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

Sallie GAY

I considered working out today, but I decided to call Sallie Mae instead.

And boy is my ass tired.

They're sweet talkers, I'll give them that. The conversation was very "Baby, It's Cold Outside".

Cue music.

Me: "I really can't pay."
Sallie Mae: "But baby, we'll either f*ck you now or f*ck you later. Point is: you're not going anywhere until we take you from behind."

At least having a loan from CHASE would feel appropriately titled. Owing money to a Sallie Mae is so emasculating.

This is the type of relationship I have to awkwardly bring up when somebody proposes to me in 10 years. "Hey, I really love you a lot, but there's somebody else that's had a choke-hold on my dick since I was 18, so..."

I just have to keep imagining the day when people will be reading this blog on their Kindle Apocalypse and both of my "You Pick Two" at Panera can be Signature Items.

I'll be so remotely famous that Time Out Chicago  will review me and my parents won't have to ignore my texts for money.

I can see you read them, Mom.

I haven't had a drink in four days. Take THAT AA.

JK I had a martini yesterday but just one,

TJB: Making It