WFI for Hospitals = Making an overnight stay enjoyable.

It's saturday night. No one wants to hang out. There's nothing to do. TV was repeats this week. No one is online.

I want to go back to the hospital.

Today I Took A Nap

i am unemployed. i am not in school. i live with my parents. i am wearing the clothes i wore yesterday.


and i took a nap.


i feel more worthless than i did before.


napping = wfi.




(by the way, i tag things as "college dropout", but i, in fact, did graduate from college. not even a community college. a real university! which, apparently, was a WFI, because everything has been downhill since...)

I went to a strip club.

well, abby had her bachelorette party. which was planned out by someone who wasn't me. which is how we ended up at the strip club.

i had never been to a strip club, nor have i ever wanted to go. in fact, my only experience involving a stripper was at a high school friend's birthday party; he was the least expensive stripped in all of tucson's yellowpages. can you even imagine??? and go figure, he needed a ride home afterward (i have no idea how he got there in the first place). giving the stripper a ride home was not something any of us were willing to do. what we were willing to do however, was call him a cab and shove him out the door to wait for it.

anyway.

so who else was on the guest list for the evening's events? oh, just one of abby's friends who has only been drunk once in her life, loves to embroider, and has a 5 month old baby at home (she left early), and abby's friend J, with whom i went to high school (i used to go up to her locker when she had it open, stick my arm in, and pull everything out of it and onto the floor, and then walk away, if that tells you anything about our relationship). oh, J's friend that none of knew was also in attendance. my point here is that the obvious "we're here cuz it's a wild and crazy bachelorette party" visual was not attainable. we were, instead, a small group of girls, at the strip club.

in my attempt to avoid the strip club altogether, i figured we should stop at the meet rack (be sure to read aaron a's review). ( quick facts about the meet rack: a man who calls himself "god" runs it; they brand people with an image of god's face (50 cents off drinks for life!); there is a room filled with sex equipment (swings, chairs, cuffs etc); this room is also filled with pictures of people engaging in sex on the equipment; AA members get free drinks for life; God has a gold and diamond ring shaped like a penis that he wears proudly.) so obviously, i thought the bar would be weird and exciting enough to get me out of the strip club adventure...but it turns out, the other girls were just too creeped out by the vibrating dildos on the bar to even order a second round.

it was strip club time.

the bachelorette, drunk, but not wasted, partook in an onstage strip show. motorboating, simulated oral sex, rubbing and grinding with not one, not two, but three strippers, including one with braces, who she later tracked down for a little private lap dance. there was some legit, cute strippers, i wont lie. so i was a little annoyed that she preferred the beat chicks. but of course, the hottest girl in the club wasn't even a stripper. she was a waitress. clearly though, none of this actually matters because i was not about to, and now i never, ever will, partake in any sort of lap dance. really though, motorboating?? i'll just keep ordering beers.

so, in the end, the best part about the strip club? how my reeboks looked in the black light. the worst part about the strip club? how my sneakers felt covered in a stripper's spilled red bull.

a bad egg. a very, very bad egg.

Dear Kevin,

RE: Your wall post on my Facebook

It was a BFI overall. However my response was a WFI, as it has left me regretful. You know that Seinfeld episode where George comes up with the "jerk store" comeback long after the insult, and then tries to recreate an opportunity to use it? It's like that. I would love to get fired all over again.

See, I have been working for this restaurant (a chain throughout Arizona) since the first week in January. I always preferred serving breakfast and lunch as opposed to dinner or cocktailing because I would rather go to work at 5am and be done at 2, then go to work at 4 and be done at 11. Or whatever. I like getting up early, and even more than that, I absolutely love having an excuse as to why I can't go out at night. You see, "Oh, I'd love to but I have to be up at 4 for work tomorrow! Oh shoot!" is not only easier [read: less embarrassing] to say to your alcoholic friends, but they also mock you less than with other truths made up excuses like, "Oh I'm not a big drinker...", or "But there's a Degrassi marathon on tonight!", or, the worst, "But they're rerunning Lisa Ling produced documentaries on PBS all evening! You remember Lisa Ling, right? She used to be on The View, that show with Barbara Walters and all those kooky women! I mean, I totally hate Elisabeth as much as the next Liberal Jew, but Rosie really brought that show alive, and I'm a huge Whoopi fan. No, I know neither of them were on the show when Lisa was but still - no thanks, I don't drink, but that's nice of you to offer. No, really, I'm driving anyway. What? You don't even know my mom. Okay, I mean, just one. Is this a double? What does that even mean - oh it doesn't have more alcohol? Are you sure? Really? Okay...But just this one..."... So, when I moved from Tempe back to Tucson to live with my parents - which is a whole separate WFI for another day - I decided to try my hand at transferring from the Scottsdale location to one of three Tucson locations.

I loved where I worked in Scottsdale. Not only was everyone awesome in their own way, but everyone there knew how important their job was: not at all important!!! The restaurant was a transition place for these servers; people were working there in order to get somewhere else. Saving up to travel, paying for college, buying pot (important!), opening up a private practice, etc. etc. etc. They didn't live to be waiters, they waited to live!!!!! ...Not to mention I was well respected and appreciated and people laughed at my jokes there... But this Tucson location! Oh Tucson! With your recovering meth addicts, ex cons, strippers, and community college drop outs. I mean, not that I hold anything against people who are recovering addicts - I mean, good for you! Awesome! Ex cons getting their life back in order? Great! High schoolers - hey, make money money! But...zero aspirations?? Shit! With the exception of a few servers, barely anyone talked to me and when they did they were telling me what I was doing wrong and how I needed to "smile more, SERIOUSLY, IT'S A BIG DEAL", or "walk faster or you'll never make it in this business!" or "blahblahblahstupidblah". Give me a fucking break... I used the wrong size kids cup once and had a serious talking to - that began with "what the hell are you doing!!?" - in the kitchen about it. This place was a nightmare. And I was planning to quit in a couple days anyway.

But the incident! I knew something was wrong when the
manager, a big man with a goatee who looked like he should be running a nightclub and not a family breakfast restaurant, was standing outside talking to one of my customers as they were leaving. Customers that left a shitty tip... I had no idea what the problem could be though. This man had been on my back constantly for my "lack of smiling", so I figured maybe she said something about that. [The irony behind that is that I would often go up to my table and joke around about how the manager doesn't think I smile enough and warn them about how if I looked crazy it was his fault! It was a home run of a joke!] Turns out, that wasn't the problem...

What this bitch of a lady harpie was saying was that she heard me tell another table that the restaurant was a "Shit hole" and how I couldn't wait to get out of there.


WOAH WOAH WOAH. Is that lady a mind reader or WHAT!!1 But seriously...


Why would I say that to a table??? Why wouldn't the table I said that to tell the manager?? This lady is just a tattle tale! But even worse, she is a maker-upper of things to tattle!!

I was taken out to the back parking lot where the manager proceeded to cuss at me and pull the little man's complex on me. "THIS IS MY FUCKING RESTAURANT HOW DARE YOU FUCKING SAY THAT. BLAHBLAH CURSING CURSING I AM UGLY BLAHBLAH TALK DOWN TO YOU TALK DOWN TO YOU. I CAN FIRE YOUR ASS WHENEVER. I OWN YOU BLAHBLAH." And all I could say back was... "But I didn't say that?!" or... "Yeah but still, I didn't say that?!" Seriously, with the inflection of a question. It was just such a ridiculous accusation. This woman had no reason to lie, he kept telling me. And I kept telling him that maybe she wasn't lying, but she definitely misheard me, or misread my lips or something because that is just out of the question! He didn't care. My argument about how I don't even use the word "shit hole" didn't go over well either. Which is true! But the REAL truth was that I was talking to an Indian guy I knew in high school who randomly came in and his name, seriously, from afar, when coming out of one's mouth, could be confused for the words "shit" and "hole"! I AM NOT KIDDING.

I should have walked out right there. That is what I regret the most. I should have called him a fucking loser, told him his restaurant was a shit hole, and gone home right there; after all we were in the rear parking lot. My car was twenty feet away. But I thought that that would all look quite silly when I had to walk back to restaurant and go inside to the front register to get my keys. And then come back a couple hours later at 2pm to get my paycheck. Things just didn't work in my favor in that regard. Then after I went back inside and WENT BACK TO WORK I thought...why am I not throwing a fit? I should have yelled at that man, gone back inside and made sure he was scolding me in front of customers. Or perhaps said something to which he would respond with "YOU'RE FIRED GET OUT NOW" and then gone back to a table, and told them that I had just been fired for saying something I didn't say, and point at the manager, who would inevitably be watching me with fiery eyes, and let them know that he had just cussed me out and yelled at me for something I didn't even do and that I was sorry I wouldn't finish up taking care of them and to please tip their server! That would have stuck it to the man! "See that guy? With the bad earrings and spiky hair?? He just fired me cuz some old harpie told him I called this place a shit hole! Can you believe that? A SHIT HOLE. Hey, also, he used to be in prison for dealing firearms and drugs! FUCKING GUNS AND DRUGS. SHIT HOLE SHIT HOLE!"

But I didn't. And I'm left wishing for one more shot at the establishment. At that man. It would have made a much bigger statement than the "no call no show" I pulled over the weekend.

So, the BFI = I don't ever have to go back. The WFI = I didn't stand up for myself and I let a man get away with treating me like shit.

But at least I have my paycheck. [And I didn't declare my tips for that day...!]


Job hunting soon omg byob bbq bff lolz!!111!!!!,

Lewis