Brooklyn or bust!

As mentioned in the previous entry, the Picture People's reserve of Petco photographers is slight. So far this quarter, I have worked without my partner 3 out of 4 weekends and I was sent away to Baldwin, Long Island once. The weekend they sent me away was anything but ideal (I missed a party my family was hosting that I and many others look forward to all year and consequently, I'm holding an impenetrable grudge that will last a lifetime). This weekend I'm being sent with my supervisor to Brooklyn, New York. As Brooklyn is the only area of New York that I've ever gone out in, the thought of this borough conjures up really pleasant memories--memories that will all shortly be overshadowed by what is certain to be an unsatisfactory weekend. 

My 20-something supervisor, PPH, lives on coffee and nicotine (shout out to Sheryl Crow!). She takes a myriad of prescription drugs to stabilize her constantly-changing moods, and to fix other things I can't recall at the moment. She contracted chlamydia from her boyfriend of 8 years, but didn't break up with him until later when she snooped through his things and discovered an old college paper he wrote (for some reason) about how he didn't see himself ending up with her. She openly admits that she has no friends because she lives for her job. She's in debt because she makes major purchases when she's feeling depressed. She obviously has some vitamin deficiencies because one day, while biting into a pita chip, a big chunk of her molar cracked and fell off (hardest chip ever or softest teeth ever, you decide). She has the hots for our territory manager, PPJ. PPH is really excited to go to Brooklyn this weekend with me, and that only makes it worse.

"This one is good girl. You should marry her."

I truly try to appreciate everyone at the diner. Each and every character that works there is completely different but somehow (for the most part) it all comes together to make the establishment run properly. Okay, now that that sugary sweetness is out of the way, lemme break it down for you, in order of preconceived "importance."

Management:
Like I've said before, I've never experienced the angry side of Mean Boss, though I've heard a great deal of horror stories and I've seen a little. Recently, after being witness to a passionate expression of displeasure over wasted paper napkins, I came to the realization that the Greek language is actually what makes the bosses so intimidating. Anything unfamiliar, like a foreign tongue, can seem frightening (especially to me with my overwhelming ignorance of any language besides English or French), but Greek seems to have such an abrasive sound and nagging inflection. For all I know, the managers could be talking about how beautiful the sky is today, but they sound like they are cursing everyone within earshot. I have, however, learned the proper pronunciation of "gyro," and with this new found knowledge, I enhance the vocabulary of others every chance I get.

Hostesses: 
Young nice jailbait hotties that are very willing to help waitresses in distress. At least two are the daughters of Mean Boss and when the little clone son of Mean Boss comes in, they act as his babysitters.

These tan, well-manicured, South Jersey/South Philly-esque girls act as the welcoming, not to mention enticing, gateway to the diner. Their exact job descriptions and responsibilities are unknown to me, but I know they do a lot all over the restaurant.

We waitresses turn to the hostesses when we are in need of desserts from the bakery case. When I once complimented a hostess on her beautiful and meticulous dessert presentation, she responded by saying, "Well I should be good at it, my job is Desert Coordinator,"...I nodded and then returned to my lowly job as Sustenance Provider. 


Bar staff:
High top tables and impressive flat screen TVs aside, if you think that the sports bar portion of the establishment is in any way similar to the diner, you're dead wrong. The bar has menacing Greek overseers, perverted foreign kitchen staff (scroll down for more), and waitresses who provide patrons with greasy food...wait, that doesn't sound any different from the diner! Someone should alert the bar staff about this. 


Diner waitresses/waiters:

Every post I write is about these folks, so by now I'm sure you get the gist......but in case you haven't, I'll provide a few more recent occurrences.

• DGS2 has gone on two medications to treat her bipolar disorder.
• The late night waitresses have started to pick on DGS2, making up false accusations. Yet another reason for me to speak softly and carry a big...smile.
  
• The hostesses know not to seat black women or police officers with DGB. She walks away from tables with African American patrons because "their shit's not worth my time," and she won't go near cops because "I got in a lot of trouble when I was younger. I can feel their eyes on me. I know they're reading me."
• DGB doesn't need to work, her husband does something with mortgages. She just works to have some spending money for booze or pot. She couldn't stop snacking one day--she had the "Xanax munchies." DGB is a 29-year-old mother of 3 with missing teeth.
• DGB2 and DDD are the diner's only [on-and-off] couple. Right now they are off, but still living together, and DDD openly seeks out waitresses to rebound with. Is "waitress" his type? I told him I'm a lesbian.
  

Kitchen staff: 
Most are Mexican, two are Middle Eastern, and one is grumpy. 75 percent of the kitchen workers only know essential workplace vernacular that come out without the slightest hint of foreign accent: 

• "behind you," 
• "fork,"
• "excuse me," 
• "shit,"
• "spoon,"
• "apple sauce,"
• "fuck,"
• "knife,"
• "oh my God."  
• This phrase is their personal favorite. All of them have mastered nearly exact imitations of our voices, so this comes out more like "Ewww my Gaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhd." It saddens me to think that we are their main sources of the English language.
  

These guys are always asking if you'll be their girlfriend, if you have a boyfriend, and if you can take them home with you. Chiquito says "you for me" each time he does something nice for me. Jafar turns everything into a sexual joke. Abdul has been trying to set me up with Jose. When I asked Jose for a banana in order to make a sundae, he asked me what size I wanted--they don't come in sizes. I found out yesterday that Jose is married.