Long Friday Serving Rant

It’s around 7pm, I’m training a new server and we decided to tempt fate. We send the other server home. This is always a bold move this early because it’s practically a guarantee that if you send the other person home, especially if you have the hindrance of the trainee acting as a shadow, then you are bound to get busy. And not just busy where you walk a little faster and have difficulty refilling people’s water glasses, but busy where you’ve forgotten your name, at any given moment someone is bound to walk out in anger, and you start wondering if it will ever end. This is the stuff “server dreams” are made of. (NOTE: The terminology server dreams is misleading- I'm acutally referring to the phenomoenon of recurring nightmares, usually involves having more tables than you could ever take care of. This is experienced by every server I have ever met.)

So around the 7’oclock hour I spend a few blissful minutes trying to figure out what my trainee already knows and what I need to teach him when in walks one table, and another, and another. To put this all in perspective, on busy nights we generally have 3-4 table sections. Within about a half hour, the dining room fills up with around 12-13 tables. As a bonus, the trainee was actually helpful. Often it’s a handicap because while you’re trying to not lose your mind, they’re following you around asking how any ice cubes to put into a water glass.

So the dining room’s steadily filling up and every time I turned around there’s another table. This is when you go into triage mode. Get everyone water so it looks like you’re on top of it. Then get everyone’s drink order. People feel better when they know that something’s on the way. Then from that point it’s a careful consideration of multiple factors: who is more likely to get mad first, who is ready to order immediately, and who will be the difficult ones “do you have acidophilus in any of your dishes? I’m allergic.” Generally speaking four people can wait longer than two. My theory is that if there are four , they probably don’t know each other as well and no one wants to be the jerk who's complaining. When there are two, all it takes is one person wondering if anyone is every going to take their order and they’re ready for a witch hunt.

So things are going pretty well so far. There are always stages. The (1) Trickle in, I hope I get a few more tables stage, the (2) This is fun. I’m busy but I’m on top of everything stage, the (3) This is challenging my serving skills but I’m still proud I’m holding it together stage, and the (4) I’m going under- someone throw me a life boat, and make my tables stop yelling ma’am at me across the room stage.

I was just leaving stage three and heading into four, when a table grabs me and says “We’re ready to order.” Music to my ears. This is the goal. To get everyone a drink, and then let them sit until they are absolutely positive they know what they want. This way you can avoid all the questions, and you don’t have to contort your face from impatience to perfect calm while you stand there thinking abut the 50 other things you needed to do 5 minutes ago, and why?- why? Are you talking so slow! So I stop in my tracks, holding a soda for another table, and try to balance it while I attempt to wrangle a piece of paper out of my apron.

But then- “We just have a few questions.” Noooooo, my heart sinks while I feel my stride broken and the rhythm of holding everything together is now gone for the remainder of the night. It’s not that questions are bad, it’s that if I knew in advance that I needed that kind of time at a table I would have worked that into the triage schedule. Instead this lady has just sunken me deep into
Stage 4 with her trickery. I briefly mourn the passing of the perfect timing of the evening thus far, reluctantly let go of my impatience, and ask her how I could help, although it was difficult to concentrate feeling the stares of everyone else wanting attention boring into the back of my head.

She asks about the salad size which I quickly inform her is pretty large. She then goes on to tell me that she just wants a small salad, and can they just give her a little bit. I realize I was a bit hasty in discarding my impatience and I decided to pick it back up. I quickly told her yes, but it would be the same price, at which she was outraged. She insisted so I did what any good server would do, reflected the blame by asking someone else. I ran to Char, asked her if we could do a half portion for a salad, for which she said no, and I returned to the lady and again told her no. She looked at me smugly -and let me interject here, it’s not that I am rude or impatient across the board, but there is a certain breed of person who sometimes finds themselves in our restaurant, and the best I can describe it is that they ooze a sense of entitlement. You get the idea that they have never not had their way, and that for anything to be other than how they want it is an outrage and an injustice. They are the ones that storm out over not getting their chosen table- when they don’t have reservations. They are the type to make you run down the street to another restaurant to get an ingredient you don’t have to make something not on your menu. And then they tip you 12%. I could tell that’s what I was facing as soon as she uttered the words. “Go ask Char.”

Now, when this table came in they asked for Pete (the other owner) and didn’t know who Char was (his wife). So they’re clearly not lifelong friends. I (probably a little too smugly) informed her that that was exactly who I asked, and you could see the rage at not getting her way wash over her face. She snapped “Then go ask her again, she does not realize who we are.” I smiled (through my teeth) and informed Char that this table was now hers to placate. Char got the rest of their order while I struggled to get caught up with everyone else. The night ended well; we managed to hold everything together until it trickled off.

And I will say, while this is a rant, serving is actually often enjoyable in its own right, which is probably why I’ve been doing it for 12 years. There aren’t many opportunities to be challenged so actively and without serious long-term ramifications. I love trying to see how much I can handle, knowing that at worst if I fail someone will have to sit a few minutes too long. It helps me keep perspective too. I get little reminders like last night that things are never as serious as I might think they are. That woman was miserable throughout her entire meal , and from the looks of it her husband wasn't having the time of his life either. What a great reminder to cherish the time you get to spend with those you love, instead of wanting every single detail to be perfect. Maybe the secret is that it is perfect, in its imperfection; perhaps happiness is only a state of mind, and has very little to do with the details.

Perfect Fall Evening

Last night, Clint and I set out for a walk after dinner and decided half way down the alley that we should check out the park across the street. We grabbed our glow in the dark frisbee and crossed the street to what I am now considering our giant back yard. There is a park runs at least four blocks long, and is about a block wide. It is almost all grass with only a few trees, and while we’re not sure it’s actually technically a park, it seems generally open to the public. It is bordered to the west by the bike path that runs alongside the river and on the east a row of stately Victorian houses. We threw the frisbee around for awhile, time mostly spent with Clint trying to chase down my wild throws until I got my technique perfected, or at least narrowed down enough that I wasn’t threatening the two boys off in the distance kicking a soccer ball around.

We both had things that we could have (and probably should have) been doing, but for that small window we were carefree- like kids who only had to be home by the time the streetlights came on.

We tired out (mostly Clint from trying to spare the boys, or spare me from embarrassment by catching it (What?! We’re trying to play Frisbee this way!)), and sat in the grass looking up at the clouds, the airplane smoke trails lit up by the sunset, and the storm clouds rolling in from the west. As we sat there I had the distinct feeling that this would become one of those quintessential fall days burned in my memory- where I could always remember the feeling, but never the context. I imagined that as the season wore on and turned into winter, I would be soon riding my bike through that park, looking out at the field covered in snow, and trying to remember what it was like when it was warm enough to run barefoot through the grass.

Doors

No much going on with house updates- I’ve spent the last couple of days jumping- well more like dragging myself back into school, while Clint has been catching up on work. The presentation this past weekend went well, if anyone’s interested in how I think we should achieve equitable education in Calhoun County it’s online.
We’re gearing up to remove the brick/concrete walkway that runs from the back to the front, then planting grass the length of the yard. Part of this requires getting rid of the unnecessary shed, which I believe we may have done- we’ll see - Craig’s Listers have been fickle to date. We’re also preparing for the last big trip to Lowes for the season. We have a 10% off the entire purchase coupon which we are trying to use judiciously- our long list includes a wheel barrow (that concrete is heavy!), and sledge hammer, a dehumidifier (when it rains we have that damp camping feeling), and a front door courtesy of the returned deposit on the apartment. The front door decision feels like a big one. On one hand it’s just a front door, on the other how often do people change out their front doors! We’re trying to decide between a more simple design simple design (imagine them both without the side pieces) or a more ornate (and naturally more expensive) one.
Preferences anyone?

Fun with yardwork

Those of you who do not know, when it comes to buying things- anything- Clint and I are ridiculously particular. We (mostly I) have to do comprehensive research on prices, rankings and consumer reviews. We (usually Clint) have to consider or see every one of something we can, which often includes trips around town to every store that might carry that item or a similar one, and/or we look at everyone online store we can find. It probably has something to do with the mixture of researcher and artist, but either way the combination makes for a very lengthy decision-making process. I’d like to say that this holds true for only big purchases, but we literally put this much thought into just about every purchase we make. (You should see us scrutinize the lightbulb decisions). That is part of the challenge in our Project, but when a decision is finally made, it is typically joyous, if for no other reason that we know we have made the most informed decision possible.

All that came to a head yesterday when we went and bought what I am modestly considering the greatest mower ever. I seriously didn’t think that I would find myself so elated over a yard appliance, but once we wheeled it out into our yard, and saw our jungle grass get shorter right before our eyes- it was like magic. It’s electric meaning the only maintenance is the occasional blade sharpening. It’s very light so that we don’t get pushed or pulled down the hill in the front (which we quickly found out was very steep). It has a battery so that there’s no pollution generated from it, and there’s no cord we run the risk of running over. And to make the deal even sweeter (as if it needed to be) we found it locally at a store that was selling it at a significantly discounted price because it was their floor model.It literally is so easy, and light, and quiet that it is pretty much like using a vaccume cleaner. But also- it's pretty.


It inspired me to pull weeds, clean off the back porch, and make the yard look like the house wasn’t abandoned or infiltrated with transients and squatters. Of course all that will be destroyed when we decided to break up the concrete sidewalk with brick mortared in, but that’s another project for another day. For now I’m off to Battle Creek, MI to lead a conference breakout session on achieving equitable education. I’m not sure how anyone decided I was an expert, but I’ll be playing one for a few hours anyhow. Wish me luck!

Mystery

So part of the joy in owning a home for me has been, so far, exploring the mysteries. I would imagine this is the similar drive that inspires those who love geneology. I do find ancestry to be quite fascinating, but spending time in a house where there are more questions than answers has driven me to do some exploring. These are the biggest questions we’ve come up with so far- and just a few of the answers…

-We know that the back of the house has an addition built in 1980. If that was not there before then there was only two rooms downstairs, and two rooms upstairs. This leaves no room for plumbing or kitchen/bathroom. As our house is dated 1920, it seems they would have had plumbing somewhere, but the wood floors downstairs are the original subfloors so if there were holes we would see them. Plus the fact that the door on the bathroom (part of the addition) is really really old. They could have bought it old but whoever lived there before didn’t seem too concerned with keeping it architecturally consistent. Maybe part of the original house was torn down and rebuilt? But still, standing outside the house it looks like it just used to be the original 4 room structure.

-So then what would that mean, the house is so old it had no plumbing? (and electric, which I’ll get to). That seems like that would have been long before 1920, although the house in general does give off a feeling much older than 1920. We had a friend stop by this weekend, and she mentioned (which internet research verified) that in the ‘20s in Franklin County the courthouse burned down, and that anything dated prior to 1920 is probably wrong (does this include 1920?). The only thing I’ve found so far online is a map from 1920. The house is there, it looks like without an addition, but that’s about all it told me.

-Also, we can vaguely tell what was original based on the trim. We have two kinds of trim downstairs- the original, really old ornate trim, a more simple trim around windows that we assume was added in the 1980s, and upstairs there’s a third trim that really doesn’t match either of the first two. The downstairs is pretty consistent but upstairs it’s a trim menagerie. It’s not that interesting of a mystery but it drives me crazy- why was all the trim upstairs moved around and switched out? You can tell because sometimes there’s trim around a door that has areas cut out for hinges on the outside part. I’m sure I’m boring all of you to tears with this trim talk- but I wish I could be a fly on the wall to see when it was done, and why. Is all this mismatch original? Did they buy salvaged trim originally? Or did some kooky owner do it 10 years ago for some inexplicable reason.

-AND- could part of that reason have something to do with the fact that they seem to have raised the upstairs floor approximately 5 inches. There are a few clues that suggest this. (1)The windows in the bedrooms seem oddly low, the distance to the floor is much less than the distance to the ceiling. (2) At the top of the stairs there is one small half step. (3)The trim on the doorway that is just to the left of the top of the stairs is staggered. The trim on the left starts at what I think was originally the landing (on the ½ step) while the one on the right starts at the new landing. If it was done, it was definitely awhile ago, there are multiple coats of thick paint on the upstairs floors. My current theory is that they had to raise the floor to run electrical in the house. This is a wild guess though- I have no other theory or possible explanation.

-the last, but more insignificant mystery involves a burn in the wood of the closet floor. How exactly does one burn one small area of a closet floor?

So these are our biggest questions to date. I’m sure much of the rationale behind some of this will never be discovered, but we’d like to try. Is there such a thing as a house detective? In the meantime I’ll give it my best (can you tell I work in research?).

Part of my detective work will include finding out who used to own the house. Searching the archives of our local paper turned up two bits of information on previous owners, neither particularly pleasant:

LEE A FORREST, 25, (OUR ADDRESS) A WOULD-BE RAPIST, IS NABBED WHEN THE INTENDED VICTIM'S HUSBAND RETURNS TO HIS E 25TH AVE HOME
Date: Monday, August 28, 1972

ROBERT E JOHNSON, 27, (OUR ADDRESS) AND MRS BONNIE LOU THACKER, 31, 6259 ALKIRE RD IN GALLOWAY, ARE INJURED IN SEPARATE TRAFFIC ACCIDENTS*
Date: Friday, August 22, 1969

I plan on completing extensive research by visiting the library, courthouse, and historical society to see how much I can dig up about the place. I’ll keep you in the loop.

Patience

It’s amazing with this process not what I’ve learned about home improvements or homeownership, but I’m constantly surprised by how much we’re learning about ourselves and each other. The first major realization was that we might not actually like things to come easy to us. When I realized how much we had taken on, then I realized how much we’re always taking on, I noticed a pattern. We were talking about it as we were packing up the old apartment only hours before we were to catch a flight (a pattern that has repeated itself before every vacation (every deadline for that matter)). It used to surprise me- how close we would push everything to the edge of getting done but then Clint made a dangerous observation- we continue to do it because we continue to get away with it. Even though it puts an undue amount of stress on us, and even though we say we hate doing things that way and want to be ‘grown ups,’ we still make our flights, Clint still gets projects done and I get all my papers and projects handed in and get As. It could be laziness or procrastination, but I like to believe it has something more to do with how much sweeter it is to have that release after having such intense stress beforehand.

My more recent observation is really just an agreement with all the critics who say our generation is spoiled in its accustomization to immediacy. Clint and I continue to go back and forth struggling with living with something that is not how we want it, and not having the financial means to make it so. I’ve realized in this how little I’ve had to wait indefinitely for something I’ve wanted. Now this is not to say that for either one of us it was ever handed to us or always came easy, we were just creative in figuring out a way to get whatever it is we wanted- even if it meant working several jobs, finding it used, building it, etc. or at least we’ve always had an end point in what we were waiting for or working towards.

As we face all of the aspects of the house that need to be addressed, and realize that currently those renovations are completely financially out of reach for us, we struggle with the greater overarching theme of ‘pleasure delayed’. I think we’d even be fine if there was an end date, say even a year or two or five down the road- but with the price tag that comes with most of it, and the time and knowledge required of us to do any of it, it often feels insurmountable. Days like these we focus on the investment part of it all, and think about dates where if we still hate it, we’ll sell. Sunday was such a day for me, and yesterday was for Clint. Then, as I was riding my bike along the bike path on this particularly chilly morning, I was reminded of the homeless person I had seen there the day before, enclosed completely under a blanket to try to keep warm in the damp, cold morning, and I was reminded of how lucky we truly are. Our house may be in utter disrepair and there lies a lot of work in front of us, but we have a roof over our heads and each other at the end of each day. I try to remember that, and how privileged we actually are to even have a house, much less in the neighborhood we are in, and suddenly it all seems ok.

Exercise in Futility

With the temperatures dropping slowly and leaves starting to drift off of trees, I feel like we’re in the last throes of summer. Or maybe I’m just hoping that’s the case to avoid the fact that we now have a lawn to take care of. We know we need to get a lawn mower, and soon because we’re quickly becoming THOSE neighbors with our overgrown grass.

Through CraigsList we’ve found a woman willing to sell her electric mower (we want electric for a variety of reasons) but not until the end of the season which means we’ve got about a month and a half of either letting the yard become a jungle, or trying to find a short term solution without buying anything we don’t need. At first I was thinking weed wacker, but this crazy mower has one attached so if it works as it’s supposed to we won’t need that long term either. This for some reason led me to the idea that I could just get some hedge trimmers and take a few whacks at the side yard- I’m smart enough to know that this would make me look crazy so I won’t attempt this on the front yard during the day (which is really just a series of patches of dirt mixed with a few clumps of grass. Since it’s a nice afternoon and since Clint’s out of town for the day selling posters it seemed like an easy enough accomplishment that I could take care of, then feel justified in my nap.

I squatted down to begin manually cutting the grass, then I realized I’d have to first move all of the broken concrete and bricks which have cement on them. Let me back up. Our landscaping consists of what we can determine to be a layer of concrete, with brick, or in the case of the deck- wood, overlaid on it. On the upside this makes the brick walkway running from the back of the house to the front really level, but it’s also probably too close to the foundation to drain, and just generally shoddy so it’s eventually coming out. For part of the walkway that eventually came sooner rather than later when the electrician ran the electric to the garage. Part of my yard clean up plan included moving the concrete pieces off the grass into a pile somewhere where we could figure out another day how exactly we are going to get rid of them.

After moving about ten pieces, avoiding the worms and ants that had naturally come to live under them, then taking a number of whacks at the grass, I decided I was done for the day and walked to the local coffee shop to sit outside and forget about The Project with its infinite smaller projects. Nothing really looks much better and I’m still not sure what to do about all that concrete, but I’ve decided only second to the feeling of accomplishment from finishing something is the sweetness of avoidance and procrastination.

One day better

Today, Clint officially turns one year older. The celebrations are slated to be pretty low key- I think the plan consists of dinner and a movie this evening. We’re not usually big on exchanging presents, I’m not sure if that’s because our birthdays are so close, we’re usually strapped anyway, or we don’t feel the need to forced into buying each other something because society dictates we should, but for some reason every year when his birthday rolls around I get both nostalgic and feel incredibly blessed. I like to think about how while he was probably having his fifth birthday party while about 350 miles away my mom was in labor with me. It amazes me intricately and delicate our paths are interwoven and then I think about all the millions of tiny decisions that somehow ended up with me meeting him, marrying him, and now establishing ourselves as a family in our new house.

On of the first few interactions he and I ever had was when he stopped into my office at LSY right after I had just started. I only knew him as the guy that everyone loved- that flitted around the office and somehow made friends with everyone who crossed his path. I of course was the total opposite. I kept my head down and did my work, socializing with almost no one. He ducked his head into what was my “office” a converted closet that housed four of us on the bottom of the totem pole, and told me his birthday was today- one day before mine, which made him one day better. I just looked at him square in the eye and said “Yeah- but you’re probably A LOT older than me.” I was of course kidding (I blame Jenny for that sense of humor) but Clint- the guy who could charm anyone was rendered speechless. If I remember correctly he stuttered something incoherent while slowly backing out of the office. Who knew that all these years later we’d be here. I couldn't be any happier with how things have turned out.

One thing leads to another

I have been admittedly behind in my updating- I think that’s because now that I’ve had a restful vacation I’m actually getting work done at work. There is much to update- where to start.

Friday we had two plumbers come out for estimates- of course we still haven’t received those estimates but it didn’t sound too terrible. It’s tricky because there are a few things that we know are going to cost a good chunk- replacing our bathroom walled-in behemoth of a heater with an energy-efficient, tankless model in the basement for starters. And so with that I will illustrate the phenomenon that everyone warned us about- that it just starts with one thing, and then all the sudden we’re gutting the house. Well not really…well ok so we probably will…but at least not immediately. We are, however probably going to gut the bathroom. Let me demonstrate the logic (if we’re going to call it that). See the crawl space, which is actually standing room (for me and Clint anyway), is only about the size of half of a room. Running the entire length of the front of the house, and also the back of the house, is about a two foot tall space. This is where all the plumbing is located and so for anyone to work on it there are two options- 1. to pay about triple for someone (preferably non-claustrophobic) to shimmy back there and hope that they can do a good job even though there’s probably not enough room for them to roll over, or 2. take the bathroom down to studs so that they can work through the floor, rearrange the layout of the bathroom while we’re at it and then Clint and I will do all the finishing work. I’m guessing we’ll go with 2- although again we have NO idea what this might cost since apparently we’ve scared them both off by just making them walk into the crawl space. (I will say it is slightly fun to see everyone’s reaction when we open the hatch in the floor of the closet and they realize they have to descend into that pit.) Hopefully that will be the extent of it but there was one scary plumber that pointed out one of our pipes is really old and should be replaced while they’re in there, but it’s connected to the one that probably leads to the alley, which is something breakable (ceramic?) so if they get in there and even if they are as careful as they could possibly be, something could chip and then all the sudden we’re replacing the whole pipe underground. We also learned yesterday that if we run the water in the kitchen sink too long the bathtub fills up with grime (just discovered yesterday). I’m optimistically assuming that would be an easy fix though.

So with all this you would think we would be discouraged- but no! Somehow it has had the opposite effect and completely energized us. Because we realized that we are going to take this house, take it down to the frame room by room, and make it amazing. We’re not sure how or when, or more importantly how we’ll pay for it, but I’m pretty confident that it will happen. Clint was energized because he realized that rather than tinker we’ll probably just end up gutting, room by room, and getting everything exactly how we want it. It’s an exercise in patience and delayed gratification but rather fun at the same time.

On another front some great news- we have a garage door opener! After approximately 15 hours of labor, several trips to Lowes and Home Depot, emailed pictures from Dad and assistance and consultation from Billy the magical moment happened- we pushed the button and it went up. Just like that. We still can’t get over the wonder.

We're Back!

After ten fabulous days in the Pacific Northwest (thanks Mom, Larry, & everyone else who made it great) we have settled back in Columbus. It’s funny because I would catch myself missing home from time to time, then remember what home looked like when we left it, and then try to figure out an escape plan. Clint and I left Columbus in a frenzy, or what is quickly becoming “Reno-style.” I had slept two hours, Clint 40 minutes with his head on his desk. We worked through the night and much of the next day to get the old place in order (read: to try to get our deposit back), and Clint pulled in the garage Friday afternoon with the Jeep loaded with the final remnants of our old place, as our ride was waiting to whisk us off to the airport.

The trip was great- far too many highlights to mention. As soon as we can locate the cords to connect the camera to the computer, and as soon as we get internet at the house we’ll get some pictures up. The latter may turn out to be more difficult than we first thought as the cableman was already out yesterday and all he could get us were fuzzy cable channels and no internet (no word on the problem and they can’t send someone else out for another week). Luckily for us there is an internet café just down the street and on occasion if the wind blows just right we are able to “borrow” wireless internet from someone nearby. This came in handy during what I will call the termite scare. It’s a long story, and with no definitive conclusion as of yet, but it involves capturing bugs in Tupperware, calling the Orkin man in a panic, and genuinely considering for the first time that we may have made a huge mistake. From what we can tell from spotty internet and the bug currently asphyxiating in a plastic container on our counter-they’re ants, but just calling them ants after the panic they incited doesn’t seem right so I’m going to go ahead and call them killer flesh-eating ants, which I think captures our reaction to them much more accurately.

Despite all this we are slowly getting settled in and learning much more intimately all the quirks of the place. Like the fact that both the hot and cold water spigot for the washer and dryer leak. This may not be as big a problem as it seems though because we’re slowly realizing that any renovations we were planning to do on the addition (kitchen, bathroom, laundry) may need to be sooner rather than later. For some reason the addition has knob and tube wiring as well, which without attic access means holes in the drywall to outlets, fixtures and switches. That, combined with the need to figure out the best solution to the water heater means we might just tear everything down to studs for fun and build back up from there. This sounds drastic, and it may not be anywhere near that extensive, but considering how shoddily the addition was built I don’t think either of us would mind. We’re waiting to see what the plumber says on Friday, and the damage that’s done from the wiring, but in the meantime we’re renewing our gym membership just in case we need somewhere to shower.