Now I Ain’t Sayin’ She A Gold Digger…

Ok, I know I promised no more negativity and “I hate these types of people” posts, but today, I just can’t help myself. My best friend sent me this article from the New York Times, and I thought it would be another “2974560318472946 jobs lost today, the economy sucks” article. But no, in fact, it made my day and made me feel kind of good about myself, because I’m as self sufficient as I can possibly be.

It’s the Economy, Girlfriend

If you don’t want to read the whole thing, either because you just don’t like reading, or because it makes you sick that there are still women out there like this, just take a gander at the fifth paragraph:

In addition to meeting once or twice weekly for brunch or drinks at a bar or restaurant, the group has a blog,
billed as “free from the scrutiny of feminists,” that invites women to
join “if your monthly Bergdorf’s allowance has been halved and bottle
service has all but disappeared from your life.”

Excuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuse me?!?! Scrutiny of feminists?!?! MONTHLY BERGDORF’S ALLOWANCE?!?! I’m sorry, but if I want Prada shoes, I’m going to earn the money myself. That, and I am absolutely, definitely going to criticize the 20-somethings that believe it’s a travesty when their boyfriends and husbands can’t afford bottle service. If that’s being a “feminist” then so be it. Earn your keep, ladies.

In addition:

“One of his best friends told me that my job is now to keep him calm
and keep him from dying at the age of 35,” Ms. Davis said. “It’s not
what I signed up for.”

On big news days, like when the first proposed government bailout
failed in Congress, or when Lehman went belly-up, they knew that plans
to see their partners would be put off. “I was like, ‘O.K. I signed up for that, it’s fine,’ ” said Ms.
Cameron.

Honestly, what is wrong with these women?! Since when do you “sign up” for things in a relationship? When tragedy strikes and affects your boyfriend, you’re mad because he’s depressed and instead of being pampered, you have to take care of him?! You signed up to be shallow, lazy, kept, and selfish.

Times have changed, the economy’s changed, and we need to change with them. If that means getting a real job and supporting yourself, looks like you’ll be searching CareerBuilder alongside me. And this isn’t the Victorian Age. We can do just as much as the guys can. Which includes foot our own Bergdorf bill.

This Is Where I Say I’ve Had Enough

I want to thank everyone for their empathy and encouragement. It’s nice to know people (who don’t know you personally) care, even if it’s just a simple “I’m sorry” that takes 10 seconds. It’s comforting, and helped.

I think my pity party has lasted long enough. A day or so of “Woe is me” is quite enough time to get over myself. And since my resume has been updated, I’ve begun sending it to friends and colleagues for either feedback, shameless promotion and/or delivery to HR departments, or otherwise.  There are few jobs online that look promising, especially since my experience level is far less than I wanted it to be when I left this past job, but them are the ropes.

I do think it was probably a bad idea for our friends to leave the dark chocolate covered pomegranate though…at this rate the entire bag will be gone, and I’ll be 5 lbs heavier.

At this point, I think it’s a blessing in disguise, in that I can now focus on finding a job that I will enjoy, at least a little more, and will pay a little more, so I’m not living paycheck to paycheck. It also affords me some time off to reflect on what I really want out of life. It’s forced PJ to be more responsible (to the point of year-long budgets laid out by color-coded spreadsheets, allowing for bills, vacation, racing, and other expenses), and me to really consider where my money goes, and what I do and don’t need. It’s dragging me into a new phase of life, and I think it’s a good thing.

Even if it sucks for now, it’s good to take a step back and just breathe.

Someone’s Got A Case Of The Mondays

I got laid off this morning.

I’ve finally stopped crying, and the more I say it, the easier it is. And the more numb I feel. Or nauseous.

Sure, it’s the position, and not me. Sure it’s the economy. Whatever you want. The bottom line is: I no longer “do” anything. And that is humiliating.

I don’t know how to do anything.

The last thing I can try to “do” is to drown myself in the shower.

This Is Side One, Flip Me Over

Let me first preface this with the fact that I worked in a superb restaurant for 4 years, as everything from bartender to hostess to dishes. Not only do I know how people are supposed to wait tables, and what is proper form, but I am also well aware of how hard they work, so I am a 30%+ tipper.

Let me further preface this with the statement that I really do enjoy the company of these people. It’s just sometimes I think one of them is not really with it.

Let me still further preface this with an apology: You’re going to get a play-by-play. For both Friday and Saturday night’s dinner.

FRIDAY, 2PM: PJ’s friend D (but I’m guessing really his recently-turned 21 year old, more wealthy, more high maintenance, easily offended girlfriend) suggests a triple date at 8pm The Blue Pearl. I read 30 reviews on it…15 from Zagat, and 15 in general say it’s bad food, long waits, terrible service and really overpriced. It wants to be a chic NYC fondue place. I can’t eat dairy and C doesn’t touch cheese. Oh well. God forbid we go someplace where everyone can eat.

We go anyway. We get there at 8:30, because D called and said, “Sorry, I meant 8:30.” We have a 35 minute drive to New Haven. Thanks. Our waiter looks like a real life Mii. Asian, glasses, goatee. Total hipster. Ok, whatever. It was amusing.

The tables are small and wobbly. This place sucks.

8:40PM: Finally, all 6 of us are there, and seated: Me and Peej, D and A, and PJ’s college roommate and girlfriend, C and V. For the record, I adore C and V. And D is pretty awesome too. I like A, but she’s just kind of girly-girl and way too high maintenance for me to deal with sometimes. We ordered our food, and A always gets an app, so that came out pretty quickly. It was just melted cheese and raw veggies, for crying out loud. Mii brings us bread. It looks like a slice of bread, cut into 6 smaller pieces, with a vat of olive oil, and no spices. Classy.

9:05PM: The waiter comes and takes the first fondue pot. We’re waiting, watching videos on the Blackberries, joking, whatever. There is enough visual entertainment with the other patrons in the restaurant to keep us amused, i.e. 6’5″ 300lb black woman, sitting on a round stool about 10″ in diameter.

9:45PM: I’m getting kind of hungry. PJ and C have to work Saturday, PJ at 7 and C at 6. My wine glass is still half full, but some waitress brings another full glass and bounces before I can say no thanks. PJ takes out his phone and starts looking something up for A. She has the audacity to point at him, reprimand him, and tell him how it’s her pet peeve when people have cell phones at dinner, and how when someone calls they answer. D tells her to be quiet, and mind her own business, because she does it all the time. I tell her he’s looking something up for her. She does not answer.

10:00PM: Mii comes over. “Can I get you another wine?” I tell him no thanks, someone brought this but I didn’t order it. He says “OK” and leaves. We still have entertainment: Harry Potter came in to DJ, broken, falling off glasses and all. He wasn’t good. Weird hipster trance music.

10:30PM: We still don’t have our food. Mii comes over with another plate of bread, and a “Sorry the kitchen is backed up.” (Let me interject that he was about….an HOUR late with that. You approach after 30 minutes, not an hour and 30. And after that long, we should have gotten a fricking free meal. There were 2 other tables in the damn place.)

10:35PM: Our food comes out. C and V, D and A got more fondue…C’s has oil and salt as the dipping, and D’s has horseradish and cream. This is not rocket science. It does not take 90 minutes to heat up oil and salt. On top of that, the meat and fish that came out was sparing. It was 6 bite sized pieces of beef, shrimp, white fish, and chicken. The kind hibachi chefs cook in 5 minutes. Unless they were slaughtering the food in the back, there is no reason for this.

I ordered calamari, and PJ had a burger. With raspberry aioli. And cinnamon onions. I am not making this up.

My calamari batter was tasteless, and parts of the pieces were undercooked and some were overcooked. PJ’s “rare” burger was closer to well done. It had obviously been sitting for quite some time. I sent the calamari back. It was terrible. (Let me interject that I NEVER send food back. I’m not picky; I usually suck things up and eat it. It is probably the second time in my LIFE that I’ve sent it back, and the first time was because it was the wrong food.)

Mii gives me attitude when I tell him why. “Undercooked? It’s not undercooked.” I’m not stupid; I grew up in RI with an Italian family, asshole. I know what undercooked (and crappy) fish tastes like.

10:50PM: We’re done eating. It doesn’t take a long time to eat food for mice. PJ and I shared his pretentious burger. It wasn’t good. We ate about half, combined. C jokes if there’s a DQ open. A is pissed, because no one liked her restaurant.

11:00PM: The bill comes. $231.96. Gratuity of 18%, or $33, is included. WTF?!?! Tax was $12. My second unordered and untouched wine is included. We call Mii over. PJ says, “She didn’t order this, and didn’t drink it.” Mii says, “Well, she didn’t refuse it.” I say, “No one gave me a chance to, she dropped it and walked away before I could, and I can’t even drink 2 glasses of wine.” Mii repeats, “Well you didn’t refuse it.” And I say “And I didn’t drink it.” Mii finally says (in a huff), “Fine. I’ll take it off the bill.” (Let me ask here what kind of restaurant policy is it that you pour, mix, and serve drinks that are unordered, then don’t allow a customer to refuse them, and then charge for them? You should NEVER do that…unless it’s free refills of soda or water.)

The $230 bill is reduced to $220. Gratuity and tax are not adjusted though. Jerk. Whatever. Between PJ’s burger ($12), my drink ($8), and his drink ($6) we have a grand total of $26 for our meal (or lack thereof). We throw in $35. I do understand that it’s not 1/3 of tax+tip, but when you break it down, it’s more than we technically owe. D and A ran up the highest tab, with the app, five $10 drinks, and a $26 dollar entree. At PJ’s surprise party, D and A stiffed me $30, and last time they stiffed PJ $20. So we weren’t too worried.

We all put money the money in. We’re $6 short. A looks directly at me and says, “How much did you put in? We’re $6 short. Did you put in for tax and tip?” I look back and say, “Yes, we did. It’s factored in.” PJ says, “We left $9 on $26. That should be more than enough.” D throws in $6. A gets mad and yells, “Don’t do that! You don’t owe it! Don’t put that in there!” D tells her to shut up, because it’s $6 and we all want to get out of there.

11:15PM: PJ and I leave. We bitch the whole way home how bad it was, and how A was being stupid. PJ doesn’t care. Out of the entire group, she is the only one that most people don’t like.

12:50AM: We drive down the road to my complex. A drunk driver in a big truck tries to exit the complex next door, at 40mph without stopping, and nearly plows into the passenger side (read: MY side) of our car. Brakes are stomped on. I nearly have a heart attack. My hands shake till I get in bed. The bumper was right at the window. I would have broken my arm (at least) and had glass all over my face. Great.

__________________________________

SATURDAY, 6:30PM: After half an hour of waiting in RI at the local sushi place, CR and I get a table. (There are about 10 hightop tables, and 4 hibachi tables, but only 3 dining tables in this place.) It was a very nice table, right next to the fireplace, which is clutch, since it’s so cold out. We were waiting for a hightop but hey, we’ll take the best table in the place. Sushi is ordered, food is eaten.

7:45PM: We pay the bill. We’re chatting about things, since we see each other a few times a year. A large, middle aged woman comes over and says, “Are you going to be much longer? We’ve been waiting for this table, and we’d like to sit down. We’d go to hibachi, but we have a baby with us and it’s difficult, so do you think you could finish up and go somewhere else?” Then FatWoman STANDS there and waits for our answer. (Note: There are several hightops open, that can be pushed together.) CR’s eyes got really big, and my jaw was on the floor. Caught off guard, we stammer, “Well, I guess we can go…” FatWoman says “Oh, good” and goes off to get her daughter (?) and the baby. Who are right behind us.

The older couple next to us is shocked. They ask us if that lady asked us to leave. They offer for us to sit with them, and say they cannot believe the rudeness. I hope they say something to her, because CR and I can barely form sentences at this point.

I try to talk to the hostess, but FatWoman is in ear and eyeshot. I take a card and call. The hostess tells me it is against policy to ever ask anyone to leave because of a waiting party, and she is sorry, but she can’t do anything because she didn’t see it. Thanks for nothing.

9:45PM: I make it to CT, and play poker. I am out in 6 hands. I suck. I watch Wall-E and Prince Caspian.

3:00AM: We finally get back home and go to bed.

You Don’t Know Me, And You Don’t Wear My Chains

Dear Brother,

I don’t know why you say cruel things, or why you do things that are morally wrong. I don’t know why you want to be inconsiderate and hurtful. I don’t know why you want to do things that make you not only a danger to others, but yourself as well. I don’t know why you are trying to tear down the foundation that we have all built together, over the past 20 years. I don’t know why you have been so disrespectful, when you know and see how it has caused much pain and suffering.

Why do you want to hurt everyone that cares about you?

Do you believe you’re above me—above us? Do you believe no one has gone through anything like you have? Do you think rules, laws, and conscience are for those who choose to heed them? Do you think we have our own agendas? Do you think we don’t care? Do you think we don’t want you to be happy? Do you want to leave us? Do you think you’ve had it hard?

Because you haven’t.

We weren’t rich, but we weren’t deprived. We weren’t in the fast crowd, but we were popular. We couldn’t do everything, but we did more. We never wanted for anything.

I’ve always had to work harder than you did. For almost everything.

I was smart, so I helped you in school. I was not athletic, so you played outside with me in simple sports that I could maybe win. I was organized, so I helped you get into college. I was not popular, so you introduced me to your friends. I was happy in school, so I listened when you were not. I was not treated well in my relationship, so you didn’t want to be friends with them. I was successful in moving out, so I offered you a place to stay. I was not easygoing, so you taught me to roll with the punches.

But not these punches.

Now, none of that matters. Now, you say things about my life that hurt me. Now, you do things that hurt others. Now, you don’t seem to remember the life we had as children. Now, you don’t seem to care what the future will hold. Now, you have made it so I reap what you sow. Now, your selfish actions and words have caused rifts that extend far beyond us. Now, I have come to resent you.

I never wanted that.

I still don’t.

But now, it is up to you.

I will not be hurt any longer.