How Hard Is It To Understand?

Simply put and completely true.

I'm terrified of going back to work.
 I've worked in restaurants, non stop since the late seventies. It's been my chosen profession and  know all too well about cross contamination and how quickly it can spread.

I do not feel comfortable about being a server at this exact moment in  time, especially considering I live in the number one travel destination of the entire world.
Mask or no mask.
At my age it simply isn't worth the risk to me.

But here's a clue...

Wear a freaking mask when you are out in public, and distance yourself from others whenever it is possible.

Throw in washing your hands a lot and keeping your surroundings clean and sanitary...it's really not that hard to do.
That should about do it, and would one hundred percent absolutely make a more than tremendous difference in the fight  against COVID.

One problem is that our own president won't even wear a mask or tell others they should.

 And I thought "I" was a slow learner?

If I hear one more person screaming about "don't try and control my rights to freedom"... 'I' could puke.

 You can't fix stupid, but you can block and delete it.

I spend less and less time on Facebook, the twenty four hour cyber water cooler of illiterate haters.
 I haven't seen or read as many hateful things, mostly all untrue, since Barrack Obama ran for president and was elected.
Twice.

I'll take class over crass any day of the week and twice on Sundays.

Sometimes I am so appalled and taken aback from things posted by people I have known my entire life. Dang, were they racist when I was a kid and I was just too much of a knuckle head to notice?
That's totally one possibility, and I freely admit to it.

I am so far from being perfect I can't even see the halfway mark, but at least I consistently try and get it right more often than not.
So there's that.



I've never seen this country more divided over simply wanting (asking) for equal rights
...for every single person, every single day of their life.

Here's a challenge.

Read this book and get back to me about Black Lives Matter.


Hell, just look what we did to Native Americans when we first arrived...on their land.

Come on, America.
We have a lot to make up for.


Not to mention, these examples are just the tip of the proverbial iceberg of inequality and injustice, and a huge elephant in the american living room. Don't expect change to happen in one weekend, and don't expect it to be pretty.




It hasn't been  pretty for them, so why should it be pretty for you?
Think about that for a minute.

Think about George Floyd, with that (not all) cops knee on his neck for 8 minutes and forty six seconds, even though he was handcuffed, non combative...and innocent?

I could go on, and on, and on...and on.
Literally.

If reading this makes you feel uneasy, angry or uncomfortable, maybe you should ask yourself why?

I think Dr. Seuss put it best, years and years ago.

Love is all you (we, or they) need.


Til next time,

COTTON

Can I Be A Server On A Rascal?

It's only six hundred bucks but if I had one, could keep serving until my carpal tunnel gets so bad I can't work the hand controls. We'll need to replace the basket in front with a tray and instead attach the basket to the back so I can take their dirty plates to the dish room. I'll back into the dish room with my little reverse beep sounding, to alert the dishwasher to come around and unload me. Of course we'll have to put a little bell on the handle bars to let other servers know when I'm zooming up behind them, aiming to pass.

Talk about the perfect plan!

...And just think about all the 'pity' tips I'll get!! Who cares if they start calling me Flo?

                                                         I've certainly been called worse.

I can still run circles around most servers who are younger than my youngest youngin but age is starting to get in my way. My back starts hurting about four hours into a shift and kills me to have to bend over and pick something up off the floor. I have to hold onto something to get back up. It's borderline embarrassing in front of guests. If I drop something (fork, knife, napkin) in the kitchen or back I never hesitate and ask one of the young servers if they will bend over for me to pick up whatever it is. I'll always say "Thanks for being a Bender for an old lady."

I've gotta get back on the Yoga train, which helps my back more than anything (other than a cold one).

I still enjoy serving and has served me well for almost forty years. I just need modifications now.

I can polish and roll silverware like a ten year old kid from China in a sweatshop, making cheap clothes to ship overseas, but carrying two (huge) buckets of ice from the back of the kitchen to the front of the house leaves me exhausted. I guarantee they weigh more than me.

I always ask the male servers to carry heavy stuff for me, like racks loaded with tons of silverware or the baskets of silverware after I polish and roll them, and they always oblige. They may roll their eyes after they walk off with the load but at least their backs are to me so I don't see it.

I usually say "Why don't you be a Tote(er) for me?" And always ask them when they happen to be just standing there talking, while I am standing there working like they should be doing.

Works every time.

I'm still not used to cooking for just three people, after cooking for a family of five for decades and always end up with tons of leftovers every time I cook at the house. I always pack a huge container of whatever I cooked and take it into work with me. When I heat it up after the rush dies down, the servers will line up in the back with a plate and fork. It looks like a lunch line in the high school cafeteria.

That works out pretty good for me as well. No one likes to bite the hand that feeds them.

                  Basically, I'm a hard working 'Work Mom' and enjoy the title very much.

The great thing about waiting on the public for a living is no matter how hard or long, crazy, unpredictable or unfortunately every once in a while not a very profitable shift...you will laugh about and at many things throughout the process and always have something to smile about, looking back. Most of my funniest memories are restaurant related.

Case in point: Not so long ago it was balls to the walls busy at work. I was told to greet yet another new table and was stopping to tell them I would be right with them as another server walked behind me as I was approaching the table, and asked her to take whatever I had in my hands for me, and she did. I said to her "Thanks. Love you long time" then turned back to my table and saw two Asian people sitting there.

Or the time when I was working at the airport and an older dude took his little sleeping pill a bit too soon before takeoff...

Or the people I used to run into riding MARTA and shuttles to and from the airport when I was too broke to park there. Most amazing woman ever...zipped and unzipped that purse almost a hundred times in under three minutes, as I acted like I was reading something on my phone. Crazy enough, no one else even noticed her.

My older son was working with me at the airport back then and hitching rides with me. He bought a car shortly after this next pic was taken on our way to the world's busiest airport. I embarrassed him on an almost daily basis with my oddball observations.


The shuttles were almost always packed and would sometimes ask employees to get off and give passengers our seats. This particular day was slower than slow and it was just me and my son. One other man finally boarded just as we were leaving and for some strange reason crammed himself into a tiny back corner seat...the seat no one ever wanted on the shuttle bus. We were bumping around Loop Road on the way to the international terminal which sits out in no mans land on the other end of the airport and I started thinking about the line from Dirty Dancing about "Nobody puts Baby in the corner" and started kinda chuckling to myself.

Unfortunately my son asked me what I was laughing about.

I leaned over while trying to whisper in his ear (he says I didn't whisper) but was already so tickled said a tad bit louder than I meant to, "Nobody puts Bobby in the corner."

The good thing about working at international, you rarely see the same people, ever again.

I think my son bought a car the next week.


One last one:

About twenty years ago when I worked for LongHorn, my two younger kids went with me to work one day. The hostess, still a friend of mine to this very day, was at the front door.

                                        That's her on my right side with her arm behind me.


 When she walked off, Zach asked me "Where is she from?" I said she was from China.

                         Zach was totally serious and said "How's she get to work...a boat?"






There is nothing funnier or better or more entertaining than working with the public every day in the service world. Every day you meet different people. Every day you experience something totally different, whether good or bad. I couldn't stand a monotonous job. The same thing, the same people, the same result at the end of every same day. Do it long enough and you will encounter many more wonderful people than horrible ones.

I'd rather take the gamble and be a server. The stories you hear, the people you meet, the connections you make and if you are a good enough server, the appreciation they all shown you on that tip line.

It's kind of like the way I try and live my life.

                                    Be a good person and good things will happen to you.

                      I know I'm crazy. I know I'm loud and I know I sound like a hillbilly.

But I try and be a good person. Not the best person, but a person you would like if you randomly met me or actually knew me.

Last case in point:

Had a customer last night who complained about me to a manager. It was the worst service she had ever had. Not going into details but the manager was totally on my side and told me to forget about it. I worried about it more than my manager and actually worried about it all night. I was on the expo line talking with the cooks. I love our cooks and think they all genuinely like me as well. So many servers don't even bother to know the cook's names, or the dishwasher's names or anything about them.

One of my favorite cooks happened to be there and said to him "I waited on your mother and your entire family on your mother's birthday. What kind of server did she think I was?"

The woman is no slouch either, graduated Rutgers and has an executive job with one of the theme parks here.

This is what her son said to me...and made all the difference.

"My mom thought you were the best server she's ever had. She felt like she wanted to have you as one of her friends."


That is what I strive for as a server, and as a person. I want you to feel like you've made a friend when you've interacted with me.

I'm a pretty simple girl. I got my hair cut today for $12.99. Looks fine to me, couldn't imagine spending more than twenty bucks for a cut these days. Makes me feel stupid for spending thirty five or forty when I was young. No telling what they charge now. I buy cheap makeup because I don't wear a lot of makeup. I still have and wear clothes I've had for well over twenty years. Big Lots is one of my favorite stores. I spend more on stamps and note cards than I do clothes. Buy classic and it'll be good for decades. I'm blind as a bat and far sighted but get my cute little peepers at Michael's for $2.99. People compliment me about them all the time...as well as my hair. Massey does my highlights. One bucket of Kaleidocolors for twenty bucks lasts me over two years.

All these little things leave me with enough money to help others. My kids, co workers, peeps from back home, peeps I've met here and peeps I've never met but seem to need a helping hand.

I'll probably make it into Heaven but be bumped to the south side of it, but that's okay too. I'm used to being a south side girl and will probably meet a lot of of old friends there.


You shouldn't be a "Woe is me person" or a "I can't go on person" because that's simply not true.

You aren't, and you can.

It might not be easy and may take more than a minute, or a month or even a year or two...or more.

But to battle and persevere, to keep going when you simply think you can't make it one more step...is when the good things begin to happen. Maybe not always, but way more often than not.


For all the people (and there are more than many) who helped us reach this point, where we can actually reach out and help others again...Thank You.

I don't want to live without you...and couldn't have. This includes my husband. We've stood together through the good and the bad and finally the best.

    When it seems like there is too much on your plate, maybe you aren't eating enough crow.


Till next time, COTTON

La Familia

I've been serving so long, it was technically called waitressing when I began my now almost forty year career in the business.

I enjoy it because number one, it best suits my personality and skills set and number two, has always provided pretty well for me. I can remember making about $13,000 a year when I first started doing it full time in the late seventies. I peaked at a net income of over $70,000 while working at the airport.

Not bad for a college drop out.

It has its ups and down, but what job doesn't?

I don't think there was one Hispanic working in the restaurant where I first worked. That's hard to find these days.

Boy, the times have times changed

I think working in the service industry so long is also what helped shape my opinion of minorities in the work force.

A couple of true facts I researched:

(2016)

The restaurant and foodservice industry is one of the most diverse in the United States. It employs more minority managers than any other industry. Women represent 55 percent of the restaurant workforce, and more than a fourth of all foodservice managers are foreign-born.


 Over 9.5 million people worked in restaurants and bars in August of 2011 with 8.6 million working in non-supervisory positions. In 2010, 52 percent of these workers were women, 11 percent were African American, 6 percent were Asian, and 22 percent were Hispanic or Latino.


I can say with full confidence, and will, that my Latino and Hispanic co workers have always been some of the hardest working people I have ever met and are more often than not, the life blood of a restaurant.

So with all that rant said and done...have a funny story about work tonight.

I went into work at six PM. I wasn't a closing server so really didn't know what kind of money I'd make. Closing servers get to suck up all the money after all the other servers are cut from the floor.

It wasn't super busy but we had a crazy, and I mean crazy one hour pop.

It was like someone had driven them all together in a Greyhound bus up to the door of the restaurant and let them all pile out at once.

I was so in the weeds it wasn't even funny.

*For peeps who don't work in the industry, "In the weeds" mean you're so buried and behind that you can't even see a way out."

I normally don't have to ask for help from others and didn't for about forty five minutes. I was close to going down in flames, with sweat running down both sides of my arm pits.

I went into the kitchen with an armload of  dirty dishes, repeating my mantra over and over again, so as to remember what I needed to do or ring into the computer next.

One of the Hispanic cooks working Sautee', the closest station by the dish room, stepped off line and took every item from me and carried them all to dish room. Then he did it again less than two minutes later. Five minutes later a food runner (also Latino) saw me headed through the dining room, once again on my way to the dish room with another bobbling load, and relieved me of my unstable stack of dirty plates. He did it several more times within one hours' time.

It was like the the instructions on old shampoo bottles... "Lather, rinse and repeat."

With their help, two minutes later I was back on top of the game.

It almost got out of hand and would have panicked without their help.

With their help, my tables all had an amazing experience and I made pretty great money in the span of less than three hours.

After the rush, I went to the expo line and announced "Attention Kitchen, you rocked that...and job well done."

Not one of my customers' dishes came out late or got sent back and everything that hit my tables was on point.

It's a pretty terrific kitchen staff I work with and the main reason I am able to make the money I do.

Massey had made brownies yesterday for me to take to work and  had them all in a gallon size plastic bag in my trusty lunch box. I tossed the baggie on the counter of expo, thanked every one of them (all Hispanic but one) and told them to enjoy the brownies.

If you've ever been a server, there's nothing worse than the kitchen crashing during a 'Hard Push' ...and it was a pretty hard push.

After all was said and done, I did my side work and cleaned my station.

I clocked out, with a hefty wad of bills in my apron.

I went to the back of the kitchen to retrieve my umbrella (never leave home without one in Florida) and get my now empty lunch box from my locker. I had brought treats for the dishwashers and sous chef as well.

Another female server was talking by the lockers with about three other cooks. They were all four Latino.

Here's the thing about Latino women talking with another Latino, to a JawJa Gurl, born and bred.

Number one, they speak extremely animated, fast and furiously and number two,  always seem highly irritated for some unknown reason.

I'm sure American women sound the same to Latino women who aren't fluent in my language.

So I'm getting my things out of my locker, kinda halfway listening to her when I hear the word "Gringo".

I was totally kidding, but said (being funny)  "Hey, hey, hey..don't be talking about us white folk while I'm still standing here!"

She immediately said "Oh no, no,no,no it was nothing like that! A friend of mine recently married a white guy and was just telling them how well they are doing together... really!!"

All the cooks  started to chuckle. The server was laughing as well, still insisting she wasn't talking about me.

Then as I walked out of the kitchen to go home, slowly shook my head but smiled at her,  and said ...

"Puta please!!"

I've never heard cooks laugh so hard or much and enjoyed making them laugh after such a really, really tough but successful shift. The server was cracking up as well.

Here's the thing...

When you work in a great restaurant, you're  all Familia.

Simply said, there are good people and bad people in this world. Nothing else about them really matters.


I'm not the best person in the world, but most certainly not the worst.

I consider not being the worst a compliment, along with my graying hair and wrinkles, feeling like I've earned all three...sometimes the hard way.

I think Tim may (most probably) sometimes think to himself, "What the hell was I thinking when I asked this crazy woman to marry me?"

I have a pretty quick wit and sharp sarcasm seems to come easily to me. Both are excellent tools of survival in this world we live in today.

I'll point a finger at wrong doings in a heartbeat and extend a hand to help the wronged just as quickly. We need and have to support each, other instead of tear each other apart.

Tim married his complete opposite. Together, we complete each other. That's a total package. 

It's been a long journey for us. We nearly lost everything; after twenty years of living on easy street...to almost ending up on skid row with our three young'uns forced to watch their parents' debacle of feeling like failures. 

In hindsight, think our three kids needed to witness our fail...and ultimate survival.

Our kids learned, at the exact time in life they needed to,  how life can simply change on a dime. They saw how quickly comforts, taken for granted can be taken away. They learned they may have to fight like crazy but also to never, ever give up.

It was the single greatest lesson Tim and I could  have ever taught them about navigating life.

They have seen our struggle and they have seen us survive. They have been taught to be accepting of others, whether it be with help from or learning to help others.

More poignantly put:

This world needs to stop hating because of race, religion, immigration status or Tweets. As I said before, what matters more is whether you are a good person or a bad person.

Good things happen to good people.

Bad people are the minority in this world, it's time for us to show them who's in charge...and certainly isn't them.

That's the minority we need to be worried about.

Live your life as if there was no tomorrow, because it is never gauranteed.

Be the best person you can and always strive to be a better one.

That is the single thing you can do to help the world beat the evil odds.


Till next time...

COTTON

Adulting Is Exhausting

I've been a lax adult lately regarding my car. I was three thousand miles overdue for an oil change, haven't rotated the tires since leaving for Florida last year and was now the proud owner of two front tires with steel belts showing. I was a nervous wreck every time I got on the Toll road to and from work. Bonus points, I also had a rear tire with a formerly slow leak which now needed air twice a day.

Tim told me about a month ago that he would buy me new tires, so who am I to argue (don't say it).

I really didn't mention it again until I started getting nervous about driving my (now) suicide mobile.

He was working out of town all this week, due to leave early Tuesday morning. He told me on Monday morning, his day off, before leaving for golf that he found two tires on sale for sixty bucks and had transferred $150 to my checking account. He wanted me to go have them put on before he left town for the week.

I figured since he paid for it, I was down with going to have them put on. It's not like I'd have to inflate them myself with a bicycle pump or stretch them across the wheels by hand.

I called the place and asked if they had the tires in stock around ten that morning...they did! I told the guy (seemingly not the sharpest tool in the shed) hoping he wouldn't be the one putting them on, that they were ten dollars off on the website.

Here's where the Adulting got hard.

He said to get the discount I had to go online to order the tires. Once they were delivered, he would contact me and I could come in and have them put on.

Wait, what?!

I responded that I thought they had the tires in stock already. He said they did but to get the discount I had to order online.

Okay fine!

I went on the website and ordered the tires. It kept saying I would be prompted at checkout to enter the code for the discount.

Didn't happen, tried for thirty minutes.

It took my credit card info just fine. I thought maybe I had to submit the order before the promotional code would be available.

Nope.

Charged me full price. Not only that, it prompted me to choose an appointment to have them installed. The first time available was the next day at noon. I was counting on that twenty dollar discount to cover the price of plugging my  leaking back tire...all done before Tim left town.

Wait, what?!  (again)


I called the guy back and told him what had happened.

He said "let me log in to your account and see what's going on here."

After waiting literally for five minutes, he actually said this to me:

"Here's your problem. We can't give your ticket the discounted price because you ordered online and  has already been put into the system for tomorrow at noon. If they come in before noon maybe we can do it them, but can't change the price."

#thirdtime ... Wait, what?!

I told him I ordered online because he told me to. I added that I needed the tires put on that day, and sooner than later. I also told him I could go somewhere else if they didn't want my business, and yes I was nice about it.

Then he told me to give him an hour or so to make some phone calls to a higher up and see if they could help.

My response:

"Maybe I'll make a few calls too and see how high up the chain I get."

Low and behold he called back around one and said he was able to get rid of my online order and now we were all good to go. He'd call me back again when the tires came in and could possibly have them put on that same day.

Wait, what?!

He told me in our first conversation they had the tires in stock.

Whatever, dude.

I decided to go get my oil changed, with my Columbus Day $14.92 discount coupon from the drive through Valvoline place. Coolest, nicest guys in the world and didn't even have to get out of my car. I've sent them all a great review online.

So Goober calls back around two in the afternoon and says the tires are in and can come in whenever I want to have them put on.

.

I asked if they could do it in two hours, by this point I only had two hours to spare before having to get ready for work.

"Oh sure!"


So now suddenly he's all helpful.

Tim called on his way home from golfing to ask how it went.

My response:

"How much time ya got?"

My cell beeped while talking to him. It was the tire place and  told them I would be there in less than ten minutes.


Tim took me to pick the car up around four thirty.

Slim Shady rang us out. The receipt (not to mention experience) was mind boggling.

How can two tires, for less than sixty one bucks each, with an additional tire plugged for $19.99 end up costing over $206?

Where did that extra $66.33 come from?

I'll have to hand it to Tim. He scrutinized that bill like a scrooge. We knew about fees, valve charges and tire disposal. There's no state tax here...so still seemed kinda high.


Sometimes going cheaper tends to be the evil option. Sometimes you get what you pay for. In hindsight, just should have gone Firestone and got it done right, the first time without all the hassle.

It's been a stressful week, with the world seemingly going to hell in a hand cart. The Las Vegas tragedy, Mexico earthquake, Puerto Rico, California wildfires and the sad comedy of our political system.


I was driving to work today, in my little car with two new tires, another one plugged and a much needed oil change.

I'm all about old school songs and this one came to mind.

For what it's worth.

From decades ago but seems to be speaking to us all today.


Lessons to live by:

Be a good person.
Help another person.
Be respectful to another person.
Accept another person...regardless.
Don't be an ass.

Love is all we need...true fact.

Till next time...COTTON 

Too Much Too Little Too Late

I went by the post office today to buy a book of stamps. The line was long and slow moving. Before I went in the door, passed two women taping up about six large boxes for mailing on the trunk of their car. I noticed a couple of them were packed with food items. I smiled, said hello and simply asked "Puerto Rico?" One of the women replied they were for family members. I simply told them "God Bless you all...and I'm so sorry this country has been so slow to react to help those American citizens. It's embarrassing, and I apologize."

I got inside and found a long and slow moving line. Every person in there besides me and one African American dude were Hispanic, shuffling forward in line, moving a pile of taped up boxes along with them...doing what they could to help out family and friends back home, living in more than catastrophic conditions.

I have been a server for almost forty years and worked with more Hispanic people than a lot of people ever will. They are quite literally the back bone of the restaurant industry. They are some of the hardest working people I've ever met, from bussers to dishwashers to utility to cooks to sous chefs. Off hand I can't think of one lazy Hispanic person I've ever worked with. I'm sure there are a few, but more often than not, they are hard working, great producers and many of them send part of their paycheck back home to help other family members.
He's from Puerto Rico and most of his family is still there. They don't have power, they don't have water, they don't have gas or diesel for generators, they don't have ice or even food. The hospitals don't even have power.

How can this government, our government, my government have waited so long to help these American Citizens?

Everyone here, in their air conditioned house with mobile devices and internet wants to go on and on and on about NFL players (peacefully) protesting police brutality while American citizens are literally dying, living with inhumane conditions while enduring tropical heat.



That's what we need to be going on and on and on about. That's what should bother people the most.


Another thing which bothered me was seeing all those people in the United States Post Office paying to mail all these heavy packages. One woman in front of me paid seventy dollars. Can't we allow these packages to be mailed for free?

I don't have a lot of money, but  have all the necesitites and even amenities of a pretty great life. I have a job where I can make more money any time I pick up an extra shift and walk out the door with it...that night.

Here's what I can do.

I can take this stash of water we have stockpiled in our garage when Tim's company delivered it before and after Irma hit and can take all the baby wipes we bought, wondering if we'd need them to bathe with if the water went out and ran out. I can take the huge bag of every size battery known to man that we have and drop it all off at the American Red Cross to be shipped to Puerto Rico. I have so many clothes I never wear, spare flip flops, even extra paper towels in the garage. I have enough spare sheets to make beds for ten people. I have enough canned goods to feed us for two weeks.

None of this will go very far in Puerto Rico, but if every stateside American did the same, it would.


My offering is a grain of sand, but if the other 323.1 million people living here did the same, it would make a huge difference to millions in Puerto Rico, with nothing gone but things you had to spare.

Katrina wasn't kind to NOLO, Texas was devastated recently as well, the Keys took an awful hit too and even people here in Orlando are still flooded...but they are here. We can reach them and help them rebuild.

The Alchemist is the first book I've ever read with a highlighter in my hand the entire time. There are enough inspirational quotes in that book to change even the sorriest person on earth.

I recently bought a copy for someone who has been struggling. I thought they needed to read it. I started to loan him my copy but I have so many things high lighted in mine that it feels like a part of my soul.

I have faith.

I have doubts, just like I had today, but also think that positvity begets positivity. I've been through a lot this past decade...but millions and millions of others have gone through so much more and actually makes me grateful for our tiny downward blip on the grand screen of life.



I gotta give credit where credit is due.

I left the computer in our bedroom while finishing this blog, went into the kitchen and asked my husband as I passed by, who was sitting three feet away in our tiny temp rental living room what song tied this blog together?

Bam!!

This guy...we met, both broke as jokes but flourished then failed but always remained steadfast.

He nailed it.

All you have to do is "give a little bit."

Till next time...COTTON