"Overdone and Undercooked" Newspaper Columns©

That night two of my favorite workers had been fired in front of all of us.

Kevin, who had just gotten out of prison.  His grin so wide you could see all of his teeth.  He was funny, and I liked him.  However, he had violated something and bragged.  Not using a quiet voice.  And customers could hear him.  Managment ws alerted and he was fired on the spot.    The same night Susan was fired just hours later.  I had worked with her many times.  She was swift to let you know she is 62, but she looked 72.  She can barely walk.  She was in a car accident and had to have a hip replacement.  You instantly felt sorry for her.  She reminded me of Divorce Recovery.  Older woman who were housewives and dumped.  Terrified, lonely, stuck in some miserable low-rent apartment after having had so much and now having nothing.

Susan worked for medium wage picking up full grates of wine glasses.  Folding miserable heavy starched napkins and tablecloths that hurt your hands.  Or lighting 100 candles, got to be a lot for Susan.  I had met Susan at a Community Center.  I and five others arrived on time to find out that none of the food had arrived.  However, we had only one hour before the party when it did get there. Everyone worked as a team.  And then we found out the DJ and music were late. One of our servers knew how to play the piano and saved the day.

Susan, a smoker and holding a mug of coffee, asked me if I wanted to take a break in her car, so we could sit for a minute.  She told me she was 39 when she had her last kid.  At 18 her daughter got pregnant.  He became abusive and has 20 domestic violence restraining orders against him.  He had spent a year in jail and he just got out.  Her daughter got back together and she got pregnant again with twins.

Not all banquet serving was fun.  Sometimes we made a whale of a mess.  At one event we wore white bowties, striped black and white aprons, black pants and black long-sleeved shirts.  One of the banquet servers picked up a tray of 10 glasses full of Champagne turned and they all fell right towards her chest.  She got soaked.  The glasses fell off the tray and broke.  Thank God that wasn’t me.  Another staffer gave her another shirt.  He told us he always brings a spare.

One night I was with three others and we were to serve Champagne at a meeting.  We arrived in a small room with 30 Champagne bottles on a counter.  I couldn’t believe it when one of the male servers started to remove the foil and the metal cage of a Champagne bottle. ”What are you doing?” I asked.  ”I am efficient and opening all the bottles.” ”We are not to open the Champagne until and hour before we serve it.”

”I don’t think so,” he sneered.  ”Besides, what else are we going to do while we are waiting to pour.”  Three hours later, the three of us are still stuck in this tiny room and waiting.  Only now, with all the Champagne bottles popped open.  I thought for sure he would be fired.  But the Supervisor came to the door and said, ”Pour time.”

Banquet working at the Casino I hear ”Hey Jillie,” Chef would say with all sorts of innuendos.  He was white-haired, old, tall, and missing some teeth.  ”Your Fire-roasted meat is ready, honey.”  Naturally shy and a private person, I had finally learned that Chef’s love to tease! ”You have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen.”  He would yell across the kitchen and stare at me all the way out the kitchen door.

At 20, I would have scoffed.  But at my age it was like shots of B-12.  After having been hit sideways and falling. I had been afraid of change when Nick left.  Because I had built my life around him. Yet, I was having the time of my life all through Culinary School and Banquet Serving.  It did not matter whether old or too young.  Everyone was up for fun!!  And honestly, some of the best parts of Culinary is the flirting!  It is an intimate environment making food and being part of a team.  Everyone is in the same rhythm and same goal.  You become family very fast.  And a Chef isn’t a Chef if he doesnt cuss or flirt in the same breath at all the girls.  And like all the male Chef’s I met.  They had easy smiles, but also faded quickly.

I actually learned to flirt.  I loved it!  When it was just one other Bartender and me.  We poured.  And then a crowd would slow down.  And we could talk.  Some just wanted to talk about there age or college or parents or just to talk shit.  And at almost every shift, I would get a big hug.  And not often did I see the same person again.

The Casino was the only venue that forbade eating anything.  And in our long dinner shifts, it seemed really unfair.  We could drink pop.  But no eating.  No one really knew his name.  We all just called him, Chef.  ”Here”, he said in his best I like you voice.”  He would hand me sliced scallops or prime rib in foil and told me to stand by the locker where no one could see me eat. So, having a Chef that liked you, paid off big time with treats.

One night he wanted to know  if we could get together after work.  A party was going on and I realized I had accepted way too many treats.  ”You just wish,” I yelled at him. And waved goodbye.  As I took off my apron and headed out the door. My shift over!

 

I had a goal to meet and supposedly would get a commission.  But I sat there in that stink hole for four months.  Hitting every goal.  And for some cocky reason, there was always found some sort of trouble, to cheat you out of your commission’s.

The Boss didn’t like me.  He disagrees with me. Micromanages me.  Can’t maintain eye contact.  Avoids me.  Won’t smile around me.  Short with me. He loses patience quickly while talking to me.  So, when I told him that I had accepted another job.  He said, ”Why.”  I said, ”Because it was full-time.”  He just walked away.

I quit.  And started a new job at Capital Finance.  On the first day, I was wearing my black jacket and black pants.  I had to fill out alot of paperwork.  And was told that the majority of the world has poor Credit.  And you will call them on the telephone, in regards to their funds.

I was introduced to people and where I would be sitting.  I thought it must be a joke day, at the office, when everyone who worked there was in their pajamas?  I am talking about not just sleep ware but: Slippers, Bare feet, Flip Flops, Bath Robes and Night Gowns??

I asked someone if it was a Holiday.  And she looked at me like I was an idiot.  So the next day, everyone was dressed in sleepwear again.  And I wore a black sweater and my black pants.  And again, I had to fill out a lot of paperwork. And that asked questions, like ”Do you like animals?”

On the 3rd day, I wore a black shirt and my black pants.  A woman in a sheer nightgown with a matching robe took me into an office and I was told I did not fit in.  ”Asking why no one said a word to me about the dress code?” She said nothing.  But handed me more paperwork and left the office door closed.

Then someone else came in wearing a bathrobe and tennis shoes.  She gave me a check for three days’ work $171.53 and took me to the front door. She opened it and closed it with me behind the door.

I went home and called my old Boss at the Magazine Subscription shop.  I told him what had happened.  He said, ”Come in tomorrow at 6 am.”

All that has hit me has been of Mountain size.  I have been able to stay ahead by one step.  Or learn to breathe until I could figure it out.

And it was only a few weeks later.  I got another call.

 

 

We were a ragged group of people.  There was a man who drove up in a Mercedes.  Dressed in a suit and kept to himself.  A fellow in a wheelchair who had worked there for ten years.   And he took the bus to and from everyday.

There was the Gossiper.  She would sit there with her eyeglasses halfway down her face.  Whisper about everyone.  One time I was called into the Managers room with the door closed behind me.  And the Gossiper had heard me add an extra word into the script.

The   ”Stares with Open Mouth Gossiper” would come up to anyone standing there in a conversation.  You could say, ”Can I help you.”  Her eyes would get bigger.  And I swear I could see them roll in her head.  And she would not go away.

This was not the ship that sailed.  As my Nana used to say.  This was people who had reached the edge, fallen in, and digging their way out.  Just like me. I needed this minimum wage job, and felt lucky to have it.  And I just ignored the dirty equipment.  And the torn ripped chairs.  Dirty walls and dirty floors.

I especially liked the Funeral Magazine.  They had names for the Crematory.  Like: Suzanne, Cemetery, Aviation, Giftware, Semi truck and Architectural  Digest were some of my favorites.  We had scripts for Firehouses, Hairdressers, Mechanics, and more.  These Magazines were for Businesses.  Not the public.

The best guys on the phone calls were the Firemen.  Who were always polite and nice on the phone.  They always renewed their subscription.  I envision men that were really fit and handsome.  And then I would realize how lonely I was, how much I missed the soft spot between Nick’s thighs, that I loved to touch right before I would go to sleep at night.

 

Every morning I would rise at 4 am to get dressed and get downtown by 5:45 am for my 6 am-Noon shift.  Seven days a week. The building was in the middle of a bad district downtown.  Plus, the fact I was parking in the dark and had to run across the street so as not to get hit by a bus.  My favorite part of the ride to work was the Country music station on the radio.

At least something still worked on my truck.  I haven’t paid the mortgage this month.  And the truck, as always, was on empty and driving on fumes…like the song on my favorite Country Music station.  ”Cause Mama’s hooked on Mary Kay.  Brother’s hooked on Mary Jane.  And Daddy’s hooked on Mary two doors down.”

My favorite was Toby Keiths, Red Solo Cup!  Which kept me laughing and bouncing all the way to work.  Isn’t that what Country Western music is all about.  The losses in life and how some people never recover.  They never get angry.  They feel it is their fault.  And then the cycle continues to the next generation and the next generation.

My new job was selling Magazines.  We were all huddled in a tiny room of many cubicles with our desk telephones and our script and a list of contacts. We were all encouraged to read the Magazine’s so we could understand the Owners who bought them.

I was at a desk for two.  Me and Alfonso during my first week.  He had tattoos on every finger.  A snakehead on the tip of his chin.  He wore the same army outfit every day. His head was 1/2 shaved with long hair on the other side and safety pins in his ears.  Some days he came in a sleeveless t-shirt with tattoos of skeletons, dog shit, swear words, and so forth.

Every time he couldn’t get a payment he would pound the desk and glare at me. The kind of glare that looked like it was my fault and he was going to scratch my eyes out any minute.  Never once did he speak to me.

They rotated us ofen.  Thank God.

I came to the early appointment in my black jacket and black skirt.  Trying to look professional and business like.  But, unfortunately, I was sooo overdressed! I was embarrassed.  The Boss was wearing a jogging outfit with sports team logos and tennis shoes. He had a crewcut and an oversized diamond earring in one ear.

He had me sit at a round table in the middle of a room full of cubicles.  I could hear people talking.  But I could not see them.  I did hear a couple of ”What do you mean! You don’t want a subscription?”

Yikes!  ”Yeah, what was your name again? ”Jillie.” ”OK, Jillie. Fill out this application.  When you are done, bring it inside my office.”  He pointed to a closed door.  When I finished the application, I knocked on the door.  He hollered come in!

He  was sitting in a chair behind a desk.  There was four more desks in the room.  He took the application and nodded for me to sit in the chair.  His collar ws open and he scratched his neck and hummmed while reading the application.

He dropped it on the desk and said, ”When can you start?”  ”Now,” I said.  ”Good answer.” he said with a grin.  ”OK.  Come back tomorrow.”

”Do not be late.  If you are late, you will lose your seat.  And we will have to send you home.”  ”Dress casual.  Bring water.  No food.  Keep it in your car for break.  Your shift will be from 6am (calling back East) untill noon.  We will get you a headset.  Here is the script.  Take a look bring it back tomorrow.”

I got in my truck, and screamed Hallelujah! and punched the seat.  And then I realized. I didn’t even know the Boss’s name.

MENTAL HEALTH HOTLINE

If your obsessive compulsive press 1  repeatedly

If you are co-dependent ask someone to press 2 for you

If you have multiple personalities press 3,4,5, and 6

If ur paranoid we know who you are–please stay on the line which we trace this call

If you are schitzophrink – a small voice will tell you which button to push

If you are a blond – hand up now cuz you’ve already fucked it all up

Don’t forget all the cards pushing to success

I will live well and die when I can’t help it

Have a grateful day!

Old as when God created light

How long your boots been under someone else’s bed

NO ONE SAID THEY LOVE YOU TODAY.  WE DO!

I’m here doing work study: 6:30am to 10 am prep.  Lunch lady work then school 9:30 to 2pm then banquet serving in the evening. All manual labor and I am not 20.

School is fun and great but the noise, the age, and education levels, makes me depressed.  If i work the entire month of October, I am going to miss another month of full time pay.

I have met with and Event services called Total Success Staffing it is time to quit school and work full time.

I had to tell Chef.  It was embarrassing after having been flirted with, but he was kind and patient. Of course I teared up embarrassed, and he was genuinely concerned.

My focus was to save my house and not foreclose.  I’am booking every day to work at Total Success staffing Event services. We wear uniforms and have daily shifts.

I have been to a bar mitzha, a dog show, keg serving beer in tiny beer glasss, Micosoft gay lesbian club.  Prep whole box of yellow/green zuchinni, and expensive mushrooms.

And  I already have found a part time inside sales manager job that will pay me a whopping $20.00 an hour.  I had written a resume that emphasized business and my phone skills.

I had two interviews and was hired!

Finding work during this recession was difficult and they wanted me!  I was more than giddy that they liked me.

I couldn’t stop doing the Happy Dance.

 

 

 

 

“Jillie, I’m sorry to say, but because of the Great Recession your Financial Aid has been cut in half.  So, instead of $1,400 a month, you will only receive $800 for this year. I have the month of September and almost all of October. I knew right then with my $2,300 a month mortgage. School had to go.  I had to find work that paid.

Where to start?  I can’t remember ever being this physicaly exhausted.  I think my work shoes are old and of course I don’t have $200 to buy new ones.

I have food, freedom, home, car, all I’m lacking is money.  So, keeping that perspective. I realize that I’m feeling a bit calmer.  A bit more protected  because, I have not lost anything yet.  And I have money from the barn rent, the cars and boats in the field.

I will see if I am enough of a hardship case to help me with my mortgage.  And to get the paperwork out to help me with the hot water tank that burst yesterday.  I do not have problems.  I have inconveniences and feel so lucky to still have my home and my retirement.

I will not be foolish enough to throw it away because I’m tired.  I have on the wall all my accomplishments since this nitemare started and everyday I say this is not doomsday.  Doomsday is not here today.  I pick myself up even if I have a crying bout (that is not controllable).

 

I was officially divorced. Divorced.  Divorced. Divorced.  No longer Mrs. Apple.  It was precisely one year and 31 days since March 13, 2010.

I wanted to scream with relief.  However, I was filled with sadness, anger, and a little bit of happiness.  At least that’s what I told myself.

George as always, was one big smile, when I came into the Computer Room.  I said, ”Thank you” and goodbye to all the guys.

George gave me the computer and said he wanted to talk to me.  I said, ”Okay but I’ve got a class so can you walk with me.”

As we walked outside the door, I asked George. ”What was it he wanted to talk about?”  His face flushed and as always I could never tell which eye to look at.  I know that is bad, but it is true.

Since I started school I never took off my wedding ring.  And I never discussed with a classmate or teacher.  Only the Displaced Homemaker, Brian Thomas, who had come in the dining room recently, and in front of everyone, he gave me a huge hug.

I’m sure my co-workers,  Cheff and Mr. C wondered what the hell that was about.  Brian told me he was leaving the school, and just wanted to wish me well.  I was not happy as he had helped me and I would miss not having the one person who knew my past gone.

George, who had been jabbering and walking alongside me, suddenly stepped  in front of me so that I had to stop. ”George?” ”Jillie.” ”Yes?”  ”Will you go out with me?”  ”I know you don’t wnt to go out with someone like me, but someone as beautiful as you are the prettiest girl I know.  And your so nice and I would actually fall over dead if you did say yes. But will you?”

I never saw that coming.  I was indeed taken aback and the irony of today of all days.  The day of my Divorce and being asked out?  ”Oh, George” I put my hand on his shoulder, and you will not believe, how much you made my day!”

So I kissed him on the cheek and gave him another huge squeeze hug.  Thanks for making my day.    And I walked by myself with an enormous smile on my face.

I will never forget on the day it was officially over and Divorced.  I got asked out on a date.

The last time was 40+years ago.