Memory Month: Chili's - Like No Place Else!

I started working at Chili's in September 2000. I had just moved to a little town in Texas called Kerrville. I had planned on getting a job waiting tables at a privately owned restaurant because I figured the money would be better, but due to lack of options, I ended up applying at Chili's and getting hired on the spot. Little did I know when I got hired that I would end up working for Chili's for 6 years!

I overslept the day of orientation and was about 2 hours late. Even so, management still decided to keep me. I guess they saw something in me worth having around. Whatever the case, they worked my ass off for the 11 months I stayed at the Chili's in Kerrville. I often worked double shifts - sometimes with only a 5 minute break in between (and this is perfectly legal in Texas). I was hard up for money, so I would work whatever shift I could. I became a trainer and a bartender. And I met some cool people and made some good friends.

The Kerrville store was so cool because it was huge and right by the river that ran through town. There was an outdoor patio, and local bands would come and play on the weekends during the summer. Working on the patio at that time really sucked because it was so crowded and because of the Texas humidity. Actually, the whole summer at the Kerrville Chili's pretty much sucked because of the extended summer hours. I was always beat at the end of the day.

I moved to California in August 2001 and transferred to a Chili's out here - the one in San Bernardino, to be exact. I started off at the bottom of the pile as just a server again despite my experience with training and bartending. It actually took me a long time to like my new Chili's, despite the vast improvement in pay (servers in Texas get paid $2.13/hr, whereas servers in California get paid minimum wage) and regulation of work hours (California law required us to take a break if we worked over 5 hours a shift). I was busy adjusting to a whole new way of doing things (the Kerrville Chili's was a franchise, whereas the San Bernardino Chili's was a corporate store) and learning the ins and outs of dealing with California people as customers and co-workers. (Turns out there's a huge difference between California people and Texas people!)

Waiting tables in San Bernardino was a huge adjustment for me and really drove home the point that the clientele does matter. I faced some big challenges while working at Chili's in San Bernardino. I had customers who felt entitled to treat me like garbage (which happens everywhere truthfully, but moreso at the SB store), people who walked out without paying their check (this happened to me 4 times at the SB store and never in Texas), and some really horrible tippers. I also faced a huge obstacle when I reported one of my co-workers for sexual harrassment (for unwanted ass-grabbing), but we were able to work out our differences - and he never touched me again, except when he gave me a hug good-bye when I left Chili's for good.

But I had some really awesome experiences too. I made some really great friends, many of whom came to my wedding. I also had some really fabulous regular customers who for some reason just liked me and sat in my station whenever I was working. There was the guy named Rob who tipped me $20 everytime he came in (and no, he wasn't hitting on me), the old man named Joe who liked to talk to me because he thought I was interesting (again, not hitting on me), the business people who came in at lunchtime, and the sweet old couple and their son who came in every Sunday (and when I received news of the husband/father's death, I was very shaken).

There were also some real crazies who came in. The best example I have is Connie, who was an alcoholic. She came in every Friday and had to show everyone her socks and pictures of her rabbit. She had a strange attachment to our lunchtime bartender and made out with random people in the bar. She always had some injury, it seemed. Even though she was a nice lady, I avoided her as much as possible because she didn't know when to stop talking.

The best part about working at Chili's was that I got to make decent money while working towards my BA. I worked less than 20 hours a week and made enough to pay my bills. And I had a ton of fun. All of us would sing at the top of our lungs while we were in the back. We had fights with the cooks and learned all the cool curse words in Spanish. We would have queso parties after our shift where we would all sit around and eat chips and queso. We spilled things and laughed at each other. We pulled pranks on the customers for treating us badly. It was truly the best job I've ever had, because it was fun, challenging, and always rewarding (even if the rewards weren't monetary).

I left Chili's in September 2006. By that time I was so burned out (to the point where I would give up my shifts or cut them short). It was truly time for me to move on. I don't regret taking the job I have now, because I needed something more professional for my resume. But I miss the social aspect of the job. I miss being silly constantly. I miss giving stupid customers veiled insults that were easily passed off as jokes. I miss having exercise built into my job. And I miss the simplicity of it, even though it didn't feel simple at the time.

Here is a picture of my friend Candice and I on my last day at Chili's. Candice became (and still is) one of my best friends. (And I look 12 in this picture.)



This one is of me and this guy Shervin. (I included it because it shows my adeptness at flashing gang signs.)



Can I get a "Go, Chili's!" Chilihead in da house!

Our 5th Monthiversary!

A note to my husband while he sleeps soundly:

This month has had its ups and downs. On the down side, we lost your car and my opportunity for the job I wanted. On the up side, everything else has happened, including watching TV/movies together, going shopping together, sleeping together, making life decisions together, laughing together, just being together.

You see, I can deal with the downs as long as we're together.

Thanks for being my other half. And for being my happy ending - and my happy beginning.

Love,
your behbehs

I've had better days.

I didn't get the job.

I kind of figured it would go that direction because it took them so long to get back to me. I thought that if they were overly impressed with me, they would've stopped interviewing other candidates by now.

But I'm still disappointed. Because of Roy's car being totalled, I really needed the pay increase. Because my current job sucks big green ones, I really needed a change - and to have a job that actually challenges me.

While I know that this is a temporary setback, I am still feeling very discouraged right now. I feel that I have lost my purpose in life. I made a promise to myself when I was about 19 years old that I would never become a part of the rat race, and here I am, knee deep in it. I am working a job I hate for money, benefits, and resume building, instead of doing something I feel truly passionate about. I can do so much better.

I feel like I am destined to be one of those people who hates her job, no matter what it is, and frankly, I don't want to be one of those people. I want to do something that makes me happy, something that means something. Instead I am an office drone. Yes, I am about a year away from having my Master's degree. Yes, I have an awesome life aside from my shitty job. But I can't keep doing this for 8 hours a day for God knows how long.

In a strange twist of fate, Kari pretty much summed up my feelings exactly in a post written today (of all days). (Kari, I hope you don't mind if I quote your blog entry in its entirety.)

Boxer by The National has snuck up on me and is threatening to trump Arcade Fire as my Album of the Year. If anything, the song "Mistaken For Strangers" is one of my favorite tunes of the decade so far. The lyrics are ringing so true for me...

You get mistaken for strangers by your own friends
when you pass them at night under the silvery, silvery citibank lights
arm in arm in arm and eyes and eyes glazing under
oh you wouldn’t want an angel watching over
surprise, surprise they wouldn’t wannna watch
another uninnocent, elegant fall into the unmagnificent lives of adults

That last line just kills me. I think the song for me is about the way that people sell out. We all get "showered and blue blazered" for our day jobs, and become someone we barely recognize. Somehow we all "grow up", whatever that silly expression means, and suddenly life is no longer about truth and beauty but is more about paying your bills and wanting to buy an apartment. Maybe I'm feeling all of this because I haven't written in weeks and I honestly don't want to. I'm feeling hopeless and like my artistic aspirations are pointless and, frankly, stupid. I feel like I fucked up my life by chasing some silly pipe dream to NYC and not planning properly for what would happen if it didn't work out. I thought that it would. I've always said that stuff like money and security didn't matter to me at all. On the contrary - it matters to me a lot. My life was fraught with such turmoil and uncertainty growing up (financially and otherwise) that I just want to know what happens at the end of the half hour.

And yet, I still sometimes catch a glimpse of myself in the mirrored windows of Park Avenue and wonder when my "uninnocent, elegant fall" into Corporate America happened. I feel like every single day, all of my emotional and intellectual energies are focused on a job and earning a paycheck while the things I thought mattered to me so much are coming in second. I hate even calling myself a writer because it feels like a lie now. It's been months since I've written anything of worth, and while I am trying not to put undue pressure on myself, I feel myself questioning whether or not I want to do this anymore. And that scares me so much. That scares me more than anything. I'd love to chalk it all up to laziness and a minor internet addiction, but if I really had a burning need to be a playwright, I'd write a fucking play every so often. I'd at least try. I don't want to try. I don't want to do anything. Lately I've wondered in fleeting moments if getting my MBA is really such a terrible plan. Those fleeting moments are quickly beaten down by guilt and a sense of obligation to a teenage girl who is long gone.

I wonder sometimes who I am, who I really am, instead of who I expected to become.

Exactly.

What's Cookin'?

I was tagged for this meme last week by WeeMo and am just now getting around to it. Thanks for the tag, yo!

(1) What were you cooking/baking 10 years ago?
I was cooking nasty ass fast food at Country Express. I didn't actually cook at home. Besides, I was still living with my mom 10 years ago.

(2) What were you cooking/baking one year ago?
Really boring stuff. Meat, a side, a salad. I actually enjoy baking quite a bit, but cooking - meh, not so much. Roy and I usually take turns cooking.

(3) The snack you enjoy the most:
I go through stages. Sometimes it's Chex Mix, sometimes it's cheese and crackers, sometimes it's pineapple.

(4) A culinary luxury you would indulge in if you were a millionaire:
I would hire a cook. Because seriously, cooking blows.

(5) What do you bake the most?
Muffins, brownies, or cupcakes.

(6) Five recipes you know by heart:
None, really. I cook really simple stuff that doesn't require a recipe.

(7) One thing you cannot/will not eat:
I am not an adventurous eater. I have many food phobias. Some of the things I will not eat are tomatoes (too slippery), avocadoes (pretty color, but too slimy), garbanzo beans (they look like little butts to me), kidney beans (freaky color and size), mushrooms (just yuck), and creamed corn (because it resembles vomit).

(8) Favorite culinary toy:
Our George Foreman grill. I would be lost without it.

(9) A must on your "last meal" menu:
Even though I don't eat red meat anymore, I'd like a bacon cheeseburger, some of my mom's homemade stew, some of my mom's mashed potatoes, chocolate cake, and a Dr. Pepper. Oh, and some candy.

(10) Happy food memories:
What first comes to mind is getting into food fights at Country Express with my co-worker and then best friend Iliana. I remember squirting ketchup all over her once. We were so young and just had the best time. Funny thing, I would still have a blast doing that.

I also have quite a few happy food memories from my 6 years at Chili's. One time my co-worker Scott opened up the dessert fridge, grabbed a metal container out of it, and proceeded to spill grated cheese all over his face. It was so hilarious, but it might be one of those things where you just had to be there.

All of my happy food memories involve my food service years, it seems. Those were much simpler times, for sure.

Memory Month: Our First Date

In light of Roy's car being laid to rest, I figured that I should at least talk about my happiest memory associated with it. And that was our first date, which happened on March 14, 2005. I can't believe that it was less than 3 years ago! It feels like a whole lifetime has passed.

Here's some brief history (my apologies to those of you who have heard this story many times): Roy and I had a class together, working as editors on the staff of our campus literary journal (he was a fiction editor; I was a poetry editor). He had called on Friday, March 11, and asked me if I wanted to "hang out" on Monday after we were done reading manuscripts. Of course, I said YES! (I'd had my eye on him since I'd met him 2 months before, so it was about frickin' time.) I spent the entire weekend wondering if "hang out" meant that we were going on a date. I asked many males that I worked with, and all of them confirmed that yes, "hang out" meant a date.

Finally, Monday arrived, and I was so nervous I could barely eat my lunch. I could hardly concentrate in class. Finally, it was time for me to make my way up to the office, where all of the staff members would crowd in and read manuscripts. So I sat there and pretended to read, all the while preparing myself to be stood up. (What a cynic.) Finally, Roy showed up, but we acted like it was just another day and pretended to read while waiting for everyone else to get done reading and leave.

Finally, it was just the 2 of us, and Roy almost immediately asked if I was ready to go. We walked out to his car, and I was kind of shocked at how messy it was. (I was also kind of shocked at how casually Roy was dressed.) My shock wasn't of the bad sort at all. In fact, I found his messiness and casualness refreshing. In a world where guys and girls pretend to be something they're not to get someone to like them, this was a welcome change.

Anyway, we went to Starbuck's, ordered drinks, and sat outside and talked for about an hour. Then we went to El Torito and had dinner. We then stopped by the movie theatre to see what was playing, but instead we decided to go get a drink at the Falconer in Redlands. We ordered drinks and went upstairs to play pool.

Those of you who have had the really good luck to see me consume alcohol know what a lightweight I am. It's sad, really. That night was no exception. I had 2 appletinis while we were playing pool, and I got pretty damn buzzed. I wish I hadn't, because I can't remember all the glorious details of our first kiss. I do remember that once we started kissing, we really didn't stop. We made out until everyone who was upstairs with us went downstairs and started complaining. Then we decided to leave and went out to his car and made out some more. Then Roy drove me back to campus so I could get my car. I was still pretty buzzed though, so it was the perfect excuse to make out more. All in all I think we made out for about 3 or 4 hours - and I am not exaggerating.

Once I was finally sober enough to drive, we said good-bye about 20 times, each time punctuated with about 5 minutes of kissing. By the time I got home, it was 4 AM and I was so giddy I couldn't stop smiling. I was completely and totally hooked.

And that is the story of our 10-hour first date. Thinking back on it still makes me smile like an idiot.

A moment of silence, please...

As I anticipated, Roy's car has been totalled, and we are waiting to hear how much money we'll be receiving from the insurance company. I guess we really have to start looking for a new car.

We went out on our first date in that car. We made out in it for hours that night. It was totally awesome. I'm sad about that piece of our history being laid to rest. I know, I'm entirely too sentimental for my own good.

I'm also sick. I left work around lunchtime yesterday and stayed at home today as well. Being sick is one thing, and being bored is another. But being both at the same time (which was how I was at work yesterday) is a new dimension of hell that I wouldn't wish on anyone.

Anyway, I actually have pictures of the banged-up car, which I am too lazy to transfer to my computer right now. So I'll post them sometime later. I'm going back to bed now.

Busy, busy, busy

My weekend was incredibly busy but incredibly fun. It started off on a downer note as I began stressing over my paper, but I got it all done before the deadline on Saturday. I think it's a decent paper too, but I could only go so much detail as it was only supposed to be around 10 pages.

Saturday was also my mommy's birthday! I hate not being able to spend time in person with my mom on her birthday. But still, we got to talk on the phone a bit, and I'm so glad we did. I love my mom to pieces. She's really been an amazing influence on me throughout my life.



Anyway, after I finished, Roy and I went to the bank to change his name. I thought it was going to be a real pain in the ass, involving opening a new account, but we were able to avoid that and were out in 30 minutes. We ended up at Coco's for breakfast, because Ruby's was too busy (we're not the waiting kind). While we were waiting for our breakfast, Roy snapped this picture of me:



I find this picture humorous for a couple of reasons. For starters, my fingers look like sausages. I also look really young, like I'm a kid coloring in a coloring book. Also, my hair is in a state of disarray, which is truly nothing new. Yep, this picture pretty much sums me up. (However, the sausage fingers thing is a new one on me.)

After breakfast, Mandy and our friends Laura and Amy met me at home, and we drove out to Orange County for the Scholastic Book Fair. Mandy and Laura are both teachers, so they were able to get us in and get us awesome discounts on all kinds of books. The book fair was held in a huge warehouse:



There were so many people there, and the line was insanely long. I normally avoid crowds like the plague, but to me, being in the presence of so many books was heaven and thus cancelled out the annoying crowd factors. Most of the books were for kids or young adults, but there are so many good ones out now that I actually really enjoy reading them. I was able to get quite a few books for $70. Everything was 30 to 50 percent off. We stood in line for at least an hour, but it might have been closer to 2 hours. We did it in shifts, so none of us got too antsy.

Afterwards, we headed back to the hood and dropped Laura off so she could work on her paper. Mandy, Amy, and I drove out to Costco, Target, and Golden Spoon for various things. However, the conversation we had while driving was the best part. We all have plans to move up to Oregon or Washington, and up until this point, we had really talked in general terms about it. But this time we started talking about how we actually wanted to live, how we wanted to raise our kids, and our hopes for the future. I love these kinds of conversations because they make me realize that I'm not alone or crazy in what I want or believe. It's nice to have people around me who feel the same way about certain things.

Then we went back to Mandy's, and Roy ended up joining us. We played Racko, which is a really simple (but really fun) card game and then retired for the night.

Today was less about fun and more about getting things done. Mandy and I went grocery shopping at Trader Joe's, while Roy stayed home and worked on cleaning and doing the laundry (our divide-and-conquer strategy). We also went back to Target, and I scored a Dora the Explorer comforter for a needy family my company is sponsoring for Christmas:



Afterwards, I came home, cooked salmon for dinner, and settled down with Roy to watch Waitress. I enjoyed it very much, because it got away from all the special effects and bells and whistles and just told a good, heart-warming story. I even teared up a bit, but what's to be expected from li'l ol' hormonal me?



Afterwards, Roy and I popped open a bottle of champagne (the same kind we had at our wedding) for no good reason, but I won't tell you what we toasted to. Now he's ironing his clothes like a good husband, and I sit here blogging while buzzed. I'm behind on my blogging and everything else in life, but I'll catch up.

Truth be told, I'm an insanely happy camper right now. I have an awesome life. I'll definitely drink to that.