"We were blessed to have you in our lives today."

While days 5 and 6 were full of small random oddities, they were still very much positive experiences. I dislike this constant ominous anxiety I feel as I wait for the axe (angry boss or disgruntled diner patron) to drop (yell at me and bring me to tears, either publicly or privately, with only my thin shreds of dignity to comfort me).  But enough about my puny feelings...

I don't think I mentioned much, if anything, about the wrapping of silverware. This is a time-honored tradition in which, during his or her shift, members of the wait staff must fight to the death to procure a large amount of knives, forks, and spoons and then wrap and secure enough sets of silverware to fill a large bin. This occurrence typically involves some form of covert operation to appropriate utensils; alliances are forged, friendships are shattered, and powerful enemies are made. Experts believe this event's origins can be traced back to the ancient Olympic games, and considering that the restaurant owned by a Greek family, I'm inclined to agree.  

As per usual in my life, if I walk around without a smile on my face, it is instantly assumed that something is wrong. Since I can't always be smiling, and my face is guilty of openly displaying a boundless spectrum of feelings, I hear a lot of "Are you okay?" and "Is everything going alright?"...I even hear it from the scary, intimidating Greek owner, who becomes as mild as a lamb around me, adding "babe" to the end of each sentence.   

My relationship with the kitchen staff seems comparable to mob relations I've seen in mafia movies. When I need silverware for wrapping, I got a guy for that. So far, I like to think I've taken the high road when it comes to acquiring utensils, I just go straight to the source: one of the dishwashers. When I need more of something and I can't find it, I got a guy for that. Who knows where everything is better than a busboy? Indeed, the language barrier is troublesome, but we've worked out a form of sign language that seems to be working quite swimmingly.  

In a coworker bonding session, DGN (code for "Diner Girl Newbie," as she was hired when I was, knows my name, but I have no idea what hers is) told tales ripe with relationship woe. She's moved in with every boyfriend she's had. She walked in on her last boyfriend with another guy, threw up, then decided to become a lesbian, but now she's with Chad so she's bisexual. She works another full-time job that sounds pretty important, but took this job to pay for all of her various fines. She's 20. I told her that her life fascinates me.  

The urge to use diner vernacular is becoming nearly unavoidable. As I approach a new table, I'm overwhelmed with the temptation to say "What can I get yous?"...providing there's more than one person, of course.


I got one of the best groups a newbie could ask for, desiring fairly simple orders and, most importantly, laughing at everything I said. One of them only wanted coffee, defending his choice by saying he didn't want to be a "rollie-pollie holy roller," and that's when it hit me: you would swear they had just huffed laughing gas, but it turns out they were just Christians. Because of my genuinely happy nature, they concluded that I must have the spirit of the Lord in me and asked what my exact faith was. I answered their question by saying I chose to be nondenominational. They said "Good, as long as you're not a Muslim."