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

201?

The new year was exciting until approximately 2 a.m. when I was left chugging a bottle of sparkling water found on my bedroom floor to wash down the three day old Chinese food that now coats my pillow.

The holiday decorations are being ripped down to make room for snow covered trash, salted to Oregon Trail status. I've already ruined three pairs of shoes. The most eventful thing that will happen for the next three months? People sarcastically damning themselves for writing 2013.

It's been two thousand fourteen years. We get it. Change is hard. But we have a black president now, so just backspace and hit 4.

I made the mistake of waking up on January 1 and checking my student loan payments.

They've doubled.

There's something funny about White Privilege where your mind skips "get a second job" and goes straight to "prostitution".  Do people still carry cash? I'll just camp out by an ATM.

A few weeks ago, I was feeling incredibly positive. Seriously, I wrote like...a really upbeat post. Then, I had a conversation about how awful it's going to be to turn 24 in March.

Guys, I've been 24 for nine months. There goes prostitution. I won't hit another niche market until I'm 40.

What the hell, 2014? How do I pretend to focus on my art if I have to make money full time? I tried that in Chicago and I was still as broke as my parents in 1983. I mean, if our children have to work as hard as we did, are we even progressing as a society?

Also, if kids can be pop stars, why can't they work in factories?

The fear of a new year brings so many unanswered questions. I guess that's the exciting thing about life. This time last year, I was still sleeping on my friend's couch, jobless and covered in glitter.

GOD, that was a comfy couch.

I'll just have to do what I did so well in college. Make up the answers and write an apology to my T.A. on the last page for not taking the class seriously enough due to my expansive life interests and dedication to the arts.

That's always good for a B+.

Sorry Northwestern,

TJB: Making It

i was unemployed once

This is how I write cover letters.

-------------------------------------------------------

@nla:

“Dad! Robert’s going to jump off the bridge again!”

I wasn't supposed to answer the phone but, as a 10 year old,I had a desire to communicate with anyone who would listen to me. I couldn't help but respond to the ring. I wasn't exactly sure what bipolar disorder was,but every time Robert called, I learned more about it. My psychologist father would take the phone (before I could find out why Robert liked jumping so much)and push me out of the room.  I got to meet Robert 10 years later at his college graduation while I was in the midst of my own Communications degree. He thanked me for all of those times he was talked down when I answered the phone but wasn't supposed to. That was the moment I understood the power of communication.

Growing up in a world where communication is almost second nature from the emotional evolution of MySpace and LiveJournal to the scrolling photos of Facebook and Flickr, I’m often surprised how difficult it is for some  With constant status updates and Instagram lunches, we've become billboards for ourselves, and yet most people are clueless to the product they're selling. There was a time, yes, when applying for a job involved a face-to-face interaction and a hard copy resume. Today, you’re lucky if your misspelled e-mail and tone on the telephone can be saved by scheduling a Skype session. And I hope you've already Google searched yourself before they find that LiveJournal or you can kiss the job goodbye.

But if you can learn and understand the impact that all this communication holds and get past the fact that you’re just a kid in Starbucks with a tablet and an iPhone typing a cover letter to realize the world is run by kids in Starbucks with tablets and iPhones, you've just become one of the most powerful and influential people in the world - at least until Apple invents something smaller to replace you.

We used to live in a world where the marketing game depended on the housewife’s word of mouth during Bridge. Now, companies depend on the working woman’s tags and tweets during her bridge and tunnel commute to Manhattan. There are many rules to the game from 70 character limits to hashtag etiquette, but only one real skill is required: Communication. If you can do that, you can win the game…or even save a life.

I haven’t had to say, “Dad! Robert’s going to jump off the bridge again!” in 13 years, but every time I click “Share” on Facebook or hit“Publish” on Blogspot, I understand that it reaches much further than the walls of my home now. There really is No Limit.

I hope you'll @ reply me,

@tjbaranski