Just the Tip(s)

I am no longer a restaurant manager.

I didn't get fired. I don't think. But I also didn't really quit.

Well, I kind of quit. My coworkers have chosen to describe it as "demoting" myself back to being a server, which is mildly offensive and illogical - my "demoted" salary has increased $100-$200 per week.

That's shocking, right? You would think an increase of responsibility would come with a significant pay raise. I've learned from my PR/Marketing days that this is rarely the case. At least, not in the beginning. It's called paying your dues or you are pretty but have zero qualifications. Actors: think of it like Non-Equity theatre (which I never had to do but heard it was terrible for the rest of you).

Remember the next time you ask to speak to a manager at a restaurant, they are making very little in comparison to the waiter's dignity you just disregarded. Really consider your bitch level before you expect anyone to sympathize.

I'll miss the job. I was good at it. I won't say great at it, because I don't think I was. Mostly I didn't have the mental capacity or patience for learning to be great at it. But I learned an awful lot. For instance, one boss taught me that just because you can be really good at something doesn't mean you should do it. Again, I was not fired.

I would say the most important lesson I learned, which I wish I had learned before 25, is that we really do get only one life. I want that to sound more morbid and less uplifting. Thanks.

I was trying to live two lives. During the day/night/times-I-was-getting-paid, I was this really cool/hip fine-dining career schmoozer who pretended to know what I was doing and sometimes ordered napkins (and only once in an emergency on my last day) waiting for guests to comment on my cheekbones so I could buy them a drink. During the times I wasn't getting paid, I was a writer/actor/singer/dancer. All the time, I was broke.

So, instead of continuing to dream about getting fired or worrying about a baked fish taking longer than expected and continuing to pretend that I had any business running a restaurant at 24, I did everyone a favor and pulled the plug before 25. Was it a quarter life crisis? No. I know this because I have no intentions of living to 100, and I had a quarter life crisis YEARS ago. The piercing didn't last and I almost declared a Gender Studies double major.

Teachers of artists are known for saying, "If you can imagine yourself doing something else, do something else. Life will be much easier."

I can finally say at 25, after having been A LOT of things for what my mom thinks were very short periods of time, I can't imagine myself doing anything else. Not now. Maybe never. Sometimes boys.

Would you like fries with that,

TJB: Making It

To thine own selfie be true

I'm spending a few days in D.C. on a writer's retreat (aka getting laid JK Mom), and I've come to realize - through all of the moving history and patriotism I've experienced here - that our greatest historians are Asian teen girls taking selfies.

Seriously, I've been sitting in this Starbucks for over an hour and this girl has taken approximately 45 selfies of herself drinking coffee. Right now, her camera is set on repeat and she is changing poses every five seconds. She's really struggling with a hair choice. I want to recommend she wrap it behind her neck to one shoulder, but she seems set on making this bobbypin work.

Oh, now we've moved on to a braid. This will be cute. OH MY GOD, she has a light pink clip-in hair extension. We've just taken it to a new level.

In all seriousness, this girl taking selfies has reminded me of something very important.

I spend a lot of time stressing. I just ended a phone conversation with my mom about student loans, my debit card being stolen, and potentially being fired from my job. You know it's bad when you're one week from 25 and still calling your mom to say, "FIX THIS!" But then I turned to my right and this girl reminded me that the rest of the world (aside from Mom, maybe) doesn't care about how much money we have or how much stress we're under. They don't see any of that.

But they do see your selfies, so you'd better take a good one. And they will like it. Or they'll hate it.

Or have no opinions, which is really the worst result of all.

So take a page from the Asian girls and give a smile. Throw a peace sign. Don't let the world see you sweat.

Double click to heart me,

TJB: Making It

A Sense of Pride

I was not beaten, I was stung by a wasp in the eye.

My 10th grade research paper was titled "Child Abuse: Bruising a Nation". I still have a habit of using wordplay at the most inappropriate times. In fact, I wrote a lot of apology e-mails to TAs in college, ensuring them that my writing style should in no way affect how seriously they thought I was about the course. That was a big hurdle in a class I will call Serious Things About WWII. Luckily my TA was Australian, so quite distanced from any personal ties to the subject matter. I think Australia was still a penal colony then.

Back to the kids. 

I chose the topic because child abuse is the one thing that makes me angrier than all anger-inducing things. I can't understand how an adult could ever hurt a kid. I see a child cry and all I want to do is adopt them. A lot of my trying-to-impress-someone career goals through adolescence involved pediatric something. Point being: kids are precious and I'm a really selfless human being. 

But that's not so great for the blog. Here's what's good for the blog:

Before writing my research paper, I had read that opening with a quote was a really writery thing to do. I was all over that. I opened my paper with this:

Whitney Houston once said, "I believe that children are our future." 

I masterfully dispersed the following lyrics throughout. After turning in the first draft, it was returned with a red circle around the initial quote with the note "NO". 

The conversation that resulted went like this:

Me: What do you mean "NO"?

Teacher: Whitney Houston did not say that. 

Me: I'm pretty sure she did. It's a really well known Whitney Houston song. 

Teacher: Yeah, but she didn't write the song.

Me: But she said the words. 

Teacher: But she didn't write them.

Me: But it's a quote and she said them. Well, sang them. 

Teacher: You have to give credit to the originator. 

Me: Who's that?

Teacher: Whoever wrote the song.

Me: But nobody knows who that is. I can't open my paper with a quote from nobody. Who wants to read that?

Teacher: I do. I'm the only person reading this paper. 

Wrong answer. Once I realized this paper was only being read by this dude, my shits given hit zero. What good were we doing the children if only this dude was reading it?

Whitney stayed in. But I did meet him halfway and cited Michael Masser and Linda Creed in the bibliography. 

My parents had been warned by my sister's junior year English teacher that this sophomore year guy would challenge me. I hadn't seen a minus next to my A's since 2nd grade. That Whitney maybe-not-her-quote (combined with a following comparison of happenings in To Kill a Mockingbird with the Nelly/Alicia Keys hit "My Boo") would earn my first ever B+. 

Don't worry, I still ended up a valedictorian. But I have to give credit to that teacher. I inadvertently learned a lot through my arrogant dismissal of his power.

1. B+s do exist. 

2. Challenging authority should be reserved for much more important causes than a 16 year old's pride.

3. There are really great lessons to be learned from To Kill a Mockingbird 
4. Seriously, 16 year olds are assholes. 

5. Nothing I could ever write will trump quoting Whitney Houston in an attempt to end child abuse.

I think he also taught me irregardless was not a word, making irregardless my favorite word that year. 

I was the future then, and he taught me well. He let me lead the way. The dude probably doesn't even remember who I am now, but every time I write, I remember him. It reminds me that I want my audience to feel something when they read my writing, even if that feeling is my own petulance. He probably doesn't remember me, but if he does, I hope its because I taught him something. Something about the greatest love of all.

You can't keep a Diva down,

TJB: Making It