We don't see my work-friend Ray the cook more than three nights a week at most. He has a day job, something janitorial I think. When he does work with us, he talks about golf a lot. Raymond claims (and I believe him) to be a scratch golfer. In real sports, scratches don't get to participate, but in golf a scratch is a real badass, so in Ray's lexicon a scratch is a fine thing to be indeed. Ray-Ray never utters the word "golf," actually. "My hobby," he says, "my little hobby."
"Joe." wondered absolutely no one, "do you have any hobbies?"
"Why yes," I would've answered, "yes I do." Even though I don't think of it as one, what else is These American Servers™ but a hobby? It sure hasn't ever made me any money, nor do I ever expect it to. No boss makes me compose this drivel; no supervisor tells me when, how or even if to present it. Therefore, hobby. But I've also got this other kind-of fun activity that consumes most of my waking moments and has for over two decades now. I started out so shitty at it that I can't believe I didn't just give up but now I'm so good at it I've almost got it mastered. My hobby is trying to quit smoking.
We had a kind of shitty night at work this evening. A couple of brutal pops were interspersed with some big-time slowness. Plus we were a little shorthanded on both sides of the expo line. I got kind of stressed during one of the pops. So when it slowed I asked our hostess to not seat me for at least three minutes. I (literally) ran to the nearby ShittyMart™ and bought a pack of Newport 100's.
I can't recall if I've ever mentioned it to y'all but long-time readers may know that my go-to brand is Marlboro Reds. The Newports weren't for me. I gave them to my totally awesome, incredibly gorgeous co-worker, Sweetie, so that maybe she'll like me. That's not really why I gave her the cigarettes, although if they had that effect I guess I'd have to step up like I'm a man and accept the consequences of my actions.
Anyway, I wasn't sure how many smokes I'd want; a half-dozen, max. A whole pack of tasty 'Boros would either go to waste or be consumed by me. I gave Sweetie the entire 20, with the understanding that I could have a few of them back (during that shift) upon request, an arrangement she was totally cool with. I got to smoke a few cigarettes and ease my stress without being a bum or throwing a bunch of product away. Plus it helped Sweetie out a little, something I'm always looking for opportunities to do. We snuck out back for our nicotine fix. As we lit up, I looked into her pretty face. The most beautiful brown eyes I've ever seen sparkled and she flashed me her lovely smile.
"Joe." wondered absolutely no one, "do you have any hobbies?"
"Why yes," I would've answered, "yes I do." Even though I don't think of it as one, what else is These American Servers™ but a hobby? It sure hasn't ever made me any money, nor do I ever expect it to. No boss makes me compose this drivel; no supervisor tells me when, how or even if to present it. Therefore, hobby. But I've also got this other kind-of fun activity that consumes most of my waking moments and has for over two decades now. I started out so shitty at it that I can't believe I didn't just give up but now I'm so good at it I've almost got it mastered. My hobby is trying to quit smoking.
We had a kind of shitty night at work this evening. A couple of brutal pops were interspersed with some big-time slowness. Plus we were a little shorthanded on both sides of the expo line. I got kind of stressed during one of the pops. So when it slowed I asked our hostess to not seat me for at least three minutes. I (literally) ran to the nearby ShittyMart™ and bought a pack of Newport 100's.
I can't recall if I've ever mentioned it to y'all but long-time readers may know that my go-to brand is Marlboro Reds. The Newports weren't for me. I gave them to my totally awesome, incredibly gorgeous co-worker, Sweetie, so that maybe she'll like me. That's not really why I gave her the cigarettes, although if they had that effect I guess I'd have to step up like I'm a man and accept the consequences of my actions.
Anyway, I wasn't sure how many smokes I'd want; a half-dozen, max. A whole pack of tasty 'Boros would either go to waste or be consumed by me. I gave Sweetie the entire 20, with the understanding that I could have a few of them back (during that shift) upon request, an arrangement she was totally cool with. I got to smoke a few cigarettes and ease my stress without being a bum or throwing a bunch of product away. Plus it helped Sweetie out a little, something I'm always looking for opportunities to do. We snuck out back for our nicotine fix. As we lit up, I looked into her pretty face. The most beautiful brown eyes I've ever seen sparkled and she flashed me her lovely smile.
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