The Week Eris Had Lunch at My Restaurant

[Suu]

It's no secret that I've been struggling as of late with my job. In addition to the waning economy and the absence of students and professors during the summer, the owners of the 215-year-old building that we're in decided that now was a good time to use grant money to renovate, so it's surrounded by scaffolding and being powerwashed on a daily basis. I'm lucky if I walk with more than $20 a shift. Today (Friday) I made $11, for example. However, a job is a job, and until I have another one, I can't really get rid of the one I got, especially when your state's unemployment rate is the 2nd highest in the nation after Michigan.

And so my week began...

Monday night/Tuesday morning to be exact, I had a dream. Now, I did previously mention last year that I had one in which Dionysus saved my life after I had been dangerously boozing to catastrophic levels upon my parents forgetting it was my birthday because they were too busy buying their new house, my seemly never-ending unemployment in which I wasn't able to collect, and then my dad falling and busting his hip, which could have been the end of him walking all together. He has since healed and is in tip-top shape, but that's beside the point. The Greek God of Partying came and ripped me from the bathtub where I was contemplating drowning myself. A few minutes after we sat on the couch watching Olympic diving I found myself crying hysterically and speaking gibberish to the ex-husband, who was trying to sleep.

Right. Moving on. So a year and a day later, I was plunged into another one of my dreams, which I have to admit, I get frequently, but not on a regular basis, at least once or twice a year, in which I had interaction with the Hellenistic Pantheon.  And this is when a lot of you here will be all "Blah blah cynic boo hiss religion" on me, but cork it, you'll either read this, or you won't, and chances are, if you weren't going to read it already, you stopped 2 paragraphs ago and started on your tl;dr review of my writing below in this thread.

The dream, ah yes, the dream. Well, if you ever wanted to know what Mount Olympus looked like, I'd have to say that it is currently a dim office environment with rows of cubicles. Somewhat apropos for ancient deities pushed to the basement while the current big guns duke it out in the penthouse, if you will.

The minute I get there, I feel welcome, but at the same time, like I shouldn't be there, walking down this row of cubes, gray and bleak. Several interactions took place, but first was Zeus, who seemed jovial (no pun intended) and slightly ADHD, almost like he didn't want to be there or even want to talk to me or anyone else who wanted his attention. A secretary or aide did approach him and he got distracted with some form of paperwork, and I found myself moving on.

It was apparent that this was Olympian row, or at least the half that had the male deities, because next on the list was Poseidon, who was oddly warm in his approach and embraced me, which in my opinion, seems out of character for the sea god, but who are we to judge what is and what isn't characteristic of the gods other than mortal opinion? I remember speaking with Poseidon for a bit before moving on, but the words that were exchanged escape me. In fact, I recollect that I had more interactions, and that I saw more and did more, but it felt almost immediately as the day went on when I woke up that the memories were literally being sucked out of my head, because what I had remembered earlier in the day were gone later on as I continued to dwell on what exactly I saw.

I do remember "out of office" notices for Hera, Artemis, and Athena, though I swear I saw Artemis come in to the room, or rather "feel" than see, like I said, I couldn't really make direct eye contact or look at any supposed deity long enough to get a strong enough sense of what he or she truly look like, I just automatically averted my eyes, and knew who they were.

The most powerful recollection I have is that of Eris, actually, who was sitting on the desk in a cubicle that wasn't hers with a male deity that I recognized as Dionysus, but completely different than what he looked like a year ago. Eris was speaking in a tongue I sure as hell couldn't understand, and probably on purpose, but whatever she was saying was making Dionysus laugh as she polished his fingernails and applied henna very poorly to both her arms and his. Looking back on this I find it rather fitting, but at the time, I was truly confused.

I walked away again, and ran back into Poseidon, who said goodbye to me, which seemed weird, so I turned back to the apparent henna party cube where Eris continued with her fun.

I blatantly remember opening my mouth and going, "You know, that really doesn't look that good, you'd think a goddess could do a better job."

To which she replied with a laugh, and pointed to her head and Dionysus and made them both fiery red heads, like an unnatural Ariel mermaid red. They both laughed, and I joined them, because well, it was just perfectly absurd.

And then Dionysus went, "You need to go now. Bye!"

And I woke up. K

So yeah, that STARTED my week, where did it end?

Tuesday at work we were surrounded by picketers from the local union who were protesting the fact that the contractors working on the building weren't certified, and that because it was a historical building, that they should be working on it and not cheap private companies. I felt bad for the guys, since they were unemployed, and brought them coffee.

So then I go inside and find out that the sous chef walked out because the owner threw his pay at him, so the other server would be needed in the kitchen after we ALL prepped and waited for the head chef, who came in bitchy as all hell that he had to wake up before noon.

Okay fine, I can handle the whole restaurant myself for the most part, and I was doing fairly well when the Canadians came in.

For those that have ever waited tables in the US, you know that Canadians are the bane of your existence. I have yet to have a Canadian table not complain about anything or give me more than 10% while bickering in their funny Canuckistani accents. This one started because we didn't have a kids menu, then she bitched that we should lower our prices because of the economy. (First warning sign: Canadians love getting shit for free or cheaper, like they deserve a discount for setting foot in our country or something.)

So the meal goes on, they bitch about everything, and they leave me 11%. I was thrilled.

So after work we go down to heavy list fighting practice in which my boyfriend has to fight my ex-husband for his first armored fight ever. Because the day couldn't get anymore weird.

Wednesday starts with a similar feeling with the picketers continuing their battle, so I bring them coffee, and get yelled at by one of the building owners about how I shouldn't support them if I still want a place to work and that if the, and I quote "spic in the kitchen comes out here with snacks for them again, that he's going to report him to INS." (Jerry is from Guatamala, but I've seen his green card and drivers license, he's 100% legit.)

I was like, "Um, no. They have a constitutional right to be here, they aren't hurting anything, and if my boss says it's cool to give them a pot of coffee. I will. Also, cool it with the racial slurs, because it's extremely unprofessional, just an FYI." And go back inside to find the sous chef who walked out back in the kitchen working.

The day goes on, I make like no money, and go home.

Thursday I come into work to find a new fandangled fence surrounding the building and parking lot, put in place by the douchebag owners to keep the picketers out. It also keeps customers out, which, you know, could also be a plan, but that's an entirely different story all together.

As I'm setting up the dining room, a bad car accident happens out front in a very weird place to have one. Apparently this yuppie ran a red light and got T-Boned by some college kids coming down the hill who didn't see him (probably because of the FUCKING FENCE AND SCAFFOLDING) in enough time to brake. Now, the damage done to the yuppie's car was relatively minimal, but the driver's side door was bashed in bad enough to not be opened.

Sure enough, here comes RISD/Brown public safety (closest PD) and some Providence PD bike cops to assess the scene. Meanwhile, the two kids who hit the suit were out of their car, the driver was obviously crying and upset, not sure exact what he should do as he talked on the phone. Naturally, they were about to get screwed.

I watched the fire department show up and cut the yuppie out of his car with the jaws of life as the EMT held his neck stable until they could get a brace on it. So that once the door was off the yuppie could naturally STAND ON HIS OWN POWER AND SIT BACK ON THE STRETCHER.

For some reason this made me incredibly angry, because I knew those kids were going to get screwed unless the camera caught the fucker running the red, and even then, money talks in this city, and a couple of college kids don't have any.

So the whole day, I just felt mad. Like wanting to kill everyone who came into the restaurant mad, and considering I had one whole table before my cut, I didn't get too far.

Friday! YAY! You would think that Fridays would be busier, and typically sometimes maybe they are. Maybe. Or not. I had two tables and went home, but not after the power washing around the building decided to breach the 215-year-old window frames and cause slight flooding. In fact, while sitting at the bar waiting for my ride, the bartender and I were taking bets on how long it would be before one of the glass panes just gave and water would just spew in without the construction workers caring (much like what happened in the kitchen a few weeks ago.)

The anger continued and peaked last night when my grandmother angrily called me about the status of my student loans. Hey, if I'm making only a handful of dollars a day, then how the hell can I afford to pay those, let alone my rent. So, as she went on and on and threatened suicide, I snapped and yelled at her, and even told her that if she told my dad that I yelled at her, I wouldn't care, because she wasn't listening to me and was doing nothing but make the matters worse. This rage also resulted in me telling General Stuart to fuck off and hiding in his car to avoid having the cops called on me since I was outside yelling the whole time. It was a powerful anger that seemed almost therapeutic, until I started crying and had a minor asthma attack with chest pains associated with it.

So after almost calming down and wrapping up my cold dinner, I pondered if the bottling up and releasing of that much emotion is really worth it. If it forced Roger to have heart attacks, what is it going to do to me in the long run when I'm already having chest pains and adverse health effects when I'm relatively healthy and half his age? Was I just taught a lesson?

All right, I get it, gods, I need a new job and I need to GTFO...Or you can help me win Powerball. That would be nice too.

Today is Saturday, I have $10 to my name, and I'm supposed to go out with my best friend and then go to some rager party later...in nasty stormy weather. Let's see what the day is going to bring.

[Kai]

Thats cool, thanks for sharing. 

[The Good Reverend Roger]

This rage also resulted in me telling General Stuart to fuck off

I trust he got over it?

Sounds like you're having a shitty time, Suu.  I hope things get better.

[Thurnez Isa]

For those that have ever waited tables in the US, you know that Canadians are the bane of your existence. I have yet to have a Canadian table not complain about anything or give me more than 10% while bickering in their funny Canuckistani accents. This one started because we didn't have a kids menu, then she bitched that we should lower our prices because of the economy. (First warning sign: Canadians love getting shit for free or cheaper, like they deserve a discount for setting foot in our country or something.)

I don't do any of that
or neither do any of my friends

[The Good Reverend Roger]

For those that have ever waited tables in the US, you know that Canadians are the bane of your existence. I have yet to have a Canadian table not complain about anything or give me more than 10% while bickering in their funny Canuckistani accents. This one started because we didn't have a kids menu, then she bitched that we should lower our prices because of the economy. (First warning sign: Canadians love getting shit for free or cheaper, like they deserve a discount for setting foot in our country or something.)

I don't do any of that
or neither do any of my friends

That's because they don't have restaurants in Thunder Bay.

[Thurnez Isa]

For those that have ever waited tables in the US, you know that Canadians are the bane of your existence. I have yet to have a Canadian table not complain about anything or give me more than 10% while bickering in their funny Canuckistani accents. This one started because we didn't have a kids menu, then she bitched that we should lower our prices because of the economy. (First warning sign: Canadians love getting shit for free or cheaper, like they deserve a discount for setting foot in our country or something.)

I don't do any of that
or neither do any of my friends

That's because they don't have restaurants in Thunder Bay.

we got that one there... where the guys claim to fame is that he was a cook for Johny Cash
lol
Ironically the best burger I've ever had, though even on a Kaiser bun the grease sucks through
and the elderly waitress' actual name is Dot
like how cool can you get?

[The Good Reverend Roger]

For those that have ever waited tables in the US, you know that Canadians are the bane of your existence. I have yet to have a Canadian table not complain about anything or give me more than 10% while bickering in their funny Canuckistani accents. This one started because we didn't have a kids menu, then she bitched that we should lower our prices because of the economy. (First warning sign: Canadians love getting shit for free or cheaper, like they deserve a discount for setting foot in our country or something.)

I don't do any of that
or neither do any of my friends

That's because they don't have restaurants in Thunder Bay.

we got that one there... where the guys claim to fame is that he was a cook for Johny Cash
lol
Ironically the best burger I've ever had, though even on a Kaiser bun the grease sucks through
and the elderly waitress' actual name is Dot
like how cool can you get?

All old women in Ontario are named Dorothy (Dot).  My recently deceased grandmother, for example.  It was the health care what killed her!  Bastards!   

[Thurnez Isa]

I hear that the health care will soon result in rounding up Christians in concentration camps

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

Suu, may things get better for you, post-haste!

[Suu]

This rage also resulted in me telling General Stuart to fuck off

I trust he got over it?

Sounds like you're having a shitty time, Suu.  I hope things get better.

Yeah, it's rough.


Also: Telling Sallie Mae that you'll go live the life of a hobo just to pay gets a very happy reaction out of them. I recommend against this course of action.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

This rage also resulted in me telling General Stuart to fuck off

I trust he got over it?

Sounds like you're having a shitty time, Suu.  I hope things get better.

Yeah, it's rough.


Also: Telling Sallie Mae that you'll go live the life of a hobo just to pay gets a very happy reaction out of them. I recommend against this course of action.

I'd just tell them anything, and then not send anything.  Fuck 'em.  You can't get blood from a turnip.

[Jenne]

  I'm sorry this shit has been going down, Suu.    As Nigel said--may things do a 180 for you asap!

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

This rage also resulted in me telling General Stuart to fuck off

I trust he got over it?

Sounds like you're having a shitty time, Suu.  I hope things get better.

Yeah, it's rough.


Also: Telling Sallie Mae that you'll go live the life of a hobo just to pay gets a very happy reaction out of them. I recommend against this course of action.

I'd just tell them anything, and then not send anything.  Fuck 'em.  You can't get blood from a turnip.

Send them $10/month. Not kidding. I had a lawyer tell me that this is called "good faith effort to pay" and that it fucks them all up, and they won't even try to take you to court because they'd lose.

It worked for me. I paid a credit card company that refused to work with me after my first divorce $5/mo for YEARS, and they eventually ended up settling with me for half the bill.

[fomenter]

i did a similar thing with a debt stuck in my name by a employer, i let it go to collection and when the collection company hit "last straw" and were about to kill my credit rating i sent five dollars as a "good faith payment" and repeated that routine for three months in a row and they eventually took the partial amount settlement i offered, it was a small hit on my credit rating but not as bad as a non payment (i wasn't going to pay a penny more than the absolute minimum on a debt that wasn't mine)

[The Good Reverend Roger]

i did a similar thing with a debt stuck in my name by a employer, i let it go to collection and when the collection company hit "last straw" and were about to kill my credit rating i sent five dollars as a "good faith payment" and repeated that routine for three months in a row and they eventually took the partial amount settlement i offered, it was a small hit on my credit rating but not as bad as a non payment (i wasn't going to pay a penny more than the absolute minimum on a debt that wasn't mine)

I have never given a shit about my credit rating, and it's never hurt me a bit.