a : frustrated : artist

Slingin' Hash Late at Night

Last night I worked my first server training shift. I was a little disappointed in myself that I got brain-freeze syndrome as soon as my trainer got triple-sat early in the evening. He was a very experienced and calm fellow and it didn't faze him, but I freaked. By the end of the evening I was feeling more comfortable, although I hadn't taken the step of actually taking anyone's order. I mainly greeted and "flagged," answered a few questions, got extras for people, ran a few plates, and bussed my ass off. I've spent a large portion of today trying my best to familiarize myself with some of the very basics of the menu - some of the stuff I saw Tyler (last night's trainer) get asked multiple times, like what kind of breads the sandwiches can come on and what our salad dressings are. I'm actually much less scared of selling wine and liquor, because if there's anything I know, it's alcohol.

Goin' to the ghetto liquor sto'

Alex has never understood my comfort with the ghetto, and I guess that's because he's from Minnesota and not from Georgia where ghetto culture is, well, everywhere. I don't think I've been to more than two or three establishments that sell alcoholic beverages down here that can't say that most of their clientele is ghetto. Here in DT Atlanta there's a liquor store almost across the street called "AZAR". I have no idea what that means and the "Z" on the sign is obviously a "N" turned on its side. That's one of those things that I find fascinating and lovely about life; Alex is terrified by the place. That is also reflected in our buying history. Alex will only buy from there with great coaxing; I love the place and will walk there at night. Every time I've ever been in there I've met the coolest people - ghetto people, but nice, because they speak the language of the drinker, which has no prejudices. Maybe I'm stupid but I don't think I am. I know when shit is weird and scary.

The best thing about AZAR is that the main sales guy on nights is an Eastern European guy who is really tough as nails when someone tries to scam him. But when I come up there and make him pull down the Guinness he just looks at me like I'm nuts. I tell him when I ask for 2 Guinness, "It's got the same amount of alcohol as a six-pack and it tastes better" and he smiles (rarely) and shakes his head. I also work with a recent Eastern European transplant at my new job and I wonder at the different kind of educations about American culture these folks are getting.

Fat Americans (like me, once ...)

That's a stereotype that's been around forever. But now it's really coming into its own as something more than a stereotype. This Healthday article states, "By 2020, roughly one in five health-care dollars spent on people aged 50 to 69 years old could be for obesity-related medical problems." As someone who spent too many years obese, I know first-hand all the medical problems it will cause. I had everything from sleep apnea to edema to chest pains, at the tender age of 33. And not to mention the fact that the simple act of walking to my office from my car had me so winded and exhausted I could barely focus on work; forget starting a regular exercise regimen.

I really have compassion for obese and morbidly obese people because I was once one of them. I know that not all of them are the way they are because they are lazy, which is the obvious prejudice. I really do believe most of them could and should be able to maintain healthy weights on a reasonably balanced diet. The problem is, in America it's very, very difficult to follow a reasonably balanced diet and live the kind of busy working lifestyle most people have to live to get by. Restaurants mainly serve huge portions of fatty and sugary foods, and portion control in general is out the window. And the problem becomes insolvable in obese people who have been that way for many years, because the stomach tends to lose its elasticity as a person ages. Even if many obese people try as hard as they can to change their eating habits, it's impossible for many of them because of the size of their stomachs. A healthy life for these poor souls means being constantly hungry, and that's really not something many human beings can live with for long. Reader, if you've never been obese, next time you find yourself judging an obese person, try to ask yourself if you could live with being hungry 24/7.

I solved my problem by having gastric bypass surgery, which is of course not for everyone. It worked pretty spectacularly for me. Not only did it make my stomach smaller, it forced me to change my whole way of eating by making my body extremely sensitive to sugary, fatty, carby foods. Actually, I can eat carbs fine, but they fill me up so fast I find it preferable to eat my proteins first.

I don't want to go on about my eating habits. But I did want to comment on how I've changed and turned my life around since September 2001 (when I had the surgery, and hence is a landmark for me in more than the obvious way.) I worked my first training shift last night at my job. As I mentioned a few days ago, the restaurant where I'm working is famous for its decadent desserts - mainly torts, pies and cheesecakes - as well as their elaborate coffees. In order to learn the 60+ desserts this place carries on the menu, my first two training shifts involve standing in front of the pastry cases, explaining what the items are and what's in them to customers, and giving them tickets so that their servers will know what to bring them. It's a tribute to my success story that I was not tempted even in the slightest to sample any of the pastries. In fact, contemplating eating most of them made me slightly queasy. For the vast majority of my life before September 2001, I would have been carting off boxes of samples at the end of the night and scarfing them down at home. Now, not only do I know they will make me ill, my tastes have changed so that I don't even really like heavy, sugary stuff any more.

(Oh, and I'm so tickled to be working at this place, an Atlanta icon that has been around since the late 70's, and I want to say the name, but I know how utterly stupid it is to reveal where you work on the Inter-Web. If you know me reasonably well and you're familiar with Atlanta - and you care - feel free to write me privately and ask me.)