Back from oblivion.

I have never ever gone this long without writing.  Over a month! Holy crapsticks, batman!  I apologize. I'm going to try to get back on track of updating this twice a week. We'll see.  In my defense, I have been sick for the entire month of November. No joke. I started feeling poorly the day after Halloween, and it developed into what was most likely pneumonia.  I'm  mostly recovered but still hacking every now and then. Please note that it is now November 18th.  And yes, I realize my last entry was October 8th. So what I was doing in October those three weeks before I got sick, I have no idea. I'm sure it was something extremely cool and social though, and certainly not me sitting around watching every available episode of Top Model on Hulu starting with Season 1.

Anyway. Still kicking it at the Uptown Restaurant, though I don't know for how much longer since they've just announced they're closing indefinitely in January.  In any case, it does sound like I got out of the Cafe just in time, as I've been hearing horror stories about how psychotic it's getting.

Anyway. Some random thoughts in general regarding the industry, before we get into Roasting stories.

I'm at the point where I just want to laugh at people who order Budweiser. Especially the place I'm currently working at. It's this gorgeous, secluded, somewhat finer dining place in the middle of the park....and you want BUDWEISER??

I also laugh at people who want "white zinfandel," but I'm pretty sure everybody does that.

Not a whole lot of  "crazy" has been happening at the Uptown Restaurant, aside from when we host weddings and you get a lot of drunk weirdos.  I remember one a couple weeks ago where half the family was from Staten Island and trying to act classier than they actually were. That was fun.  That and another wedding a week or so later where a guy promptly inhaled his fish within the first two minutes, then asked if he could also have a steak...just if I had any "extras lying around."  Of course. I always have extra steaks lying around. Piles and piles of extra steaks.  Dumbass.

On a side note, my friend Kathryn sent me this image several weeks ago, and I kept meaning to post it on here and never did.

This is true no matter where you work. Granted, I could tell you horror stories about brunch at the Cafe, and brunch at the Uptown Restaurant is still a million times better, but it's still brunch.  People at brunch are horrible. They're nastier than people during the week, and even more demanding. And I'll never understand it.  Unless you're in a service related job, Saturday is your day off. What the hell are you doing? Why are you in a bad mood? Calm the fuck down!

Anyway. I think that about does it for "current" stories. Let's get into some old school Roasting Lore.

January 15, 2012

"You order an apple at this place, and it comes with a pig!"

--man at table 30

Honestly, I have no idea what this means, whose table this was, or what the hell this guy was talking about.  I'm incredibly confused by all of it.  Also, The Cafe certainly isn't a fancy place, and in over four years of working there I don't know that we ever served roast pigs.  I mean....we didn't serve shit on a plate or anything, but we certainly weren't on the fine dining end of things.

Moving on to a much more exciting story.

January 16, 2012.

"A woman comes into a busy brunch (MLK Day) with a Bud Light can in hand. Obviously drunk and maybe a little crazy too. She asks for some hot water to put in her Ramen cup-of-soup. I say no, and she leaves in a huff. She comes back and wants to order eggs. I send her to the bar where she orders and then walks back over to me, gives me the receipt and tells me she doesn't have enough money, says sorry and leaves!"

And that, my friends is why I do not miss the Upper West Side at all.  UWSiders are kind of crazy in general, but I will say that the Cafe was definitely a magnet for a certain type of person. It probably also didn't help that we were across the street from a methadone clinic.

Winding up with one more quick anecdote:

January 20, 2012

"What gauge of plastic is the menu?"

And THAT is the kind of shit I dealt with five days a week for four years.  Part of me misses the crazy, but part of me is glad I don't have to worry about keeping my subconscious eye-rolls in check.

Til next time!