My two bosses are as different as night and day and I feel privileged to witness both their perspectives. They've both been in the restaurant business for their entire life - both have indulged in juvenile promiscuity and excessive hedonism... but the way they have moved from that is completely divergent:
Maurice is constantly quoting insightful individuals. "Einstein is the best! You know what he said? It just blows my mind..." and "You don't get married because you are in love. You marry to discover love. You know who said that? The Dali Lama." His daughter is the love of his life - he had been faithfully committed to his wife for 29 years, until he lost her to breast cancer twenty years ago. Now he has been lovingly married to a Mexican-American, 18 years younger, woman he speaks beautifully of for 10 years. "If you receive these two liars: Failure and Success, in the same way - Then you have become a Man, my son." His view of the world is summarized by his comment "life is organized. Everything is organized. Everything is mathematical." His view spreads to his spiritual perceptions: "if you think 'poor me! what a terrible day!' then you will attract bad things - if you think 'wow - this is a nice day!', you will attract nice things. One plus one is two - it is all mathematical. It is all in your energy."
I am often confused by how people who have lost so much and hurt so much physically (his last vertebra is disintegrating), can still give others insight onto how to live life with a positive outlook... How he can still look at another and spark with hope as they tell him about their own relationships and hopes for the future.... "Oh! a Mexican family! You must be very happy!" and "What his his name? Oh - an American boy... so you like people who are like you? Ah. That is very far away... you don't know- Maybe the only one you are supposed to be is there, in New York, or maybe he is here, in San Antonio. You never know what will happen."
This is something both bosses share: a strong belief in that the future is completely unpredictable. Three men running one restaurant... three men in completely different stages in their life - yet they are incredibly compatible as workmates. Their stories are all so different, yet none of them ignore their most inner desire for human connection.
Does it all boil down to spirit? I keep running straight into situations that support the idea of Destiny - of a 'Holy Spirit' that guides you through the greater scheme of Life... and it's starting to freak me out a bit - yet the tug is no longer a single, piercing pull centered only in my heart. It is a warm embrace that starts in my chest and dissipates through me... a powerful draw that calms fear - it is comforting and it inspires a sense of surrendering to purpose.
"There are many roads to my Father; my Creator."
How many times have I heard that phrase in the past six months? I have dreamed of it, read of it, heard of it, experienced it, witnessed it... Is it because I've heard it so many times that I am beginning to live by it? Have I searched for it and therefore am finding evidence to support the preconceived idea? Or am I becoming awakened to a universal truth? I have never doubted that there are many truths - but maybe it is that what I have been calling truths are just roads towards one all-engulfing truth... that truth that some call God, and others call Consciousness... Humanity... the Higher Power... Nature...
And as I think all these thoughts, Maurice smiles, looks at me sideways and says, "Don't think you are alone in your beliefs. What are the odds of you walking into a restaurant and getting hired where the people believe as you do? Destiny." His Indian guru is getting to him...
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Day III - A microcosm of reality
A restaurant is a small microcosm of life... lovers sneaking gestures in between duties and behind the columns; men gawking at pretty ladies, believing that they might have the cure for their desperate loneliness and boredom; a married couple searching for a romantic getaway to spark their repressed passion for each other; groups of old ladies having a 'girls' night out' as their husbands take care of the kids and grandkids; groups of religious widows planning yet another funeral...
Lovers, strugglers, pretenders - you will find it all: Old men on their birthdays longing for their party days full of tennis and women, successful younger (but aging) men postponing their downfall by hanging on to sexy, tattooed bombshells and whiskey bottles, women holding their bibles tight to their chests, faithful wives loving their husbands from afar...
It is curious to watch people project their best characters onto me... who knew that what I am best at is being a little treasure box - epitomizing perfection as it exists in the corrupted human psyche?
The big, wooden shelves here make me think of home... and when I think of home, I think of him. When I think of 'cozy', I think of the warm smell from the base of his neck... Does it mean I associate him with home? To associate your sense of belonging to one individual you love is an interesting concept, is it not?
As I watch the graceful waitress, Jane, and her husband, the Chef, my mind begins to wander... Their story is beautiful. She believed in his dream and lived through all the disappointments and loss of hope with him. She became a waitress at his newly opened restaurant to be close to him. Her eyes are so pure when she speaks of him... His eyes so full of love and appreciation when he speaks to her... they are so supportive of each other. It makes my mind twirl...
Might it be better to just have him the way I have him now: in my mind, as a sanctuary - as a 'forever'?
I don't know anymore.
I would love to ask Jane if it lasts... that cozy "we can do anything if we are together" feeling - ask her if she believes in a forever - if I am being blind by not holding on to him more firmly. But I know that she will tell me what I want to hear - or I will hear what I want to... I know that no two circumstances are the same. Except for in our need for relation and our thirst for togetherness, our stories will be different.
No, I will not fly to New York to spend a day with him, even if every fiber in my being wishes to... I have made it: I am independent, loved, wanted, appreciated, desired even. I do not cry when the darkness takes me by surprise and leaves me alone with the memory of him. I am no longer phased by being alone - no longer afraid of not finding someone else. Life moves on, and so have I - but I still do not know how he is - what be wants - and sometimes, it bothers me. He has become a major part of me. I am grateful for that. And I am accepting of our change. I cannot, however, stop remembering or recreating the feeling in order to survive difficulties.
One of the most fascinating things I have been witnessing as a new hostess is the way people develop crushes on me... They look at me with hungry eyes and speak to me about their dreams, their past successes, their potentials... They share their most intimate stories with me in hopes that I will cure them, somehow. I know that they are not falling in love with me for who I am, but are enamored with who I could be. I am new meat, and as new meat, I encompass their every wish.
It disgusts me to feel the customers' eyes scan my body with a certain desire... making me into an object of fantasy as opposed to a fellow human being... It equally disgusts me to stand idly as my boss treats other women with the same ideal in mind because he knows that "the old hags" are looking for it... and it is true! the ladies melt at his sexual innuendos... they walk up to him totally drunk and tell him he is incredibly sexy; that they've always been attracted to french accents - even when their husbands are sitting in the next room. But it is not my place to stand up against promiscuity and if it insults me so, then there is something in me that I need to fix.... maybe it is that sex has become such a beautiful demonstration of true love and connection that it breaks my heart when people jeopardize it so... It makes me feel anger because it is these people that are indirectly responsible for my friend's rape, and for the millions of rapes that occur each year. It is repulsive. But the fact that I am witnessing this behavior makes me understand much more. All of it is learning... every single day. And to get to know the people that have originally desired my body in such ways is quite the journey because they do transform, and under all of the disgustingness lies a hurt child who has not been cared for correctly... Everyone here is a child longing for proper attention, and they all look to me hoping I will give it to them. I am not magical. And I am also still a child. It will be interesting to see how long it will take them to realize this.
Lovers, strugglers, pretenders - you will find it all: Old men on their birthdays longing for their party days full of tennis and women, successful younger (but aging) men postponing their downfall by hanging on to sexy, tattooed bombshells and whiskey bottles, women holding their bibles tight to their chests, faithful wives loving their husbands from afar...
It is curious to watch people project their best characters onto me... who knew that what I am best at is being a little treasure box - epitomizing perfection as it exists in the corrupted human psyche?
The big, wooden shelves here make me think of home... and when I think of home, I think of him. When I think of 'cozy', I think of the warm smell from the base of his neck... Does it mean I associate him with home? To associate your sense of belonging to one individual you love is an interesting concept, is it not?
As I watch the graceful waitress, Jane, and her husband, the Chef, my mind begins to wander... Their story is beautiful. She believed in his dream and lived through all the disappointments and loss of hope with him. She became a waitress at his newly opened restaurant to be close to him. Her eyes are so pure when she speaks of him... His eyes so full of love and appreciation when he speaks to her... they are so supportive of each other. It makes my mind twirl...
Might it be better to just have him the way I have him now: in my mind, as a sanctuary - as a 'forever'?
I don't know anymore.
I would love to ask Jane if it lasts... that cozy "we can do anything if we are together" feeling - ask her if she believes in a forever - if I am being blind by not holding on to him more firmly. But I know that she will tell me what I want to hear - or I will hear what I want to... I know that no two circumstances are the same. Except for in our need for relation and our thirst for togetherness, our stories will be different.
No, I will not fly to New York to spend a day with him, even if every fiber in my being wishes to... I have made it: I am independent, loved, wanted, appreciated, desired even. I do not cry when the darkness takes me by surprise and leaves me alone with the memory of him. I am no longer phased by being alone - no longer afraid of not finding someone else. Life moves on, and so have I - but I still do not know how he is - what be wants - and sometimes, it bothers me. He has become a major part of me. I am grateful for that. And I am accepting of our change. I cannot, however, stop remembering or recreating the feeling in order to survive difficulties.
One of the most fascinating things I have been witnessing as a new hostess is the way people develop crushes on me... They look at me with hungry eyes and speak to me about their dreams, their past successes, their potentials... They share their most intimate stories with me in hopes that I will cure them, somehow. I know that they are not falling in love with me for who I am, but are enamored with who I could be. I am new meat, and as new meat, I encompass their every wish.
It disgusts me to feel the customers' eyes scan my body with a certain desire... making me into an object of fantasy as opposed to a fellow human being... It equally disgusts me to stand idly as my boss treats other women with the same ideal in mind because he knows that "the old hags" are looking for it... and it is true! the ladies melt at his sexual innuendos... they walk up to him totally drunk and tell him he is incredibly sexy; that they've always been attracted to french accents - even when their husbands are sitting in the next room. But it is not my place to stand up against promiscuity and if it insults me so, then there is something in me that I need to fix.... maybe it is that sex has become such a beautiful demonstration of true love and connection that it breaks my heart when people jeopardize it so... It makes me feel anger because it is these people that are indirectly responsible for my friend's rape, and for the millions of rapes that occur each year. It is repulsive. But the fact that I am witnessing this behavior makes me understand much more. All of it is learning... every single day. And to get to know the people that have originally desired my body in such ways is quite the journey because they do transform, and under all of the disgustingness lies a hurt child who has not been cared for correctly... Everyone here is a child longing for proper attention, and they all look to me hoping I will give it to them. I am not magical. And I am also still a child. It will be interesting to see how long it will take them to realize this.
Day III - the "slap"
Here, the rest of the workers have your back. "No le hagas mucho caso al jefe que esta mero loco -- es muy nervioso." He is right - the guy is excessively paranoid - but he is human... and underneath all his OCD and nervous wreckage, he is merely trying to make what he has the best it can be. That I make mistakes only gives him a reason to forcefully understand that he cannot control everything, and that it all ends up working out at the end of the day... right?
Or will I become 'the girl who screwed up and added to his reasons of why life falls apart when you do not control it? It has been three days and already, there has been a tenfold increase in my comfort. I just have to be myself - it is an excuse to be nice to people and I love that!
"Me gustas" -- A Trinity professor of Linguistics! A kind and honest man who has reminded me that I am selling a restaurant whose food I have never tasted... How hypocritical is that?
Did The Boss just slap my butt with the menus?!? And then say "it was just too tempting"?!? That is unprofessional and belittling. I should have been more serious with my response and told him to never do it again. Damn it. This will be interesting to watch unfold...
Shit. I want to go home. I became too friendly too fast - but again, it is my third day - wait and see - readjusting my position - it' is never too late to do that... The best way to have handled that would have been to stop -- look straight into his eyes and said: "That was terribly inappropriate. I would appreciate it if you never did anything of the nature again. If you do, I will denounce you and resign."
Or will I become 'the girl who screwed up and added to his reasons of why life falls apart when you do not control it? It has been three days and already, there has been a tenfold increase in my comfort. I just have to be myself - it is an excuse to be nice to people and I love that!
"Me gustas" -- A Trinity professor of Linguistics! A kind and honest man who has reminded me that I am selling a restaurant whose food I have never tasted... How hypocritical is that?
Did The Boss just slap my butt with the menus?!? And then say "it was just too tempting"?!? That is unprofessional and belittling. I should have been more serious with my response and told him to never do it again. Damn it. This will be interesting to watch unfold...
Shit. I want to go home. I became too friendly too fast - but again, it is my third day - wait and see - readjusting my position - it' is never too late to do that... The best way to have handled that would have been to stop -- look straight into his eyes and said: "That was terribly inappropriate. I would appreciate it if you never did anything of the nature again. If you do, I will denounce you and resign."
Day II - Sucked into it...
There is a jittery feeling from my chest up to my neck -- sort of like the moments before presenting a monologue..."Liar. You are not scared of anyone" he says - and I am beginning to think he may be right. It is not the people who scare me, it is my potential reaction to the people that scares me.
One hour. The first hour always passes very quickly. The fluidity of my lies and my trickiness surprises me - and the naturalness of how I begin to play the game of two-facedness with customers frightens me - giving them what they want so they are satisfied with the experience - just like in theater...
My desk is covered with pink sticky notes: "PICK UP THE KNIFE WHEN THERE IS NO ONE EATING THERE!" "7 PM= busy hour: DO NOT sit 2 on table of 4" "Wait for Paul to sit ANYONE""NEVER say NO" "No lobster or sufflé or oysters to go." My notebook is filled with notes: "It's as simple as saying "wait a minute while I bring Paul" - my inability to say NO spreads even to hostessing..."
A restaurant is sort of like a fly trap: the goal is to enchant you the minute you are in the door: portray a lady who epitomizes what you wish your son would marry - someone who could be on Martha Stewart Magazine cover... engage them with a place that looks like the home they never had - that smells like home... and as a worker, I am becoming enamored with building this illusion. I find myself thinking "I will learn. I will become more intuitive. I will remember what he tells me and apply it." My desire to please The Boss is catching me as I begin to think "Sometimes, I will try to do good, but it is not what the boss had envisioned beforehand - so stop trying and begin doing what you know you have to do." No, this experience is not a 'stop learning to listening to your own will', it is a 'learn the fucking trade before you go about corrupting it'.
The way he associates with me is just the way my father does - shrugging to make sure I understand the trick he is playing on the customer... making me understand the inside business.
I note: "learn both sides of the trade - do not neglect the importance of making sure you treat the waiters and the customers with respect."
Our conversations lead him to comment, "I feel bad for whoever falls in love with you! Oh, boy! how you will make him suffer! You know what you want and will not put him before anything."
Is that such a bad thing? To place yourself and your dreams above those of another? I believe in sharing dreams, in supporting each others' dreams, but not in sacrificing your passion and sanity for another... Have I been cruel to those who love me? Have I been cold and selfish?
One hour. The first hour always passes very quickly. The fluidity of my lies and my trickiness surprises me - and the naturalness of how I begin to play the game of two-facedness with customers frightens me - giving them what they want so they are satisfied with the experience - just like in theater...
My desk is covered with pink sticky notes: "PICK UP THE KNIFE WHEN THERE IS NO ONE EATING THERE!" "7 PM= busy hour: DO NOT sit 2 on table of 4" "Wait for Paul to sit ANYONE""NEVER say NO" "No lobster or sufflé or oysters to go." My notebook is filled with notes: "It's as simple as saying "wait a minute while I bring Paul" - my inability to say NO spreads even to hostessing..."
A restaurant is sort of like a fly trap: the goal is to enchant you the minute you are in the door: portray a lady who epitomizes what you wish your son would marry - someone who could be on Martha Stewart Magazine cover... engage them with a place that looks like the home they never had - that smells like home... and as a worker, I am becoming enamored with building this illusion. I find myself thinking "I will learn. I will become more intuitive. I will remember what he tells me and apply it." My desire to please The Boss is catching me as I begin to think "Sometimes, I will try to do good, but it is not what the boss had envisioned beforehand - so stop trying and begin doing what you know you have to do." No, this experience is not a 'stop learning to listening to your own will', it is a 'learn the fucking trade before you go about corrupting it'.
The way he associates with me is just the way my father does - shrugging to make sure I understand the trick he is playing on the customer... making me understand the inside business.
I note: "learn both sides of the trade - do not neglect the importance of making sure you treat the waiters and the customers with respect."
Our conversations lead him to comment, "I feel bad for whoever falls in love with you! Oh, boy! how you will make him suffer! You know what you want and will not put him before anything."
Is that such a bad thing? To place yourself and your dreams above those of another? I believe in sharing dreams, in supporting each others' dreams, but not in sacrificing your passion and sanity for another... Have I been cruel to those who love me? Have I been cold and selfish?
Day I - Initial Realizations
Everywhere you go, there is an overall thirst for human connection (duh, we're social creatures), but it is funny to observe, or to be a part of, that search. This human connection - it should happen between all humans, regardless of race, gender, or social class... or so I would think. But somehow, it isn't like that. Somehow, certain people see through each other, or they like to pretend they do. For example, here I am, a girl who is fully able to engage in conversation and build meaningful relationships, yet they poke at me, as if trying to see if I am just another stereotypical 'rich kid'... Am I that naive? to think that I was raised different by my mother? that in contrast to what people may think, I have suffered financial unrest - that even though my dad liked to pretend he had money when in the company of strangers, that I was not raised as a rich girl?
I was raised a great pretender. but now it makes me wonder if there's a certain imprint that people who have not been so fortunate as me carry about socially stable individuals. It makes me wonder if it is seen through my apparent lack of fear towards authority, or of the unknown... It makes me wonder if these individuals hold a certain knowledge or wisdom that I am, and will always be, unfamiliar with.
Their comments are daggers to my pride "you guys have it nice,"..."you Trinity kids"..."'yall have them bus passes"..."you rich kids"...
"So are you one of them rich kids from Guatemala?" as if we were some sort of alien species belonging to the exotic exhibit section at a zoo... "So you study something like Art, right?" Does being rich disassociates people with the essential value of making a living? Are only people who should actually pursue their passion those who are financially stable to start with?
They don't know what they're taking about. Rich kids are those who fly to England for the weekend just to party - those who... wait a minute. Maybe I am just as bad as they are -
What if their questions come from their fear or rejection? or from preconceived notions that "them rich kids" have n morals, spend outlandish quantities of money, do not know the true value of things, do not respect the value of truth or of friendship or of service...
Maybe it is that they are unfamiliar with the rich kids' histories - most filled with deception; one where parents lie about their problems, pretend to live a perfect life. Behind those closed doors and brick walls is a world where fear and confusion reign. All this falsity bursts indoors, as there 'rich kids' break from reality because of rape, alcoholism, perversion, psychological abuse, and disassociation and abandonment from caretakers.
Maybe it is that they both live on different worlds - pinning all their anger on each other in hopes that that 'perfect' image of life does exist somewhere far away... A way to invest their gold in someone else other than themselves - a way to dwell on self-pity instead of taking responsibility for their own life's direction....
And so it continues - just one more hour before the clock strikes and I am off... Will I be able to take it? Damn - it's been five minutes...
The waiter has reached out to me... and maybe he is right - maybe this is jail and The Boss is the guard. But I have learned not to get too close too fast. And I remind myself not to feel afraid, because I have been a part of both worlds - can play on both sides of the electric fence...
I was raised a great pretender. but now it makes me wonder if there's a certain imprint that people who have not been so fortunate as me carry about socially stable individuals. It makes me wonder if it is seen through my apparent lack of fear towards authority, or of the unknown... It makes me wonder if these individuals hold a certain knowledge or wisdom that I am, and will always be, unfamiliar with.
Their comments are daggers to my pride "you guys have it nice,"..."you Trinity kids"..."'yall have them bus passes"..."you rich kids"...
"So are you one of them rich kids from Guatemala?" as if we were some sort of alien species belonging to the exotic exhibit section at a zoo... "So you study something like Art, right?" Does being rich disassociates people with the essential value of making a living? Are only people who should actually pursue their passion those who are financially stable to start with?
They don't know what they're taking about. Rich kids are those who fly to England for the weekend just to party - those who... wait a minute. Maybe I am just as bad as they are -
What if their questions come from their fear or rejection? or from preconceived notions that "them rich kids" have n morals, spend outlandish quantities of money, do not know the true value of things, do not respect the value of truth or of friendship or of service...
Maybe it is that they are unfamiliar with the rich kids' histories - most filled with deception; one where parents lie about their problems, pretend to live a perfect life. Behind those closed doors and brick walls is a world where fear and confusion reign. All this falsity bursts indoors, as there 'rich kids' break from reality because of rape, alcoholism, perversion, psychological abuse, and disassociation and abandonment from caretakers.
Maybe it is that they both live on different worlds - pinning all their anger on each other in hopes that that 'perfect' image of life does exist somewhere far away... A way to invest their gold in someone else other than themselves - a way to dwell on self-pity instead of taking responsibility for their own life's direction....
And so it continues - just one more hour before the clock strikes and I am off... Will I be able to take it? Damn - it's been five minutes...
The waiter has reached out to me... and maybe he is right - maybe this is jail and The Boss is the guard. But I have learned not to get too close too fast. And I remind myself not to feel afraid, because I have been a part of both worlds - can play on both sides of the electric fence...
Day I - Initial Outlook
It's fun to see both sides of a person - and how that special feeling we cherish at restaurants is actually a construction; a tactic to keep 'the business' running. Not to say that the business is bad - it is an organism, that is all. And, like all organisms, it needs to be fed, to make a name for itself, to work off each other.
Just like my parent's relationship -- each party fixes their eyes upon the others' actions and interprets them in a manner that allows the action to fit in the perfect scheme in their mind. No reality... only holographs; only bits of reality mirrored onto our vision field to satisfy our control-seeking psyche.
I cannot see anything that is not in me.
To be a hostess is not as painful as working in a calling center. It is, of course, a different kind of pain, but it is not the silent, lonely, forboading feeling of market research and slow sales... at least here, I am not glued to a screen nect to others who are equally glued to a screen that has become their ultimate reality. Here, I do not have free coffee - no Dino's dinner or Sip Café to escape to during breaks... There are no cute salesmen trying to teach you the trade... no prolonged bathroom breaks or pretending skype calls with friends were client calls... But there is still that sneakiness - even though here, it is not againstt the entire office, it is everyone conspiring against a single authority figure: the boss. Or at least, everyone guarding each others' backs from the boss.
I do not miss the silence - event though time passes just as slow without it...
Just like my parent's relationship -- each party fixes their eyes upon the others' actions and interprets them in a manner that allows the action to fit in the perfect scheme in their mind. No reality... only holographs; only bits of reality mirrored onto our vision field to satisfy our control-seeking psyche.
I cannot see anything that is not in me.
To be a hostess is not as painful as working in a calling center. It is, of course, a different kind of pain, but it is not the silent, lonely, forboading feeling of market research and slow sales... at least here, I am not glued to a screen nect to others who are equally glued to a screen that has become their ultimate reality. Here, I do not have free coffee - no Dino's dinner or Sip Café to escape to during breaks... There are no cute salesmen trying to teach you the trade... no prolonged bathroom breaks or pretending skype calls with friends were client calls... But there is still that sneakiness - even though here, it is not againstt the entire office, it is everyone conspiring against a single authority figure: the boss. Or at least, everyone guarding each others' backs from the boss.
I do not miss the silence - event though time passes just as slow without it...
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