Una bloga magnifica para tu.
With that one parasitic tree-of-heaven that was removed from outside my cottage a few years ago, I had been diligently picking up new shoots from its leftover root system, and this year it's clear that they're gone in like half the yard, since presumably the subterranean roots there finally totally died out over the winter.
The stump is also decomposing, now, and mushrooms appear on it in the rain.
At the one (Irish-y) burger joint in the first floor of a historic hotel where I work now, the POS (point-of-service) system on the tablets that we carry around with us is a real POS (piece of shit).
You have no idea how hard it is to move items from one check to another if they’re put on the wrong table or put on the wrong check when there’s a split check at the table…
Once when a lady was unhappy with her cocktail and we went to delete it, I handed my tablet to a manager for her to punch in her code and take it off the bill, only, one of the beers further down off-screen must have been previously tapped and accidentally highlighted, too, so that also disappeared, and it was only because the customer noticed it at the end of the meal when they were looking at the receipt that we were able to go back and add it back onto the bill where it belonged.
It really makes you wonder what’s going on with software design, where a product isn’t easily usable on such a basic level with such a basic everyday task in the workplace.
1) When I went to buy a pack of peanuts – they have those for sale for like fifty cents or a dollar, and I tend to get them when I’m drinking, since not only are they tasty, but they’re a heck of a lot more healthy than like Doritos or Cheetos or whatnot – I ask the (unaffable) (fish-faced) (early 50s) (white) bartender for “a well whiskey on the rocks, no straw, and a peanut,” and he’s like, “Just one?”.
2) Later, the one (large) (bearded) (sound engineer) who I know from around town is over by me, and I ask him to watch my study-stuff while I run to the restroom, and he does, and then later he asks me to watch his drink while he does the same.
“This would be the perfect time to roofie it,” I was like. “We’ve built up trust through the first exchange, and now I take advantage of it, for my own ends.”
And, he laughed, and then was like, “Just like I planned it.”
3) Some (older) (white) guys are also there at the bar – they’re in town from different states since they grew up in the area, and their dad is like in his 90s and needs help right now and their sibling who lives locally can’t handle everything – and when it gets late and a cloudburst happens and I mention to them that I want to go home but the rain is too heavy, the one gestures to this raincoat hanging from a hook underneath the bar between us that had led us initially to start talking since I had asked them if it was theirs or if someone was sitting there, and he’s like, “[My first name], take the raincoat and return it tomorrow.”
…of my one (eccentric) (blonde) (semi-manger) coworker at the (Irish-y) burger joint in the first floor of a historic hotel, where I work now:
Growing up back at her parents’ restaurant, she discovered that the bar nozzle for sodas had a short lag-time when the pop syrup was coming out but before the carbonated water kicked in, and so she’d tap the button repeatedly whenever she wanted a soda, and it was her just like drinking pure sugar water at eight years old without her parents having any idea that was going on, and she did that shit like all the time.
. . .
(. . .)
…at the (Irish-y) burger joint in the first floor of a historic hotel:
1) When I go to seat three (older) (gruff) (white) farmers at a table and the little cocktail lamp there is shut off because it’s either broken or its power has run out, I pick it up and I say that I’ll go get a new one, and without even looking at me or pausing from pulling out his chair, the one is like, “That’s fine, we don’t need no ambiance.”
2) When I deliver this one specialty burger with a chili sauce on top of it, I wish the (older) (white) lady who is talking intensely about home health care with her friend an enjoyable meal, and I remark how good the burger looks and I say how I’ve been meaning to try that specific burger because it always looks so good when I bring it out to tables, and she just looks at me and is like, “Not tonight, bud.”
1) For a while, my mother would not say hello when she picked up the phone but instead waited for you to say hello first, since that was her method of trying to identify spam calls.
2) One time, my dad answers and then just hangs up when I’m done talking to him without passing the phone along to my mother, and when I call back and ask him to speak to her, he says that she’s in town.
As I go around my yard and the front house to pick up stray trash, just beyond my kitchen window the ground is covered here and there in blue feathers, some covered by dead leaves, but none with bits of flesh attached to them like a bird that had been killed and eaten or something like that.
