I walk in, set my stuff down and start loading and preparing the register. The rest of the staff is preparing and cooking. No one's come in yet but it's slowly warming up inside and outside.
10:30 AM
The restaurant opens.
11:00 AM
The restaurant is still open.
11:15 AM
The first customer comes in and orders. I take the order and give him his food. Still waiting for more people to come in.
11:30 AM
A handful of customers come in. I recognize some of the faces and the rest I can tell are new. Most customers order something in the $6-$8 price range. Generally speaking, people cannot afford to spend too much in this economy. The restaurant is about half full. During this winter season, attendance has been on and off due to the weather. When you're smack dab in the middle of a string for 6 franchise and fast-food restaurants, you have some stiff competition. Personally I don't understand how people can ingest crap into their digestive tracts. Then again, people also watch wrestling on television and think it's real. I stand and watch the customers eat and talk, refilling drinks when required. So far today, nothing too serious like a massive explosion of customers.
12:30 PM
Massive explosion of customers. Both registers are filled with customers giving their orders. Most of them look like they're road workers or power plant people on their lunch breaks, many of which have been cut in half due to the Great Recession. All men, of various races simply want something to put in their stomachs before they head back under the axe and the grind out there. We take their orders and send them out as fast as we can. I fill up various cups with drinks and take their money. But there's always a flurry of activity going on. The kitchen staff shout orders and yell and a lot is going on while customers get seated and eat. I think we need another fountain machine up front. Seriously, I don't like getting their drinks because it cuts down on valuable time spent taking their orders and serving the customers. Then again, we're in a recession so we need to make due with what we have. I carry out two trays at once while C. takes orders at her register. S. is helping us fill drinks though he generally is in the back. And the rest of the staff is busily making sandwiches and frying. So far, it's just hectic right now.
1:00 PM
By now, most of the lunch rush has left. I'm impressed with the speed people can actually eat when they're in a rush. A few stragglers are left, talking over the paltry remains of their plates and sandwiches. Scott soon comes in and gets a small gumbo with a Diet Dr. Pepper. He's a thin, blond fellow with a quick smile. He works nearby in a warehouse and once came in 4 times a week. Nowadays, I see him once a week. He takes a table near the window and eats while observing and working with his Blackberry. It's rather amazing how wired we all are in this day and age. When I was in grade school, I didn't have a cell phone. In fact, they were just a novelty back in the early 1990s. Now, everyone has one. Including kids. Hell, some kids have their own facebook page. It's kinda crazy. But anyway, a few people leave and I just stand and watch, reading if I get a chance. From this pont on, it's generally slow.
1:15 PM
Karl comes in with a friend. He orders the usual. I'm busy taking another customer's order at the drive thru and deal with that instead. Lot of people have been ordering plates today. You generally get a good deal with the plates but it's kind of crazy and ridiculous. So far, things are tapering off. M. calls me and I basically exit the working world for about 45 minutes to take the call. The rest of the staff process several orders while I'm locked in the office. I can hear the hustle and bustle but it doesn't sound terrible. We talk and chat for awhile, catching up on life and stuff in general. Nice to hear from M. after awhile. Life just gets crazy sometimes and hectic. Both of our lives. Trade parental stories and such. Then I get the call to return to duty. Nothing's going on really outside Karl's eating and talking. He and I talk about some architecture and also politics about how the Democrats are being stupid and we don't even know what's going on anymore. He's an interesting guy and he also ran for Congress back in the 1980s when he was in shape. But being a trucker has taken a toll on him. I've noticed that most truckers are fat men. Like really fat. It makes sense if all you do is sit and drive and eat food on the go. It's a terrible lifestyle really.
2:00 PM
The part-timers have all left by now and gone home. The restaurant is dead and it'll probably be like this for a couple more hours. I managed to steal some wireless from nearby and I go online, reading up on the blogs and working on my essay for a bit. An occasional customer comes in now and then. But generally, I'm left to my own devices for a bit or so.
3:00 PM
I carry out the orders for a nice old couple who often come every week and have our chicken sandwiches and other chicken-related orders. They're quiet, straightforward, and decent folk. So far, nothing going on really aside from two or three tables filled. The phone rings and I pick it up. The caller ID reflects that it's a local number.
"Hi, how may I help you?" I ask the caller at the other end.
"Yeah, you guys have that pole in the back..." A deep voice replies.
"Um...yes, we do."
"You know I can't park there with the pole in the back."
I remain somewhat confused, considering the pole blocking the exit in the rear is meant to deter truckers from running through and ruining our landscape. The landlord redid the asphalt and installed the pole for that reason. Not to mention we have a gas meter in the back that we have to pay for if truckers hit it. So really, it's a pain the ass for us to fix the damage and it's a pain in the ass for truckers to drive around the restaurant. I leave it up to you, reader, to decide which is worse.
"Well, sir. The landlord was the one who put that one up to deter trucks. I'm afraid he's the one who calls the shots. We can't do anything about that at all." I blatantly lie to the guy. It's actually a half-truth. We could remove it. But it's a pain.
"I'm just saying that lots of truckers won't park in the back with that pole."
"You could just drive in and turn around and park. Others have done that."
"Well, I rather go out the back, ya see? Much easier. Besides, it's going to hurt your-"
"I'm sorry for your inconvenience. Good day." I cut him off and hang up the phone, mildly irritated at the blatant laziness and inanity of such a ridiculous phone call. People like him would probably call the restaurant they ate at before to complain about the heart attack they're having rather than an actual ambulance. Asshole.
3:45 PM
Two regulars come in and ask how business is going. I tell them that things are picking up though it's been cold. It's generally true that people seem to not want to go out when it's cold and gray out. There are exceptions to this fact but as a rule, it's true. I serve them their food and they sit by a window and eat. I work on my essay for a bit, revising and editing. There's only three of us running the place right now with the owners gone shopping for about 2 hours now. Lord knows what they're buying for this place. Or themselves for that matter. I manage to steal some wireless and browse some websites for a bi to pass the time. Sometimes, I think we should invest in an internet connection just to make things a little easier.
4:00 PM
Two new customers come in, both of them white males in their middle age. They seem to be working men judging by the level of grime and dirt on their coveralls. They spend some minutes looking over the menu.
"Ya'll have burnt ends?" One man asks.
"No, we don't, sir." I inwardly sigh. I think I get this question like 4 times a week.
"What kind of barbecue place don't have burnt ends?" He angrily responds.
I mentally remark the kind of barbecue place that knows how to use proper English. I often get irked at customers demanding things that we don't carry whether they're burnt ends or Happy Meals. Seriously. I've gotten requests for Happy Meals. Luckily, his companion saves me from engaging in further sparring.
"The kind of place that didn't burn the meat, man." He chuckles.
"Oh, fine. Just get me a beef sandwich."
They take their orders and get it to go. As I glance outside the window, a long line of cars and trucks slowly builds up on the street outside. It's nearing rush our and when it gets to rush hour, the highway becomes almost a parking lot. During that time, few people dare to come in since they don't want to lose their spot on their precious way home from work, resulting in a 1 hour drive instead of a 20 minute drive normally. Part of me wishes I could lure them in and serve them since the lack of activity is somewhat boring and tedious after quite awhile. But alas, the flies do not head to the honey.
5:00 PM
So far, no one's come in at all. I manage to get on the wireless again and figure I'll look at the reviews on Google for the place. I notice a customer gave me a 1 star rating, remarking on how "the meat was dry and terrible and the sauce was horrid" and also how "people shouldn't waste their money here but the service is polite and friendly."
Not surprisingly, everyone's a critic. I honestly don't give a damn about people's opinions at this point, mainly because so many people come in and act like they're self-professed gourmands about barbecue having eaten at so many places in this town. It's actually spoiled them to the point where new folks just won't catch an easy break. Think of it like giving a cokehead his usual crack over a period of some years, the same stuff generally. Then one day, his drug dealer is whacked and a new one takes over, selling the stuff only at a different quality and make. The guy takes some and tries and then suddenly starts to feel euphoria. Pissy, he goes back to the dealer to demand the old stuff even if it made him feel like parasites were crawling all over his skin. We offer euphoria but if you want to feel like pins and needles, go right ahead. (Note: We don't sell or trade in cocaine. Sorry.)
The Internet really has allowed people to remain anonymous and bring out their nasty side. A lot of negative reviews are simply assholes since they think they can remain anonymous. Isn't that right, Mark C. Stark?
6:00 PM
Two regulars stop by and get their usual orders. The wife spends part of her time looking at the menu at other items while she's eating. She's tried at least 5 different dishes the last four weeks since she first started visiting. They're nice people and they spend a decent amount of money. In the back, there's talk and chatter about the upcoming New Year holiday. Personally, I'm hoping to hear back from some feelers I put about potential jobs in something that actually has something to do with my degree.
A few people come by the drive thru asking for our new special for $3.95. I notice how people can be insanely motivated by money more so than food nowadays. I frankly don't blame them since it's technically the great recession and all. Food is necessary for survival. But money is more important. I wish they would spend more but I figure I shouldn't try to complain to much. My job after all requires me to find creative and semi-legally nice ways to part people from their money.
7:00 PM
I get three rail workers come on in, asking for their food to go. I see them often and they're generally hardworking people with long hours. But they are grateful for good food so we're happy to help. I know I gave one of them a free drink once since it was late and I didn't care too much. Good to know that charity act made him a regular. At this point, I start beginning the ritual of cleaning up the place and emptying out the trash bins. There's only three of us left at this point anyway so things are slower paced.
As I empty the trash, I notice how empty most of the boxes of food are, which is a good sign. Sometimes, I'll find a half eaten sandwich or an entire plate, which is often sad and irritating since I hate it when people waste food. We already took the money but wasting food is simply wrong. Unfortunately, our society is so driven by mass consumerism and ease-of-disposal that it's often commonplace and few people care to deal with it. After all, it's not like the food could've done much good, aside from feeding hungry children in Haiti, the homeless drifter at the street corner, or the folks down at the soup kitchen. Nope, not at all.
8:00 PM
We all start cleaning up. Though we close at 8:30 PM, no one ever comes in after eight. There's only been two incidents were people came in for ordering food. It takes us awhile to close up shop but generally, I count the money, close the credit cards, make sure stuff is locked and what not.
8:30 PM
Lights out and head home.
9:00 PM
I blog about a normal day and spend time on the Internet. Farmville remains a viable outlet and addictive. Later on tonight is the Daily Show and the Colbert Report. I chat with some friends online but then eventually, I turn in.
12:00 AM
Bed time.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Tales From The Pit - What Your Drink Says About You
At the restaurant, we currently dispense Pepsi products to our customers. As such, we really have 8 options to choose from and given from what I observe, there are certain unique traits that people who order the drinks tend to have. I conducted the following research strictly at work, while operating machinery, or completely and totally driven to the edge of mental insanity. The sample is very large and the margin of error is ridiculously larger. So if you see your favorite drink lampooned below or get offended, spare me the hate mail. I already get enough Viagra spam and junk mail as it is.
Pepsi
You are a normal, everyday customer who understands the superiority of Pepsi lies in its sugary sweetness of absurd amounts of high fructose corn syrup mixed with a excessive cola and caffeine. It knows no racial or religious bounds! You may also hate the fact that we don't have Coke products and take one anyway. It's like eating your mom's meatloaf since it's all she makes or actually making conversation with your girlfriend because she took away your remote for the flatscreen and cut off your Internet. Likelihood of diabetes: LIKE YES! TOTALLY!
Diet Pepsi
You are likely suffering tooth problems due to excessive sugar intake as well as the onset of diabetes type 2. Besides, some idiot decided to do that tooth in Coca-Cola experiment with you and scar you for life. You're also aiming to lose weight and slim down enough to fit into the pants you have right now. Of course, that's kinda pointless if ALL you drink is nothing but Diet Pepsi all the time. Personally, you may like the taste of it and wonder why all drinks shouldn't be so good as Diet Pepsi. You might as well ask why your bitch of a coworker decided to rat on your affair with the head of marketing to your husband. Because face it, life is rough so Diet Pepsi can take you only so far. To the doctor's office or court anyway.
Sierra Mist
You want to be different. So that's why you totally gun in for the Sierra Mist when we don't have Sprite. Caffeine free and a lemon-lime flavor, Sierra Mist represents the potential of what a good soda could be only to have it neutered in more ways than one because 7UP is so much better. You prefer the lemon-lime flavor since it's a lot less likely to cause you to become an addict. You may work long hours and have a terrible job but you know in the end, things will just work out. As long as your bosses don't know you're using the company credit card to pay for a $7 meal, you're fine. Way to be a rebel.
Tropicana Pink Lemonade
You love to be fruity, don't you? The pink lemonade lacks caffeine and is simple pink lemonade with all-natural flavors and ingredients. Or so it says on the label anyway. You dislike soda and sometimes wish restaurants would stock Hi-C or fruit punch but there's just something about having a cup of pink lemonade on a day when it's 25 degrees outside with a heavy snowstorm. That something is called being out of your mind. Proportionally, more black people get this drink than white people. But then again, it's crazy to think that drinks are influenced by race.
Orange Crush
Black people LOVE this drink (Disregard the above). Hands down, you enjoy the bite of the orange syrup mixed with a tank of CO2 gas when it hits your tongue. You may likely harass the employees with snide remarks or ridiculous questions simply because you are an unqualified prick. You are addicted to the absurd amounts of caffeine and corn syrup in this drink and enjoy buying it every time you come in. Because let's face it, how many places serve Orange Crush and cause the management to threaten to call the police if you keep harassing them about being Asian?
Diet Dr. Pepper
You always keep an eye out for something new and different. Naturally, you gravitate towards Diet Dr. Pepper since it's like Dr. Pepper. Except not in any way. I personally think Diet Dr. Pepper tastes like flat Dr. Pepper only much more terrible in every way. Anyway, you tend to be reasonably well-dressed and have no problems paying with your credit card since you likely spent your cash on that hooker during your conference or going out with the girls to a bar that serves $20 cocktails. You work hard and get your hands dirty but the self-immolating work mentality of your profession prevents you from treating yourself and instead consume something that I feel is the castor oil of soda.
Dr. Pepper
You know what you like. Boring. Predictable. The missionary position of soda. You know what you generally want in life and go for it. One day it may just be a small gumbo or a sandwich, the next day it could be simply hotwiring your neighbor's car and running it into a telephone pole just to freak him out. You can make your mark in a crowd or blend in like a chameleon just out of self-preservation. Your job may take you across many miles but Dr. Pepper is always a constant with you on the road. Along with a .9 mm Beretta for scaring off illegal immigrants you think you see everywhere. You're not afraid of much, including the police. So be free. Or you may end up in jail. Again.
Mountain Dew
I've ONLY had WHITE PEOPLE buy this. Period. You enjoy the strange taste of Mountain and are prone to being somewhat hyperactive and overjoyed when you receive your Mountain Dew. You may also tend to be extreme in your appetite, either ordering enough for a small family to feed yourself or order enough for yourself only to not feed a small family. You are not afraid to try something new and generally have enjoyed taking risks to the extreme, perfectly fitting in with the marketing image of Mountain Dew and EXTREME SPORTS! Unfortunately, you may not drink enough to rationalize any restaurants to order more Mountain Dew for at least two months, which really is your own fault for not embracing the inner Dew. Life for you is A-ok, minus the fact that you got conned into taking out a sub-prime loan. Sorry about that.
Pepsi
You are a normal, everyday customer who understands the superiority of Pepsi lies in its sugary sweetness of absurd amounts of high fructose corn syrup mixed with a excessive cola and caffeine. It knows no racial or religious bounds! You may also hate the fact that we don't have Coke products and take one anyway. It's like eating your mom's meatloaf since it's all she makes or actually making conversation with your girlfriend because she took away your remote for the flatscreen and cut off your Internet. Likelihood of diabetes: LIKE YES! TOTALLY!
Diet Pepsi
You are likely suffering tooth problems due to excessive sugar intake as well as the onset of diabetes type 2. Besides, some idiot decided to do that tooth in Coca-Cola experiment with you and scar you for life. You're also aiming to lose weight and slim down enough to fit into the pants you have right now. Of course, that's kinda pointless if ALL you drink is nothing but Diet Pepsi all the time. Personally, you may like the taste of it and wonder why all drinks shouldn't be so good as Diet Pepsi. You might as well ask why your bitch of a coworker decided to rat on your affair with the head of marketing to your husband. Because face it, life is rough so Diet Pepsi can take you only so far. To the doctor's office or court anyway.
Sierra Mist
You want to be different. So that's why you totally gun in for the Sierra Mist when we don't have Sprite. Caffeine free and a lemon-lime flavor, Sierra Mist represents the potential of what a good soda could be only to have it neutered in more ways than one because 7UP is so much better. You prefer the lemon-lime flavor since it's a lot less likely to cause you to become an addict. You may work long hours and have a terrible job but you know in the end, things will just work out. As long as your bosses don't know you're using the company credit card to pay for a $7 meal, you're fine. Way to be a rebel.
Tropicana Pink Lemonade
You love to be fruity, don't you? The pink lemonade lacks caffeine and is simple pink lemonade with all-natural flavors and ingredients. Or so it says on the label anyway. You dislike soda and sometimes wish restaurants would stock Hi-C or fruit punch but there's just something about having a cup of pink lemonade on a day when it's 25 degrees outside with a heavy snowstorm. That something is called being out of your mind. Proportionally, more black people get this drink than white people. But then again, it's crazy to think that drinks are influenced by race.
Orange Crush
Black people LOVE this drink (Disregard the above). Hands down, you enjoy the bite of the orange syrup mixed with a tank of CO2 gas when it hits your tongue. You may likely harass the employees with snide remarks or ridiculous questions simply because you are an unqualified prick. You are addicted to the absurd amounts of caffeine and corn syrup in this drink and enjoy buying it every time you come in. Because let's face it, how many places serve Orange Crush and cause the management to threaten to call the police if you keep harassing them about being Asian?
Diet Dr. Pepper
You always keep an eye out for something new and different. Naturally, you gravitate towards Diet Dr. Pepper since it's like Dr. Pepper. Except not in any way. I personally think Diet Dr. Pepper tastes like flat Dr. Pepper only much more terrible in every way. Anyway, you tend to be reasonably well-dressed and have no problems paying with your credit card since you likely spent your cash on that hooker during your conference or going out with the girls to a bar that serves $20 cocktails. You work hard and get your hands dirty but the self-immolating work mentality of your profession prevents you from treating yourself and instead consume something that I feel is the castor oil of soda.
Dr. Pepper
You know what you like. Boring. Predictable. The missionary position of soda. You know what you generally want in life and go for it. One day it may just be a small gumbo or a sandwich, the next day it could be simply hotwiring your neighbor's car and running it into a telephone pole just to freak him out. You can make your mark in a crowd or blend in like a chameleon just out of self-preservation. Your job may take you across many miles but Dr. Pepper is always a constant with you on the road. Along with a .9 mm Beretta for scaring off illegal immigrants you think you see everywhere. You're not afraid of much, including the police. So be free. Or you may end up in jail. Again.
Mountain Dew
I've ONLY had WHITE PEOPLE buy this. Period. You enjoy the strange taste of Mountain and are prone to being somewhat hyperactive and overjoyed when you receive your Mountain Dew. You may also tend to be extreme in your appetite, either ordering enough for a small family to feed yourself or order enough for yourself only to not feed a small family. You are not afraid to try something new and generally have enjoyed taking risks to the extreme, perfectly fitting in with the marketing image of Mountain Dew and EXTREME SPORTS! Unfortunately, you may not drink enough to rationalize any restaurants to order more Mountain Dew for at least two months, which really is your own fault for not embracing the inner Dew. Life for you is A-ok, minus the fact that you got conned into taking out a sub-prime loan. Sorry about that.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Tales from the Pit - Great Expectations
The axiom "you shouldn't judge a book by its cover" is one that most people should use to guide them in their daily actions. Otherwise, it may lead to perhaps some of the most illuminating and possibly confrontational encounters possible. There are some instances where the opposite may be true.
Today was a nominally busy day, compared to the last two weeks. Customers were in and out and we ere mostly full around lunch time. This black middle-aged couple came in around 12:30 PM, the man with a bushy beard with growing streaks of gray and the woman with a hook-nose like a bird, with keen and quick eyes hidden behind horned-rimmed glasses.
The man walked up to me along side his wife, who was muttering about the catfish on the menu.
"Excuse me, can I get some shrimp egg foo yung?"
"What?" I replied, annoyed that this had to be another one of those days.
"How about some shrimp fried rice?" He continued inquiring.
"I'd actually like the catfish fillets, please." His wife said to me, ignoring his remarks. She rolled her eyes at him, mildly irritated.
I stared at the man and gave him my death stare, cold and unreadable as if boring into the depths of his soul.
"Sir, I feel as if I should be offended. I'm not sure whether to call the ACLU or not..." I remarked tersely, staring.
"What....?" He replied, mildly taken aback. His wife smirked a bit at his discomfort.
I sensed an opening and went in for the kill to catch my prey.
"Sir, I'm kidding." I told him, my expression softening slightly though without any betrayal of a smile or laughter.
"But...you're offended?" Obviously, he didn't get the fact that I was toying with him.
"Oh, he's not. Just stop it and order something." His wife barked, with a slightly amused look on her face.
The husband acquiesced and placed his order, returning back to normal.
Afterwards, the woman came up to me. She and her husband had finished their meals. I was mildly lost in my own world and didn't notice them until she stood at the register. She looked at me, her eyes shining slightly.
"I just want to say that that was delicious. I'm definitely coming back!" I was taken aback by the compliments since no one had every gone up to me like this before.
"Er, well...thank you, madam." I stammered slightly, bemused.
"I was sitting there and talking to those people and after I finished, I felt like I had to go out and start waving my arms at people and getting them to come on in! I mean when I first drove by, I didn't see many cars so I was a bit skeptical. But damn, it was great!"
"Well, that's certainly...admirable, ma'am." I thanked her and motioned my hand a bit to the menus nearby. What the hell was I supposed to say upon receiving such praise? I was impressed, especially considering that my experience with black people has taught me that they tend to be the most critical and most picky of eaters. What happened next was something that I didn't expect.
Her husband took out his hand and held it for a handshake. Confused, I shook his hand firmly.
"That was great. It was delicious."
The couple waved me good-bye and left the restaurant, heading back to work. Needless to say, some things are entirely unexpected.
Today was a nominally busy day, compared to the last two weeks. Customers were in and out and we ere mostly full around lunch time. This black middle-aged couple came in around 12:30 PM, the man with a bushy beard with growing streaks of gray and the woman with a hook-nose like a bird, with keen and quick eyes hidden behind horned-rimmed glasses.
The man walked up to me along side his wife, who was muttering about the catfish on the menu.
"Excuse me, can I get some shrimp egg foo yung?"
"What?" I replied, annoyed that this had to be another one of those days.
"How about some shrimp fried rice?" He continued inquiring.
"I'd actually like the catfish fillets, please." His wife said to me, ignoring his remarks. She rolled her eyes at him, mildly irritated.
I stared at the man and gave him my death stare, cold and unreadable as if boring into the depths of his soul.
"Sir, I feel as if I should be offended. I'm not sure whether to call the ACLU or not..." I remarked tersely, staring.
"What....?" He replied, mildly taken aback. His wife smirked a bit at his discomfort.
I sensed an opening and went in for the kill to catch my prey.
"Sir, I'm kidding." I told him, my expression softening slightly though without any betrayal of a smile or laughter.
"But...you're offended?" Obviously, he didn't get the fact that I was toying with him.
"Oh, he's not. Just stop it and order something." His wife barked, with a slightly amused look on her face.
The husband acquiesced and placed his order, returning back to normal.
Afterwards, the woman came up to me. She and her husband had finished their meals. I was mildly lost in my own world and didn't notice them until she stood at the register. She looked at me, her eyes shining slightly.
"I just want to say that that was delicious. I'm definitely coming back!" I was taken aback by the compliments since no one had every gone up to me like this before.
"Er, well...thank you, madam." I stammered slightly, bemused.
"I was sitting there and talking to those people and after I finished, I felt like I had to go out and start waving my arms at people and getting them to come on in! I mean when I first drove by, I didn't see many cars so I was a bit skeptical. But damn, it was great!"
"Well, that's certainly...admirable, ma'am." I thanked her and motioned my hand a bit to the menus nearby. What the hell was I supposed to say upon receiving such praise? I was impressed, especially considering that my experience with black people has taught me that they tend to be the most critical and most picky of eaters. What happened next was something that I didn't expect.
Her husband took out his hand and held it for a handshake. Confused, I shook his hand firmly.
"That was great. It was delicious."
The couple waved me good-bye and left the restaurant, heading back to work. Needless to say, some things are entirely unexpected.
Monday, February 1, 2010
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